Part 38 (1/2)

She spread out her hands in a vaguely forceful fas.h.i.+on as she turned from him and moved towards the door, but before she reached it she stopped and glanced at him again. Ormsgill who set his lips tight said nothing at all. Then there was a sound of footsteps outside, and Dom Clemente, who appeared in the entrance, stood still looking at them curiously. It was a moment or two before he turned to Benicia.

”Ah,” he said, ”I did not know you were here until a few minutes ago and I will not keep you now. I think the Senora is waiting for you.”

He stood aside when she swept past him and vanished with a rustle of filmy draperies. Then he turned to Ormsgill.

”Senor,” he said, ”I am inclined to fancy that you have something to say to me.”

The blood rose to Ormsgill's face, and his voice was strained. It was an almost intolerable duty that was laid upon him.

”I am afraid your surmise is not correct,” he said. ”I have nothing to say.”

Dom Clemente let one hand drop on the hilt of his sword. ”Senor,” he said, ”I am informed by my Secretary that the Senorita Benicia Figuera has obtained certain concessions concerning you from a man whose authority we submit to. You are, it seems, to be treated with every consideration, and he will investigate the complaints made against you personally. That,” and he made a little impressive gesture, ”is evidently the result of the Senorita Benicia's efforts on your behalf.

I am here to ask you why she has made them?”

Ormsgill looked at him steadily, though it cost him an effort to answer.

”I have the honor of the Senorita's acquaintance,” he said. ”It seems she is one who does what she can for her friends. I can offer no other explanation.”

”Ah,” said Dom Clemente with incisive quietness, ”I once informed you that it seemed to me you were doing a perilous thing in going back to Africa. It is possible you will shortly realize that what I said was warranted.”

Then he turned and went out, and Ormsgill sat down again with a little gasp, for the tension of the last few minutes had been almost insupportable.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

ON HIS TRIAL

Several hours had pa.s.sed since Dom Clemente left Ormsgill's quarters when he sat with one of his staff under a lamp in a room of the fazienda. He had laid his kepi on the table, and leaned back in his chair looking at a strip of paper with a little grim smile in his eyes. A negro swathed in white cotton squatted against the wall watching him uneasily, and a black soldier who had led the man in stood with ordered rifle at the door. At length Dom Clemente tossed the paper across to the officer sitting opposite him.

”I should be glad of your opinion,” he said.

”It is discreet,” said his companion, who examined the paper carefully. ”The writer evidently foresaw the possibility of his message falling into the wrong hands. It is also indifferent Portuguese, but I think it is the writing of an educated man.”

”Exactly! The question is why should an educated man express himself in that fas.h.i.+on?”

The officer shook his head. ”That,” he said reflectively, ”is a thing I do not understand.”

Dom Clemente smiled a little, and took up another strip of paper.

”This,” he said, ”is a message of the same kind which has also fallen into my hands. Does anything else occur to you when you put the two together?”

”They are from the same man,” and then a light seemed to break in upon the officer. ”He does not write like a native of the Peninsula.”

”No,” said Dom Clemente. ”I do not think he has ever been there.

Still, he had, no doubt, reasons for attempting to write in Portuguese.” Then he turned sternly to the crouching negro. ”Who gave you this message. Where were you to take the answer?”

”A man of a tribe I do not know,” said the messenger who was evidently in a state of terror. ”I was to meet him before the morning at a spot about a league away.”

”Then,” said Dom Clemente, ”there is a little service I want from you.

You will take some of my soldiers with you when you meet this man. If you attempt to warn him you will probably be shot.”