PAGE 5
The Crossed Gloves
by
It was the man of extremes who spoke, and he spoke quite sincerely. Christina, however, neither answered him nor heard. Her eyes were fixed with a strange intentness upon him; her breath came and went as if she had run a race, and in the silence seemed unnaturally audible.
“You carry orders to Olvera?” she said at length. Shere fetched the sealed letter out of his pocket.
“So I must go, or fail in my duty,” said he.
“Give me the letter,” said Christina.
Shere stared at her in amazement. The amazement changed to suspicion. His whole face seemed to narrow and sharpen out of his own likeness into something foxy and mean.
“I will not,” he said, and slowly replaced the letter. “There was a man in the road,” he continued slowly, “who whistled as I passed–a signal, no doubt. You are Carlist. This is a trap.”
“A trap not laid for you,” said Christina. “Be sure of that! Until you spoke of Olvera I did not know.”
“No,” admitted Shere, “not laid for me to your knowledge, but to Esteban’s. You were surprised at my coming–Esteban only at the manner of my coming. He asked if I had ridden into the gates of my own accord I remember. He was in Ronda this afternoon. Very likely it was he who told my colonel of my knowledge of the neighbourhood. It would suit his purposes well to present me to you suddenly, not merely as an enemy, but an active enemy. Yes, I understand that. But,” and his voice hardened again, “even to your knowledge the trap was laid for the man who carries the letter. You have your share in the trick.” He repeated the word with a sharp laugh, savouring it, dwelling upon it as upon something long forgotten, and now suddenly remembered. “A murderous trick, too, it seems! I wonder what would have happened if I had not turned in at the gates of my own accord. How much farther should I have ridden towards Olvera, and by what gentle means should I have been stopped?”
“By nothing more dangerous than a hand upon your bridle and an excuse that you might do me some small service at Olvera.”
“An excuse, a falsity! To be sure,” said Shere bitterly. “Yet you still stand before the door though you know the letter will not be yours. Is the trick after all so harmless? Is there no one–Esteban, for instance–in the dark passage outside the door or on the dark road outside the gates?”
“I will prove to you you are wrong.”
Christina dropped her arms to her side, moved altogether from the door, and rang a bell. “Esteban shall come here; he will see you outside the gates; he will set you safely on your road to Olvera.” She spoke now quite quietly; all the panic and agitation had gone in a moment from her face, her manner, and her words. But the very suddenness of the change in her increased Shere’s suspicions. A moment ago Christina was standing before the door with every nerve astrain, her face white, and her eyes bewildered with horror. Now she stood easily by the table with the lighted lamp, speaking easily, playing easily with the gloves upon the table. Shere watched for the secret of this sudden change.
A servant answered the bell and was bidden to find Esteban. No look of significance passed between them; by no gesture was any signal given. “No harm was intended to any man,” Christina continued as soon as the door again was closed; “I insisted–I mean there was no need to insist; for I promised to get the letter from the bearer once he had come into this room.”
“How?” Shere asked with a blunt contempt. “By tricks?”
Christina raised her head quickly, stung to a moment’s anger; but she did not answer him, and again her head drooped.
“At all events,” she said quietly, “I have not tried to trick you,” and Shere noticed that she arranged with an absent carelessness the gloves in the form of a cross beneath the lamp; and at once he felt that her action contradicted her words. It was merely an instinct at first. Then he began to reason. Those gloves had been so arranged when first he entered the room. Christina and Esteban were bending over the table. Christina was explaining something. Was she explaining that arrangement of the gloves? Was that arrangement the reason of her ready acceptance of his refusal to part with his orders? Was it, in a word, a signal for Esteban–a signal which should tell him whether or not she had secured the letter? Shere saw a way to answer that question. He was now filled with distrust of Christina as half an hour back he had been filled with faith in her; so that he paid no heed to her apology, or to the passionate and pleading voice in which she spoke it.