doubtfully, shaking his head and blowing on the fire.
"It will come soon enough," the Marquis declared, "for I shall find you an ally. You will receive assistance from a quarter you now dismiss."
Saracho stood up. "If you mean Empecinado and his guerrillas at Campillos," he growled, "that man is my enemy. He will not come when I need him."
"Who spoke of Empecinado? It is the citizens of La Bisbal who will come to your aid. One fine night they will rebel and fall upon the Germans."
"Those bloated, pot-bellied Judases of La Bisbal?" Saracho exclaimed, sinking to the ground again in rage and disappointment. "All they ever think of at night, when they lie alongside their wives, is how best to betray us and our native land."
"I shall persuade them to quit their beds and rise in revolt!" cried the Marquis. He gestured with menace at the town slumbering in the valley far below. "The great insurrection will come, be assured of that. I have my plans ready-made in my head, and I'll stake my body and soul on their success."
For a while the three men gazed silently into the fire, each engrossed in his own thoughts. The guerrillas whispered among themselves and the night wind rustled in the trees, shaking raindrops from branch and twig.
"And what is our part in this venture?" the captain asked at length.
"You will await my signals. I shall give three of them. At the first you will assemble your men, occupy the approaches to the town, place your cannon in position, and blow up both bridges over the Alhar - but not until I give the signal, for it is of prime importance that the Germans should feel secure until then."
"Go on, go on!" Saracho said eagerly.
"On receiving the second signal you will at once proceed to bombard the town with shot, shell, and fire-balls. At the same time, you will take the outer defences."
"And then?"
"By then the revolt will have broken out. While the Germans are busy defending themselves against insurgent townsfolk on every side, I shall give the third signal and you will order a general assault."
"Very good," said Saracho.
"And the signals?" The captain took out his slate.
"Do you know my house in La Bisbal?" the Marquis asked Saracho.
"The house beyond the walls or the one adorned with Saracens' heads in the Calle de los Carmelitas?"
"The latter. You will see a column of thick black smoke ascending from its roof. Smoke from damp, smouldering straw, that will be the first signal."
"Smoke from damp, smouldering straw," the captain repeated.
"One night, when all is quiet in La Bisbal, you will hear the strains of the organ in St Daniel's Convent: that will be the second signal."
"The organ in St Daniel's Convent," wrote the captain. "And the third?"
The Marquis pondered for a moment. Then he said, "Give me your knife, Colonel Saracho."
From under his coat the Tanner's Tub produced a broad- bladed dagger with a hilt of carved ivory — a weapon of the kind the Spaniards call an ox-tongue. The Marquis took it.
"When a messenger brings you this knife, command your men to storm the town - but then and not before. The success of the whole undertaking depends on that, Colonel Saracho."
Lieutenant von Röhn had caught every word from his vantage point beneath the chapel roof. His brow was on fire and the blood pounded in his temples. He now knew the three signals that were designed to bring down destruction upon the garrison of La Bisbal, and he also knew that the success or failure of the undertaking depended on himself, not Saracho.
"There are one or two contingencies to be considered," the British officer said thoughtfully, replacing the slate in his pocket. "For instance, the Germans might deem it advantageous to take a personage such as the Marquis of Bolibar into custody. If they did so, our wait for the signals would doubtless be long and tedious."
"The Germans will never find the Marquis of Bolibar. They may see a blind beggar offering his consecrated Agnus Dei candles for sale outside