"I shall probably have something to say to you again," he said. "This is an affair that demands careful consideration, and in the meantime there are other matters which can not be delayed."

Dom Clemente spoke sharply, and a black sergeant at the door who beckoned Ormsgill and Desmond to follow him went with them to their quarters in the ruinous shed.

"There are, I think, very few men in this country who would have spoken to that man or Dom Clemente as you have done," he said. Then he grinned in a very suggestive fashion. "It is probably fortunate that he seemed to believe you, though if he had been any other man I would have called him very foolish."

Ormsgill said nothing, but sat down among the empty sugar bags, and he and Desmond looked at one another when the patter of the sergeant's feet grew indistinct. Both were glad they were alone, but for a minute or two neither of them broke the silence.

CHAPTER XXXII
BENICIA UNDERTAKES AN OBLIGATION

Ormsgill, who reclined among the sugar bags, lighted a cigarette one of the officers had given him before he turned to Desmond.

"I don't know if you are comfortable on that case, but, as you see, I haven't another seat to offer you, and these bags are a trifle sticky," he said. "I understand that my jailers were instructed to show me every consideration."

Desmond laughed as he glanced around the half-ruinous shed. "It's hardly worth while making excuses of that kind," he said. "I'm quite willing to admit that the one thing that's worrying me is the question what your friends mean to do with us."

"It's possible they may set us at liberty, but in the meanwhile you know as much as I do. How did you fall into their hands?"

"I was at Las Palmas when I heard that they were having trouble in the interior. The news wasn't very definite, but it seemed to me I might be wanted and I brought the yacht across as hard as we could drive her."

"Ah," said Ormsgill quietly, "that is, of course, very much the kind of thing one would expect you to do. You were at Las Palmas – but go on. I may ask you something later."

Desmond understood him, and though he had driven the Palestrina mercilessly day after day under the uttermost pressure her boilers would stand he was satisfied. He had not thought it worth while to mention how they had shaken every rag of canvas out while the yacht rolling viciously and shivering in every plate swept along with the spray-clouds flying over her before the big trade breeze combers, or the more arduous days when, while the firemen gasped beneath an almost intolerable heat, they still drove her south at topmost speed over an oily blazing sea across the line. He also fancied he knew what Ormsgill wished to ask him, and a trace of uneasiness crept into his face as he proceeded somewhat hastily.

"Well," he said, "when we got the anchor down I heard that the fighting was over and the troops were coming back again. Somebody told me they had a white prisoner who had evidently been encouraging the rebels, and it seemed to me advisable to set out up country on a shooting trip. There was a rather capable boy among those I hired, and he hadn't much difficulty in making friends with one of the camp followers or carriers when we came up with the troops. After that we followed their track, keeping about a league away from them for almost a week, and I sent you two messages. I suppose you never got them?"

"No," said Ormsgill. "I almost think it's evident that somebody else did."

Desmond made a little sign of concurrence. "The boy probably sold us, or your friend Dom Clemente was too clever for him. One could fancy that is a very capable man. Anyway, while I was considering how we could arrange to get you off we went to sleep last night in a belt of grass. I took the precaution of sending two sentries out, and I don't know yet why they didn't warn me, but when I awakened early this morning there was a white officer standing over me. As he had several black soldiers with him and we were evidently at his mercy I came along with him. I don't think there was any other course open to me."

"You have done what you could. You brought me no message from Las Palmas?"

Desmond, who once more appeared uneasy, sat silent for a moment or two. Then he leaned forward a trifle with a flush in his face.

"I don't know how you'll take it, but, as a matter of fact, I did," he said. "I brought a letter which Mrs. Ratcliffe gave me, and I believe there was another from Miss Ratcliffe inside it. Unfortunately, one of your friends here confiscated it not long ago as well as every other scrap of paper in my possession."

"They sent me no word when you left Las Palmas before," said Ormsgill with a portentous quietness, though there were signs of tension in his face. Then he straightened himself suddenly. "You are keeping something back. It concerns Ada?"

"It does, and I'm particularly sorry your friends seized that letter. This is an affair I should greatly have preferred to leave in Mrs. Ratcliffe's hands. She" – and Desmond made a little vague gesture – "is a lady of considerable ability and has no doubt explained the thing much more satisfactorily than I could do."

"Go on," said Ormsgill with sharp incisiveness.

Desmond, who still hesitated, looked at him in a curious deprecatory fashion.

"Well," he said, "the fact is Miss Ratcliffe was married the day before I left Las Palmas."

In another moment Ormsgill was on his feet, and his laugh jarred on Desmond's ears.

"Married!" he said hoarsely, clenching one hand tight. "And I've thrown away everything to keep faith with her."

Desmond made a little restraining gesture. "Well," he said, "it's not my business, but I think I understand what you are referring to – and, perhaps, it's scarcely wise to be too sure. With all deference to Mrs. Ratcliffe I can't help fancying you are well out of the other matter. After all, to mention no other reason, it would require a certain amount of courage to recognize that lady as one's mother-in-law."

Ormsgill, who made no answer, turned towards the door, and spoke a few words to the sentry. The latter called to one of his comrades, and Ormsgill, after giving the man a message came back again and sat down quietly.

"I have asked if I may have the letter," he said.

It was brought him ten minutes later unopened, and he sat very still for awhile after he had read it. Then there was bitterness in his laugh.

"It is in one sense a masterly production," he said. "In fact, both of them are. I am assured that Mrs. Ratcliffe recognized all along that we were never made for one another." He turned, and grasped his companion's shoulder. "Can you tell me anything about this paragon who, it seems, has married Ada?"

A little twinkle crept into Desmond's eyes. "I never heard him called anything of that kind before. Lister, you see, is an unlicked colt, and nobody could have said very much to his credit until lately. Still, he seems to be making an effort to rub out certain defects in his character, and if Miss Ratcliffe can only keep it up they may get along tolerably well together."

"Keep it up?"

Desmond smiled again. "It's probably somewhat delicate ground, but the thing has its whimsical aspect. You see he, perhaps, naturally, regards Miss Ratcliffe as the incarnation of honor and every other estimable equality, which is apt to make her rôle rather a difficult one. I have no doubt her mother has asked you very tactfully not to say anything that might render it harder still if you ever come across Lister, which, if she has any hand in his arrangements, is most unlikely."

"There is a suggestion of that kind here," and Ormsgill gazed at him very grim in face. "You mean that they have not mentioned me to Lister."

"I should consider it very improbable," said Desmond dryly. "As I ventured to suggest, you have, perhaps, after all, no very great cause for regret."

Ormsgill, who said nothing, rose and walked several times up and down the shed, and then moved suddenly towards the door. He spoke a few words to the sentry, after which he sat down and waited for some little time, while Desmond smiled once or twice as he watched him. Then the door was opened, and a black sergeant who appeared in the entrance signed to Ormsgill.

"Dom Clemente can spare you a few minutes," he said.

Ormsgill rose and followed him across the compound and up the veranda stairway into a room where Dom Clemente was sitting alone. He looked up when Ormsgill came in.

"You have some complaint – of the accommodation we have provided you with?" he said.

"No," said Ormsgill, "my business is of a very different nature. You asked me last night, Señor, if I had anything to say to you. I wonder if you will now listen to me for a little while?"

His companion's gesture signified compliance, and Ormsgill proceeded, speaking with a terse directness which, as it happened, served him well. When at last he stopped Dom Clemente looked at him with a little dry smile.

"Señor," he said, "in one sense the explanation is sufficient, though there are, you can understand, respects in which it leaves a little to be desired."

"I make no excuse," and a faint flush crept into Ormsgill's face. "Only, in this case my mind will always be the same."

The little officer sat still, looking at him steadily, while half a minute slipped away, and Ormsgill felt the silence becoming oppressive. Then he spread one hand out.

"After all," he said, "there are, probably, very few among us who are quite exempt from some folly of this kind, and I think it is to your credit that when you recognized that it was a folly you were willing to carry it out. I may mention that I had the honor of meeting the lady."

Then he made a little expressive gesture. "Señor, you are, at least, one whose word can be relied upon, and that counts for a good deal. It is, however, to be remembered that you are not yet at liberty."

"I think my liberty largely depends upon you. One could fancy that you know how far the complaints against me are credible. In fact, I do not understand why you ever gave them any consideration."

Dom Clemente smiled. "One has usually a motive, Señor, and it is generally wiser not to make it too apparent until the time is ripe. In this case I think the results have warranted everything I have done. Herrero and Domingo, not to mention one or two others, have accomplished their own destruction, though that is, after all, not quite the question. The matter you have laid before me is, it seems to me, one that Benicia must decide."

He rose with the little twinkle still in his eyes. "I will leave you to make it as clear as you can to her."

He went out, and Ormsgill waited, with his heart beating a good deal faster than usual, until Benicia came in. He stood looking at her a moment, with a faint flush in his haggard face.

"Señorita," he said, "I would like you to listen to a story – though it is a little difficult to tell."

For a moment Benicia met his gaze, and saw the little glint in his eyes. She also saw how worn his face was, and the gauntness of his frame, and her compassion was stronger than her pride.

"Ah," she said, "I know it already. I have known it all along."

"Still," said Ormsgill, "there is a little more to be said. I am not going back to Las Palmas if I am set at liberty."

He saw the crimson creep into her forehead. "Benicia," he said, "the woman I was pledged to has cast me off. I am going back to England, and – after all you know – I wonder if I dare venture to ask you if you will come with me."

"Ah," said the girl with a simplicity that had a certain stateliness in it, "I think I would go anywhere with you."

Then Ormsgill strode forward masterfully, and it was a minute later when she smiled up at him. "This," she said, "is not what I meant to do – at least, just now – but when I saw you looking so worn and anxious and remembered that you were still a prisoner I forgot how I hated that Englishwoman. I only remembered how I loved you."

A little later there were footsteps outside, and the black sergeant once more appeared in the doorway, while when he led Ormsgill away Benicia went straight to a room guarded by a dusky soldier, and demanded to see the officer within. He sent his secretary away, and then looked up at her with a little smile.

"You have a promise to keep," she said. "I have come to ask you to set these two Englishmen at liberty."

"Ah," said the man, "there are, no doubt, one or two reasons for this that you can suggest?"

"You know they have done no wrong."

"It is possible. Still, we have not altogether settled that question yet. Is there nothing else that you can urge in their favor?"

"They are friends of mine."

The officer made a little grave gesture. "That," he said, "goes a long way, but, after all, I am not sure that it goes quite far enough."

Benicia's face grew a trifle warm, but she smiled. "One," she said, "is the man I am going to marry."

Her companion's eyes twinkled. "Well," he said, "in that case we must certainly see what can be done before we march to-morrow."

Benicia asked nothing further, for she was satisfied, and soon after she left the officer Ormsgill sat down opposite Desmond in the half-ruinous shed. He said a few disjointed words, and Desmond laughed cheerfully.

"I knew how it was as soon as I saw you," he said. "Well, I believe we could get hold of an American missionary, and the Palestrina's ready."

The rest of that day passed very slowly with them both, but early next morning they were once more led into the presence of Dom Clemente and the gray-haired officer. When they came in the latter signed to his secretary, and Father Tiebout, who quietly went out. A few minutes afterwards the secretary led Benicia in, and the officer turned to Ormsgill.

"We have," he said, "again carefully considered the complaints against you. As the result of it I think I can venture to set the Señor Desmond at liberty, and to place you at the Señorita Benicia's disposal. She" – and he smiled gravely – "will be held accountable for your behavior while you remain in this country. If it is permissible, I might advise her not to countenance any further undertakings of the kind that brought you back to Africa."