He pointed down toward the city. "See, the cortege leaves the Palace!

Lapas was to be here at the rock--the blessed Saints help him! He is hobbled to his telescope." Swiftly he rehea.r.s.ed the story as it had come from the lips of Lapas.

Benton was studying the Duke's lodge with his gla.s.ses. "There is a flag flying on the west tower," he muttered.

He turned slowly toward the Princess. Outstanding veins were tracing cordlike lines on his temples. His fingers trembled as he focused the gla.s.ses.

Blanco looked slowly from one to the other. Suddenly he threw back both shoulders and his eyes grew bright in full comprehension of the situation he had discovered.

"_Senor!_" he whispered.

"Yes?" echoed the American in a dull voice.

"_Senor_--suppose--suppose I have confused the signals?" The tone was insinuating.

Benton's mind flashed back to a Sunday School cla.s.s of his childhood and his infantile horror for the tale of a tempter on a high mountain offering the possession of all the world if only--if only--

He took a step forward. Speech seemed to choke him.

"In G.o.d's name!" he cried, "you have not forgotten?"

The Spaniard slowly shook his head and smiled. The expression gave to his face a touch of the sinister. "No--but it is yet possible to forget, _Senor_. I serve no King, I serve you. Sometimes a mistake is the truest accuracy. _Quien sabe?_"

The Andalusian looked at the girl who stood puzzled and waiting.

"Sometimes in the _Plaza de Toros, Senor_," he went on, speaking rapidly and tensely, "the throngs cry, '_Bravo, matador_!' and toss coins into the ring. Yet in a moment the same throngs may shout until their throats are hoa.r.s.e: '_Bravo, toro_!' A King is like a bull in the ring, _Senor_--he has a fickle fate. To me he is nothing--if it pleases them--it is their King--let them do as they wish." He shrugged his shoulders.

Benton straightened. "Manuel," he said with a strained tone, "the flag comes down."

The Andalusian smiled regretfully, and once more shrugged his shoulders.

"As you say, _Senor_, but are you sure you wish it so?"

"Manuel, I mean that!" said the American with a steadied voice. "And for G.o.d's sake, Manuel," he added wildly, "throw the rope over the gorge when you have done it!"

For a moment Benton stood rigid, his hands clenched together at his back as he watched the quick step of the Andalusian climbing to the flag-staff. At last he turned dully and looked down where he could see the royal cortege, not yet half-way along the road to the fortress, then he went over to the girl's side.

"Cara," he said, "I have earned the right to kiss you good-by."

"It's yours without the earning, but good-by--!" She shuddered. "What does it all mean?" she asked in bewilderment. "What was it you discussed?"

"Listen," he commanded. "Tell Von Ritz or Karyl that Lapas is a traitor and a prisoner in the observatory; that Louis is at his lodge and that the Countess Astaride is a conspirator in a plot to a.s.sa.s.sinate the King. Tell them that a percussion cap and key connect the magazines of _do Freres_ with the city."

The Princess looked at him with eyes that slowly widened in amazed comprehension. "I understand," she whispered. "And the flag--see, it is coming down--that means?"

He dropped on one knee and lifted her fingers to his lips. "It means that you are to be crowned Queen in Galavia to-morrow," he answered with a groan. "Long live the Queen!"

CHAPTER XIII

CONCERNING FAREWELLS AND WARNINGS

"To-morrow!" repeated the girl with a shudder.

Both stood silent under such a strain as cannot be long sustained. At the crunch of branch underfoot and the returning Blanco's, "_Senor!

Senor!_" both started violently.

"Look, _Senor_," exclaimed the Spaniard. "The King has entered the fortress." Then, seeing that the eyes of both man and girl turned at his words from an intent gaze, not on the town but the opposite hills, he added, half-apologetic: "I shall go, _Senor_, and look to my prisoner.

If you need me, I shall be there."

With the same stricken misery in her eyes that they had worn as she pa.s.sed in her carriage, Cara remained motionless and silent.

The bottom of the valley grew cloudy with shadow. The sun was kissing into rosy pink the snow caps of the western ridge. A cavalcade of hors.e.m.e.n emerged at last from _do Freres_ and started at a smart trot for the Palace. Cara pointed downward with one tremulous finger. Benton nodded.

"Safe," he said, but without enthusiasm.

"I must go." Cara started down the path and the man walked beside her as far as the battered gate which hung awry from its broken columns. Over it now clambered ma.s.ses of vine richly purple with bougonvillea. She broke off a branch and handed it to him. "Purple," she said again, "is the color of mourning and royalty."

Blanco noted the coming of evening and realized that it would be well to reach the level of the city before dark. He knew that if Lapas was to be turned over to Karyl's authorities, steps to that end should be taken before he was discovered and released by those of his own faction. He accordingly made his way back to the gate.

Benton was still standing, looking down the alley-way which ran between the half ruined lines of masonry. His shoulders unconsciously sagged.

The Spaniard approached quietly and stood for a moment unwilling to interrupt, then in a low voice touched with that affectionate note which men are not ashamed to show even to other men in the Latin countries, he said: "_Senor_ Benton!"

The American turned and put out his hand, grasping that of the _toreador_. His grip said what his lips left unworded.

"_Dios mio!_" exclaimed Blanco with a black scowl. "We saved the King, but we bought his life and his throne too high! He cost too dear!"

"Blanco," Benton spoke with difficulty, "I have brought you with me and you have asked no questions. The story is not mine to tell."

The Andalusian raised a hand in protestation.

"It is not necessary that you tell me anything, _Senor_. I have seen enough. And I know the King was not worth the price."

Benton shook his head. "Are you going on with me, now that you know what you know?"

"_Senor_, it grieves me that you should ask. I told you I was at your disposition." The Spaniard went on talking rapidly, talking with lips and eyes and gesture. "When you came to Cadiz and took me with you on the small steamer, I did not ask why. I thought it was as Americans are interested in all things--or perhaps because the many million _pesetas_ of the _Senor's_ fortune might be affected by changing the map of Europe. No matter. You were interested. It was enough."

He swept both hands apart.

"But had I known then what to-day has taught me, I should have held my tongue that evening when the Pretender plotted in the cafe."

"To-morrow," said Benton slowly, "there will be festivity. I can't be here then. I must leave to-night--but you, _amigo mio_, you must stay and watch. If Lapas is taken prisoner and silenced there will be no one in Puntal who will suspect you. No one knew me and if I leave at once, the Countess will hardly learn who was the mysterious man to whom she gave a ring."

"But, _Senor_,"--Blanco was dubious--"would it not be better that I should be with you?"

"You can serve me better by remaining here. I would rather have you near Her."