“I shall speak frankly to you, Senor Medina, as one caballero to another”; and Jose Medina bowed and smiled.

“I put my cards upon the table.  I ask you whether in your heart you are for the Germans or for us.”

Jose Medina hitched his chair a little closer and holding up one hand with fingers spread ticked off his points, as he spoke them, with the other.

“Let us see!  First, you come to me, senor, saying you are English, and speaking Spanish with the accent of Valencia.  Good!  I might reply, senor, how do I know?  I might ask you how I am to be sure that when that British flag is hauled down from your yacht outside the bay over there, it is not a German one which should take its place.  Good!  But I do not make these replies.  I accept your word as a caballero that you are English and not an enemy of England laying a trap for me.  Good!” He took off his eye-glasses and polished them.

“Now listen to me!” he continued.  “I am a Spaniard.  We of Spain have little grievances against England and France.  But these are matters for the Government, not for a private person.  And the Government bids us be neutral.  Good!  Now I speak as a private person.  For me England means opportunity for poor men to become great and rich.  You may say I have become rich without the opportunities of England.  I answer I am one in many thousands.  England means Liberty, and within the strict limits of my neutrality I will do what a man may for that great country.”

Hillyard listened and nodded.  The speech was flowing and spoken with great fervour.  It might mean much.  It might mean nothing at all.  It might be the outcome of conviction.  But it might again be nothing more than the lip-service of a man who knew very well that England and France could squeeze him dry if they chose.

“I wish,” said Hillyard cordially, “that the captains of the ports of Spain spoke also with your voice.”

Jose Medina neither assumed an ignorance of the German leanings of the port officials nor expressed any assent.  But, as if he had realised the thought which must be passing in Hillyard’s mind, he said: 

“You know very well, senor, that I should be mad if I gave help to the Germans.  I am in your hands.  You and France have but to speak the word, and every felucca of mine is off the seas.  But what then!  There are eighteen thousand men at once without food or work thrown adrift upon the coast of Spain.  Will not Germany find use for those eighteen thousand men?”

Hillyard agreed.  The point was shrewd.  It was an open, unanswerable reply to the unuttered threat which perhaps Hillyard might be prompted to use.

“I have spoken,” continued Jose Medina.  “Now it is for you, senor.  Tell me what within the limits of my neutrality I can do to prove to you the sincerity of my respect for England?”

Hillyard took a sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket.  He drew a rough map.