The Free Lances Part 17

So restrained, he kept silent; to see her now glance furtively around, as if to make sure no one else was observing her. She had again closed the scarf over her face, but in the hand that held it under her chin something white--a piece of paper he supposed--appeared; just for one instant, then drawn under. Another significant look accompanied this gesture, saying plain as word could speak it:--

"You see what I've got for you; leave the action all to me."

He did, for he could not do otherwise; he was fixed to this spot, she foot free. And the use she now made of this freedom was to walk straight out into the street, though not as coming to him; instead, her steps, as her eyes were directed towards Cris Rock and the hunchback, who were at work some paces further on. She seemed bent on making a closer inspection of the odd pair, nor would any one suppose she had other object in crossing over to them. No one did, save Kearney himself. Rivas had been again ordered into the sewer, and was at work in it. Besides, he did not know Pepita, though he was the one she most wished to be near. Chiefly for him was the communication she had to make.

It could not be, however, without a demonstration likely to be observed, therefore dangerous. But her wit was equal to the occasion, proving how well the ladies had chosen their letter-carrier.

"_Ay Dios_!" she exclaimed aloud, brus.h.i.+ng past the young Irishman, and stopping with her eyes bent wonderingly on the strangely contrasted couple; then aside in _sotto voce_ to Kearney, whom she had managed to place close behind her, apparently unconscious of his being there--"A _billet.i.ta_, Don Florencio--not for you--for the Senor Rivas--you can give it him--I daren't. Try to take it out of my hand without being seen." Then once more aloud. "_Gigante y enano_!" just as others had said, "_Rue cosa estranja_!" (what a strange thing).

She need not say any more, nor stay there any longer. For while she was speaking the crumpled sheet had pa.s.sed through the fringe of the scarf, out of her fingers into those of Don Florencio, who had bent him to his work bringing his hand to the right place for the transfer.

Her errand, thus vicariously accomplished with another wondering look at the giant and dwarf, and another "_Ay, Dios_!" she turned to go back to the side walk. But before pa.s.sing Kearney she managed to say something more to him.

"Carriage will come along soon--two ladies in it--one you know--one dear to you as you to her."

Sweet words to him, though muttered, and he thanked her who spoke them-- in his heart. He dared not speak his thanks, even in whisper; she was already too far off, tripping back to the flagged foot-walk, along which she turned, soon to disappear from his sight.

What she had said about the coming of a carriage was to Kearney not altogether intelligible. But, no doubt, the note, now concealed inside his s.h.i.+rt bosom would clear that up; and the next step was to hand it over to him for whom it was intended.

Luckily, Rivas had not been un.o.bservant of what was going on between the girl and his companion. Her look seeming strange to him, had attracted his attention, and though keeping steadily at work, his eyes were not on it, but on them, which resulted in his witnessing the latter part of the little episode, and having more than a suspicion it also concerned himself. He was not taken by surprise, therefore, when Kearney, drawing closer to the edge of the drain, spoke down to him in a half-whisper--

"I've got something for you. Bring the point of your tool against mine, and look out when you feel my fingers."

"_Muy bien_! I understand," was the muttered response.

In a second or two after the shafts of their implements came into collision accidentally, it appeared. He would indeed have been sharp-witted who could have supposed it intentional, and lynx-eyed to have seen that sc.r.a.p of twisted paper pa.s.sed from one to the other--the second transfer dexterously done as the first. All any one could have told was, that the two scavengers seemed sorry for what had occurred, made mutual apologies, then separated to the full length of their coupling-chain, and went to work again, looking meek and innocent as lambs.

It was now Rivas' turn to prove himself possessed of quick wit. He had reason to think the letter required immediate reading; and how was this to be done? To be seen at it would surely bring the sentries upon him, even though Dominguez was not there. And for them to get possession of it--that was a calamity perhaps worst of all! Possibly to compromise the writer; and well knew he who that was.

For a time he was perplexed, looking in all directions, and thinking of every way possible for him to read the letter un.o.bserved. But none did seem possible. He could stoop down, so as to be unseen by those pa.s.sing along the sidewalk; but close to the sewer's edge were two or three of the sentries, who would still command view of him.

All at once a look of satisfaction came over his countenance, as his eyes rested on a side drain, which entered the main one, like many others, from adjacent dwellings. He had just sc.r.a.ped the mud out of its mouth, and was close to it.

The very thing, was his thought--the very place for his purpose. And shortly after he might have been seen standing before it, in bent att.i.tude, his arms busy with his shovel, but his eyes and thoughts busier with a sheet of paper which lay at the bottom of the branch drain, some two or three feet inside it. It was the _billet.i.ta_, and though the creases were but hastily pressed out, he contrived to make himself master of its contents. They were but brief and legibly written--the script familiar to him.

"Querido,--Soon after receiving this--say, half an hour--look for a carriage--landau shut up--two ladies inside--pair of large horses--_frisones_--grey. When opposite, be ready--with him who shares your chain. Leave manners in the mud--make a rush, storm the carriage, eject the occupants rudely--violently--and take their places. You can trust the _cochero_. Some danger in the attempt, I know; but more if not made. Your old enemy implacable--determined to have your life. Do this, dearest, and save it--for your country's sake, as also that of Ysabel."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

LOOKING OUT FOR A LANDAU.

From the way Rivas treated the "billet.i.ta" after he had finished reading it, one unacquainted with its contents might have supposed they had made him either mad angry, or madly jealous. Instead of taking it up tenderly, and treasuring it away, he planted his muddy boot upon it, with a back sc.r.a.pe brought it into the main sewer, still keeping it under the mud and trampling it with both feet, lifted and set down alternately, the while shovelling away, as though he had forgotten all about it. Not so, however. The tread-mill action was neither accidental nor involuntary, but for a purpose. The writer had committed herself in sub-signing a portion of her name, as by other particulars, and should the letter fall into hands he knew of, her danger would be as great as his own.

In a few seconds, however, any uneasiness about this was at an end. The most curious _chiffonier_ could not have deciphered a word written on that sheet, which by the churning he had submitted it to must have been reduced to a very pulp.

During all this time no one had taken notice of his proceedings, not even the man chained to him, except by an occasional side glance. For Kearney, well aware of what he was at, to draw attention from him had got up a wordy demonstration with the dwarf--to all appearance a quarrel. There was real anger on the side of the latter; for the "gringo," as he contemptuously called the Irishman, had cruelly mocked his deformity. A cruelty which gave pain to the mocker himself; but he could think of no other way to secure inattention to Rivas, and this efficiently did. Both talking the tongue of the country, their war of words, with some grotesque gestures which Kearney affected, engrossed the attention of all within sight or hearing; so that not an eye was left for the surrept.i.tious reader of the letter.

When the sham quarrel came to an end--which it did soon as he who commenced it saw it should--the knot of spectators it had drawn around dispersed, leaving things as before. But not as before felt Rivas and Kearney. Very different now the thoughts stirring within them, both trying to appear calm while under the greatest agitation. For they had again contrived to bring their ears together, and the latter now knew all about the contents of the Condesa's letter, their purport being fully explained, nor did they draw apart, till a thorough understanding had been established between them as to the action they should take.

All this without loss of time was translated to Cris Rock, who was told also of their resolve to attempt to escape, in which the Texan was but too glad to take part. Kearney would have stayed there, and gone back into the Acordada, loathsome gaol though it was, sooner than leave his old filibustering comrade behind. He could never forget the incident of El Salado, nor cease to feel grat.i.tude to the man who had offered to give up life for him.

But there was no need for Rock being left behind. Rivas himself wished it otherwise, for more than one reason; but one good one, that instead of obstructing their escape he would be an aid to it.

The hunchback alone was not let into their secret. No doubt he too would be glad to get free from his chains, since he was under a sentence of imprisonment for life. But who could tell whether at the last moment he might not purchase pardon by turning out and betraying them? They knew him to be vile enough even for that, and so kept him in the dark about their design.

There was no need of further premeditation or contrivance of plans.

That had all been traced out for them in the singular epistle signed "Ysabel," and a few whispered words from one to the other completed the understanding of it, with what was to be done. From the time this was settled out, never looked three pair of eyes more eagerly along a street than did theirs along the Calle de Plateros; never was a carriage more anxiously awaited than a landau which should show itself with hood up, drawn by a pair of grey horses.

It is now well on the afternoon, and the "beauty and fas.h.i.+on" of the Mexican metropolis were beginning to appear in carriages, with chivalry on horseback, along the line of streets leading to the Paseo Nuevo. The procession of the morning would little affect the usual evening display; and already several equipages had rolled past the place where the chain-gang was at work. But as yet appeared not the one so anxiously looked-for, and the half-hour was up!

Still ten minutes more without any sign of it!

More anxious now were the three prisoners, who contemplated escape, though not at all to the same degree, or for the same reason. Kearney feared there had been a failure, from betrayal by the coachman spoken of as so trustworthy; he did not think of suspecting Pepita. The Texan, too, believed some hitch had occurred, a "bit o' crooked luck," as he worded it. Not so Rivas. Though, as the others, chafing at the delay, he still had confidence in the carriage coming, as he had in the directing head of one he expected to see inside it. It was being purposely kept back, he fancied; likely as not, lest it might attract attention by being too early on the street.

Whatever the cause, his conjectures were soon brought to an end--and abruptly--by seeing the thing itself.

"_Bueno_!" he mentally exclaimed, then muttering to the others--"Yonder it comes! _Frisones pardes_ coachman in sky-blue and silver--be ready _camarados_."

And ready they were, as panthers preparing to spring. Rock and Rivas, as Kearney himself, were now out of the sewer and up on the street; all three still making believe to work; while the dwarf seemed to suspect there was something in the wind, but could not guess what.

He knew the instant after, when a strong hand, grasping him by the collar, lifted him off his feet, raising and tossing him further aloft, as though he had been but a rat.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A CLUMSY COCHERO.

Perhaps no people in the world have been more accustomed to spectacular surprises than they who perambulate the streets of the Mexican metropolis. For the half-century preceding the time of which I write, they had witnessed almost as many revolutions as years, seen blood spilled till the stones ran red with it, and dead bodies lying before their doors often for hours, even days, unremoved. As a consequence, they are less p.r.o.ne to curiosity than the dwellers in European cities, and the spectacle or incident that will stir their interest in any great degree must needs be of an uncommon kind.

Rare enough was that they were called on to witness now--such of them as chanced to be sauntering along the Calle de Plateros, where the chain-gang was at work. They first saw a carriage--a handsome equipage of the landau speciality--drawn by a pair of showy horses, and driven by a coachman in smart livery, his hat c.o.c.kaded, proclaiming the owner of the turnout as belonging to the military or diplomatic service. Only ladies, however, were in it--two of them--and the horses proceeding at a rather leisurely pace. As several other carriages with ladies in them, and liveried coachmen on the boxes, had pa.s.sed before, and some seen coming behind, there was nothing about this one to attract particular attention; unless, indeed, the beauty of the two "senoritas" inside, which was certainly exceptional. Both were young, and, if related, not likely to be sisters; in contour of features, complexion, colour of eyes and hair, everything different, even to contrast. But alike in that each after her own style was a picture of feminine loveliness of the most piquantly attractive kind; while their juxtaposition made it all the more so, for they were seated side by side.

Such could not fail to draw the eyes of the street pa.s.sengers upon them, and elicit looks of admiration. So far from courting this, however, they seemed desirous of shunning it. The day was one of the finest, the atmosphere deliciously enjoyable, neither too warm nor too cold; other carriages were open, yet the hoods of theirs met overhead, and the gla.s.ses were up. Still, as these were not curtained they could be seen through them. Some saw who knew them, and saluted; gentlemen by raising the hat, lady acquaintances by a nod, a quivering of the fingers. For it was the hour of promenade to the Alameda. Others to whom they were unknown inquired whose carriage it was. But not a few noticed in the faces of its fair occupants an expression which struck them as singular; something of constraint or anxiety--the last so unlike what should have been there.

And so all along the line of street, until the carriage came nearly opposite the entrance gate of the Alameda, still going slowly; at which the pampered, high-spirited horses seemed to chafe and fret. Just then, however, they showed a determination to change the pace, or at all events the direction, by making a sudden start and shy to the right; which carried the off wheels nearly nave-deep into the ridge of mud recently thrown out of the sewer.

Instinctively, or mechanically, the coachman pulled up. No one could suppose designedly; since there was sufficient likelihood of his having an overturn. Still, as the mud was soft, by bearing on the near rein, with a sharp cut of the whip, he might easily clear the obstruction.

This was not done; and the spectators wondered why it was not. They had already made up their minds that the balk was due to the coachman's maladroit driving, and this further proof of his stupidity quite exhausted their patience. Shouts a.s.sailed him from all sides, jeers, and angry e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns.

"_Burro_!" (donkey) exclaimed one; a second crying out, "What a clumsy _cochero_!" a third, "You're a nice fellow to be trusted with reins! A rope tied to a pig's tail would better become you?"

Other like shafts, equally envenomed, were hurled at Josh's head; for it scarce needs telling that he was the driver of the carriage, and the ladies inside it his mistress and the Condesa Almonte. For all he seemed but little to regard what was being said to him--indeed nothing, having enough on hand with his restive horses. But why did he not give them the whip, and let them have more rein! It looked as if that would start them off all right again, and that was what every one was shouting to him to do, he instead doing the very opposite, holding the animals in till they commenced plunging.

The ladies looked sorely affrighted; they had from the first, for it was all but the occurrence of an instant. Both had risen to their feet, one tugging at the strap to get the sash down, the other working at the handle of the door, which perversely refused to act, all the while uttering cries of alarm.

Several of the pa.s.sengers rushed to the door in the near side to a.s.sist them, that on the off being unapproachable by reason of the open drain.