had shown himself among the gipsies, he was most averse to putting off his plan even for a night. To the Maestro he said, 'I, too, am rich, and I am prepared to outbid him for her. Be good enough to arrange the matter.'
'Excellency, I regret,' the Maestro raised his broad shoulders and spread out his arms in a helpless gesture. 'The senor who is with her has already made me a generous present with the request that tonight I should introduce no other admirers to her. How can I now make a deliberate attempt to rob him of his pleasure?'
As the Maestro moved away the dance was ending. La Conchita and the other girl were pirouetted by their partners, their skirts flairing waist high to tantalize the male onlookers with the sight of their white-stockinged legs, elaborate garters and, above them, a glimpse of naked thighs.
When La Conchita rejoined the Count, he summoned the hunchback to pour her more wine. Then, having given her time to get her breath back, he said softly, 'My dear, you are certainly the prettiest woman in the troupe, and had I come here tonight for the purpose of enjoying myself I would ask nothing better than to remain with you. But I have a matter of business that it is imperative that I should discuss with La Torcera. As you see, she is not free, and the Maestro tells me that he has been well paid to refrain from disturbing the tete-a-tete she is engaged in. I want you to give me your help in getting her away from her companion. Now, put your hand under the table.'
When she did so he pressed two gold pieces into her palm. It was much more than she would ordinarily have earned in a night and, a swift glance down having shown her that the coins were gold, she said with an uneasy smile:
'It is quite simple,' he answered her. 'All I wish you to do is to go over to her and make some excuse to get her to go outside with you for a moment. When you have her alone tell her that I will give her five hundred pesetas if she will get rid of her companion.'
'Five hundred pesetas!' repeated La Conchita, her dark eyes opening to their fullest extent. 'Do you really mean that? If so, you must be a Prince travelling incognito.'
'I am; my real name is Kropotkin. Please tell her that - Prince Peter Kropotkin.' He told the glib lie because he thought it certain that the gipsies, being perpetually at war with the law, would be anarchist sympathizers, and that, while it was most unlikely that any of them had ever seen the Prince, Sanchez would most probably have spoken of the famous anarchist leader to La Torcera; so she would be all the more willing to get rid of the man she was with and, perhaps, even disclose Sanchez's whereabouts without being bribed to do so.
La Conchita nodded and stood up. As she crossed the floor a little group came on to it. The fat middle-aged woman, carrying a rush-bottomed chair, placed it opposite the entrance and plumped herself down; the guitarists and three girls grouped themselves round her and, following her lead, they all began to clap in rhythm. A young man, scarcely more than a boy, then entered the circle and began to dance. As he did so, shouts of '
It was evident that the youth was a favourite and the Count soon saw that his popularity was justified. Holding himself as stiff as a ramrod, with one hand above his head and the other on his hip, he moved at a snail's pace back and forth and round and round, but the whole time his feet tapped the floor at an incredible speed, changing their beat only for an occasional stamp at each sudden cessation of the clapping.
Meanwhile, with a little smile of satisfaction, de Quesnoy saw La Torcera and La Conchita leave the cave together. They were absent for about five minutes, then they both returned and the latter rejoined him. Leaning towards him, she said:
'As I feared, the matter is not easy. It is against all custom for one of us to leave a patron with whom the Maestro has provided us. We may do so only if it transpires that he has no money or is so drunk that he becomes troublesome and insulting. She cannot therefore send him away or come over to you. But, of course, here as elsewhere there are times when disputes arise between two men, both of whom desire the company of one woman. If you decide to attempt to get rid of him yourself, she will not take his part but will remain passive; and she is naturally much flattered by your interest in her. It remains now for you to make up your mind whether your wish to get her to yourself is worth risking what may prove an unpleasant scene.'
De Quesnoy had already considered going over to La Torcera's table and boldly asking her to leave it with him, but it was obvious that such a step would result in high words and probably a fracas. If that happened, he feared that the Maestro and other men of the troupe would join in and, as he would clearly be in the wrong, side with the merchant from Alicante. As he was carrying a revolver he had no doubts about his ability to protect himself and get out of the place unharmed, but having to do so would promptly terminate any chance of his achieving the object with which he had come there. Turning to the girl beside him, he said:
'I had thought of doing what you suggest, but there would not be much point to it if it resulted in my being thrown out. From the way you speak, though, that does not always follow. Do you think the Maestro and the others would leave me a free field to get rid of the other fellow?'
She gave a quick nod. 'Yes. What woman does not enjoy having two men fight over her? La Torcera would see to it that you had fair play. All gipsies love watching a fight, too, so our men would not interfere - that is unless either of you drew a knife. They would then from fear of a killing, for we do not like to give the police an excuse to come nosing about up here.'
'Thank you, my dear. In telling me that you really have been helpful.' With a grim little smile, the Count made to stand up. But she quickly laid a hand on his arm, and said:
'Not yet. La Torcera is about to dance. You must wait now until her dance is over.'
La Torcera was partnered by the taller of the two men who had danced before. Now that she was standing up and the Count had a closer view of her, he saw that she was both a taller and bigger woman than he had so far judged her to be. She was handsome, but in a coarse way, and smallpox had left her with a slight pitting on the lower part of her right cheek. Her features and her skin, which was a shade darker than that of the other women, suggested that she had a touch of Moorish blood. As a Flamenco dancer she was clearly in the front rank, clacking her castanets in perfect timing with the beat of the guitars, jerking back her head with admirably simulated violence, and swaying her big shapely hips in sensuous invitation. Twice as she came round to face de Quesnoy she gave him a smile and raised an interrogative eyebrow.
He did not wait until she had finished her dance, but after it had been going on for some while he bid a smiling adieu to La Conchita, then stood up and skirted the floor until he reached the table opposite. It had occurred to him that to get his way without a scene was at least worth trying, and this was the time to attempt it; so, with a bow to the merchant from Alicante, he addressed him with the utmost politeness.
'Senor, allow me to introduce myself. I am Prince Peter Kro-potkin. You may perhaps have heard of me. Most of my life has been spent championing the underdog, and I have a particular admiration for the gipsies. They show such a praiseworthy independence of spirit, and are a living example of my contention that life may be enjoyed without resorting to the law or owning personal property. No doubt it is a similar admiration for them that has brought you here tonight.'
The man gave him a puzzled look and replied, 'Well, not exactly, Senor Prince. As a matter of fact I came here because I enjoy their Flamenco music and watching them dance.'
'Ah!' beamed the Count. 'That is quite understandable; and I see that we shall soon be able to arrange matters.' As he spoke he pulled out a chair, added 'Permit me' and, without waiting for the other's consent, sat down.
'Arrange matters,' the merchant frowned. 'I don't understand what you are talking about, and this table . . .'
'Exactly. It is about this table we have to arrange. As you have come here only to listen to the music and watch the dancing you will, I am sure, have no objection to moving to another.'
'I'll do nothing of the kind,' came the angry retort. 'This is La Torcera's table, and I have booked her to spend the evening with me.'
'That is unfortunate, because it so happens that I have matters to discuss with her that are of much more importance than any of the sweet nothings that you may have visualized yourself whispering in her ear. May I suggest that you should whisper them instead to the young woman I have just left. She is called La Conchita and . . .'
