The Velvet Glove Part 30

"Listen," she said, with an uneasy laugh. "He has something on his mind.

He is whimpering. That is why I woke you."

"He often whimpers when Marcos is away. Tell him to be quiet, and then go back to bed," said Sarrion.

She obeyed him, setting the window and the jalousie ajar after her as she had found them. But Sarrion did not go to sleep again. He listened for some time. Perro was still pattering to and fro on the terrace, giving from time to time his little plaint of uneasiness between his closed teeth.

At length Sarrion rose and struck a light. It was one o'clock. He dressed quickly and noiselessly and went down-stairs, candle in hand. The stable at Torre Garda stands at the side of the house, a few feet behind it against the hillside. In this remote spot, with but one egress to the outer world, bolts and locks are not considered a necessity of life.

Sarrion opened the door of the house where the grooms and their families lived, and went in.

In a few moments he returned to the stable-yard, accompanied by the man who had driven Juanita and Cousin Peligros from Pampeluna a few hours earlier. Together they got out the same carriage and a pair of horses. By the light of a stable lantern they adjusted the harness. Then Sarrion returned to the house for his cloak and hat. He brought with him Marcos'

rifle which stood in a rack in the hall and laid it on the seat of the carriage. The man was already on the box, yawning audibly and without restraint.

As Sarrion seated himself in the carriage he glanced upwards. Juanita was standing on the balcony, at the corner by Marcos' window, looking down at him, watching him silently. Perro was already out of the gate in the darkness, leading the way.

They were not long absent. Perro was no genius, but what he did know, he knew thoroughly, which for practical purposes is almost as good. He led them to the spot little more than three miles down the valley, where Marcos lay at the side of the road, which is white and dusty. It was quite easy to perceive the dark form lying there, and Perro's lean limbs shaking over it.

When the carriage returned Juanita was standing at the open door. She had lighted the lamp in the hall and carried in her hand a lantern which she must have found in the kitchen. But she had awakened none of the servants, and was alone, still in her dressing-gown, with her dark hair flying in the breeze.

She came forward to the carriage and held up the lantern.

"Is he dead?" she asked quietly.

Sarrion did not answer at once. He was sitting in one corner of the carriage, with Marcos' head and shoulders resting on his knees.

"I do not know how badly he is hurt," he answered at length. "We called at the chemist's as we came through the village and awoke him. He has been an army servant and is as good as a doctor--"

"If the Senorita will hold the horses," interrupted the coachman, pushing Juanita gently aside, "we will carry him up-stairs."

And something in the man's manner made her think that Marcos was dead.

She was compelled to wait there at least ten minutes, holding the horses.

When at length he returned she did not wait to ask questions, but left him and ran up-stairs.

In Marcos' room she found Sarrion lighting a lamp. Marcos had been laid on the bed. She glanced at him, holding her lower lip between her teeth.

His face was covered with dust and blood. One blood-stained hand lay across his chest, the other was stretched by his side, unnaturally straight.

Sarrion looked up at her and was about to speak when she forestalled him.

"It is no good telling me to go away," she said, "because I won't."

Then she turned to get a sponge and water. Sarrion was already busy at Marcos' collar, which he had unb.u.t.toned. Suddenly he changed his mind and turned away.

"Undo his collar," he said. "I will go down-stairs and get some warm water."

He took the candle and left Juanita alone with Marcos. She did as she was told and bent over him. Her fingers had caught in a string fastened round Marcos' neck. She brought the lamp nearer. It was her own wedding ring, which she had returned to him after so brief a use of it through the bars of the little window looking on to the Calle de la Dormitaleria at Pampeluna.

She tried to undo the knot, but failed to do so. She turned quickly, and took the scissors from the dressing-table and cut the cord, which was a piece of old fishing-line, frayed and worn by friction against the rocks of the river. Juanita hastily thrust the cord into her pocket and drew the ring less quickly on to that finger for which it had been destined.

When Sarrion returned to the room a minute later she was carefully and slowly cutting the sleeve of the injured arm.

"Do you know, Uncle Ramon," she said cheerfully, "I am sure--I am positively certain he will recover, poor old Marcos."

Sarrion glanced at her sharply, as if he had detected a new note in her voice. And his eye fell on her left hand. He made no answer.

CHAPTER XXII

AN ACCIDENT Marcos recovered consciousness at daybreak. It was a sign of his great strength and perfect health that he regained all his faculties at once.

He moved, opened his eyes, and was fully conscious, like a child awakening from sleep. As soon as his eyes were open they showed surprise; for Juanita was sitting beside him, watching him.

"Ah!" she said, and rose at once to give him some medicine that stood ready in a gla.s.s. She glanced at the clock as she did so. The room had been rearranged. It was orderly and simple like a hospital ward.

"Do not try to lift your head," she said. "I will do that for you."

She did it with skill and laid him back again with a gay laugh.

"There," she said. "There is one thing, and one only, that they teach in covents."

As she spoke she turned to write on a sheet of paper the exact hour and minute at which he recovered consciousness. For her knowledge was fresh enough in her mind to be half mechanical in its result.

"Will that drug make me sleep?" asked Marcos, alertly.

"Yes."

"How soon?"

"That depends upon how stale the little apothecary's stock-in-trade may be," answered Juanita. "Probably a quarter of an hour. He is a queer little man and unwashed. But he set your collar-bone like an angel. You have to do nothing but keep quiet. I fancy you will have to be content with a quiet seat in the background for some weeks, amigo mio."

She busied herself as she spoke, with some duties of a sick-nurse which had been postponed during his unconsciousness.

"It is nearly six o'clock," she said, without appearing to look in his direction. "So you need not try to peep round the corner at the clock.

Please do not manage things, Marcos. It is I who am manager of this affair. You and Uncle Ramon think that I am a child. I am not. I have grown up--in a night, like a mushroom, and Uncle Ramon has been sent to bed."

She came and sat down at the bedside again.

"And Cousin Peligros has not been disturbed. She has not left her room.

She will tell us to-morrow morning that she scarcely slept at all. A real lady never sleeps well, you know. She must have heard us but she did not come out of her room. For which we may thank the Saints. There are some people one would rather not have in an emergency. In fact, when you come to think of it--how many are there in the world whose presence would be of the slightest use in a crisis--one or two at the most."

She held up her finger to emphasise the smallness of this number, and withdrew it again, hastily. But she was not quick enough, for Marcos had seen the ring and his eyes suddenly brightened. She turned away towards the window, holding her lip between her teeth, as if she had committed an indiscretion. She had been talking against time slowly and continuously to prevent his talking or thinking, to give the apothecary's soothing drug time to take effect. For the little man of medicine had spoken very clearly of concussion and its after-effects. He had posted off to Pampeluna to fetch a doctor from there, leaving instructions that should Marcos recover his reason he should not be permitted to make use of it.

And here in a moment, was Marcos fully in possession of his senses and making a use of them, which Juanita resented without knowing why.

"I must see my father," he said, stirring the bedclothes, "before I go to sleep again."

Juanita turned on her heel, but did not approach him or seek to rearrange the sheets.