Excellency.'
The General nodded. 'Of course; of course. Anyhow, that is all I want to know for the moment. Please see that he has every possible attention; and have him moved to a private ward - that is, if being moved would not be too great a strain on him.'
'I'd prefer not to move him yet,' the doctor replied, 'but you may rely on us to make him as comfortable as we can.'
To the Count, the General said, 'Senor Conde, my compliments and best wishes for your speedy recovery. Should you desire anything you have only to command me.' Then he touched his gold-braided kepi in salute, gave some swift instructions to a member of his staff, and strode away.
The patients in the beds on either side of de Quesnoy were moved and the beds taken away to be replaced by screens, which had the effect of creating a private ward for him. Two Guardia Civil then sat down on chairs where one of the beds had been. They were armed with pistols and under orders that one or other of them should remain with him night and day. Considerably relieved by these precautions for his safety, he drifted off to sleep and had his first really good night.
Monday passed without incident but on Tuesday morning de Vendome appeared. He had received the Count's telegram, relayed from Madrid, at San Sebastian, where he was staying with his step-uncle and aunt at their villa. The train service across country was so bad that he had decided that it would be quicker to take the express down to Madrid, then come up from there to Barcelona on the night train. Owing to his devotion to de Quesnoy he had suffered acute anxiety about him for the past thirty-six hours; so he was greatly relieved to find him safe and over the crisis that had threatened his life.
The guards temporarily withdrew and, as the Count could now talk for a while without exhausting himself, he gave his young friend an outline of his misadventure. Having assured himself that the invalid lacked for nothing the Prince went off to see General Quiroga.
Later in the morning he returned to report that the General had had Ferrer and a number of masters at the
After telephoning this message to the Captain-General, de Vendome again returned to the Count and said, 'Since several of the assassins who have reason to fear you are still at large, General Quiroga feels that the sooner you are out of Barcelona the better. The anarchist movement is so strong here that they can call on innumerable people to help them, and by killing you they could still save Ferrer and the rest, because there would then be no one to bring a case against them. In spite of the guard at your bedside, as these people are desperate they may take any risk to get you, or perhaps chuck a bomb through the window on the off-chance that you might be among its victims. There is no doubt that you would be much safer somewhere outside Catalonia.'
'But I can't leave Barcelona before I've given evidence against Ferrer and these other devils that the General has laid by the heels,' the Count protested.
De Vendome smiled. 'There is no reason why you shouldn't. Owing to there having been so many anarchist outrages here many civil rights have for a long time been suspended. Under his powers as Captain-General of the City Quiroga can hold them on suspicion for as long as he likes. You won't be fit to go into court for several weeks yet and you can convalesce just as well elsewhere—better in fact. In any case it is my intention to move you as soon as you are up to it, and take you back to San Sebastian with me. When you are fully recovered you can return here for the trial.'
'In that case,' murmured de Quesnoy, 'by all means speak to my doctor and make whatever arrangements you like.'
That afternoon two doctors made a thorough examination of the Count. Their verdict was that they would not normally have allowed his removal for another week; but in view of the danger to himself and, possibly, other patients in the hospital as long as he remained there, providing he did not have a relapse he could be moved after a further forty-eight hours.
On the Thursday morning de Vendome told him the latest news from General Quiroga. It was that Dolores had been arrested at Port-Bou while attempting to get over the frontier into France; but the other two had evidently decided to take no chances and left the
It had been decided that the invalid was less likely to suffer a set-back if moved by slow trains than expresses; so instead of going down to Madrid they were to travel via Lerida, Huesca and Pamplona. In the late afternoon, having thanked all those who had looked after him, de Quesnoy was carried on a stretcher down to an ambulance and, accompanied by de Vendome and two nurses the Prince had hired, started on the first stage of his journey.
Normally they would have had to change trains three times, but to save his friend from unnecessary jolting and exposure on station platforms de Vendome had arranged for a special coach in which they could all eat, sleep and remain permanently until reaching San Sebastian. That this meant the coach having to be shunted into sidings and remaining there for several hours was a good rather than a bad thing, as it enabled the Count to get three long periods of complete rest during the journey. Even so, when the trains were moving, the rhythmic thudding of their turning wheels jarred the newly-set breaks in his bones and gave him the worst headache he had had for some days.
By the second day he was running a high temperature and, when in the afternoon they reached San Sebastian, de Vendome was acutely worried about him. At the station they were met by de Cordoba, a doctor, two more nurses and one of the new motor ambulances. With it moving at little more than fifteen miles an hour, the sick man was taken the last three miles to the Conde's villa outside the town.
There Dona Gulia was waiting to welcome her invalid-guest, but he did not even recognize her, as his relapse had brought on a period of delirium. She had had one of the ground-floor rooms with french windows looking out on the garden turned into a bedroom for him, because de Vendome had telegraphed particulars of his injuries and she had realized that with a game leg stairs would be awkward for him for some time to come. He was put to bed and everything that the doctor and nurses could do for him was done.
For a few hours he lay in a drug-induced sleep, then late in the evening became conscious for the first time since he had left the train. At the sight of the comfortably furnished room and the face of a strange nurse at his bedside he realized that the nightmare journey was over. She took his temperature, noted with relief that though still high it had gone down a point, gave him a cooling drink, then began to bathe his forehead with eau-de-Cologne. The gentle massage soothed his pain and soon he dropped off to sleep again.
Sometime during the night he had a dream. He was still in the same room and a figure was standing at his bedside. He knew instinctively that it was not that of the nurse, and as he raised his eyes to the face now bent above him he saw that it was Gulia.
The night-light on the table on the far side of his bed lit up her pale face against the frame of her Titian hair, which was parted Madonna fashion in the centre and fell in two thick plaits on either side of her matt-white cheeks. The flame of the night-light was reflected in her great dark eyes and bright enough to show the colour of her full, rich red lips. Behind her all was darkness.
As he gazed up at her he was thinking, 'How dazzling her beauty is. She is like some superb marble statue, yet it is easy to guess that in the arms of a lover she would take fire and melt in soul-shaking passion.' Then he rebuked himself. 'She is Jose's wife so I must not allow myself to think of her like that, even in a dream.'
The figure moved, turned a little and extended two hands. Gently they took his pillowed head between them. Their palms felt as cool as alabaster against his cheeks. Slowly the lovely head came down and for a full minute the soft, warm lips were pressed on his.
He closed his eyes, drawing in the fragrance that was now all about him. The lips and hands were gently withdrawn. When he opened his eyes the ghostly figure had disappeared. It was only a dream. It could have been only a dream. Yet he distinctly heard a click, and could have sworn that it had been made by the latch on the
