Saornil and his men were indeed as murderous a set of villains as you could wish to see. They were dirty, evil-smelling and unshaven. They had sabres and knives stuck into their belts and rifles slung over their shoulders. Their clothes and saddle-blankets were covered with cruel and deadly images: skulls and crossbones; hearts impaled upon knives; gallows; crucifixions upon cartwheels; ravens pecking at hearts and eyes; and other such pleasant devices. These images were formed out of what appeared at first to be pearl buttons but which, on closer examination, proved to be the teeth of all the Frenchmen they had killed. Saornil, in particular, had so many teeth attached to his person that he rattled whenever he moved, rather as if all the dead Frenchmen were still chattering with fear.

Surrounded as they were by the symbols and accoutrements of death, Saornil and his men were confident of striking terror into everyone they met. They were therefore a little disconcerted to find that the English magician had outdone them in this respect – he had brought a coffin with him. Like many violent men they were also rather superstitious. One of them asked Strange what was inside the coffin. He replied carelessly that it contained a man.

After several days of hard riding the guerrilla band brought Strange to a hill which overlooked the principal road leading out of Spain and into France. Along this road, they assured Strange, Major Grant and his captors were sure to pass.

Saornil’s men set up camp nearby and settled themselves to wait. On the third day they saw a large party of French soldiers coming along the road and, riding in the middle of them, in his scarlet uniform, was Major Grant. Immediately Strange gave instructions for his coffin to be opened. Three of the guerrilleros took crowbars and prised off the lid. Inside they found a pottery person – a sort of mannikin made from the same rough red clay which the Spanish use to make their colourful plates and jugs. It was life-size, but very crudely made. It had two holes for eyes and no nose to speak of. It was, however, carefully dressed in the uniform of an officer of the 11th Foot.

“Now,” said Strange to Jeronimo Saornil, “when the French outriders reach that rock there, take your men and attack them.”

Saornil took a moment to digest this, not least because Strange’s Spanish had several eccentricities of grammar and pronunciation.

When he had understood he asked, “Shall we try to free El Bueno Granto?” (El Bueno Granto was the Spaniards’ name for Major Grant.)

“Certainly not!” replied Strange. “Leave El Bueno Granto to me!”