As his cousin remained still looking at him thoughtfully, he added, "My hands are pretty clean, but I can wash them first, if you like." "You may look at them," said Don Juan smilingly; "and as they are old books you can wash your hands afterwards." And, turning to Flynn suddenly, with an air of relief, "I tell you what I'll do--I'll teach him Spanish!" They left the room together, and Clarence turned eagerly to the shelves.

They were old books, some indeed very old, queerly bound, and worm-eaten.

Some were in foreign languages, but others in clear, bold English type, with quaint wood-cuts and illustrations.

One seemed to be a chronicle of battles and sieges, with pictured representations of combatants spitted with arrows, cleanly lopped off in limb, or toppled over distinctly by visible cannon-shot.

He was deep in its perusal when he heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs in the court-yard and the voice of Flynn.