by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.
A LETTER DEXTEROUSLY DELIVERED.
Pepita it was, though in a different style of dress to what he had beenaccustomed to see her in; as at New Orleans she had not kept to hernational costume. Besides, there was a _soupcon_ of shabbiness abouther present attire, and then the shoeless feet!
"Dismissed the Valverde service--out of a situation--poor girl!"
He would not have so pityingly reflected, had he seen her as she was buta short half-hour before, in a pretty muslin dress, snow-whitestockings, and blue satin slippers. Since then she had made a change inher toilet under direction and by help of the Condesa, who had attiredher in a way more befitting the task intended.
Kearney, in full belief of her being a discharged servant, rememberingher many little kindnesses to himself in the Casa de Calvo, was about tocall her up, and speak a word of sympathy for old time's sake.Dominguez was still absent, and the nearest sentry engaged in a chaffingencounter with some one in the crowd.
Just then he observed a slight tremor of her head, and with a suddenmovement of the hand which seemed to say, "No, don't speak to me." She,too, could talk that mute language, so well understood in her country.
So restrained, he kept silent; to see her now glance furtively around,as if to make sure no one else was observing her. She had again closedthe scarf over her face, but in the hand that held it under her chinsomething white--a piece of paper he supposed--appeared; just for oneinstant, then drawn under. Another significant look accompanied thisgesture, saying plain as word could speak it:--
"You see what I've got for you; leave the action all to me."
He did, for he could not do otherwise; he was fixed to this spot, shefoot free. And the use she now made of this freedom was to walkstraight out into the street, though not as coming to him; instead, hersteps, as her eyes were directed towards Cris Rock and the hunchback,who were at work some paces further on. She seemed bent on making acloser inspection of the odd pair, nor would any one suppose she hadother object in crossing over to them. No one did, save Kearneyhimself. Rivas had been again ordered into the sewer, and was at workin it. Besides, he did not know Pepita, though he was the one she mostwished to be near. Chiefly for him was the communication she had tomake.
It could not be, however, without a demonstration likely to be observed,therefore dangerous. But her wit was equal to the occasion, proving howwell the ladies had chosen their letter-carrier.
"_Ay Dios_!" she exclaimed aloud, brushing past the young Irishman, andstopping with her eyes bent wonderingly on the strangely contrastedcouple; then aside in _sotto voce_ to Kearney, whom she had managed toplace close behind her, apparently unconscious of his being there--"A_billetita_, Don Florencio--not for you--for the Senor Rivas--you cangive it him--I daren't. Try to take it out of my hand without beingseen." Then once more aloud. "_Gigante y enano_!" just as others hadsaid, "_Rue cosa estranja_!" (what a strange thing).
She need not say any more, nor stay there any longer. For while she wasspeaking the crumpled sheet had passed through the fringe of the scarf,out of her fingers into those of Don Florencio, who had bent him to hiswork bringing his hand to the right place for the transfer.
Her errand, thus vicariously accomplished with another wondering look atthe giant and dwarf, and another "_Ay, Dios_!" she turned to go back tothe side walk. But before passing Kearney she managed to say somethingmore to him.
"Carriage will come along soon--two ladies in it--one you know--one dearto you as you to her."
Sweet words to him, though muttered, and he thanked her who spoke them--in his heart. He dared not speak his thanks, even in whisper; she wasalready too far off, tripping back to the flagged foot-walk, along whichshe turned, soon to disappear from his sight.
What she had said about the coming of a carriage was to Kearney notaltogether intelligible. But, no doubt, the note, now concealed insidehis shirt bosom would clear that up; and the next step was to hand itover to him for whom it was intended.
Luckily, Rivas had not been unobservant of what was going on between thegirl and his companion. Her look seeming strange to him, had attractedhis attention, and though keeping steadily at work, his eyes were not onit, but on them, which resulted in his witnessing the latter part of thelittle episode, and having more than a suspicion it also concernedhimself. He was not taken by surprise, therefore, when Kearney, drawingcloser to the edge of the drain, spoke down to him in a half-whisper--
"I've got something for you. Bring the point of your tool against mine,and look out when you feel my fingers."
"_Muy bien_! I understand," was the muttered response.
In a second or two after the shafts of their implements came intocollision accidentally, it appeared. He would indeed have beensharp-witted who could have supposed it intentional, and lynx-eyed tohave seen that scrap of twisted paper passed from one to the other--thesecond transfer dexterously done as the first. All any one could havetold was, that the two scavengers seemed sorry for what had occurred,made mutual apologies, then separated to the full length of theircoupling-chain, and went to work again, looking meek and innocent aslambs.
It was now Rivas' turn to prove himself possessed of quick wit. He hadreason to think the letter required immediate reading; and how was thisto be done? To be seen at it would surely bring the sentries upon him,even though Dominguez was not there. And for them to get possession ofit--that was a calamity perhaps worst of all! Possibly to compromisethe writer; and well knew he who that was.
For a time he was perplexed, looking in all directions, and thinking ofevery way possible for him to read the letter unobserved. But none didseem possible. He could stoop down, so as to be unseen by those passingalong the sidewalk; but close to the sewer's edge were two or three ofthe sentries, who would still command view of him.
All at once a look of satisfaction came over his countenance, as hiseyes rested on a side drain, which entered the main one, like manyothers, from adjacent dwellings. He had just scraped the mud out of itsmouth, and was close to it.
The very thing, was his thought--the very place for his purpose. Andshortly after he might have been seen standing before it, in bentattitude, his arms busy with his shovel, but his eyes and thoughtsbusier with a sheet of paper which lay at the bottom of the branchdrain, some two or three feet inside it. It was the _billetita_, andthough the creases were but hastily pressed out, he contrived to makehimself master of its contents. They were but brief and legiblywritten--the script familiar to him.
"Querido,--Soon after receiving this--say, half an hour--look for acarriage--landau shut up--two ladies inside--pair of largehorses--_frisones_--grey. When opposite, be ready--with him who sharesyour chain. Leave manners in the mud--make a rush, storm the carriage,eject the occupants rudely--violently--and take their places. You cantrust the _cochero_. Some danger in the attempt, I know; but more ifnot made. Your old enemy implacable--determined to have your life. Dothis, dearest, and save it--for your country's sake, as also that ofYsabel."
