Whither Thou Goest Part 25

Farquhar looked at her a little quizzically. "You have, I should say, a most beautiful nature; you see good in everything and everybody, don't you?" Lady Mary shook her head. "No. I am more discriminating than you think. I fancy I can always tell the false from the true."

"I wonder how you would reckon me up?"

"I will tell you, if you really wish," was Mary's candid answer.

"Yes, I do wish, honestly."

"You are frightfully, painfully just. You are terribly cautious.

And--" She paused, and a faint blush spread over her cheek.

"Don't spoil it, please. Finish what you were going to say. I can see you are a very discerning critic."

Mary was a long time before she would answer. Then she turned away, and her blush deepened.

"I should say loyalty and honesty were your greatest characteristics.

That you would be a sincere friend and a very generous enemy."

She was leaving the room, but Farquhar darted up and detained her.

"I say, you know, that is the very greatest compliment I have ever had paid me," he said, roused from his usual impa.s.sivity. "Will you think I am taking a liberty if I suggest that we shake hands on it?"

"Oh, not at all," said Mary, in a rather fluttering way, as she put her hand in his.

She left the room, and he set about to write his letter to Moreno. But the disturbing vision of Lady Mary, with that faint flush on her cheek, appeared several times between the sentences of the rather lengthy epistle. That letter went out by the evening post.

About the same time that these events were happening at the Park, Ferdinand Contraras was taking farewell of his family. He explained to them that he was going to Spain, he could not say how long he would be away. It might be a few days, it might be weeks. He had left plenty of money in the bank for their needs.

His wife and daughter watched him out of the house without any signs of emotion. To these two, who should have been his nearest and dearest, he had long appeared as a man out of touch with realities.

When the car rolled out of sight, Madame Contraras turned to her daughter.

"I have a presentiment, Inez, he will never come back. He is going to give his life as well as his fortune to this insane cause."

Inez, who was rather callous, shrugged her shapely shoulders. "Why did you marry him, mother? He must have been mad then."

"The madness of strong, impetuous youth, my child. I never thought it would last through middle and old age."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Contraras embarked on his great mission. Elderly man as he was, the fire of his convictions kept him alert and youthful.

He stayed a day in Madrid; from thence he travelled to Barcelona. And then he went on to Fonterrabia.

In the same little cafe, the "Concha," he met several members of the brotherhood, Zorrilta, specially summoned, Alvedero, Andres Moreno, Violet Hargrave, and Mademoiselle Delmonte.

He opened the proceedings in his sharp, autocratic way. "You have already had a meeting about this particular _coup_ which I planned in London."

The young Frenchwoman spoke eagerly. If ever there was an enthusiast in the sacred cause, she was one. Ready to be burned or hanged for her principles, she had the spirit of the early Christian martyrs.

"We know all about it, Contraras." In the spirit of true democracy, they addressed each other by no formal prefix. "I have undertaken it.

It probably means death to me, I can only escape by a miracle, but it also means death to our enemies."

Contraras looked at her approvingly from under his bushy eyebrows.

"There spoke a true daughter of the Revolution which is to remake the world. If years had not come upon me, if my eyesight were more keen, my hand more sure, I would not delegate this task to another, less especially to a woman."

Zorrilta hastened to observe obsequiously, "We cannot afford to hazard your precious life, Contraras. You are the head and brain of this organisation. The general directs the battle from safe ground. He does not go into the firing-line like the common soldier."

Contraras smiled, well pleased. Like most great men, he was very susceptible to flattery, as easily susceptible as the most despotic monarch that ever ruled.

"I appreciate your devotion to the cause, your loyalty to myself," he said in his most gracious manner. "When this great blow is struck, when we make a most terrible example, the echoes of it will reverberate through the world. The downtrodden population will arise, the world-revolution will be in being."

There was a subdued murmur of applause at the conclusion of his speech.

Moreno applauded the loudest; somehow Violet Hargrave could never force herself to be very enthusiastic. Moreno was watching her very narrowly.

Mademoiselle Delmonte spoke. "I cannot say how proud I am to have had this task deputed to me." She looked very brave and resolute.

The meeting lasted for over half an hour. Details of the great _coup_ were settled. Contraras had a powerful and logical brain. He never allowed digressions or diversions, he always kept everybody to the point. When the meeting broke up two people were very radiant, Contraras, who had planned the _coup_, the enthusiastic Valerie Delmonte, who had undertaken to carry it into execution, with or without a.s.sistance, as might be determined.

They strolled out from the obscure little cafe one by one. Moreno presently overtook Mrs Hargrave, in her peasant dress. They lodged near each other; it was natural they should stroll along together in the direction of their respective homes.

Behind them came Contraras, and the two other men who had joined forces after leaving the cafe. Contraras looked after the two young people with those keen eyes which age had not very greatly dimmed.

"The Englishwoman I know well," he whispered to Alvedero. "She is a protegee, almost an adopted daughter, of our staunch comrade Jaques.

What about this Moreno? Is he to be trusted?"

"You know that Lucue vouches for both."

"Ah!" sighed Contraras. "Lucue is a keen judge of men. I have never known him make a mistake. But I do not like the English mother."

"And, in the case of Violet Hargrave, you have the English father. And yet, you have no suspicion of her."

Contraras nodded his ma.s.sive head, the head with the broad, deep brow of the thinker.

"Your remark is just, my friend. I chose Violet Hargrave myself, on the recommendation of my friend Jaques; that, of course, prejudices me in her favour. Moreno was chosen by Lucue. Perhaps I am a little bit jealous of Lucue. And I am growing old."

"No," cried Alvedero, with whole-hearted admiration. "Give you another ten years yet, and you will still be the brains and leading spirit of this organisation. Zorrilta is good, Lucue has a touch of genius. But there is only one Contraras. Ten years hence you will be our leader, as you are to-day." And while Contraras and Alvedero were exchanging these confidences, Moreno was talking to Violet Hargrave.

"We seem to be engaged in a pretty bloodthirsty business, don't you think, Mrs Hargrave? Not much in common with Fleet Street, or the flat in Mount Street, eh?"

Violet Hargrave smiled. "We have both come out here to find adventure.

Spain is a land of surprises. We shall have plenty of adventure before we have done with it."

There was a grim note in the journalist's tones, as he answered: "On this particular _coup_, engineered by our great leader, Contraras, it seems to me as likely as not that you and I shall meet our deaths. The one person who seems perfectly happy over the business is Mademoiselle Delmonte. By the way, she went out the first. She must have flown along like the wind. The others are behind. I can see them through the back of my head. I can wager they are just discussing whether we can be trusted--you, with your English father, I, with my English mother."

He shot at her a penetrating glance, but she did not move a muscle.

"The southern blood in both is stronger than the northern," she answered calmly. "And we are each a true son and daughter of the Revolution."

He came to the conclusion that, for the moment, Violet Hargrave was impenetrable. Would he ever be able to disturb that _sang-froid_?