"I heard it all, senor. It was disgraceful. If my testimony can be of
any use to you, here is my name;" and he handed me his card. He was a
Captain Jose Pescada.
"Thank you. I am glad to have your word," I replied.
Meanwhile, Livenza's friends picked him up and gave him some brandy, for
the blow had shaken him pretty considerably; and after a hurried whisper
together one of them left the room with him and the other turned to me.
"This matter cannot end here, of course," he said. "Who will act for
you?"
"You mean you are the bearer of a challenge from Colonel Livenza?" He
bowed formally. "If you will come to my rooms in a quarter of an
hour--I am going there direct--I will have matters arranged." I gave
him the address, and with a bow he left me.
"As you witnessed the insult, Captain Pescada, can you come with me
now?" He assented readily, and we three drove to my house, the captain
loud and angry in his condemnation of Livenza's conduct.
"There is more in this than lies on the surface, gentlemen," I said,
"There is a very bitter quarrel underneath it, and Colonel Livenza has
chosen this ground for bringing it to a head. You will understand,
therefore, that the fight will be no ordinary one, and no doubt when his
seconds come they will bring an intimation that the duel must be _a
entrance_. I am prepared for that, but as I am the challenged party I
shall make my own conditions. The fight must take place to-night."
"By the Cross, that's quick work," muttered the captain.
"Do you really mean this, Carbonnell?" asked Mayhew, nervously.
"I never meant anything more seriously in my life. It is a very ugly
business, and the sooner it is put through the better. My conditions
are equally stringent. I am no great hand with either sword or pistol,
and have no intention to be a target for a man whose skill is probably
twenty times greater than mine. It is his profession. We will settle
this thing by luck. We will face one another across a table; of the two
pistols, one only is to be loaded; we toss for choice, and the winner of
the toss to fire first; the loser, if he draw the loaded pistol, to fire
when and how he pleases."
They both protested vigorously.
"I will fight on those and no other conditions. He has called me a
coward, and heaped every foul insult on me he could think of. I believe
he did it, relying upon his greater skill. If he is now afraid to face
the chance of certain death, let him do it. I am not. I will fight on
no other conditions. If he refuses, I will brand him as a coward
publicly."
They were still endeavouring to dissuade me when Livenza's two seconds
arrived, and I left all four together. For an hour they wrangled, and
then the two went away to consult their principal, and another hour
passed before they returned and announced that their principal had
consented, but under the strongest protest.
Then came the question where the duel should be fought, and, when Mayhew
asked me, I said at once that the fittest place would be Colonel
Livenza's own house, 150, Calle de Villanueva; and in making this choice
I had in my thoughts the incidents which had occurred there on the night
of my arrival in Madrid. To this Captain Pescada objected on the ground
that it was most irregular for a duel to take place at the house of one
of the principals, and that it might be to my disadvantage. But this
did not turn me a hair's breadth from my resolve.
"I am glad you put it on that ground, for then my opponent can raise no
objection. If I am to fall, I care not a jot where it happens. If my
opponent, he can ask no more than to die near his own bed," I answered,
grimly. "We are wasting time; let us drive there at once;" and in a few
minutes we were in the carriage.
On the way scarce a word was said by anyone. I sat wrapped in my
thoughts, brooding over my purpose and nursing with jealous care the
plans I had formed. I was semi-conscious of the strange sensation that I
was acting in obedience to some subtle outside force which was impelling
me to pursue my present line of conduct. I was saturated with the
conviction that I should come unharmed through the fight; and that great
consequences to me were to follow from that night's proceedings.
The result was an indescribable and indeed half-weird sense of
comparative detachment from my surroundings. I was moving forward
toward an end of tragic importance; and the scene at the Cafe de
l'Europe, the insult, the blow, the strange preliminaries of the duel,
the very fight itself, were but so many necessary steps in the due
achievement of the far greater end. Once, something of this found
expression. I was conscious that my good friend Mayhew was completely
baffled by a mood totally unlike any he had ever seen me in before, and
I remember thinking that when the strain was over I would reassure him.
I caught him looking wonderingly at me, and at length he asked,
solicitously and almost wistfully--
"Have you any private arrangements you wish me to make?"
"There will be none to make, Silas. There will be no need. Nothing
will happen to me to make them necessary." He received the answer
gravely, with a nod of the head and a whispered, "I thought I'd ask;"
and looked at me strangely and compassionately, as a man might look at a
friend suddenly bereft of his senses. The look made me conscious for a
second that my words of conviction must have sounded oddly; but the next
instant the feeling passed and I was again considering how to use the
victory which I felt I was going to win.
In my manner I was perfectly cool and self-possessed, and when we
reached the house I led the way up the staircase to the rooms I had been
in before; and finding the first room I looked in empty, I said I would
wait there while the preparations were completed.
The task occupied nearly an hour, I was told afterwards, but to me it
passed like half a dozen minutes. I was reviewing all I knew of my
opponent's character and temper, searching for the key which at present
I could not find, and still animated by the irresistible conviction that
I was on the eve of a discovery of vital import. I had not solved the
problem when Captain Pescada came to fetch me.
"Everything has been done as you wished, Senor Carbonnell," he said,
calmly, yet not without some nervousness; for the unusual and apparently
deadly character of the arrangements had affected him. "The room beyond
has been selected; two pistols, one loaded with a blank cartridge, lie
on the table covered by a cloth. You and Colonel Livenza will take your
places at either side of the table, with the pistols between you. A
toss will decide the choice and will carry the right to fire first. In
the choice, the pistols must not be touched, but indicated merely by a
pointed finger."
"Good; I am warmly obliged to you," I said; and without even a conscious
tremor or the faintest misgiving, I went with him.
I wish to disclaim entirely any credit for courage on this occasion.
For the moment I was a fatalist, nothing more. I went into the room
possessed by the irresistible conviction that I should leave it quite
safe and unhurt; and had no more concern for the issue than if I had
been going to keep a mere social or business engagement. My thoughts
were not of my safety, but how I was to achieve that other object, the
very nature of which I did not then know. I had no need of courage. I
was in no sort of danger; and by some subtle instinct I knew this.
But it was very different with my opponent. A glance at his face told
me that he was vastly disturbed. The rage and hate of me still flashed
from his eyes and turned his cheeks livid; but there was another emotion
besides these; and what it was, and all that it meant to me, I was very
soon to see. I was surprised to notice, too, that the sight of him no
longer filled me with any anger or bitterness. He had become merely a
subject for close and minute observation. I was scarcely conscious of
the presence of anyone else in the room.
We took our places at the table opposite one another in silence. The
fateful pistols, covered by a thick green cloth, lay between us; and two
little bulges in the cloth, one to the right of me and one to the left,
denoted where they lay. I saw him look swiftly from one to the other of
them, and then catch his breath slightly. That gesture was the first
indication.
Then his chief second broke the tense silence.
"We have decided that Senor Mayhew shall spin the coin and Colonel
Livenza shall call. It is an old Ferdinand dollar with the King's head;
and you will please call "Head" or "Value." If you are correct in your
guess, you will point to which pistol you choose, and will then fire.
If you select the blank cartridge, Senor Carbonnell will have the other
pistol and will exercise the right to fire when he pleases. If you lose
the toss, Senor Carbonnell will select the pistol and fire, and you will
exercise the right to fire when you please. Are you both agreeable,
gentlemen?"
We murmured our assent simultaneously; and I saw Livenza catch his
breath again, wince slightly, and clutch his left hand nervously--his
second indication.
It was now Mayhew's turn, and my friend was so agitated that his hands
trembled and he fumbled clumsily with the coin, and for a moment could
not toss it up. But he sent it flying up at the second attempt, and
while it was in the air Livenza should have called. But the word stuck
in his mouth too long, and the coin fell with a dull thud on the thick
cloth without his call.
"Something caught my throat," he said, in a low apologetic tone and a
shamefaced manner. "I must trouble you again," he added to Mayhew.
I needed no more. I had the clue I sought, and the little incident
quickened my interest.
Mayhew spun it again, this time with no faulty preface.
"Head," called Livenza, while it was still high in air, and when it came
down he could not restrain the impulse to stoop forward eagerly to see
the coin as it fell. That action brought his face in a different angle
of the light, and on his brow I saw some beads of sweat.
"It is head," said Mayhew. "Colonel Livenza fires first."
A gleam of satisfaction lighted my opponent's face, followed instantly,
however, by an expression of such fateful, almost agonising indecision
as I have never seen on a man's face, and hope never to see again. It
was beyond his control to hide it. He glanced from one to the other of
the spots where the pistols showed, then closed his eyes; his brow drew
into deep furrows, and he bit his lips and clenched his hands as every
muscle and nerve in his body seemed to grow suddenly rigid with the
strain. Then, drawing a deep breath through his dilated nostrils, he
flung out his hand and pointed toward the pistol on my right and his
left; while the deep breath he had drawn escaped in a rush through the
trembling lips with a sound that could be heard all over the room.
Captain Pescada threw back the covering cloth, handed Livenza the pistol
he had chosen, and pushed the other to me. I left it lying on the
table, and the next instant was looking into Livenza's eyes along the
barrel of his pistol, held none too steadily within a few feet of my
head.
I was conscious for a moment of the four white anxious faces of the men
who were watching us with staring eyes and bated breath, and was kept at
the tension long enough to feel a wish that Livenza would fire, when the
report rang out and I felt the hot blast of the powder in my face, and
was dazzled by the flash as I realised that I was unhurt. I heard an
oath and a groan of despair from my opponent, and the first object I
could see clearly was Livenza, now salt-white, trembling like a man with
an ague, and swaying as he clung to the table for support.
[Illustration: "THE REPORT RANG OUT AND I REALIZED THAT I WAS
UNHURT."--_Page_ 158.]
So strong had been my conviction of safety that I had passed through the
trying ordeal without even a change of colour, so Mayhew told me
afterwards; and was certainly in complete command of my nerves as I
entered upon the second stage of the grim drama.
I saw my way as clearly as though written instructions were actually in
my hands. He was a coward. Brave enough for the ordinary routine
matters of life and of his profession as a soldier, he yet lacked the
courage to face the certain death that was waiting for him in the barrel
of the pistol lying to my hand; and throughout the whole scene he had
been oppressed and overborne by the fear of what such a minute as this
must mean for him. It was through his cowardice, his readiness to
sacrifice honour for life, that I was to win my way to the knowledge I
needed and achieve my purpose.
I began the task with studied cruelty. I bent on him such a look of
stern hate and menace as I could assume, and dallied deliberately with
his terror before I even laid finger on the pistol stock. Then I smiled
as in grim triumph, and picking up the pistol looked carefully at it,
and from it across the space between us to him.
His fight for strength was literally repulsive to witness. Terror
possessed him so completely that both nerves and muscles refused to obey
the direction of the brain, and the pause I made proved the breaking
point in his endurance.
"I can't stand; give me a chair," he gasped, piteously.
"Stand back, gentlemen, if you please," I thundered, when his seconds
were going to him; and the sound of my voice increased his already
crushing fear, so that he swayed and fell forward on the table, like a
man collapsed in drink, his arms extended and his hands clenched in a
veritable agony of despair and terror.
I allowed a full thirty seconds to pass in a silence that must have been
awesome for him, and then let drop the first hint of hope.
"It is my right to fire when I please. I have not said I shall exercise
it to-night."
At that I saw the strength begin to move in him again. His fingers
relaxed, he drew his arms back and then gradually his body, and at
length raised himself slowly and looked at me--question, doubt, fright,
appeal, hope, all struggling for expression--a look that, had I been as
full of rage and yearning for revenge as he had been and as he believed
me to be, would have sufficed to stay my finger on the trigger or have
driven me to fire in the air. I have never seen such haggard misery.
There was another pause, in which I looked at him, my face set
apparently upon the execution of an implacable resolve to kill him.
When it had had its effect and I saw the grey shades of renewed despair
falling upon him, I said--
"Gentlemen, I will ask you to withdraw a while. It may be that a way
can be found out of this business which may lead to my waiving or
indefinitely postponing my right. If Colonel Livenza is willing, I will
speak with him privately."
A hurried whispered conference between him and his seconds followed, and
then we two were left alone.
*CHAPTER XIV*
*A COWARD'S STORY*
After a very short pause Livenza's very shame at his own panic began to
give him a sort of firmness of bravado. The worst about him had been
made clear; he had shown that he was afraid and was willing to purchase
his life; and it was a matter in which he must make the best terms he
could. The pressure of imminent death once removed, he could breathe
again. In the future he was to be my creature, and he recognised it.
That was how I read the sullen, scowling look he gave me as he drew
himself up slowly and crossed his arms.
"You can sit down if you wish," I said, curtly, in the tone of a master,
to make him feel my authority and to recall to him his former craven
appeal.
"I have no wish: I can stand."
"You know your life is forfeit," and I glanced at the pistol in my hand,
"and that I have the right to send the bullet crashing into your brain,
if I please?"
He winced, and the light of fear glanced again in his eyes. I couldn't
have shot him in cold blood, of course, and the thrust was a cruel one.
But I knew that he could have shot me under the circumstances, and that
he would read my disposition by his own. He was a brute, and must be
treated as a brute.
"If you mean to shoot me, do it," he cried.
"I am willing to let you purchase your life, but the terms will be
heavy."
"I am in your power and must pay them," he answered, sullenly, but with
unmistakable relief.
"First, then, understand this: What has passed here to-night shall never
be breathed by either my friends or myself. So far as we are concerned
your reputation outside shall stand just where it did when you entered
the room. On that I give you my word of honour--if you deal straightly
with me. A sign of treachery or a single lie from you, and the truth
shall be told."
"I agree to that, of course."
"Moreover, my right to fire this shot is merely postponed, not waived.
You will put down in writing what will justify me should your treachery
ever make it necessary for me to shoot you."
"I will do that." He was beginning to speak fluently and readily now.
"You will now answer my questions. Are you in Sebastian Quesada's pay
or in his power?"
"In his power. He concocted a false charge against me some time ago,
confronted me with the proofs, and threatened to have me prosecuted. I
dare not face the charge, and from that moment he has used me for
various tasks."
"Amongst them this business of the young King's abduction?"
He started violently as I made this rather bold shot.
"What do you know?"
"Everything--except the details." The reply was perhaps a little
exaggeration; but I was guessing everything very fast.
"If he knows I have spoken of it to you, he will ruin me. I might as
well be dead."
"He will never know, unless you are fool enough to tell him. He sent
you to Senorita Castelar's house this afternoon?"
"Yes. He said you would be there." He was sufficiently recovered now
for his private feelings to reassert themselves somewhat, and there was
a gleam of the old hate of me in his eyes as he gave the answer which
let in such a flood of additional light upon my knowledge of Quesada's
treachery. I made another long shot.
"He has promised to help your suit with the senorita?"
"You are the devil. You do know everything, indeed," he cried. "Who
are you?"
"You are to answer, not question," I returned, sternly. It was now as
clear as the sun at noonday that Quesada had planned this quarrel of
ours, sending Livenza to catch me with Sarita, with the certain
assurance that his jealousy would lead to a duel in which one of us
would be certain either to fall or to be laid by during the completion
of his plans. He stood to gain almost equally by the death of either.
"You took with you some final instructions about this plot; what were
they?" I asked, after a moment's pause.
For the first time he hesitated, and I saw the beads of sweat standing
thick on his forehead, as he looked at me, trembling like a blade of
grass.
"You are asking me for more than my life," he murmured, his very teeth
chattering in his irresolution.
"Answer me, or----" I thundered, lifting the pistol a few inches.
"You will never breathe a word of this?" he implored.
"Answer me," I cried again, with implacable sternness.
"He gave me the privately agreed upon route of His Majesty's drive for
to-morrow afternoon." He spoke in a voice low and hoarse, and the
sentence was broken by three or four pauses, as if the effort to utter
it was almost beyond his strength.
"Give it me," I said, instantly.
"I--I dare not," he answered, his voice no louder than a whisper.
"Give it me," I repeated.
"I--I can tell it you," he said, after a long pause.
"Give it me," I cried, sternly. "I shall not ask again."
He plunged a trembling hand into an inner pocket, and without
withdrawing it gave me a glance of piteous entreaty.
"Anything but this!" he pleaded. "God have mercy on me; anything but
this, senor, I beg you. I was to have destroyed it."
"As you will. Then our conference fails. I will call in our seconds
and----"
But he did not let me finish, for with a groan of despair he brought the
paper out and laid it on the table.
I picked it up, and a glance showed me what a prize it was. The writing
was Quesada's, and it gave the route of the drive and actually suggested
the place where the abduction could be made--a spot on the road to
Buenavista, close to where the bridge crossed the Manzanares on the way
to Aravaca, and specified the time, five o'clock; adding the significant
note--"Only one aide in carriage, no escort; coachman and footman."
When I had read it he held out his hand for it, dreaming apparently that
I should return it; and when I put it in my pocket he threw up his hands
with a deep sigh of despair.
"Why was to-morrow chosen instead of the following day?"
"I don't know. There have been several changes."
I stopped to think. I had indeed made a splendid haul, and there was
little else Livenza was likely to be able to tell me. There was one
question I had yet to answer; but it was certain that he would not know
any more than I. What was Sebastian's object in all this? I had thought
of the probable solution when I was with Sarita--that he was playing for
his own hand and meant to get rid of the young King and to crush the
Carlists by one and the same stroke; and to pit myself against a man
shrewd enough to conceive such a policy and daring enough to put it to
the actual test, seemed like madness. But I had made up my mind to
attempt it; and the document I now had in my pocket would be a powerful
weapon if only I could see the means to use it shrewdly.
As I stood a minute or two revolving these matters, Livenza was staring
at me with the fascinated gaze with which a hunted animal will watch the
beast of prey that threatens its life, and at length said--
"Is there anything more. I am not well, senor."
"No, you have saved your life; but you will remain close in your rooms
until I send you word. To all but Sebastian Quesada you will be ill in
bed. Any message he sends you, you will immediately forward to me; and
he must not know that you are not acting just as usual. I will find
someone who will nurse you day and night and watch you."
"I cannot serve both you and Sebastian Quesada. I cannot do it. I must
have either your protection or his," he cried, feebly.
"You will have mine," I answered, in a tone I might have used had I been
the master of countless legions. "Serve me in this matter, and you will
have your reward. Fail me, and I swear I will take your life."
Without giving him time to answer, I called in the other men, and found
that Captain Pescada had gone away, leaving many apologies. I
apologised for having kept the others waiting.
"Colonel Livenza is ill, gentlemen," I added. "He has given me proofs
of his desire to make ample amends for the insult of this evening,
offered under what he declares to have been a complete misunderstanding.
While he is arranging matters I have consented to withhold my right
under the duel. He will put this in writing with an acknowledgment that
I shall be entitled to exercise that right should he fail in what he has
undertaken to do, and I wish you to put your names to the document."
He was so broken that he could scarcely keep a steady enough hand to
write what was necessary; and while he was so engaged, I drew Mayhew on
one side.
"You know many people in Madrid: do you know of any young doctor who
would undertake to stay here with Livenza for a couple of days at most,
but certainly until after to-morrow night, never losing sight of him and
seeing that he does not commit suicide?"
"He won't commit suicide," said Mayhew, contemptuously.
"I know that; but it will make a good excuse for us to give to the
doctor who is to watch him," I returned, drily. "It must be a man who
won't talk either. And you'll give me your word to say nothing of that
distressing scene of his cowardice. There's a good deal in this
thing--a good deal. And will you look up Captain Pescada in the morning
and get a pledge of secrecy from him?"
"Certainly I will; and I think I know the man you want."
"Can you rouse him up to-night? Of course, I'll see he's well paid. I
don't want to be here any longer than necessary; and as soon as this
thing's done," nodding to where Livenza was writing, "perhaps you could
fetch him."
The arrangements as I planned them were carried out without much further
loss of time, and as soon as the paper had been read over and signed,
and Livenza's seconds had left, Mayhew started in search of his friend.
Livenza went to bed, and when the young doctor came and I had given him
my instructions, Mayhew and I left the house together.
"It's all very mysterious, Ferdinand," he said, fishing.
"Very, Silas; but I hope things will come right in the end."
"You're well out of an ugly business."
"Or deeper in--it remains to be seen which," I answered, cryptically,
and smiled. "But whichever it is, our friendship will have to stand the
strain of silence about it. I'm sorry, for I should much like to have
you in it with me. But it can't be--at any rate yet. All the better for
you, perhaps."
"That brute meant to kill you," he said, after a pause.
"Not the only good intention that's missed fire to-night, probably."
"I couldn't understand you a bit. You were as cool and certain as if
you knew you'd come out on top."
"I think I did know it, too, in a way. Anyhow, I felt dead certain, and
that was just as good. But I know a lot more than I did, I'm glad to
say."
"What do you mean?" he asked, with quick curiosity.
"I know what it means to stand fire at close range."
"All right; I won't question you. But you're a strange beggar;" and he
laughed. I thought I could afford to laugh, too, so I joined him. I
might not have many more occasions for much laughter, at any rate for a
while; and soon after that we parted at the door of his house.
It was very late, but I sat for an hour smoking, studying the route of
the young King's drive for the next day, and making my plans; and when I
turned in my nerves were still in good enough trim for me to get to
sleep at once. I had had a very full and very exciting day, but unless
I was mistaken the morrow would prove much more critical for me, and
probably a no less fateful one for Spain.
I sent a letter first thing in the morning to the Embassy, excusing
myself from attendance there on the plea of sudden business; and, hiring
a horse, rode out to the spot where the attempt on the young King was to
be made that afternoon.
It was cleverly chosen, indeed. A very quiet, lonely place, where the
road dipped and then ran in a cutting between high banks up a sharp
incline--such a place, indeed, as was exactly suited to the work.
Fortunately I knew the district well, and where the various roads about
there led; and I could form a pretty good idea of how the thing would be
done.
I picked out a good spot where I could keep concealed, watch what
transpired, and then follow in pursuit. My plan was a very simple one:
To let the affair take place and the abductors get away with the King;
then to follow, and just when they were confident all had gone well,
strike in and act according to circumstances. My danger lay in the fact
that I must be alone; but the personal risks of that were less than any
attempt to get others to join me.
Of course, a mere word of warning sent to the palace would be sufficient
to cause a change in the route for the King's drive, and so check the
plot for that afternoon. But that was by no means my sole object. I
was bent on making a bold stroke for my own gain; and for this I was as
anxious as any Carlist could be for the momentary success of the scheme.
I must not only call check, but checkmate, to the desperate man I was
fighting.
The knowledge I had gained from Vidal de Pelayo, that the Carlists would
attempt to carry the King to Huesca, gave me a clue as to the line
across country they were sure to take, and a gallop of a few miles
refreshed my knowledge of it, and also showed me where in my turn I
could make my rescue.
I returned to Madrid about noon, confident and in high spirits as the
result of my ride, and my next task was to secure the fleetest and
strongest horse that could be hired; and I had scarcely reached my rooms
after arranging this when a very singular incident occurred.
A letter was brought me from Sebastian Quesada, and my servant told me
the messenger was waiting for a reply. I opened and read it with great
astonishment.
"Time changed. Six o'clock--not five; return route. Same spot.
Communicate instantly."
I had had no message from him, or invitation for a drive or ride that
day. The letter was just in the brief style of twenty others he had
sent me, and it seemed that some former invitation must have miscarried.
I was on the point of penning a line to him to this effect when a light
suddenly broke upon me.
The letter was not for me at all. It had been put by mistake in the
wrong envelope. I saw the address was in Quesada's own hand, and in his
hurry he had apparently committed the blunder of mixing the two notes.
This referred without a doubt to the great event of the day, and my
pulses tingled at the thought. I sent for the messenger.
"Did Senor Quesada give you this with his own hand?" I asked the man,
whom I knew as a confidential servant of the Minister's.
"Yes, senor. I took it first to the British Embassy, but they told me
you had not been there to-day, and as my instructions were to await your
answer, I came here."
"Quite right," I answered, casually. "I'm sorry I shall not be able to
do what your master wishes. I have hurt my hand and cannot write," and
I lifted my right hand, round which I had bound my handkerchief. I
could not send a written reply, as I did not know what I had to answer,
and could afterwards blame his servant if my verbal message suggested
any discrepancy.
As soon as his back was turned I was in a carriage driving fast to
Livenza's. I guessed that as this letter was for him, mine might have
been enclosed to him, thus forming the counterpart of the mistake.
My guess was right, and I found him puzzling over a letter asking me in
most pressing terms to join Quesada that afternoon in a long ride, and
to dine with him quietly afterwards. I saw the object--to make it
impossible for me to interfere in the business of that day, supposing by
any chance I had got wind of it.
That being his purpose, how would he act when he got my reply? The
story of the injured hand would seem to him to be the result of the
trouble with Livenza; but it was almost certain that he would come
himself to see me. If he did so, and found me absent, he might suspect,
and perhaps even at the eleventh hour postpone the coup.
A question to Livenza showed me how he would communicate the change of
time to those whom it concerned, and the moment I had arranged that I
rushed back to my rooms, swathed my hand in bandages, improvised a sling
under my coat, and sat down to wait. It was then three o'clock, and I
must be away in two hours--by five, that was--if I was not to run a risk
of being late, or perhaps of being observed.
My guess was right again, and at a quarter past three Quesada was shown
into my room. He found me with his letter lying open on my table, while
I was trying with infinite pains to write a reply with my left hand. I
received him with a welcoming laugh as I flourished my right arm in its
sling, and held out my left.
"My dear Ferdinand, Carlos brought me word that you had injured your
hand and could not ride with me this afternoon. I was all anxiety, and
have cancelled my arrangements that I may give up the time to cheer you.
Tell me, are you much hurt? How did it all happen, in the name of
misfortune?"
I cursed his solicitude, and saw his object. He had come to see that I
did no mischief. But I replied lightly--
"That is the act of a good, true friend. Sit down, light a cigar, and
let us chat. I was at that moment writing to you--have you ever tried
to write with the left hand? It is the devil's trouble. See here," and
I held out the letter, taking care that he should see his own at the
same time, and laughed over the stumbling effort. "I have been trying
ever since Carlos went to write and thank you, and say how sorry I am I
can't dine with you either, because I am engaged for the afternoon with
my sister and her friend Mrs. Curwen. We came from England together, you
know. But I am not due until four o'clock, so we can smoke, drink, and
chatter till then."
"But you're hurt--what is wrong?"
"My dear Quesada, though you are what we at home call Home Minister, and
therefore head of everything that pertains to law and order in the
capital, as elsewhere--and a most capable head, too--this Madrid of
yours is the devil's own place for a brawl. And I am bound to say that
when the Spanish blood's up the knife's out, and I can speak from
experience that the man who gets his fingers in the way of a Spanish
knife is a good many kinds of a fool for his trouble. But don't ask any
questions; I shall be right again in a day or so, and meanwhile I mean
to take care of my left hand;" and I flourished it, laughed again, and
gave him a look which might have been intended to suggest any kind of
intrigue.
He accepted the explanation, I thought, and in a few minutes we were
chatting much as usual. As the time passed I grew very anxious for him
to go, but he sat on for an hour, showing no indication of leaving, and
then I gave him a hint, which he didn't take.
"Now do me a favour," I said then. "Come with me this afternoon--I must
go, for I am due now--and allow me to present you to my sister?" I said
it as earnestly as though I knew Mercy and Mrs. Curwen were really at
the hotel waiting for me, and to my dismay he hesitated.
"You tempt me strongly. Your sister must be Dolores' and my friend."
"Good; then you will come? It is excellent, too, for Mrs. Curwen is the
American capitalist who is going to take up that silver mine business on
the Castelars' property, that you offered in London, you know, and she
will be delighted to see you and ask you all kinds of questions about
it. She is the most----"
But his face changed then.
"I do not like Americans just now," he broke in, "and I have remembered
something I omitted to do at my office. You must excuse me. But I will
drive you to the hotel."
"You are a thoughtful friend always," I replied, knowing he did this
because his suspicions of me were not yet allayed. Then came another
point. I was dressed for riding--Norfolk jacket and riding gaiters--and
could not change them. His quick eyes saw this instantly, and he said
with a glance and a laugh--
"Your visit is an informal one, Ferdinand?"
"One's sister learns the art of making excuses, and a man with only one
hand can surely plead privilege." And in that dress I started, leaving
him only a moment while I secured my revolver and some ammunition.
He drove me right to the hotel, and did not leave me until he had
actually heard me ask for Miss Carbonnell's and Mrs. Curwen's rooms, and
looked after me as the waiter led me away.
A glance at my watch showed me it was then nearly half-past four, but I
felt compelled to carry on the farce so far as to go to Mrs. Curwen's
room, perilously short though the time was growing.
*CHAPTER XV*
*THE ABDUCTION*
It is an experience which I expect most of us have known, to have to
clap on suddenly the mummer's mask at a moment of serious crisis, and to
play the fool just when one's whole mind and thoughts are claimed by
really tragic issues. That was my case when I went to Mrs. Curwen's on
parting from Quesada.
The widow was alone, and was annoyed that I had not been to see her on
the previous day, and met me consequently in a mood of satirical banter.
Looking at me as though she did not recognise me, she said--
"Carbonnell, Carbonnell, I seem to have heard the name; but surely it is
so long since I saw a man of the name. Are you Mr. Carbonnell?"
"I believe I am," I returned, gravely. "And I was actually going to
shake hands with you, I think."
"I don't think you can be; because I am sure the Mr. Carbonnell I knew
would never have remained away long enough for me to forget his face."
"Ah, you are thinking of Lascelles Carbonnell. I am Ferdinand, his
brother, you know."
"I am very angry with you, and that's the truth," she cried, laughing,
and colouring at the little thrust. "Lord Glisfoyle would never have
behaved in such a way. If this is how Madrid affects people, I wish I'd
never come. But what's the matter with your hand?"
"I have come to have a very difficult surgical operation performed by
you or Mercy. Where is she?" She came in as I spoke; and seeing my arm
in a sling her face clouded, as she kissed me and asked the reason.
"Are you really hurt?" asked Mrs. Curwen, doubtingly, sympathy
struggling with annoyance. "You don't look ill."
"Does a man wear this sort of ornament for fun?" and I drew the bandaged
hand from the sling.
"There's no accounting for what a man will do--in Madrid," she retorted,
with a sniff of battle and a toss of the head.
"Angela!" cried Mercy. "What is the matter, Nand?"
"He wants us to perform what he calls a 'surgical operation,' Mercy."
"The matter is not very serious, I believe," I answered, in deference to
the pain on my sister's face, but seeing now how to punish Mrs. Curwen,
I added: "They tell me, indeed, that if the bandages are removed very
carefully and a particular kind of massage employed, I shall recover the
use of the fingers quickly."
"I have had a lot of nursing experience, I can do it," said the widow;
and she began to handle the bandages very gently. "But what kind of
massage do you mean?"
"That will depend upon the condition in which we find them. I believe
they will have to be rubbed by being passed through cloth." This
somewhat recondite description of putting them through my coat sleeve
puzzled her completely.
"I never heard of anything like that," she said, wrinkling her forehead
in perplexity; now quite serious. "But whoever put these on? I never
saw anything so clumsy in my life. I must cut this one," and as she
turned away to find scissors, I took occasion to give Mercy a glance,
which not only relieved her anxiety, but changed her into an accomplice.
"Poor old Nand," she cried, in quite a tearful voice, but laughing to me
with her eyes. "Be careful, Angela. Shall I do it, dear?"
"Do you think I can't take a bandage off?" was the reply, with some
sharpness, as she came back with the scissors.
"Ah, oh!" I cried, wincing as if she hurt me at the next touch. "Please
be careful. I can't bear pain a bit."
"Men never can," she retorted. "I'm sure I scarcely touched you. But
if it's as bad as that, I'll be careful," she added, earnestly; and the
little farce proceeded, she unwinding the clumsy bandage I had put on,
and I wincing and "ah-ing" and grimacing, until the hand was uncovered,
and the fingers--bloodless, of course, from the ligature--were exposed
to view.
"What's the matter with them?" she said, examining them closely.
"It came on suddenly." I explained. "And now for the cloth massage.
Gently."
"What is cloth massage?"
"Why, massage with cloth, of course. Wait, I have it;" and without more
ado about nothing, I thrust my arm through the sleeve of my coat, and
held out my hand to shake hers. "The most wonderful cure on record.
Thank you so much."
Mercy burst out laughing, but Mrs. Curwen coloured with vexation.
"What does it mean? You've been fooling," she cried. "I call it horrid
of you;" and as she turned away I saw tears of vexation start to her
eyes. Then I repented.
"Forgive me. Honestly, I am sorry and did not mean to vex you. There
is a meaning to all this, and some day I'll tell you both, and the tale
will surprise you, probably."
"I'll forgive you if you're going to stay and take us nut, and then come
back to dinner. Your friend Mr. Mayhew is coming. We're going to the
Opera. The young King is to be there, and the Queen. It's to be a real
gala show."
"I should like to see the young King," I replied, truthfully enough,
indeed. "But I can't manage to dine with you. Give me the number of
your box, and if I can get my work done I'll try and join you there. I
must be off now, in fact."
"You seem to be very hard-worked at the Embassy," she replied.
"This is not purely Embassy work; it's rather extra-official than
otherwise."
"A.B.C. used to say that when a man had out-of-office work there was
generally a woman in the case."
"Ah, he was an American; and American customs are very unpopular in
Madrid just now;" and as my time was up, I hurried away. A short drive
carried me to the stables where my horse was in waiting ready saddled,
and not a vestige of the little farce remained in my thoughts as I
mounted and rode slowly off on what might be so momentous an errand for
me.
I knew the city well enough to pick my way through by-streets till I
reached the outskirts and came out on to the Aravaca road, and then I
rattled on for a mile to put my horse's powers to the test. He was a
splendid animal, and in the pink of condition, very fast, as sure-footed
as a mule, and wonderfully obedient alike to voice, knee, and rein. He
would have made a magnificent hunter, and when I put him across a bit of
country he took as much pleasure in it as I myself. A jewel of a horse
for the task I was upon.
I reached the spot I had chosen for my hiding place well before the
time; and, tethering my horse securely, I climbed a tree which was to be
my observation post, and commenced my vigil. I had about half an hour
to wait, for my ride had taken less time than I had allowed; but there
was not much fear of the time dragging.
I had with me a pair of folding field-glasses of great power and range,
and with these I swept the country round for indications of the approach
of the royal carriage or of any Carlist preparations. For a long time I
looked in vain; but presently a carriage, drawn by a pair of stalwart
horses, appeared about half a mile away to my left on the road from the
city. It was travelling rapidly, and I lost it soon afterwards behind a
small olive wood, which stood close to the crest of the hill. As it did
not appear again, the deduction was easy that it was the Carlist
carriage, and had been drawn up in concealment to wait for the coming of
the young King. I would have given a great deal to know the number of
those in it--but this was, of course, impossible.
Five minutes later four horsemen straggled up one by one, with
considerable intervals between them, and as they did not show on my side
of the little wood, I set them down as a further instalment of the
performers in the coming drama.
As there must be now at least six or eight men, the number of them gave
me a twinge of uneasiness. If anything like that number of men were
going with the young King after he had been put in the Carlist vehicle,
I had made a very grave miscalculation in my plans, which might have the
most serious consequences.
Nor was this all. As the appointed hour approached a single horseman
came riding at a sharp trot from the other direction; and he, too,
apparently joined the group waiting by the wood. He seemed to have
brought news, for soon after his arrival a man came on foot from the
coppice to the crest of the hill, stood a moment shading his eyes and
staring across the deep dip which the road made at the spot. After
staring thus for perhaps two minutes, he made a sign to his companions
and retraced his steps.
One thing was at any rate certain from this--the young King was
expected; and this meant much.
A pause of some ten minutes followed; during which the scrutiny of the
road was renewed twice, and the second time the lookout appeared to see
what he sought. I turned my glasses upon the road, and saw a horseman
spurring with all possible speed in our direction. He dashed down the
one hill at breakneck speed, and spurred and flogged his horse up the
next to where the others were awaiting him.
Almost directly afterwards I saw them commence their preparations; and I
jumped to the conclusion that his news was that the royal carriage was
close at hand.
Six men came out on foot. Four went down the hill, concealed themselves
in some bushes that grew by the wayside, and two went farther down,
almost to the bottom of the dip, and hid there. Presently two others
sauntered slowly a little way down the hill, and directly afterwards the
carriage I had formerly seen came out from behind the wood and stood
drawn up just far enough from the hill brow to be out of sight of anyone
coming up.
Altogether a fairly effective disposition of forces. The royal carriage
was to pass the first two at the bottom of the decline and to be stopped
by the four posted in the middle. If by a mishap it got past the four,
the two at the top would stop it: if it was turned back, the two at the
bottom would act; while in any case all of them would be almost
instantly available for an attack in force.
As I turned my glasses anxiously along the road to see whether the young
King was coming toward the trap so cunningly laid for him, I felt my
heart beginning to beat with the strain of the excitement, and
involuntarily I caught my breath and started when I saw a slight cloud
of dust in the distance which told of the King's approach.
The drama now developed quickly enough to satisfy the most voracious
lover of incident. The dust cloud grew larger and larger, till at
length I could make out the carriage quite distinctly, and saw that
Quesada's information had been absolutely correct. There were no
outriders, no escort of any kind, and the only servants on the carriage
were a coachman and footman, both on the box. What insanity, I thought,
to abandon even ordinary precautions at such a time! And what must not
be Quesada's influence even at the palace to get this effected on the
flimsy pretence of showing trust in the people!
Meanwhile, the men in waiting made a last preparation. When the royal
carriage was about half down the hill on my right, three of the Carlists
began to move slowly forward and to descend that on my left at a walking
pace. Then the driver drew to the side, as though there were not room
for the two carriages to pass, and waited. All was now in readiness.
The thing was done with remarkable neatness, sureness of touch, and
precision of movement. The instant the royal carriage had passed the
first couple of men at the bottom, the driver having checked the horses
to a walk, they both came out and followed. As it came abreast of the
four half way up the hill they sprang out, the carriage above drew into
the middle of the road, and the remaining couple running down swiftly,
the eight swarmed almost simultaneously upon the quarry.
The two servants were dragged from the box in a trice and bound with the
reins, and just as the young King thrust his head out of the window to
see what was wrong, both doors were flung open, the King was seized by
one pair, and the attendant equerry, an old man and incapable of any
serious resistance, was collared by the other pair. To borrow an Irish
phrase, the thing was over almost before it had begun. The young King
proved his pluck and did what he could; but that was, of course, nothing
against the strength of the men who seized him and carried him to the
carriage up the hill.
Then came a delay which puzzled me. The two men got into the Carlist
carriage with the young King, and remained in it some three or four
minutes, and what they were doing I could not see; but at the end of the
time one got out again, shut the door, threw on a footman's livery coat,
mounted the box beside the driver, and the carriage started immediately.
Two others had meanwhile gone for their horses, and now came out from
behind the wood, and followed the carriage at an interval of about a
furlong.
A last look before I slipped from my tree showed me that the others were
now making all haste to get the royal carriage away. Then I ran to my
horse, mounted, and started in pursuit.
My hopes of accomplishing my object had run down with a rush to zero,
and for the time I was full of consternation at the course things had
taken. No less than five men were told off to guard the young captive,
and I knew they were desperate men, who had imperilled their lives to
capture the King, and would risk them freely to keep him. How then
could I hope single-handed to effect a rescue? Moreover, it was
essential to my plans that I should succeed in my purpose without being
recognised by the Carlists; and this seemed to be just a sheer
impossibility.
The one step which had baffled me was their precaution in having a
couple of mounted men to follow the carriage. But for this my task
would have been infinitely easier. It made even the work of pursuit
vastly difficult. I could not ride on the open road, as this would have
roused suspicion; and I had thus to resort to a hundred shifts; now
galloping hard straight across country, now waiting in hiding; sometimes
crossing the road for better going or to take a straight line where the
road curved; and all the time harassed and worried by the constant
effort to remain unseen by these men and yet to prevent them from
getting out of sight of me.
Splendidly as I was mounted, the work began to tell on my horse almost
as much as upon my temper, and I grew not only anxious but positively
desperate. Full of difficulty as this scouting work was, it was leading
nowhere. Time slipped on as mile after mile was traversed, but I got no
nearer my object. So little did I like the prospect indeed that at
length I was forced to contemplate an entire change of plan and the
abandonment of the now forlorn hope of accomplishing the rescue
single-handed.
It was still open to me to stop the business by dogging the abductors in
a more open manner until we came to a place where I could get the
carriage stopped by the authorities; and when we were about a couple of
miles from the large village of Podrida I resolved most reluctantly to
take that course. It involved a bitter disappointment; it would have
Heaven alone knew what effect upon my after plans; it might mean indeed
the frustration of everything; but I saw no other way, and accordingly I
got back on to the road and began to close up the distance between me
and the two horsemen as we approached Podrida.
I cursed what I called my ill-luck at the turn things had taken, and was
riding in a very sullen mood and ill-temper when a little incident
occurred which suddenly changed everything, and once more set my hopes
beating high.
We were about a mile from Podrida, and I was some hundred yards behind
the two men, when the horse of one of them fell as they were trotting
briskly down a hill, and pitched its rider head foremost heavily on to
the rough stony road. His companion pulled up and dismounted. The
fallen horse scrambled up, and I saw he was dead lame, while the rider
was apparently stunned for the moment.
In a trice I resolved to attempt the rescue at once. I clapped my heels
into my horse's sides and darted forward at the gallop, and then, luck
having changed, Fortune tossed me another favour. The second man had
left his animal untethered as he bent over his companion, and, excited
apparently at the galloping of my horse, it threw up its head, snorted
and neighed as I passed, and came rushing madly after me. Thus in a
moment both the guards were out of the fight; and as I had been careful
to turn my head in passing, I got by without the risk of recognition.
The carriage was some distance ahead, and I had to think quickly of a
spot which would suit my purpose. But even in this Fortune continued
kind to me. The men with the carriage, finding the horsemen had dropped
too far behind them, and not being willing apparently to enter Podrida
without them, had halted to wait in just such a spot as I myself would
have chosen.
As a precaution against identification, I had brought with me a small
flesh-coloured silk mask, a relic of an old fancy-dress costume, and I
now slipped this on, slouched the brim of my hat well over my eyes, and
drew my revolver from my pocket. The issues to all concerned were too
weighty, and minutes, even seconds might be too precious for me to dally
with any sentimental considerations. If blood had to be shed, it must
be shed, let come what might; and my resolve was now running so high
that I meant to carry the thing through at all hazards.
But even then another splendid stroke of luck came my way. The man with
the driver on the box seemed to take alarm on seeing the riderless
horse, and, mistaking me for one of his mounted comrades, leapt down
from the box and came running toward me. Nothing could have served my
purpose better. I rode straight at him, and as I reached him struck him
with my heavy hunting-crop, putting all my strength into the blow. He
fell like a log, and I rode over him, dashed past the carriage, sent a
bullet into the nearest horse's head, turned instantly, and with another
shot broke the driver's right arm, and sent him toppling off the box on
to the road.
The man in the carriage with the King was now ready for me, however,
and, leaning out, fired a revolver at me as I dismounted and rushed to
the door. The aim was short enough, but the luck was still mine. He
missed me, and had no chance of a second shot, for my hunting-crop came
down on his wrist, breaking it, and his pistol dropped harmlessly on to
the road.
In half a minute I had him out and lying helpless and half-stunned on
the road, and had jumped into the carriage to the King, only to start
back in amazement and dismay at the discovery that it was not the King
at all, but a girl lying prone, faint, and helpless on an invalid's
stretcher, her eyes staring up into my face with the glazed, set
stillness of unconsciousness or paralysed fright. What could it mean
and what had I done? What astounding blunder had I perpetrated? What
miracle had happened? Where was the young King?
*CHAPTER XVI*
*AFTER THE RESCUE*
What I endured in those first moments after my shock of surprise I
cannot tell. A thousand possible consequences in a mounting scale of
danger crowded my mind to the exclusion of all coherent thoughts; and I
gazed down in sheer stolidity of bewilderment at the inert form of the
girl on the stretcher.
I had risked everything, and lost the whole stake through my blundering,
selfish stupidity in trying to carry this thing through single-handed.
Indeed, I had lost more than all--for I had laid myself open to a charge
of having played the highwayman in this reckless fashion; and while the
Carlists were speeding off with the young King, I should be hustled off
to a gaol for a common thief.
And this was how I was pitting myself against Sebastian Quesada! At
this thought my chagrin, my humiliation, and my self-contempt culminated
in an acute agony of mortification and disappointment. I was like a man
distracted and broken, when in a flash the light burst in on me.
I stooped over the girl and saw that what in my hasty glance I had
mistaken for a piece of displaced frilling was in reality the covering
for a cunningly constructed gag. In a moment I had torn it off and was
looking on the young King's face.
"Is your Majesty hurt?" I asked, and as I spoke my fingers were busy
tearing away the dress with which his captors had covered him, my hands
positively trembling in excitement.
"I cannot move. Who are you? I am strapped down everywhere," he said
weakly.
"By God's grace, I am come to save your Majesty;" and, without wasting
time in words, I searched for the straps that bound him to the stretcher
and severed them with my knife. The whole arrangement was cunningly
contrived in truth; but a sharp blade cut the bonds quickly enough, and
I soon had him out of the carriage. "Have you strength to ride, sire?" I
said, finding he was staggering feebly on my arm.
"I don't know," he said; and then, being but a lad, the sudden revulsion
of feeling proved too great a strain, and the tears started to his eyes,
and he stumbled and leaned helplessly against me.
"Courage, sire; all is well now;" and I gave him a sip of brandy from my
small pocket-flask. He rallied with a splendid effort, and pulled
himself together. "I can try, senor," he said pluckily, and smiled. It
was now more than time for us to be off. A glance back along the road
showed me one of the mounted men was running toward us, the fellow I had
ridden down was coming back to consciousness, while the others had
recovered from their surprise and hurts, and were rallying to stop us.
My horse and the other which had galloped up with us I had fastened to
the pole of the carriage, and I decided to take up the boy King on my
saddle for a mile or two until he had regained sufficient strength to
ride.
I mounted, therefore, helped him up in front of me, and, holding him and
leading the second horse, started at the best pace we could make. After
we had ridden in this cumbersome style for about a mile, my charge said
he felt quite strong enough to ride. We dismounted, and I set him upon
the second horse, and we were just setting forward again when he said--
"You are wearing a mask, senor?" A touch of fear was in the tone.
"I had forgotten it, sire. I did not wish to be recognised by the men
from whom I took you. They might make powerful and secret enemies!" and
I took it off and pocketed it.
"It is they who will fear you, not you fear them. And you did this all
by yourself!" The earnest boyish admiration was so frank and free that
I smiled. "Where are we going?" he asked next, and leaning across he
held out his hand. "I trust you, of course, implicitly."