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“Not a badly woven plot. But who’s going to play the schoolmaster? You?”

“No, Peñalar. He was simply made for the part. He was a tutor in a college; you’ll see. This very day I’ll hunt him up and bring him here. In the meantime, you prepare Manuel. Let him look somewhat like a schoolboy. While I’m out looking for Peñalar, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to teach him a little,—the first questions and answers of the catechism, for example.”

In accordance with Mingote’s instructions, the baroness ordered Manuel to comb his hair and spruce up; then she fished out for him a sailor suit with a large white collar. Yet however much they might adorn him and ply their arts upon his person, it was impossible to make him look like a respectable youngster; his indifferent, roguish eyes and his smile, which was half bitter and half sarcastic, betrayed the ragamuffin.

At two o’clock Mingote was back at the baroness’s home, with a dark man of clerical aspect. The man, named Peñalar, spoke with great emphasis; then, when Mingote stated his proposition, Peñalar, abandoning his emphatic tone, discussed the conditions of payment and the percentage due him.