Part 18

"It's only to deliver a few samples--they aren't big enough to bother you, and just say they're from me," and he gave me particulars of what he wanted. "It wouldn't take me an hour, and I'd be awfully obliged to you, and so would my firm."

"I don't care a cent for your firm, but I'll do it to oblige you, Mr. Hunter, if you think you can trust me with the samples."

"I hope I know a gentleman when I see one, Mr. Glisfoyle; and you're one of the right sort. Besides, the samples are of no great value;" and this excellent caution made me smile.

"I won't run away with them, anyhow; and if you'll go to the station when the time comes and get me a ticket--get a return if you can, and if any questions are asked just give your own name and the lace business as the reason for the journey, and you may consider the thing settled." I handed him a bank-note.

"Oh, you think they mightn't let you go then?" he said, shrewdly.

"They will let a man with definite business to do pass much more readily than one who can plead nothing more than a wish to see the fun."

He gave me a meaning look, a knowing twist of the head, and a wink.

"I twig. I'll soon have a ticket," he said, and went off briskly. He was soon back with the ticket. "It's all right. I gave a card and showed 'em my samples, and that did the trick. And if you don't mind my giving you a wrinkle, you take my case with you and some of my cards. Looks workmanlike;" and seeing the policy of it, I accepted the case.

"We'll go over together when the train's due out," I said; "and as there might still be some questions asked, you'd better appear to be going until the last moment."

In this way we managed. Just before the train was due out we went together and I kept as much out of sight as possible; and taking care to avoid Rubio and the other official who knew me, I succeeded, under the pretence of seeing Mr. Hunter off, in getting away without any difficulty at all. It was so simple a matter indeed that I was disposed to laugh at my careful precautions; but I had ample reason to be glad of them before we had travelled far. Not once only but half a dozen times I had to show my ticket and explain the purpose of my journey, and that I was Mr. David Hunter, representing the great lace firm of Messrs. Ross & Catter.

Nor were those the only exciting incidents of the journey. We made a stoppage of some minutes at a station some thirty miles out from Madrid, Guadalajara, and there I made the unpleasant discovery that the police agent Rubio was travelling by the same train. I caught sight of him as he was walking along the platform scanning the passengers pretty closely. I thrust my head out of the opposite window, therefore, and kept it out until we started again, feeling, I must admit, profoundly uncomfortable.

He did not see me, however, or at any rate recognise me, but I did not breathe freely until we were well clear of the station and again steaming north, when I drew in my head and resumed my seat, with a casual look at the fresh passengers who had entered the carriage at the station. And then I made a discovery, which sent the blood for an instant rushing to my heart and made me catch my breath in sudden dismay.

Right opposite me, their knees almost touching mine and their eyes staring full into my face, were two men, whom I recognised instantly, and who were as unwelcome fellow-passenger's as the keenest scented police spy in Spain could have been.

They were two of the men from whose hands I had snatched the young King on the previous day. One was the man I had ridden down and then knocked unconscious on the road, and the other was he who had come running up at the last moment, whose horse I had borrowed for the young King's use.

If they recognised me, and both were staring at me as though trying to place me in their memory, who could tell what would be the result? We had over 100 miles to travel together, if they were bound for Saragossa; and the thought of it might well set my teeth on edge.

With an effort I pulled myself together, however, and to get my nerves quite steady, I opened Mr. Hunter's despatch case, holding it on my knees with the name turned towards them, and made a pretence of looking through my samples, watching them well the while. I saw them interchange a sneer and a shrug of the shoulders as they rolled fresh cigarettes. I thanked my luck profusely. That little ruse of the small silken mask had kept my secret safe, and they did not know me. Very soon their interest in my features slackened, and they began to talk in low tones.

When I felt safe, my doubts gave place to pleasure; and I set to work to consider whether I could turn the incident to good account and make use of the two men for the purpose I had in view.

What better chance could I ever hope to have of playing my part of Carlist leader? These two were sure to be among the best known of the Carlists; for none but picked men would have been told off for such a task as theirs of the previous day. It was clear they did not know me; and as Ferdinand Carbonnell was to them or to anyone no more than a name, why should I not declare myself to them in that name? That I knew them would be sufficient to impress them greatly; while the interchange of the password would probably convince them of my sincerity.

It was an easy guess that they were on their way either to Saragossa or to Daroca; and they had no doubt come so far on horseback or on foot, deeming it safer to join the train where they had, than to risk going back to do so at Madrid. In all probability their object in going there was the same which had taken Sarita in the same direction. Either it had been pre-arranged that the leaders should gather there in the event of the abduction plot failing, or there had been some summons when the failure was known.

All these thoughts and a hundred other conjectures rushed into my mind as I sat fiddling with the bits of lace and making sham jottings in a pocket-book. And I resolved to take the risk.

Catching one of them looking at a bit of the lace I smiled and, holding it towards him, said casually--

"A pretty bit of work that, senor."

He took hold of it gingerly and nodded with a laugh, as if to humour me.

"Very, senor; but I don't know anything about it; and don't want any."

"I'm not offering to sell it you. But anyone can tell good lace, I should think. That's a bit of a kind--fit for a King's ransom;" and I looked him straight in the eyes. It was a somewhat daring move, but I wanted them both to look well at me with the thought of the King in their minds; and so that I could be quite positive that they did not know me. They both grunted, and one of them swore softly under his breath; but no look of recognition came into his eyes.

"Thank you, I don't want any, senor," was the answer, shortly spoken, as though to close the conversation.

"Ah well, I suppose you've no King to ransom," I returned, and laughed pleasantly; but as the laugh ended, I looked again at him meaningly; and then surprise and question showed on his face.

"Do you travel in this?" he asked, sharply.

"Yes, my name's Hunter, David Hunter, of the great lace firm of Ross and Catter, of London. Here's my card;" and I handed him one; I said this for the benefit of the rest of the people in the carriage who were listening. "If you care about such things, I can find you something of interest."

"I don't, thank you, Senor Hunter. Odd time for such business, I should think," and he returned the card.

"Depends on the business, of course," said I, "and of course on the man. I'm going to Daroca; and expect to do a good stroke there," and while I was speaking, I wrote on the back of the card: "Counting all Renegades lovers of Satan. By the Grace of God;" and covering it with a piece of lace, I handed it to him again. "Now, there's something you might care to see."

The start he gave caused him to let his cigarette fall, and as he stooped down to recover it, he whispered for me to hear--

"By the Grace of God," and when he sat up his face was set like steel in his sudden excitement. He muttered a word to his companion and passed him the card. He in his turn was scarcely less excited.

"It's quite a unique pattern. Very rare;" I said; and when he returned me the lace and card, I scribbled hurriedly my name, "Ferdinand Carbonnell;" and as they read it our eyes met.

"You are right, senor. We have never seen anything like it before, and are more glad than we can tell you to have seen it to-day."

"I thought you would be interested," I replied, lightly; and taking the card I tore it into a hundred pieces, and flung it out of the window; and in silence put the samples away into the case.

All had gone well, so far, very well; for I had turned two of the most dangerous enemies a man could well have, into two staunch allies at the very moment of peril.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

*NEWS OF SARITA*

Having made myself known to my two travelling companions, I had next to ascertain their destination and plans. I had not much doubt that they were going to Daroca, and when I had allowed enough time for the impression I had created to have due effect, I began to talk in the casual tone one uses with chance acquaintances, covering the real meaning of my words in the form of business chatter.

"I suppose you gentlemen are in the same line as myself, and going to Daroca by way of Saragossa?"

"We are newspaper correspondents. I represent the 'Puebla,' and my name is Cabrera, senor," replied the elder of the two--this was he whose head I had cracked on the highway. "My friend, Senor Garcia, is of the 'Correo.' We are going up about the Carlist outbreak. We are going to Daroca, of course," and gave me a significant glance, and added in a lower tone, "But we shall ride from Calatayud; much quicker."

"Of course," I assented, trying to rally my scanty geographical knowledge of the place to understand his meaning. I must not show ignorance on such a point, seeing that my character was that of a kind of flying scout who would be presumed to know all such things. "I think, perhaps, I'll join you. They tell me business at Saragossa is seriously interfered with, but that at Daroca something can still be done. I am, therefore, going there."

"Good," said both.

"I suppose there's nothing really serious in this Carlist business?" I said, in a tone of indifference. "You newspaper gentlemen generally know these things."

"From our point of view you may call it serious, perhaps; seeing that we are ordered to such a place as Daroca. The authorities too are pretty much in earnest."

"Ah, yes, so it appeared at Madrid. By the way, I saw on the station there, the great police agent, Rubio, I think his name is. He is travelling in this very train; I suppose also on Carlist business."

"Rubio in this train, is he?" exclaimed Cabrera. "We must get hold of him, Garcia, and see what he's after. He'll have news;" and both were evidently surprised and somewhat uneasy.

"I suppose you know all these officials by sight?" said I, with a light laugh. "That's the best of newspaper work; at least so it seems to me."

"We have not been long enough in the work to know many people, and we are scarcely known by anyone."

"Then I am more fortunate than you, perhaps, for this Senor Rubio and I have met, and I daresay he would know me again." They were quick enough to read this as a caution that Rubio must not see me; and then I turned the talk to general matters, and one or two other passengers joined in it.

At the next station, the last we were to stop at before we alighted, our fellow passengers got out. Our tickets were examined again; we were once more questioned, and the two Carlists produced credentials from their supposed newspapers, which proved sufficiently satisfactory. But when the matter had just ended and the official was closing the carriage door, an incident occurred that gave me a passing twinge of anxiety. The police agent, Rubio, passed the carriage, and a quick little start as his keen gaze flashed through the carriage showed me that he had recognised me.

"Rubio has seen and recognised me," I whispered hurriedly to my companions, in a sharp authoritative manner. "He may arrest me. In that case do nothing, but go on to Daroca, and make it your chief charge to find and protect, with your lives if need be, the Senorita Sarita Castelar. I can get out of Ruble's clutches again quite safely."

"They shan't take you," said Cabrera, with grim earnestness.

"You will do nothing to prevent it. I can protect myself," and opening my sample case, I began fingering the samples again while I waited during three minutes of as anxious suspense as I have ever endured. Then to my intense relief the train started, and I breathed freely. It was moving along the platform when a young man, protesting excitedly that he must go, opened the door, jumped in and sank breathless in the corner seat, while the porter, swearing generously, ran alongside and fastened the door after him.

"That was a near thing, wasn't it?" he said to me. "Wonder if they got my luggage in;" and putting his head out, shouted vociferously to those on the platform to throw his bags into the luggage break. "Good," he exclaimed, as he sat down again. "They can do things if you only shout at them. They got them in." Then rolling himself a cigarette, he asked me for a light, and began to chat.

"A commercial traveller, I see," he said. He had a pleasant voice, and to keep my character, I went all through the lace business again. In reply he gave a long account of himself, to which I paid little attention, and then he gradually led the conversation to Carlism, and professed a good deal of sympathy with the Carlists who seemed to have fallen on evil times.

"I am an Englishman, senor, and these things can be nothing to me except so far as they are bad for trade," I answered, and commenced to make some entries in a note book as if to close the conversation. He would not be put off, however, and continued to talk, asking a host of questions and trying to draw my companions into the conversation.

To my surprise they would not speak to him, not even replying when he put questions direct to them, and after a while the talk ceased, and we travelled a number of miles in silence. Then he began again, and pestered me with questions as to my journey, where I had come from, where I was going, what business I had done, and soon, and again made strenuous efforts to get my companions to speak.

"We must be within a few miles of Calatayud," he said, at length, and at that Garcia, having exchanged a glance with Cabrera, crossed the carriage, and saying they would have the window closed now, pulled it up and sat down opposite the stranger.

"You have been very anxious to make us talk with you, senor; may I ask why?" he said.

"Merely because I hate travelling in silence."

"You are very interested in the Carlists, too, I notice," and Garcia looking him straight in the face said, "Kindly tell us the nature of that interest?"

"Mere sympathy with them of course. I think they're being very hardly dealt with. That's all."

"Are you one of them?"

"Oh no, certainly not."

"Perhaps you know some of them?"

"No, I don't think I do." The answer was lightly spoken, but I noticed that a shadow of anxiety began to show on his face.

"By sight, perhaps?"

"No. No, not even by sight." The tone was growing less firm.

"What did you say you were?"

"Really, I am not here for examination," and I saw his hand go stealing towards his pocket.

"Keep your hand out of your pocket, please. I must know more about you. You are armed, I observe, and I must know why. My friend and I are of the secret police; and our mission is in search of Carlist spies. You are one; and we are going to search you." And almost before I grasped the meaning of the thing, Garcia had whipped out a revolver, and the stranger, now showing unmistakable signs of fear, was looking along the barrel into the strong, threatening face. At that Cabrera crossed the carriage and sat beside him. "The right pocket," said Garcia, coolly; and his companion plunged his hand in and drew out a revolver.

"Put your hands up," cried Garcia, his voice ringing with menace.

"I'm no Carlist spy," cried the fellow, and then appealed to me. "You won't see this done, senor, without trying to help me?"

"It's not my affair. I'm neither police nor Carlist," I answered. And then in my turn I had a most disquieting surprise.

"You evidently know this man," said Garcia, in the same rough, blunt tone, indicating me with a side jerk of the head. "Who is he?" while Cabrera half turned toward me holding his revolver in readiness. "If you won't answer, we'll find the way to make you. I believe you're both Carlist spies." It was so naturally done that for the moment I more than half believed I was really suspected. But I was not long in doubt. While Garcia threatened him with the revolver, Cabrera searched him thoroughly.

"Why, you infernal scoundrel, you are not only a Carlist spy, but you dare to carry papers on you to make you out one of us secret police," cried Cabrera in a voice of thunder.

"I am a police agent," was the reply. "But I don't know you."

"Then who is this man here? You know him. I saw that the instant I clapped eyes on you. You're here to spy on him, if you're one of us. Quick, who is he? You want to keep this capture all to yourself, do you, you selfish dog?"

"He's Ferdinand Carbonnell, and pretends to be an Englishman."

"And who the devil is Ferdinand Carbonnell?"

"Who should he be but one of the Carlist leaders?" was the answer sullenly spoken, the tone showing that the fear for his life was passing and giving place to the minor one of losing an important prisoner and the credit of the capture.

"Good, then we'll see to him. As for you, you're a disgrace to the whole of us, getting in and talking your magpie chatter about sympathies with the Carlists and all the rest of it. Why, if we'd been Carlists ourselves, we should have known you by your lying tongue. You must have a lesson, my friend. If you knew this man, why didn't you arrest him at the last station, or before? Or is the whole thing only a lie to cover some Carlist trick?"

"He was only recognised at the last station, and there wasn't a strong enough body of police there to take him. He may have a lot of friends in the train. These are Senor Rubio's own orders. He is in the train and has wired for help to Calatayud."

"Oh, well, we're going to make the capture now, not you. Now, Cabrera," he said quickly, and they both darted on him, and tied him up hands and feet. "We shall be in Calatayud in a few minutes. Shall we shoot him and pitch him out of the window? Dead men keep silence longest." And Garcia looked so reckless and fierce that I thought he would do it on the spot.

"Is that necessary?" I said, hastily, shrinking from the thought of bloodshed. "Gag him and leave him under the seat. We need no entanglements we can avoid."

For a moment the man's fate hung in the balance, and his bloodless face and staring eyes of terror as he glanced from one to another were sickening to look upon.

"For God's sake, don't kill me," he cried, eagerly. "I won't say a word of what has passed. I swear on my soul I won't."

"He'll know us now by sight," muttered Cabrera, who was clearly of Garcia's mind; and the argument was undoubtedly strong.

But I could not see murder done in cold blood, and in a very firm, authoritative voice and manner I said:

"I will have no blood needlessly shed. Let it be as I say." And somewhat to my surprise, and greatly to my satisfaction, the two yielded to me.

"Mischief may come of a tongue that can wag as his does," growled Cabrera, and his companion gave way with equal reluctance. But I insisted, and the spy's bonds were tightened, he was gagged securely, and laid for the while on the seat, while we held a whispered council.

"There'll be a strong body of men in waiting for us at Calatayud. What are we to do?" asked Garcia; and in all truth it was an awkward puzzle.

It was clear we couldn't hope to make a fight of it. Any attempt of the kind would be the instant signal for us to be surrounded and probably shot. For the moment I was disposed to let my companions escape, and give myself up to Rubio; but against this course were very strong arguments arising out of the scene with the police spy. At the best of it I should have some difficulty in explaining my presence, while the treatment meted out to him constituted in itself an offence of which I could not clear myself. If Rubio arrested me on such a charge and in such an out-of-the-way place, it would be an easy matter for Quesada to instruct him to put me away where the Embassy might not find me, and inquiries even from the palace might prove abortive.

At all hazards I must get away therefore, and the question was--how? I could only think of one means, and I explained it rapidly.

"I think I have it," I said. "Calatayud is an out-of-the-way place with not many police, and probably the men wired for by Rubio will be soldiers--much easier folk to fool. Rubio will reckon that we have no suspicion of his intentions, and will simply have wired to have the men at the station to await his instructions. We'll leave the train as it slows down before entering the station, therefore; and if any attempt is made to interfere with us, we'll play another scene of this farce of yours--that I'm an escaped Carlist and you're the police after me. Then we must hustle things through as chance serves, and get horses as quickly as can be."

"They'll be waiting for us at old Tomaso's," said Cabrera, readily. "Yes, it'll do. Fortunately we're well at the back of the train, and there's a curve through a cutting just before the station that will serve us well; and Tomaso's isn't five hundred yards from the top of it. We can slip out, dash up the side of the cutting, and be half-way there before the train pulls up."

"And give this brute a whack on the head to keep him silent for a while," put in Garcia, who seemed to have a keener appetite for violence than his really sterner comrade.

"It'll serve no purpose, and may only get us charged with attempting to murder him. There must be no violence," I said, and Cabrera agreed, seeing the force of my words.

"We're close there now," he added; and giving a final look at our prisoner to see that he was securely tied and gagged, we thrust him under the seat and made ready to leave the carriage.

The place could not have suited better such a plan as ours. We were in luck, too, for the train slowed down on approaching the curve, so that we were able to leave it quite safely. I jumped out first and sprang rapidly up the high bank, the others following me. I let them catch me up before we reached the top, as I did not, of course, know in which direction to run, and then together we darted off as fast as our legs would carry us.

We had only one incident. Having crossed a field we leapt into the road, and almost jumped on the top of a couple of soldiers who were obviously on patrol duty. Up went their guns as they called us to halt.

"Now we've got you," cried Cabrera, fiercely, clapping his hand on my shoulder. "Tie his hands, Garcia;" and with ready presence of mind he turned to the soldiers and laughed, as he took his hat off and breathed hard.

"They'll want you at the station," he said. "There's half a trainful of these cursed Carlists, and our chief Rubio, from the capital, has only got a handful of men with him, and is at his wit's end for help. But he'll be glad we've netted this bird;" and, turning to me, he shook me, cursing and abusing me with voluble violence.