Chapter 30

LISTER MEETS AN OLD ANTAGONIST

The hotel Catalina, half-way between Las Palmas harbor and the town, was not crowded, and a number of the quests had gone to a ball at the neighboring Metropole. Barbara, going out some time after dinner, found the veranda unoccupied and sat down. Mrs. Cartwright was getting better and did not need her, and Barbara was satisfied to be alone. Her thoughts were disturbing, and trying to banish them for a few minutes, she looked about.

The veranda was long, and the lights from the hotel threw the shadow of the wooden pillars across the dusty grass. Barbara's figure was outlined in a dark silhouette. She did not wear a hat and, since the night was warm, had put nothing over her thin dinner dress. She looked slender and very young.

A strip of parched garden, where a few dusty palms grew, ran down to the road, across which the square block of the Metropole cut the shining sea. Steamers' lights swung gently against the dark background of the Isleta hill. Beyond the Metropole a white belt of surf ran back to the cluster of lights at the foot of the mountain that marked Las Palmas. One heard the languid rollers break upon the beach and the measured crash of surges on the reefs across the isthmus. Sometimes, when the throb of the surf sank, music came from the Metropole. A distant rattle indicated a steam-tram going to the port.

The long line across the harbor was the mole, and Barbara had thought the small steamer, lying near its end, like _Terrier_. There was nothing in the soft blue dark behind the mole until one came to the African coast. Then Barbara firmly turned her glance. In a sense, she had sent Lister to Africa, but she was not going to think about him yet. She must not think about him until she had weighed something else.

A few hours since she had got a jar. Walking in the town she saw a man whose figure and step she thought she knew. He was some distance off, and she entered a shop and bought a Spanish fan she did not want. Perhaps her disturbance was ridiculous, but the man was very like Shillito, and their meeting at the busy port was not impossible. Las Palmas was something like an important railway junction. Numerous steamers called, and passengers from all quarters, particularly South America and the West Indies, changed boats. Then Barbara understood that a fugitive from justice was safer in South and Central America than anywhere else. She wondered with keen anxiety whether the man had seen her.

She knew now she had not loved Shillito. He had cunningly worked upon her ignorance, discontent, and longing for romance. Illumination had come on board the train, but although she had found him out and escaped, she had afterwards felt herself humiliated and set apart from happy girls who had nothing to hide. The humiliation was not altogether earned, and the people who knew about her adventure were not numerous, but they were all the people for whom she cared. When she thought about it, she hated Louis Shillito.

The steam-tram stopped at the Metropole and went on to the port, trailing a cloud of dust. When the rattle it made began to die away, Barbara roused herself with a start from her moody thoughts. A man was coming up the path, and when he reached the steps she shrank back against the wall. The light from the hotel touched his face and she saw it was Shillito.

Anger conquered her shrinking, for Barbara had pluck and her temper was hot. When Shillito, lifting his hat, advanced, she got up and stood by a pillar. Her skin had gone very white, but her eyes sparkled and her hands were clenched. Shillito bowed and smiled.

"It looks as if I was lucky!" he remarked, and Barbara imagined his not finding Mrs. Cartwright about accounted for his satisfaction.

"I suppose you saw me in the _calle mayor_?" she said.

He nodded. "You went into a shop. Your object was pretty obvious. I allow it hurt."

Barbara gave him a scornful glance. "The statement's ridiculous! Do you imagine you can cheat me now, as you cheated me in Canada?"

"In one way, I did not cheat you. When I said I loved you, I was honest."

"I doubt it! All was dishonest from the beginning. You taught me deceit and made me ashamed for my shabbiness. For your sake I tricked people who loved and trusted me; but to you I was rashly sincere. I trusted you and was willing to give up much in order to marry you."

"You mean you thought you were willing, until you knew the cost?" Shillito rejoined. "Then you saw you couldn't make good and resolved to turn me down."

The blood came to Barbara's skin, but she fronted him steadily.

"I had _found you out_. Had you been something of the man I thought, I might have gone with you and helped to baffle the police; but you were not. You were very dull and played a stupid part. When you thought you had won and I was in your power, I knew you for a brute."

Shillito colored, but forced a smile. "Perhaps I was dull; I was desperate. You had kept me hanging round the summer camp when I knew the police were on my track; and I had been put wise they might hold up the train. A man hitting the trail for liberty doesn't use the manners of a highbrow carpet-knight. I reckoned you were human and your blood was red."

"Ah," said Barbara, "I was very human! Although I was afraid, I felt all the passion hate can rouse. You declared I must stay with you, because I durst not go back; I had broken rules and my fastidious relations would have no more to do with me. Something like that! In a sense, it wasn't true; but you said it with brutal coarseness. When I struck you I meant to hurt; I looked for something that would hurt--"

She stopped and struggled for calm. To indulge her anger was some relief, but she felt the man was dangerous and she must be cool. There was not much use in leaving him and going to her mother, because he would, no doubt, follow and disturb Mrs. Cartwright. It was unlucky her step-father had not arrived; he was coming out, but his boat was not expected for a day or two.

"Oh, well," said Shillito, "let's talk about something else. I didn't calculate to meet you at Las Palmas, but when I saw you in the _calle_, I hoped you might, after all, be kind for old times' sake. However, it's obvious you have no use for me, and if you are willing to make it easier, I'll pull out and leave you alone."

Barbara gave him a keen glance. She had known he wanted something.

"How can I make it easier for you to go?"

"You don't see? Well, I've had some adventures since you left me on board the train. I had money, but I'd waited too long to negotiate some of the bonds and my partner robbed me. I made San Francisco and found nothing doing there. Went down the coast to Chile and got fixed for a time at a casino, in which I invested the most part of my wad. One night a Chileno pulled his knife on another who cleaned him out, and when the police got busy the casino shut down. I pushed across for Argentina, but my luck wasn't good, and I made Las Palmas not long since on board an Italian boat. On the whole, I like the dagos, and reckoned I might try Cuba, or perhaps the Philippines--"

"A Lopez boat sails for Havana in two or three days," Barbara interrupted.

"That is so," Shillito agreed, smiling because he noted her relief. "The trouble is, I haven't much money. Five hundred pounds would help me along."

"You thought I would give you five hundred pounds?"

"Sure," said Shillito, coolly. "You're rich; anyhow, Mrs. Cartwright is rich, and I reckoned you would see my staying about the town has drawbacks. For one thing, the English tourists are a gossiping lot. It ought to pay you and your mother to help me get off."

Barbara tried to think. The drawbacks Shillito indicated were plain, and as long as he stayed at Las Palmas she would know no ease of mind, but she had not five hundred pounds, and Mrs. Cartwright must not be disturbed. Moreover, one could not trust the fellow. He might take the money and then use his power again. He had power to humiliate her, but unless she was willing to meet all his claims, she must resist some time.

"I imagine you put your importance too high," she said. "You can stay, if you like. I certainly will not bribe you to go away."

He studied her for a few moments; Barbara looked resolute, but he thought her resolution forced.

"Very well! Since I can't start for Cuba without money, I must find an occupation at Las Palmas, and I have a plan. You see, I know some Spanish and something about running a gambling joint. The people here are sports, and one or two are willing to put up the money to start a club that ought to attract the English tourists. If I found the thing didn't pay before you went back, I could quit and get after you."

"I think not," said Barbara, desperately. "If you came to England, a cablegram to the Canadian police--"

Shillito laughed. "You wouldn't send a cablegram! If I was caught I could tell a romantic story about the girl who helped me get off. No; I'm not going to bother about your putting the police on my trail!"

He turned his head and Barbara clenched her hand, for a rattle of wheels in the road broke off, as if a _tartana_ had stopped at the gate. If the passengers from the vehicle were coming to the hotel she must get rid of Shillito before they arrived.

"You waste your arguments," she declared. "I will not give you money. If you come back, I will tell the _mayordomo_ you are annoying me and he must not let you in."

"The plan's not very clever," Shillito rejoined. "If I made trouble for the hotel porters, the guests would wonder, and when people have nothing to do but loaf, they like to talk. I expect you'd find their curiosity awkward--" He paused and laughed when he resumed: "You're embarrassed now because somebody will see us!"

Barbara was embarrassed. A man was coming up the path, and she knew her figure and Shillito's cut against the light. When the stranger reached the veranda he would see she was disturbed; but to move back into the gloom, where Shillito would follow her, would be significant. She thought he meant to excite the other's curiosity.

The man stopped for a moment at the bottom of the steps and Barbara turned her head, since she imagined he would think she was quarreling with her lover. Then he ran up the steps, and when he stopped in front of Shillito her heart beat fast. It was Lister, and she knew he had remarked her strained look, for his face was very stern.

"Hallo!" he said. "Are you bothering Miss Hyslop again?" He glanced at Barbara. "I expect the fellow is bothering you?"

For a moment Barbara hesitated, but she had borne a heavy strain and her control was going. Besides, one could trust Lister and he knew ... She signed agreement and he touched Shillito.

"Get off the veranda!"

Shillito did not move. His pose was tense and he looked malevolent.

"You won't help Miss Hyslop by butting in like a clumsy fool. The thing's too delicate for you to meddle--"

"Get off the veranda!" Lister shouted, and threw Shillito back.

He was highly strung, and worn by want of sleep and exhausting labor, but he had some notion of all Barbara had borne on Shillito's account. Although perhaps caution and tact were indicated, he was going to use force. When Shillito struck him he seized the fellow, and rocking in a savage grapple, they fell with a crash against the rails. Lister felt the other's hand at his throat, and straining back, jerked his head away while he tried to lift his antagonist off the ground. He pulled him from the rails and they reeled across the veranda and struck the wall.

A neighboring window rattled with the shock, the heavy tramp of their feet shook the boards, and Barbara knew the noise would soon bring a group of curious servants to the door; besides, all the guests had not gone to the Metropole. Yet she could not meddle. The men's passions were unloosed; they fought like savage animals, driven by an instinctive fury that would not vanish until one was beaten. She looked on, trembling and helpless, while they wrestled, with swaying bodies and hands that felt for a firmer hold. Her face was very white and she got her breath in painful gasps. There was something horribly primitive about the struggle, but it fascinated.

In the meantime, Lister was conscious that he had been rash. Shillito was muscular and fresh, but he was tired. It was plain he could not keep it up for long. Moreover, unless the fight soon ended, people would come to see what the disturbance was about. This would be awkward for Barbara; he wanted to tell her to go away, but could not. He was breathless and Shillito was trying to choke him.

Afterwards he knew he was lucky. They had got near the steps and he threw Shillito against the post at the top. The jar shook the other, his grasp got slack, and Lister saw that for a moment the advantage was his. Using a desperate effort he pushed his antagonist back and struck him a smashing blow. Shillito vanished and a crash in the gloom indicated that he had fallen on an aloe in a tub by the path. Lister leaned against the rail and laughed, because he knew aloe spikes are sharp.

Then he heard steps and voices in the hotel, and turned to Barbara. His face was cut, his hat was gone, and his white jacket was torn. He looked strangely savage and disheveled, but Barbara went to him and her eyes shone. Lister stopped her.

"Don't know if I've helped much, but you must get off!" he gasped. "People are coming. Go in by another door!"

He turned and plunged down the stairs, and Barbara, seeing that Shillito had vanished, ran along the veranda. A few moments afterwards she stood by the window of her room and saw a group of curious servants and one or two tourists in the path at the bottom of the steps. It looked as if they were puzzled, and the _mayordomo_ gravely examined Lister's battered hat.

Barbara went from the window and sat down. She was horribly overstrained and wanted to cry, but she began to laugh, and for some minutes could not stop. She must get relief from the tension and, after all, in a sense, the thing was humorous.