In the majority of cases, in order to avoid its being realized that he was connected with the police, de Richleau left Veragua and the car fifty yards away down the street. Sometimes he announced himself as Senor Carlos Goma, an old friend of Ferrer's, and furtively inquired his whereabouts; at others he resumed his identity of Nicolai Chirikov, once a master at the Escuela Moderna, who, after a long absence from Barcelona, wanted to be put in touch again with the Chief whom he had found such an interesting personality. Occasionally, with those whom he suspected knew something but would not talk, he produced his police pass and threatened them with incarceration in the fortress of Montjuich. But his efforts were of no avail.
Throughout the whole day he drew nothing but blanks and returned a little before eight o'clock in the evening, tired out and cursing the fact that he must again over dinner be subjected to the Senora Quiroga's insatiable appetite for gossip about the Court.
Next day he continued his investigation, mainly on scraps of information he had extracted from various sources. He called on Ferrer's tailor, barber, dentist and a number of his ex-pupils, but neither cajolery nor threats produced any result.
It was not until after he had given Veragua lunch at a small fish restaurant that he remembered the foreman miller's daughter. Thinking again of that fateful night on which Sanchez had first wished to slit his throat, then burn him in a furnace, he recalled Dolores Mendoza saying with a sneer that as Ferrer had gone out to the mill for a conference he would certainly not return until morning, as he 'never missed a chance of a tumble with that hot little piece Teresa Conesa'.
De Richleau had never had an opportunity to learn exactly where the mill was situated, so he had Veragua drive him out to the hospital to which he had been taken. At his request a secretary in the office there turned up the entry recording the admission of himself and Pedro Conesa and from that he got the address of the mill at which they had received their injuries.
It was some way inland on the south-west outskirts of the city and they drove to it. Leaving Veragua outside, de Richleau crossed the yard to the foreman's little house. As he did so he cast a glance at the tall, square stack of the mill building that had such terrifying memories for him; then he rang the bell of the door through which he had been carried rolled up in a carpet.
It was opened by a buxom woman. Her husband proved to be the third successor to Conesa, but as he had been employed at the mill for the past ten years they had known Pedro and his daughter well. The woman said that for the best part of two years the girl had been married. She was now a Senora Irujo and lived in a village about two miles further out.
Having obtained a description of her cottage de Richleau walked back to the car and told his eager young assistant that he thought they really might have got on to something at last, as he had succeeded in tracing one of Ferrer's ex-mistresses, who was much more likely to know what had become of him than any shopkeeper or cafe proprietor. When they reached the village he followed his usual practice of leaving Veragua with the car about fifty yards short of their destination and proceeded to it on foot.
He found Teresa at home. She was a sluttish-looking young woman with a heavy jowl and strong hips, but fine eyes and a good figure. At the moment he arrived at the open doorway of her cottage she was busy in the kitchen cooking a conserve of melons. Fearful that it might boil over if neglected, without even inquiring his business she threw open the door of a frowsty sitting-room and asked him to wait.
Six or seven minutes later she joined him, carrying an infant on her arm; a toddler clutched at her skirt, and a wide-eyed thumb-sucker of about two-and-a-half pattered in after her.
As she had never seen de Richleau she had no idea that it was he who, by a judo grip, had brought about her father's death. In case the name of Chirikov might ring a bell with her, he presented himself as Carlos Goma, an old friend of her father's who had recently returned from four years in the United States.
He said that the woman who now lived in the foreman's house at the mill had told him of Pedro's death and he had been greatly distressed to hear of it. Then he went on to speak of those exciting days when he had formed one of the group that had planned the bomb-throwings, making casual mention of the bald-headed Manuel, young Alvaro Barbestro, the Ferrer brothers, Mateo Morral, Dolores Mendoza and the German, Schmidt.
At first she regarded him with obvious suspicion, but he talked with such intimate knowledge of her father's friends that after a little she thawed out. She told him that in the summer of 1906 the group had been betrayed by a French spy, which had resulted in the Escuela Moderna being raided and closed, and that for a year the activities of the group had been brought almost to a standstill through most of them being in prison. She added that Barbestro had been shot for an attempt on General Quiroga and Sanchez Ferrer killed in a brawl in Cadiz.
He then asked her about the recent revolt. She described some fights that had taken place locally and the brutality with which the soldiers had treated the workers after they had forced the barricades. Several of her friends had been killed or wounded, and her husband had been among the latter, although fortunately the bullet that hit him had only taken off the lobe of his left ear. She added that, what with the fighting and the arrests that had taken place after it, the ranks of the anarchists had been sadly thinned, and those who had escaped were now all in hiding.
Having deplored this sad state of things, he remarked what hard luck it was on him that the revolt should have taken place only a few weeks before his return, and so deprived him of the chance to renew his old friendships; then he said in his most winning tone:
'But perhaps you could put me in touch with some of them, or know people who could. How about Benigno Ferrer? I hope he is all right. He was a particular friend of mine.'
She shook her head. 'I've no idea where Benigno is; but he wasn't killed or captured in the revolt. I believe that during it he was somewhere abroad.'
'His father then? I take it Senor Ferrer is still safe. He is so well known that had ill befallen him it's certain that I should have seen it in the papers, or anyhow have heard about it from someone.'
'No; Francisco's all right. It was him really who I knew better than any of them. Of course he was much older than me; but as a matter of fact we were great friends.'
De Richleau gave her a slightly doubting smile and said, 'I suppose anything is possible for such a good-looking girl as you. But do you really mean to tell me that you succeeded in securing as an admirer such a famous intellectual as Francisco Ferrer?'
She bridled with pleasure and pointed to the thumb-sucker who was standing in the doorway. 'If you really want to know, I had little Francisco, there, by him. These other two are Irujo's; but I only married him really to give my eldest a father.'
'I hope he makes the boy a good one.'
'Might be worse, I suppose.' She made a grimace. 'It's only when he's had a skinful of wine that he gets jealous and would ill-treat the kid if I didn't watch out. Otherwise he just ignores him and is glad enough to pocket the money Ferrer sends me for the boy's keep.'
'Ferrer does the decent thing by you, then. Does he ever come to see you and little Francisco?'
'Oh yes. Ferrer's fond of children, and after he got his school going again he used to look in fairly regularly. He hasn't been here since the revolt, though.'
'I hope he sends you your money just the same.'
'Yes. That Mendoza woman you were talking about a while back brings it. He's living with her now.'
'Since you know where they are I'd be awfully grateful if you'd give me their address, so that I can look them up.'