Part 37 (2/2)

Almost instantly a little white object darted out over the balcony rail and came fluttering down through the limpid darkness. I caught it in the air, and felt in my closing palm a roll of paper twisted through a ring.

That it was a note and from my lady I had no doubts. But I could not read it here, and my love made me too impatient to be able to content myself with this dumb favor. I thrust the missive into my pocket, and called again: ”Alisanda!--Alisanda! Speak to me, dearest one!”

I waited a full minute. But she gave no sign. By now I was in desperate earnestness.

”Alisanda!” I appealed to her, ”is it for this I have come to you all these many leagues? Speak to me, dearest! I will not go--I cannot--until you speak to me!”

This time I did not call in vain. A shadowy form glided out the window and bent over the balcony rail, and the sweet notes of my lady's voice came down to me in heavenly music.

”Juan! Juan!” she murmured, in tender distress, ”you must not take this risk! You will lose all! Go now, dear friend, before you are discovered.

Go, read what I have written.”

”What is a little risk, Alisanda, to one who has crossed the barrier to reach you?”

”You do not know! The risk is that you may find you have crossed the barrier in vain. There is yet the gulf. Go quickly! I hear a step--some one comes! He is almost here!”

”But, dearest one--!” I protested, as she vanished.

There came a sound of quick steps behind me, and an angry voice muttered the fierce oath, ”_Carrajo!_”

A man reared in the wilderness acquires the instinct of the wild creatures to act first and consider afterwards. I leaped away from that angry voice before the last syllable of the oath hissed out. Even at that I felt the p.r.i.c.k of a sword point beneath my shoulder as I bounded away. The owner of the voice had thrust--and thrust to kill. As my feet touched earth again I had out my pistol; as I spun about, I set the hair-trigger. The glint of a steel blade directed my gaze on the instant to the dim figure crouching to spring after me.

”Halt, senor a.s.sa.s.sin!” I commanded. ”Take a step, and I shoot you down like a dog!”

”_Peste!_” he cried, lowering his sword point. ”It is the _Americano_ physician.”

”And you are Medina!” I muttered between my hard-set teeth--”Medina, the aide-de-camp and bravo of Salcedo,--Medina the a.s.sa.s.sin.”

”_Peste!_” he repeated. ”It is a lie.”

”You had better pray than swear,” I warned him. ”The trigger of my pistol is set. The slightest touch of my finger, and you go straight to h.e.l.l.”

”_Santisima Virgen!_” he protested, a trace of concern beneath the continued anger of his tone. ”You do not comprehend.”

”I comprehend that you, an officer in the service of His Most Catholic Majesty, sought to stab me in the back without warning. It was vile--it was cowardly! Can you name a single reason why I should not shoot you?”

”You do not comprehend!” he insisted. ”I mistook you for one of those whom I have warned.”

”Mistook me?” I repeated, catching at the chance for an explanation. It is not pleasant to think of a gentleman and officer turned a.s.sa.s.sin.

”Yes,” he answered. ”I have made this my privilege. Any man in Chihuahua who wishes to serenade Senorita Vallois has my pledge that I will kill him.”

”I am in Chihuahua, and I have serenaded Senorita Vallois,” I replied.

”But you did not know of my pledge. I will spare you this time.”

”_Muchas gracias_, senor. Yet it seems to me it is a question of my sparing you.”

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