Dennis Wheatley: Vendetta in Spain

On the 10th the road, curving south-eastward across the plain of New Castile, proved a dreary stretch and was almost deserted, but it could hardly have been bettered as a place for the Prince to give de Quesnoy his first lessons in driving. By nightfall they reached Manzanares, and on the 11th covered another long, flat stretch until late afternoon when they entered more picturesque hilly country. So far the surface of the roads had been far from good, but now to the ruts and potholes were added sudden twists and unexpected gullies that could be negotiated well enough by muleteers and ox carts, but presented most unpleasant traps for motorists. The high-sprung chassis with its narrow tyres bucked alarmingly from side to side and it took all de Vendomes's newly acquired skill to get them that night to Linares. Their last lap to Cordoba ran through the Sierra Morena and for most of the way followed the course of the Guadalquivir. The mountain scenery was magnificent, but it proved a gruelling drive and they were both heartily glad to reach the white city from which at one time a Caliph had ruled all Spain.

In its oldest part lay the ancestral home of the Condes de Cordoba, a rambling two-storey house with airy, sparsely-furnished rooms built round three carefully tended gardens. Jasmin, bougainvillaea and climbing geraniums covered their walls, the fronds of tall palms rustled high above, orange, lemon and loquat trees were enclosed by low-clipped hedges, there were roses in great profusion with many other flowers and fountains that tinkled faintly into lily pools. It was typical of several such Casas that de Quesnoy was to see in the next ten days.

They spent three days there while de Vendome took his guest to see the Cathedral, once a magnificent Mosque - with its nineteen aisles of Moorish arches and amazing labyrinth of nearly a thousand columns made from different coloured marbles - several fine Casas and Renaissance churches, the statue of the Grand Captain, Gonzalo Gonzalez - upon the bronze charger and body of which a white marble head sits so incongruously - and the thousand-year-old Synagogue in the narrow maze-like streets of the old Jewish quarter.

On the 16th they did the eighty-seven miles to Seville, the most fascinating of all the Spanish cities, and there they remained five days. De Quesnoy was impressed with the Cathedral, which he thought even finer than that at Toledo, and intrigued by the amazing collection of bejewelled chalices and reliquaries in its treasury. The Alcazar Palace, with its perfectly proportioned halls and courts of Moorish stonework carved to appear as delicate as lace, walls of tiles patterned by time to the most roseate hues and lovely gardens in which grew a profusion of jacarandas, oleanders and rare flowering shrubs, all delighted him so much that he paid it three visits. But by the end of five days he was surfeited with the sight of Baroque altars, charming patios glimpsed through iron grilles, Spanish old masters, Moorish fountains and the endless fine tapestries that graced the walls of the big private Casas.

Sensing his boredom de Vendome suggested that they should push on to Jerez, so on the 22nd they took the road south through a smiling countryside of rolling downs across which well-husbanded plantations of olive trees alternated with fields of corn. While in Seville they had occupied a private suite in the palatial Alfonso XII Hotel, and de Vendome had tactfully declined invitations from the Albas and other of his acquaintances who lived in the city, because he knew that de Quesnoy was still averse to going into society. But he had never before been to Jerez, and if they were to see anything of the wine industry, of which that charming little town is the centre, there was no escape from accepting the hospitality of the Sherry Barons.

For two days Williams, Domeques and Gonzalez in turn initiated them into the mysteries: took them to see vineyards and presses and over vast Bodegas in which were stacked tens of thousands of casks of sherry. As a lover of fine wine de Quesnoy enjoyed sampling the rare Manzanillas, Amontillados, and very old rich Olorosos, and he seemed at last a little more like his normal self. But when de Ven-ddme suggested going on to Cadiz he shook his head.

'No, Francois. You must forgive me. I enjoyed Cordoba and

Seville, but for the present I could not face another church or picture gallery. I really think that we should return to Madrid and that I should take a definite decision on how to employ myself in the future.'

The younger man's face fell, then after a moment he said, 'All right; let's cut out Cadiz and go straight down to Algeciras. We can bathe there and could hire a boat to do some sailing, if you like. That would make a change for you, and you could think out what you mean to do more pleasantly while lounging on a beach than in the stifling heat that by now must be making Madrid almost unbearable.'

It was a sensible suggestion, so de Quesnoy agreed. Next morning they drove southward, meeting again on the road many little groups consisting of heavily-laden donkeys and, jogging along on mules, bronze-faced men in flat-crowned hats and sloe-eyed women wearing colourful skirts and scarves typical of Andalusia.

At Algeciras they stayed at the Reina Cristina, which stands on high ground surrounded by a pleasant garden, and looks out across the blue bay to the Rock of Gibraltar. De Quesnoy had never cared much for sailing so they did not hire a boat, but each morning they took a picnic lunch and drove some five miles to a deserted bay where they spent most of the day, either in the water or baking themselves brown on the golden sands.

Nearly all the other guests at the hotel were English, and after dinner the string band played all the hits from the more recent Gaiety shows, but, after a few evenings of sitting in the Palm Court, de Quesnoy again dropped into long periods of moody silence. On their fourth night there, in a new effort to distract him from his thoughts, de Vendome suggested a visit to the Casino, and they went out to have what they intended to be a mild gamble.

In de Quesnoy's case it proved far from that. He was generous by nature and rich enough to lose a considerable sum without worry, but he was careful about money, so would not normally have risked more than about twenty pounds. But his mind was not on the game, so he made his bets with indifference and several times Banco'd' indiscriminately. To everyone's surprise he won again and again, and after an hour's play he suddenly realized that he had a big pile of high denomination chips in front of him. Seeing that his luck was in he began to plunge, and his luck did not desert him. When they left at three o'clock in the morning he had won nearly Seven hundred pounds.

Next morning when they met in their private sitting-room for breakfast de Vendome congratulated him again on his big win. Wl*h a twisted smile he said,

'Lucky at cards, unlucky in love. I'd give every penny of it for one half-hour with Angela. But you and your uncle were right. I've got to forget her and make a new life for myself. I shall always remember your kindness to me, Francois, in taking me on this trip. It has helped a lot, but more sightseeing in Malaga, Granada and the other places won't get me anywhere. From today I mean to put the past behind me and concentrate on re-making my career. If you have no objection we will pack this morning and start back for Madrid. Then, as soon as possible, I mean to sail for South America.'

The young Prince nodded. 'I understand; just as you wish. You are right, of course, to take up soldiering again. It's in your blood, and with the wars and revolutions that are always going on out there you will have no difficulty in obtaining a senior rank in the army of one of the Republics.'

But Fate had other plans for de Quesnoy. When the post arrived there was a letter for him from de Cordoba. A passage in it ran: