QUENTIN was worried, and in spite of his two pistols and the sword-cane that he carried, he feared that the first chance they got, they would set a trap for him and leave him in the same condition as they had left Cornejo.

He was very mistrustful of María Lucena, because she was beginning to hate him and was capable of doing him almost any ill turn.

Some two weeks after the nocturnal attack, Quentin went to the Café del Recreo. As he was learning to be very cautious, before entering he looked through a window and saw María Lucena talking to an elegantly-dressed gentleman. He waited a moment, and when a waiter went by, he said to him:

“See here, who is that gentleman there?”

“The clean-shaven one dressed in black?”

“Yes.”

“Se?or Gálvez.”

“Periquito Gálvez?”

“Sí, Se?or.”

Quentin entered the café and pretended not to see the fellow. He noticed that María Lucena was more pleasant to him than ever before.

“There’s something up,” he said to himself. “They are getting something ready for me.[234]”

Quentin was not jealous, he was already very tired of María Lucena, and if any one had made off with her, he would have thanked him rather than otherwise.

“Between the two of them,” thought Quentin, referring to Gálvez and María, “they are plotting something against me.”

Presently, Quentin got up, and left the café without even nodding to María.

“I’m going to see Pacheco,” he murmured.

He was going along the Calle del Arco Real, when he looked back and saw two men following him.

“Devil take you,” he remarked, seizing a pistol.

He raised the muffler of his cloak, and began to walk very rapidly. It was a cold, disagreeable night; the crescent moon shone fitfully from behind the huge clouds that were passing over it. Quentin tried to shake off his pursuers by gliding rapidly through tortuous alleyways, but the two men were doubtless well acquainted with the twists and turns of the city, for if he happened to lose them for an instant, he soon saw them behind him again.

After a half-hour’s chase, Quentin noticed that there were no longer only two pursuers, but four of them, and that with them was a watchman. Presently there were six of them.

He sought safety in his legs, and began to run like a deer. He came out opposite the Mosque, went down by the Triunfo Column, through the Puerta Romana, and along the bridge until he reached the foot of the tower of La Calahorra. Everywhere he heard the whistles of the watchmen.

At the exit of the bridge, there were a couple of guardias civiles. Perhaps they were not warned of his flight; but suppose they were?[235]

Quentin retreated. From the bridge he could see the Cathedral, and the black wall of the Mosque, whose battlements were outlined against the sky.

A vapour arose from the river; below him the dark water was boiling against the arches of the bridge; in the distance it looked like quicksilver, and the houses on the Calle de la Ribera were reflected trembling on its surface.

As he turned toward the city, Quentin saw his pursuers at the bridge entrance.

“They’ve trapped me!” he exclaimed in a rage.

They were evidently reconnoitering the bridge on both sides, for the watchman’s lantern oscillated from left to right, and from right to left.

Quentin crept toward one of the vaulted niches in the middle of the bridge.

“Shall I get in there? They will find that easier than anything else. What shall I do?”

To throw himself into the river was too dangerous. To attack his pursuers was absurd.

As if to add to his misfortunes, the moon was coming from behind the cloud that had hidden it, and was shedding its light over the bridge. Quentin climbed into the niche.

What irritated him most was being made prisoner in such a stupid way. He did not fear prison, but rather the loss of prestige with the people. Those who had been enthusiastic over his deeds, when they learned that he had been made prisoner, would begin to look upon him as a common, everyday person, and that did not suit him in the least.

[236]

“I must do something ... anything. What can I do?”

To face his pursuers with his pistol from the niche would be gallant, but it would mean exposing himself to death, or going to prison.

Turning about in the niche, Quentin stumbled over a huge rock.

“Let me see. We’ll try a little fake.”

He removed his cloak and wrapped the stone in it, making a sort of dummy. Then he took the bundle in his arms and stepped to the railing of the bridge.

“There he is! There he is!” shouted his pursuers.

Quentin tipped the dummy toward the river.

“He’s going to jump!”

Quentin gave a loud shout, and pushed the stone wrapped in the cloak into the water, where it splashed noisily. This done, he jumped back; and then, on hands and knees, returned quickly to his niche, climbed into it, and pressed himself against the inside wall.

His pursuers ran by the niches without looking into either of them.

“How awful!” said one of the men.

“I can’t see him.”

“I think I can.”

“Let’s go to the mill at El Medio,” said one who appeared to be the leader. “There ought to be a boat there. Watchman, you stay here.”

Quentin heard this conversation, trembling in his hole; he listened to their footsteps, and when they grew fainter in the distance, he got up and looked through a narrow loophole that was cut in the niche. The watchman had placed his lamp upon the railing of the bridge, and was looking into the river.

“I have no time to lose,” murmured Quentin.

Quickly he took off his tie and his kerchief, jumped to[237] the bridge without making the slightest noise, and crept toward the watchman. Simultaneously one hand fell upon the watcher’s neck, and the other upon his mouth.

“If you call out, I’ll throw you into the river,” said Quentin in a low voice.

The man scarcely breathed from fright. Quentin gagged him with the handkerchief, then tied his hands behind him, took off his cap, placed his own hat upon the watchman’s head, and carrying him like a baby, thrust him into the niche.

“If you try to get out of there, you’re a dead man,” said Quentin.

This done, he put on the watchman’s hat, seized his pike and lantern, and walked slowly toward the bridge gate.

There were two men there, members of the guardia civil.

“There! There he goes,” Quentin said to them, pointing toward the meadow of El Corregidor.

The two men began to run in the indicated direction. Quentin went through the bridge gate, threw the lantern and the pike to the ground, and began to run desperately. He kept hearing the whistles of the watchmen; when he saw a lantern, he slipped through some alley and fairly flew along. At last he was able to reach El Cuervo’s tavern, where he knocked frantically upon the door.

“Who is it?” came from within.

“I, Quentin. They’re chasing me.”

El Cuervo opened the door, and lifted his lantern to Quentin’s face to make sure of his identity.

“All right. Come in. Take the light.”

Quentin took the lantern, and the innkeeper slid a couple of formidable-looking bolts into place.[238]

“Now give me the lantern, and follow me.”

El Cuervo crossed the tavern, came out into a dirty courtyard, opened a little door, and, followed by Quentin, began to climb a narrow stairway which was decorated with cobwebs. They must have reached the height of the second story when the innkeeper stopped, fastened the lantern to a beam on the wall, and holding on to some beam ends that were sticking from the wall, climbed up to a high garret.

“Let me have the lantern,” said El Cuervo.

“Here it is.”

“Now, you come up.”

The garret was littered with laths and rubbish. El Cuervo, crouching low, went to one end of it, where he put out the light, slid between two beams that scarcely looked as if they would permit the passage of a man, and disappeared. Quentin, not without a great effort, did the same, and found himself upon the ridge of a roof.

“Do you see that garret?” said El Cuervo.

“Yes.”

“Well, go over to it, keeping always on this side; push the window, which will give way, and enter; go down four or five steps; find a door; open it with this key, and you will be in your room—safer than the King of Spain.”

“How about getting out?”

“You will be notified.”

“And eating?”

“Your meals will be sent to you. When Se?or José gets back, he’ll come to see you.”

“Good; give me the key.”

“Here it is. Adiós, and good luck.”

The innkeeper disappeared whence he had come.[239] Quentin, following the example of a cat, went tearing across the tiles.

From that height he could see the city, caressed by the silver light of the moon. Through the silence of the night came the murmuring of the river. In the background, far above the roofs of the town, he c............