The Hippodrome Part 9

Arith.e.l.li received a hearty round of applause as she rode into the ring on her favourite "Don Juan," whose wavy tail and mane were decorated with turquoise ribbons that matched her habit.

At least she was happy on horseback, and she loved the animals and they her.

Even the performing sheep and monkey, and the toothless lion came in for a share in her affections. She had a new and difficult trick to go through that night, but this particular sort of danger only made her feel exhilarated.

Emile's stories of blood and horrors had sickened her, but the chance of breaking her neck over a high jump held no terrors.

She made her exit, gaily waving her silver-handled whip, and Vardri, who was standing at the entrance of the ring, came forward quickly to lift her off her horse before the groom could reach her.

"You're wanted to-night in the Calle de Pescadores," he whispered, as she rested her hand on his shoulder to jump down. "As soon as possible, and go in carefully--there's a scare about spies."

He felt her body stiffen and the little smile that came so rarely died in an instant, leaving her once more "Fatalite."

She nodded by way of a.s.sent and bent down to gather up her habit.

The ring-master was only a few feet away, and they could never be certain as to who was to be trusted.

Vardri stood looking after her as she walked away with her head well up and her shoulders thrown back as usual.

The two had become good friends with the comradeship induced by the similarity in their misfortunes.

Both were young, reckless and without money beyond what they earned, though, whereas Arith.e.l.li had been more or less tricked into her present position, Vardri had been infatuated with the Cause from the time he was old enough to take an interest in anything. The worship of the G.o.ddess Liberty had left with him room also for the adoration of a human being, and in a boyish chivalrous way he had tried to make things easier for Arith.e.l.li.

He managed to bring her occasional flowers and music out of his starvation wages, and was always jealously careful of the way in which her horses were groomed and turned out. They had a curious resemblance to each other, and when Arith.e.l.li was dressed in boy's clothes for her journeys up in the mountains, they might have been two brothers. One was dark and the other fair, but both had the same haggard, well-modelled faces, the same pale skins, and thin, supple figures.

They were exactly of a height, too, and when Arith.e.l.li disguised herself, she pushed her red hair under a sombrero and black wig.

Even Sobrenski's lynx eyes had been at fault in the semi-darkness of the hut, and he had sworn at her in mistake for Vardri. As the dresser took off her habit, she asked the woman whether Monsieur Poleski had been behind the scenes during her turn, and was there a note or message?

It appeared that there had been no sign of Emile, and she hesitated for a moment, hardly knowing what to do.

The order for her presence in the Calle de Pescadores, which of course had been sent by Sobrenski, had told her to come at once.

On the other hand, Emile had always told her to wait for him in her room till he came to fetch her. If she went through the streets alone there would be a row, and if she were late at the _rendezvous_ there would also be a row.

"_C'est ainsi que la vie!_"

She lifted her thin shoulders after the manner of Emile and decided to start at once. She wiped all the make-up from her face with a damp towel, swaying a little as she stood before the gla.s.s.

The excitement of her reception and the ensuing episode had made her heart beat at distressing speed.

"You're not ill," she adjured her pale reflection. "It's all imagination. Emile says all these complaints are. Any way, you're not going to give in to it."

She shut both ears and eyes as she sped through the restless city that even at this hour was astir with life.

She was only glad that there was no moon. Roused for once out of her naturally slow and indolent walk, she was soon in the poor quarter and climbing the stairs to the third floor of a horrible little house, the back of which looked out on the dark slums of the quarter of the Parelelo, the breeding-place of revolutions; the district between the Rambla and the Harbour.

The house was like the one that Emile had described when telling her of the murdered woman, Felise Rivaz.

The very air reeked of intrigue and hidden deeds.

She looked round first of all for Emile, but he was not there, and only half the usual number of conspirators were a.s.sembled.

Vardri, who had left the Hippodrome the minute he had delivered his message, was sitting on the end of the table swinging his feet and whistling softly.

He had bribed one of the "strappers" to finish his work, and slipped out, only arriving a few minutes before her.

He had risked dismissal, but that was no great matter.

The Cause came first, and he feared danger for Arith.e.l.li, knowing that if there was anything specially risky to be done she would be the one chosen.

Sobrenski was always harder on her than on the others.

He watched her with the hungry, faithful eyes of an animal, and got up from his seat with instinctive courtesy. Like all the rest he wore the Anarchist badge, a red tie, and the hot, vivid colour showed up the lines of ill-health and suffering about his eyes and mouth.

In spite of his disreputable clothes and wild hair, there still remained in him the indefinable signs of breeding, in the thin, shapely hands that rested on his knee, and in the modulations of his boyish and eager voice.

None of the others took the least notice of the girl's entrance.

Nearly all of them were as well-born as the young Austrian, but to them she was simply a comrade, a fellow, worker, not a woman.

She gave him a little friendly gesture and went quietly to a seat against the wall, where she sat in one of her characteristic att.i.tudes, her feet crossed, and showing under her short dark blue skirt.

Emile had made her buy this one plain and unnoticeable garment for use on these occasions.

After she had been in the room a minute, Sobrenski turned from the man to whom he had been talking in a careful under-tone, and bolted the door.

"Listen, all of you," he said. "We have received information that this house will be watched to-night. Whether the spy is one who was formerly one of us, we do not know--yet. It appears that it is Poleski who is the suspect. They have some evidence against him that is dangerous. If he is seen coming in here to-night, they will arrest him. The next time we will change the place, but for the present all that can be done is to warn him against coming here. Fortunately he will be later than usual, because he does not leave the Cafe Colomb till after midnight. Someone must be sent there to stop him. It will not do for any of us to be seen coming out, so she"--he indicated Arith.e.l.li--"must go."

Arith.e.l.li wasted no time in response. She was only too eager to get out of the abominable place, and was already half way to the door when Sobrenski stopped her.

"Not that way!" he said. "What are you thinking of? You will walk straight into the arms of the spies who are probably watching the house by this time. No, you must go by the window at the back; the rest of us will stay here all night."

"This house gives on the quay by a lucky chance," remarked one of the older men; "we should be well trapped otherwise. There are several feet between it and the water."

Vardri's eyes had never moved from the girl's face. He knew that her heart was affected, and she had told him once that she would never attempt to go on the tight-rope or trapeze because the mere thought of a height always terrified her.

In answer to Sobrenski's gesture, she moved towards the window, which another of the conspirators was cautiously opening.

Vardri pushed himself forward into the group. "She can't go down there," he said hoa.r.s.ely, "It's not safe--look at the height!"

"She'll go down well enough if she holds onto the rope."

"The rope may break or fray through on the sill."

"She takes her chance like the rest of us."

"The rest of us--we're _men_!"