Part 30 (2/2)

Sobrenski recovered himself first and laughed.

”So you thought it was loaded?” he said. ”Do you take me for a fool?

Allow me to congratulate you on your--failure!”

Then changing his tone of sarcasm to command: ”You must hide that pistol carefully. Put it inside your dress or somewhere safe. I suppose you would like to march down the Paseo de Gracia, carrying it in your hand, and wearing a tragic expression,--and get locked up by the first agent de police you meet! You have pluck enough, but you should avoid these exhibitions of hysteria.”

He gripped her by the shoulder, swung her round, and pointed to the door, ”_Allez_!”

CHAPTER XXI

”My crown is without leaves, For she sits in the dust and grieves, Now we are come to our kingdom.”

”Anthony and Cleopatra,” KIPLING.

Once more the procession of conspirators toiled on its way up the irregular mountain path. The horses slipped and stumbled under their unskilful riders, the mules climbed steadily upwards. No one spoke.

As usual Arith.e.l.li led the way.

Vardri, who had arrived last of all, rode forward to join her, but was curtly ordered to the rear by Sobrenski.

They should see enough of each other later on,--when it was time.

Before they started on their ride he spoke to Arith.e.l.li alone, and gave her his final instructions, and saw for himself that the pistol she wore at her belt was properly charged. He never left anything to chance, especially in important undertakings such as the present one.

”There will not be a long meeting to-night,” he said. ”You will have an hour free to do your work. You hear?”

His eyes were fixed on hers, compelling an answer. None came, though she bowed her head in token of acquiescence, and though he could hear no word Sobrenski was satisfied. He had seen that shrinking att.i.tude, that mechanical gesture before. In the plot to a.s.sa.s.sinate General Morales there had been a young Spanish student who had given some trouble. He had developed a conscience at the last minute, and vowed that he could not kill an old and defenceless man, that he would rather die himself.

He had died, and so had Morales, and both by the explosion of the bomb that had been launched by the hand of the former.

Sobrenski held rightly that those who meddled with politics on either side must dispense with such useless things as scruples.

The night was still and sultry, with a full moon hanging low in the sky. The weather had been unnaturally warm for the time of year, all day, down in the city.

They were all glad when they had mounted above the sea-level.

There was a little breeze met them, and the tired and patiently plodding horses raised their heads.

Arith.e.l.li drew a long breath of relief as she s.h.i.+fted in her saddle, and glanced back to see if they were all in sight.

The _manta_ in which she was wrapped stifled her, and the weight of her own hair under the wig and sombrero made her head ache and throb violently.

As they rode she rehea.r.s.ed her plans in her own mind, telling herself over and over again the things that she must say and do when she was alone with Vardri.

To-night would see Sobrenski's triumph, his grand coup, and when it was all over perhaps she would have peace.

How slowly they all seemed to ride, she thought. She wondered how many of the other men knew that she was chosen to act the part of murderess.

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