Part 40

I don’t think that Dick knew whether he had been encouraged or not. And he must have remembered that the Conde de Roldan is the best and most eligible of Catholics. Poor Dick! Perhaps he was beginning to realize how much easier it is to advise another man to be sensible than to be sensible yourself.

Pilar had been right in her surmises as to the workings of Carmona’s mind. When we came to the showroom of the Fabrica de Espadas, where the dusk was shot with a thousand gleams and glitters of strange weapons, there were those we had sought in vain till now. The Duchess, yellow with fatigue, was resting her stout person on a bench in the long, low room, Lady Vale-Avon beside her, looking tired and bored. But Carmona was at the glass-covered counter, begging Monica’s advice in the selection of his purchases.

His back was towards us as we entered, and, unnoticed by him, we saw him hold up to the light a small sharp dagger, with a handle beautifully ornamented. He was indicating with his finger, for Monica’s benefit, the delicate tracery upon gold, when, warned by lack of attention and wandering glances on the part of his companion, he turned in our direction. Then, hastily laying down the dagger, he pushed it away as though resenting the intrusion of our eyes.

“After all, we went to the Cave of Hercules,” said Monica, “and to the house where the Moorish nobles were supposed to be murdered; so we missed you when we got to the cathedral. Señorita O’Donnel, do come and help me choose presents for some girls at home, in England.”

She spoke brightly, yet wistfully, as if wondering whether she would be allowed to go back to those girls, a girl herself, and able to call England home.

Pilar crossed to her at once, and Dick and I followed. The good Cherub tactfully engaged the attention of the Duchess and Lady Vale-Avon, looking so innocent that it was more than they could do to be rude to him. And while the Duke sulked, we picked out wonderful knives and forks for our luncheon-hampers, and thin sword-sticks of leather which imitated bamboo and concealed blades so flexible that they could be rolled up like watch-springs.

“Let’s all buy presents for each other, in memory of the day,” suggested Dick; and began by offering Pilar a pair of splendid hatpins. She retaliated with sleeve-links; so, emboldened by this prelude, I begged Monica to accept a brooch shaped like a shield. “Now I shall never lack protection,” said she, with gentle emphasis; and it was well for me that the Cherub was showing Lady Vale-Avon some marvellous sword passes. “Let me see,” the girl went on, when she had defiantly pinned the trinket into her lace cravat, under Carmona’s furious frown. “What shall I give you for luck? Shall it be a dagger? Where’s the one you were looking at, Duke?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, so angry with me for my presumption that he could hardly speak, though not daring to show his true feelings and imperil his chances. “It seems to have disappeared. But we must really go at once. My mother is tired, and we still have several things to see before I can take you back to the hotel to rest.”

Purposely, he spoke in a loud tone, and Lady Vale-Avon heard through the Cherub’s honeyed murmurs. She rose, and called Monica, who was swept away without finding the dagger.

It was dinner-time when we returned to our hotel; but Carmona’s party did not appear in the dining-room. We lingered on hoping that they would come, until it was useless to hope longer, and as we drank black coffee, in the patio, Colonel O’Donnel asked a waiter where were the people who had lunched with us. “They have taken a private sitting-room,” replied the man, which was a relief, as I began to be haunted by black fear that Carmona had flitted by night.

By and by Pilar’s long lashes drooped, and the Cherub, catching her in the act of stifling a yawn, laughingly ordered her off to bed. “You haven’t had enough sleep these last few nights to keep a cigarron alive,” said he. Soon afterwards his own eyes began to look like those of a sleepy child, and he excused himself with all the ceremony of Spanish leave-takings. Dick and I were left alone together, and were discussing what the morrow might bring forth, when a waiter hovered near us, bowing.

“The Excelentísima Señora Duquesa de Carmona would consider it a favour if Señor Waring and Teniente O’Donnel would visit her in her sitting-room,” he announced.

Were the heavens about to fall? My lifted eyebrows and Dick’s questioned each other in bewilderment. But our lips were silent as we followed the servant.

The sitting-room of the “Excelentísima Señora” was on the first floor, perhaps a big bedroom hastily transformed. What we expected to see as the waiter opened the door I hardly know; but we assuredly did not expect to see the Duchess sitting alone.

The table where the party had dined was covered now by a piece of gaudy, pseudo-Moorish embroidery, and adorned with flowers. A few guide-books and novels were scattered about, and in her hand the Duchess held a paper-covered volume, as if she had been reading. But the expression of the dark, heavy face contradicted her pose. We could see that she was excited.

“Forgive my not rising, as I am tired,” she said, as we came in. “It is kind of you to be so prompt, and I thank you.” Then she paused, and we waited.

“I beg you to sit down. I want the pleasure of a talk.”

We obeyed. And still waited.

“I am a little embarrassed,” went on the Duchess. “You must be patient. What I wish to say is difficult. And yet the Señor Teniente, being himself Spanish, will understand. We are in Spain, the land of formality and rigid etiquette, among people of our class. That an automobile with two young unmarried men in it (and even Colonel O’Donnel is a widower, not old)—that such an automobile should be closely following ours which contains a beautiful girl, is calculated to cause gossip. Everywhere we go along this route my son and I have acquaintances, friends; and already there has been talk, which flies from place to place in gossiping letters between women. I am sure you would not like to think that you had caused me this distress on account of my sweet young guest and her mother?”

Never had I been more completely taken aback. She had us at her mercy; for how is a man to fight against a woman?

“We are motoring in your direction,” I said lamely. “The chances of the road bring us together.”

“Ah! but I ask you, as a woman of my age may ask a favour of young men like you, señores, not to take those chances. If it is as you say—and of course I believe—that you happen to be motoring on our road, it would be no great hardship to delay and give us a longer start. Remember, it is for the sake of a young girl, and for an old woman’s peace of mind. Will you do this kindness, then, for me?”

She had struck me dumb. I did not know how to answer her, and she knew it. Even Dick, with his quick Yankee wit, for once was unready. And indeed, the Duchess had us at a hateful disadvantage.

“We are in something of a hurry, Señora Duquesa,” I stammered awkwardly.

“Then, rather than cause you loss of time, we will be off very early, and go as far as may be in the day. If we leave at—let us say seven o’clock to-morrow, it would not be too inconvenient for you to wait till nine? That is all I ask; and to stay the night at Manzanares instead of trying to get on to some other stopping place. If you promise this, you are honourable men, and I know you will keep your word.”

She had her lesson well, and had evidently rehearsed it with her son, for this lymphatic, weary-eyed woman was not one to know in advance the names of halting places on an automobile tour. It was clever of Carmona to use his mother’s plump hand as a cat’s-paw to pull his chestnuts from the fire; but it was not brave, because he must know that we could not let it touch the flames.

I thought for a moment in silence. Only boors could in so many words refuse such a request, put with apparent frankness by a woman old enough to be their mother. Yet I must not be trapped into promising anything that could separate me from Monica.

To be near her, at her service always, was the one thing of supreme importance; but to throw aside my sheep’s clothing and declare myself a wolf would be to lose her; for the instant that Carmona was sure of my identity he would denounce me. I would be sent across the frontier while Monica remained with him, unprotected save by her mother, who was his loyal friend. This was sure to happen, even if I did not count the trouble I might cause Colonel O’Donnel if I were arrested while posing as his son.