"You did wrong to kill him," she said, quietly.
"Wrong? Is revenge wrong? Is justice wrong? Has he killed no one? Did
he not plan my murder? Wouldn't he have ruined you? Were you safe in
his greedy clutch? Why chatter of wrong? It was right; a sound, good,
true, just act, and had he a hundred lives I would take them all, the
hundredth more cheerfully than the first--for your sake, Sarita. God,
how I love you!" he cried with mad ecstasy. "When you told me that
night at Calvarro's farm how he had cheated me, you signed his death
warrant, Sarita. I went away meaning to kill him and then myself, but I
saw how to do better. When I taxed him with his treachery he denied
everything, and made me more smooth promises. He was afraid to die and
told me where you were, that I could go to you and rescue you, and have
you for my own, all my own, Sarita. And then I saw what I could do.
That I could still kill him, and then escape myself to you and win you;
and I went out from his room and crept out to the back of his house and
caught him--doing, what think you? In the very act of sending a message
to his spies to arrest me at the place to which he was sending me to
find you. I knew then he had told me the truth, where you were; and I
shot him and saw him fall dead without a word, without a groan even, and
I hurried away to you. To you, my love, my last hope in life, my love,
my love. God, how I burn for you!" he exclaimed with fresh ecstasy.
Sarita shuddered and drew in her breath, at these evident proofs of his
madness.
"You told me Lord Glisfoyle was waiting for me," she said, scarce
knowing in her growing alarm what to say.
"Don't speak that name to me," he cried fiercely, his eyes gleaming and
his face flushing. "Any name but that. I lied to you, I know it. I am
not ashamed. A man must lie when love demands it. I used him to win
you away from Escorias; and you came--came, never to leave me again,
Sarita. I love you too well. If you will not love me, you shall live
to love no other. I swear it. But you don't want to die, and will learn
to love me. And if you won't, here is the love draught for us both;" and
the brute took his revolver from his pocket, and held it, looking from
it to Sarita, with eyes wild with craving, love, madness, and the menace
of death.
"You mean you will murder me as you have murdered Sebastian Quesada?"
Her voice was perfectly calm as she spoke. No higher proof of her
consummate courage could she have shown than this exclusion of fear from
her voice. And she smiled and added gently, "I don't think you would do
that." But even as she spoke she glanced hurriedly at the broken window
in the hope of escape.
I stole away then without waiting for more. I was confident she could
hold him in check long enough for me to effect her rescue if only I
could get into the house without arousing his suspicions.
I tried the door again, but it was too firmly fastened for me to force
it, and feeling my way by the walls I went round to the back, thinking
to find there a door or window by which I could enter. But the back
door was as firm as that in the front, and I had seen too much not to
know that the crash of my entrance, if I burst it in, would be the
signal for him to shoot.
There was a small window on the floor level, but this was not made to
open, and I was afraid to smash the glass. In the storey above there
was also a window, and to my intense satisfaction, I saw the casement
was open and creaking in the wind. In a moment I had my plan. I ran to
my horse and led him to the back of the house, making a circuit
sufficiently wide to prevent his steps being heard, and fastening him
under the window I quieted him while I stood up in the saddle. I was
still some way below the window, but calculating the distance as best I
could in the dark, I sprang up and managed to catch hold of the sill.
The rest was easy. I drew myself up, and in a minute was inside the
room.
Then I slipped off my boots, and striking a light found my way out of
the room and down the narrow rickety stairs, pausing at almost every
step, in fear lest the creak of the boards should give notice of my
presence. But no one heard me, and as the floor at the bottom was stone
paved, I could move with greater freedom. All was still well with
Sarita, and when I reached the door of the room where the two were, I
heard her voice, still calm and firm with courage, as she reasoned with
Livenza.
"Love is sweet and life is sweet," I heard him say in answer to
something from her; "but death is sweeter than all if love be denied.
If we cannot live and love we can die together, Sarita," he said, in the
dreary tone of a crazed dreamer.
I ran my fingers softly and noiselessly round the door in search of the
fastening, and when he began to speak again, I lifted the latch
noiselessly by imperceptible degrees, and found to my inexpressible
relief that it was unlocked. The sands of my patience had now run out,
and I drew my revolver and held it in readiness for instant use. The
seconds that followed formed a pause of acute suspense. I could hear
Livenza brushing against the door on the inside as he moved when
speaking, and taking advantage of a moment when he was in the midst of
one of his mad rhapsodical harangues, I nerved myself for a tremendous
effort, thrust the door open with all my might and main, and dashed into
the room.
Thank heaven, the attempt was entirely successful. The door in opening
struck Livenza with such sudden violence, that it sent him staggering
forward against the table in the centre, overthrowing the candle and
extinguishing it. Before he could recover himself, I had found him in
the dark, and grappling him dragged him to the floor, where he writhed
and strained in a fierce and desperate struggle for the mastery.
Sarita cried out in fear at the darkness and the sudden confusion.
"It is I, Sarita," I called, as I heard her close over us, and feared he
would try to escape. "For God's sake, get some kind of light." I could
speak no more, having to concentrate every effort to overcome Livenza,
who was fighting and wrestling with the wild ferocity of madness. So
fiercely did he struggle, and with strength which his madness increased
so greatly, that at one time I half feared he would master me; but at
length my grip fastened on his throat, and I pressed on it with all the
strength at my command, disregarding the blows he rained upon me with
frantic violence, and I hung on with a grip which he tried vainly to
shake off, writhing, and twisting incessantly. His strength gave out at
last; the blows grew fainter and the struggles weaker until he lay
passive, choking, and seemingly unconscious in my grasp.
[Illustration: "I HUNG ON WITH A GRIP WHICH HE TRIED VAINLY TO SHAKE
OFF."--_Page_ 411.]
"Can't you get a light, Sarita?" I asked, anxiously, for the whole
struggle had taken place in pitchy darkness.
"Are you hurt?" was her reply, her voice trembling.
"Not in the least. Don't be a bit afraid, we'll soon be out of this
mess." Finding that Livenza lay still, I plunged my hand into my pocket
and found my match-box. "Here are matches;" and when our fingers
touched in the dark hers were cold and shaking violently. I pressed
them gently and whispered: "It's all right now, sweetheart;" and a
moment or two later, the candle was found and re-lighted, revealing by
its dim flame a scene of confusion and disorder in the humble little
room which bore eloquent testimony to the scene which had just been
enacted.
"You must hunt about and find something to tie this mad devil up with; I
daren't leave him," I said next; and taking the candle she went out of
the room, her face dead white, and her hands shaking so that the candle
flickered unsteadily.
Meanwhile Livenza lay so still in the darkness that I began to fear he
was dead. I could feel no pulse in his listless wrist, which dropped
when I released it like the arm of a corpse. I unfastened his coat and
laid my hand on his heart, and then I could just detect a faint
fluttering; but it was enough to prove he still lived.
After a few minutes Sarita came back carrying a small length of cord
which she had found; and with this I fastened his legs. Taking the
candle I looked with a good deal of anxiety into his eyes; and sending
Sarita for water I dashed it on his face, and made such crude efforts as
I knew of to bring him back to consciousness. For a long time the
effort seemed vain, and the apparent difficulty of restoring him, led me
to an act of carelessness that came within an ace of proving fatal to
everything.
Sarita had been carrying Livenza's revolver which had fallen close to
her feet when I had burst in, and now she picked up mine and laid them
both on the table; and I, thinking that Livenza would be better if I
raised him, dragged him up and set him on a chair close to them. It was
the act of a fool. He had evidently been duping me for some time, and
now he waited until my hands were off him, when he seized his chance
with the cunning of a madman, and snatched up one of the revolvers. A
cry from Sarita was my first hint of the peril, and I turned to find the
barrel levelled point blank at me.
Her cry came just as he was pulling the trigger and he started and
missed me. Quick as thought he turned on her as she moved to the other
side of the room; but his hand was too shaky for him to aim correctly,
and by the mercy of Providence he missed her. Then before I could
interfere to stop him, for the three shots followed in rapid succession,
he put the pistol to his own temple and fired. This time the aim was
true enough, and with a groan, he fell back off the chair dead.
The revolver dropped close to him, and I kicked it away and bent over
him, and laid my hand on his heart.
"He is dead, Sarita," I said, and rose to take her out of the room, but
the strain and the shock had been too much for her strength. She had
fainted and lay white, wan, and helpless in the chair on which she had
crouched when he made his last desperate attempt to shoot her.
*CHAPTER XXXIV*
*A KING'S RIDDLE*
The effects of Sebastian Quesada's death were national and dramatic.
For some days the political atmosphere was highly charged with
electricity; the utmost confusion appeared to prevail, and in the result
the war party emerged triumphant and irresistible. Scarcely a voice was
to be heard in favour of peace, even from those who had previously been
staunch adherents of the dead Minister.
The reason of this was to some extent a matter of conjecture on my part.
How wide-reaching Quesada's conspiracy had been I never learnt
precisely; but enough was told to enable me to guess a great deal more.
Quite suddenly, and much to my surprise, the policy of a general amnesty
for the Carlists embroiled in the recent outbreak found wide and most
influential support.
The avowed reason for this was the obvious expediency of uniting all
classes in Spain, in order to present a compact front to the common
enemy; but I believe the real reason was a very different one. I have
grounds for saying that the scrutiny of Quesada's private affairs and
papers revealed the fact that so many of the prominent men in the
country had been more or less involved in his movement to establish a
Republic, that the loyalists were afraid of the results of a strict
investigation and rigorous prosecution. The war policy was a good
rallying cry, and in view of it the hatchet was to be buried.
This unexpected development was of course all in my favour, although
there were some days of acute anxiety and suspense.
So soon as I was in possession of the needed proofs that Quesada's death
was due to murder from private motives and was not an assassination in
any way concerning the Carlists, I had been confident enough of ultimate
success to take Sarita back to Madrid, place her again with Madame
Chansette, and then open up communications with the Duke of Novarro.
From my first interview with him I brought away a piece of sorrowful
news for Sarita. Her brother was dead. He had been shot at Daroca in
the act of escaping from the police who had arrested him. Her grief was
very deep, but Ramon's death severed the family tie which bound her to
Spain; and when the first pangs of sorrow had passed, it came to be
accepted between us that if the amnesty for the Carlists was secured she
would go with us to England.
Then, just as matters appeared to be going well, an unexpected thing
occurred. I had received a summons to attend at the Palace one day, and
went down to tell the others, and as I entered Mrs. Curwen's room I
heard her say:
"I'm glad the tornado's over, Mercy. It's a blessing we shall all go
back safe and sound to England. Your brother's a regular storm-centre."
"I think the storm-centre is moving at last, and across the Atlantic, as
the weather people say, Mrs. Curwen," I said, referring to the war news.
"Ah, did you hear me, Lord Glisfoyle; but you seem to be the
storm-centre. Have you brought any more little volcanoes or blizzards
with you now? I shall always think of a cyclone when I think of you,"
she declared, laughing.
"I am summoned to the Palace this afternoon, and hope, with you, to find
the tornado is over."
"Have you any news of Sarita's matters then?"
"None, but I expect to hear everything this afternoon. Did you see
Dolores Quesada this morning, Mercy?"
"Yes, poor girl; she is awfully broken by her trouble, and holds to her
intention to take the veil. She is going to-day to the Convent of the
Sacred Heart."
"About the best place for her, poor soul!" exclaimed Mrs. Curwen, "for a
time, of course. I'm not surprised there are plenty of convents in this
most cut-and-thrust country. I should go into one if I were a
Spaniard--which, thank goodness, I am not!"
"I think she would have done better to accept Madame Chansette's offer
to go and live with her in Paris," said I. "She's too pretty, too
young, and too rich to be shut up for life."
"Madame Chansette was with me this morning, and we both tried to
persuade her," replied Mercy, "but she wouldn't listen to us. We hope
she will come round. Madame Chansette says she will have at least a
year of the novitiate, and a good many things may happen in a year."
"A good many may happen in a week in Madrid," cried Mrs. Curwen. "It
must be in the air, I suppose."
"Yes, friendships ripen quickly here, even when people are not Spanish,"
said I.
"And feelings stronger than friendship, too," retorted the widow,
understanding my reference.
"Yes, feelings stronger than friendship," I repeated, with a significant
accent and glance at her. At that moment, Mayhew came in and I added,
"And here's a friend, I hope."
She smiled, and turned to greet him.
"Well, what news?" she asked, a little eagerly, I thought.
"I've got the leave," he answered.
I looked a question at them both, and Mayhew answered it, with a
self-conscious smile of forced indifference. "I'm going for a week or
two to London, Ferdinand. I've been a bit overdoing it here."
"Overdoing what, Silas?"
"Work, of course; and as you're all going----"
"It's my doing, Lord Glisfoyle," said Mrs. Curwen. "I hate travelling
without someone to look after things; and when we do go I know you will
be too much occupied under the circumstances to attend to us, so I told
Mr. Mayhew he ought to get leave and come with us."
"I hope with all my heart he'll never come back," I said, very
earnestly; and Mercy smiled.
"Not come back? Why?" he asked.
"Because I hope you'll find a sphere in London that will keep you
there."
"My dear fellow, a mill-horse like me has no influence."
"What leave will you have?"
"A month."
"Ah, well, one can say of London what Mrs. Curwen said just now of
Madrid; a good many things may happen in a month, and many good things
too." And in that case the generalism was a prophecy, for Mayhew did
not return to Madrid except when he and Mrs. Curwen paid a flying
honeymoon visit there some months afterwards.
"Certainly many things have happened here," he replied, drily.
"And the catalogue isn't filled yet; but I'm going to the Palace to-day,
and hope to get the remaining items, so far as I'm concerned;" and we
were discussing and canvassing my visit to the King, when Madame
Chansette arrived, and told us to my infinite consternation that Sarita
had been again arrested. I could not at first believe it.
"Arrested? My dear madame, are you sure?" I cried.
"I never feel sure of anything now; but if two officials in uniform
arriving with a warrant or a summons or some kind of paper from
Government, and the hurrying off of Sarita to some place no one knew
where, or at least would tell me where, and taking no denial or excuse
and not letting us communicate with anyone, and not even allowing Sarita
to make any decent preparations, or even pack a hand-bag with absolute
necessaries, not even a brush and comb or a spare handkerchief, and
saying no more to me than that they had their orders and must obey them,
don't mean arrest, then what can it mean?" She paused for want of
breath, and was plunging into another sea of words when I interrupted
her.
"Who signed the paper or warrant or whatever it was? What was the
charge?"
"My dear Lord Glisfoyle, however can I know when I was not even allowed
to look at it, much less take it in my hands; and I was so agitated and
frightened, I could not even think coolly. It was in this way----"
"Excuse me, I'll go and see about it," I broke in, and hurried away to
the Duke of Novarro in search of some explanation. I had to wait for
him, and sat for an hour or more drumming my heels on the floor and
controlling my impatience as best I could. It was close to the time of
my interview at the Palace when he arrived, full of suave apologies for
the delay.
"I learn that Senorita Castelar has been arrested. May I ask the reason
for so unexpected a step?" I asked, getting at once to the point.
"I am very glad you have come to me, Lord Glisfoyle, although in this
matter I fear I cannot give you much satisfactory information. But I
have just completed another affair that you will be interested to learn
concerning Senorita Castelar."
"But this arrest, my lord?" I cried, impatiently, irritated rather than
appeased by the scrupulous courtesy of his tone.
"Yes, it is undoubtedly singular; but bear with me a moment. The other
matter is also much in point. It concerns the young lady's property,
Lord Glisfoyle. An examination of the Quesada papers has convinced
us----"
"But the arrest, my lord?" I interposed. "I am burning with
impatience."
"This may be in some way connected with it. We are convinced that
Quesada was wrongfully withholding from his two relations property which
was theirs by right, and it will be restored to Senorita Castelar, of
course, if this matter is satisfactorily arranged."
"But the arrest, my lord?" I cried for the third time. "Other matters
are nothing compared with this."
"And unfortunately I can tell you nothing about it. I cannot think it is
of any serious importance, however."
"But she has been arrested," I urged, insistently. "Such a drastic step
must mean something--even in Spain."
"You are severe upon our methods, senor. I wish I could give you a more
satisfying answer." And he threw up his hands and smiled.
"To whom can I go for information?" I asked, rising.
"I believe the step has been taken at the instance of the Palace; but it
cannot be serious, as I say, for we have definitely settled upon the
amnesty for all but a very few of the Carlists--where, for instance, it
is clear that robbery rather than politics was the motive."
"This does not satisfy me," I said, ungraciously; for the mention of
exceptions made me uneasy.
"I can understand that it should not; but if I may offer a word of
advice, I would counsel patience. All will come right, I hope and
think. Have you not received a summons to the Palace to-day?"
"Yes. Shall I learn the truth there?" I said bluntly.
"I hope will have no difficulty in learning the truth anywhere in Spain,
Lord Glisfoyle," he answered; and the rebuke was none the less telling
because of the quiet, courteous tone in which it was administered.
"I beg your pardon, my lord. In my great anxiety I spoke in haste."
"I am sure of that. At the Palace I am convinced you will at least get
an explanation;" and he smiled. There was clearly nothing more to be
gleaned from him, and in this condition of anxious unrest I went to the
Palace.
I was ushered not into any of the public chambers, but into one of the
private apartments of the Royal Family, and left there alone, much
exercised in mind on account of the strange step which had been taken.
Presently the young King came to me, and I was at once struck by his
strange manner and the strange expression on his face. He appeared to
be very glad to see me, and yet his manner was unquestionably marked by
restraint. At first he came gladly and quickly towards me with
outstretched hands, as he had before, but checked himself, gave me his
hand to kiss, and then searched my face with precocious shrewdness,
mingled, as it seemed, with intentionally suppressed friendliness and a
dash of furtive concern. When he spoke it was with a gravity far beyond
his years, and without any of his spontaneous boyish frankness.
"I have desired to see you alone, my lord. The Duke of Novarro will
have told you of the decision in regard to the amnesty?"
"He has just done so, your Majesty. I went to him to ask the reason of
a most unexpected event--the arrest of Senorita Castelar--a matter that
has caused me grave uneasiness."
"Did he not tell you that some exceptions had to be made in granting
pardons?"
"He did not tell me that Senorita Castelar was to be an exception, and
certainly I had never been led to expect it," I answered, rather
bluntly. "Nor did I think that such a thing would ever have been done."
He gave me a little eager glance, and was going to reply quickly, when
he checked himself, paused, and then in the former tone said--
"We wish to consult your desires so far as possible, my lord; but the
senorita took a very active part even in the plot against me."
"I am in your Majesty's hands, of course, but such a step is a strange
way of consulting my desires."
"I am not so sure of that," he cried quickly, with a boyish smile. "At
least, I mean that you have been such a friend to me that I am convinced
you would not wish me to do anything that my advisers consider unwise."
"We did not speak in this strain as we rode back that evening from
Podrida. I do not recall any conditions about your Majesty's advisers
or even mention of them."
"You are very difficult to deal with, senor, and are making my task very
hard," he said, protestingly.
"I have not the honour to know what your Majesty's task is," said I,
puzzled by his words.
"It has been found necessary, in the interests which I have at heart, to
pass a sentence upon the senorita--in some respects a heavy sentence."
He used the same over-serious tone, but as he looked up into my face I
saw laughter in his eyes, and when he finished, the smile spread over
his face.
"It is your Majesty's prerogative to command," I answered.
"Yes," he cried, eagerly. "Yes, this is my own doing. I have seen
Senorita Castelar. I spoke of my advisers just now; but this is not
their doing, it is all my work. That may make you agree to it, even if
the punishment itself may seem to you severe. And, believe me, I should
be very sorry if I thought that--on your account. You will believe
that?" and he made a motion to place his hands on mine as if to appeal
to me.
"I should be deeply distressed if I thought you of yourself could do
anything harsh or unjust. I do not think it possible."
"That is more like my Englishman of Podrida," he cried, gleefully; but,
reverting to the grave tone, he added: "The senorita knows her
punishment and quite acquiesces in its justice; although it carries with
it no less than partial imprisonment for life."
"Your Majesty is not serious?" I exclaimed.
"Do I look otherwise?" he cried; but he could not maintain his gravity
any longer, and burst into a merry peal of laughter. "Do you think I
would do anything like that? Anything against the man who once wore
this for me?" and he pulled out the little mask that he had begged of me
that day on the road. "I know more now than I did then of the danger
you ran for my sake. Can't you guess my riddle?"
His eyes were dancing with pleasure and mischief, and he put on the
mask, and then thrust his hands into mine.
"This is not the only mask I've worn to-day, you see. Can't you guess?
Have I really beaten you? That's glorious; and I thought it all out
myself," he cried, laughing in high glee.
I began to see daylight then, and laughed with him. "I am not afraid of
anything you would think of, sire."
"But you were afraid, you know. I saw it in your face just now, and I
could hardly keep it up. I like you too much to wish to hurt you, even
in play."
"You said the senorita's punishment carried partial imprisonment for
life."
"A golden prison, senor, for this," he cried, laughing again as he held
up the fourth finger of the left hand. "Senorita Sarita Castelar is to
be exiled from Spain, never to return; never, never, never. But Lord
Glisfoyle's wife, Carlist or not Carlist, will always be able to
return," he added, slily, "because Lord Glisfoyle, my Englishman, will
always be welcome here. Now do you understand it all?"
"And thank your Majesty from the bottom of my heart," I replied,
earnestly.
"Have I kept my word?" he added, almost wistfully.
"As a King should, generously," I said.
"And you forgive me my prank--though you could not guess my riddle?"
"It is a riddle, sire, of which the answer could not be better."
"Then I hope Spain and I will always have one firm friend in England,"
he said, very seriously, as he put his hand again in mine.
"Till the end of my life, your Majesty;" and taking his hand I was
pressing my lips upon it when he checked me.
"No," he said, smiling. "I am not the King to you. We are friends, and
friends don't kiss hands, they shake them in your England. Good-bye, my
friend, my Englishman of Podrida."
"Good-bye," I answered, holding his hand in a firm clasp.
Then he led me, still holding my hand, to the door.
"You are to go there, but--" and his voice shook slightly as he
added--"don't forget me, even there; even when you find what you so much
desire." He opened the door, and I saw Sarita waiting for me. I went
to her with quickly beating heart.
"Good-bye again," came in a whisper, as the boy King closed the door
softly behind me, and opened up at the same time all the new smiling
love-life that lay ahead for us two.