Part 10 (2/2)

Mr. Myles was anxious to translate. Grey restrained him. ”I can gueth..

”De veras,” said Don Luis politely. ”My Lords.h.i.+p has the true Spanish lisp of Castile. His Spanish sin dude is as much good as the mine.

At this point, discretion came to Mr. Myles, and he studied the floor.

”And now,” said Don Luis. He rose splas.h.i.+ly to his feet. ”To action, sefiores. Mas veen quatro ojos que no dos. If the sefiores will lend clothing to myself and my men, with your aid we shall follow and kill the animals who put the hand on us. By el engafio, the trick..

The dark face flamed with renewed vitality. ”The leader, I wish to meet. The confusion with the horses, the skilful overcoming of such a man as me: there is no man mediocre. Ay, ay, dios. Y cuando ... When I meet him. .

”You may meet him now, if you with,” said Grey calmly. ”We have him and motht of hith men locked up here..

”Que pasa? How is this?” Lord Grey saw with satisfaction that the caballero was impressed at last.

”Pero-como asi?.

They explained. Don Luis, the ends of his cloak slopping in thebath, stood in astonishment. Then he swept out of the tub, imprinting the carpet with black sticky footmarks.

”This terrible Sefior Huile! Lead me to him!.

”Seilor . . . Wait a moment,” said Grey sharply.

Don Luis paused in the midst of a characteristic rush to the door. Grey said, ”You don't by any chanth know how the leader wath called?.

”But of course!” said Don Luis simply. ”Do you not? It is Don Huile del Escocia..

”Don . . .” Dudley suddenly experienced a terrible nostalgia for the King's English, unadorned. ”He can't be called that. He's a Scotsman..

”No, no.” Don Luis was annoyed at his own stupidity. ”This I translate to remember. El nombre de pila . .

(”Christian name,” said Mr. Myles surrept.i.tiously.)It is Huile, that is in Scottish, Oil. An unusual name, is it not?” said Don Luis, amused.

”Oil!” said Grey rather hollowly.

”And the patronimico,” continued Don Luis with undiminished helpfulness. ”It is del Escocia, of Scot..

”Thcot!” said Grey. His face suddenly lightened. ”Wait a moment. Thcott! That'th Buccleuch'th name. Huile- It'th the Thpanith p.r.o.nunthiathion, idiot, not the Englith. What thoundth like Huile . Will! Will Thcott! Buccleuch'th oldetht son!.

”Idiota?” said Don Luis stiffly, picking out the insult unerringly from the maze of multisyllables. His feet, a tarry mound, were ringed with pools of water from the cloak, and his eyes were narrowed at Grey. ”Idiota?.

The secretary saved the day. He took the sefior's arm and murmured in his ear. Phrases floated to his lords.h.i.+p: ”defecto de bocaquere decir 'ideal' . . .” Mr. Myles did his best, and only ceased when entangled with the unforunate word ”embarazar.” He flushed bright pink and released Don Louis, now regarding Lord Grey with unconcealed curiosity.

”Perhapth,” said Grey icily, ”Don Luith might be given thome help to clean hith feet and a chanth to dreth, and then we will have Mr. Thcott brought up..

Dudley opened the door. ”Woodward! Get those men below into decent clothes, and fetch a suit for the sefior..

Woodward looked doubtful. ”We've already fixed up the men be-low, sir, and it's taken nearly all the spare clothing we've got. What's left wouldn't be”-he hesitated-”entirely suitable for the gentleman..

”Then strip it off one of the prisoners,” said Dudley impatiently. ”The fellow who led them-Scott's his name-he's probably wearing the sefior's own suit..

Woodward said, ”Well, even if he is, sir, it's no good. It's in ribbons..

There was a pause. Then the Spanish gentleman said, very distinctly, ”I do not hear aright. I trust one does not ask me to wear clothes of the common soldier with, no doubt, the louse?.

They saw with apprehension that his brow had blackened again.

Grey said, ”Dudley”Too small, sir,” said Dudley. ”Same applies to Woodward and Myles..

It was true enough. They were all big men, far taller than Don Luis.

Another short, pregnant silence. Dudley and the lieutenant stared into middle s.p.a.ce. Mr. Myles thought of something.

”He's just about your own height, your lords.h.i.+p, if I may say so,” he said co-operatively.

Mr. Woodward murmured ”Well played, sir!” under his breath and continued to look woodenly at the wall. Mr. Myles looked surprised.

Lord Grey allowed to lapse the longest possible interval consistent with civility. He then said without any sign of gratification, ”Of courth. I am afraid I require my riding clotheth, but I would be happy, naturally, to therve the thefior with my thpare dreth..

The seilor, it was apparent, was also happy. So, too, were Dudley and Woodward, but circ.u.mspectly so.

* * *Scott was pitchforked into Grey's room an hour later.

His lords.h.i.+p, courtesy worn a littl~ thin, sat again at his desk; Dudley, Woodward, Myles and some others at his side and by the window. Beside the desk lounged an elegant gentleman in tawny velvet, with combed black curls and a diamond in one ear.

”Thith,” said Lord Grey, ”ith Don Luith Fernando de Cordoba yAvila, of the forthe of Don Pedro de Gamboa, therving under the King'th Majethty in the North. I believe you had the impertinenthe to capture and unbreech him earlier tonight.” That took the smile off his majesty's face, he noted sardonically.

Scott stared.

Don Luis de Cordoba uncrossed long, exquisite legs, rose languidly from his chair, and strolled toWard the prisoner. He contemplated him, face to face in silence, through hall-closed eyes, blue as corn-flowers. Then, before Scott had time to dodge, he brought the percussion of his right hand with the savagery of a machine across the boy's swollen lips.

Blood from the smashed mouth welled and poured.

”We have a proverb, Seffor Huile,” said Don Luis sweetly. ”A unque manso tu sabuesro, no le muerdas en el beco..

Scott moved bleeding lips. ”Hay un otro, Sefior Luis. Ruin seuior cria ruin servidor..

The malicious glitter increased. ”The sefior speaks Spanish? That should be cured. It is a tongue for gentlemen..

Dudley, already on his feet, reached the Spaniard. ”Remember, Mr. Scott's a valuable hostage, Don Luis. Seat yourself, and we'll thrash the matter out..

Mr. Scott! A sensation like the pounding of a die stamp was beginning to operate behind the boy's eyes. He parried their questions:Had his father, they asked, sent him to capture Don Luis and the supply train? How had he known the train would be there? What would his father pay to recover him.

He was jolted by a Spanish exclamation. ”Dios!” said Don Luis in vexation. ”I believe the young man faints. He is a person debil, the Scot, in spite of many words. Ay! he goes!.

For Scott, after a moment's helpless indecision, took the path thus offered. He swayed; he fell.

Woodward stooped over him. ”He's off all right. Better take him back to his cell..

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