Vendetta in Spain

by Dennis Wheatley

  Having personally satisfied himself that no fresh piece of treachery by fanatical Catalans or anarchist sympathisers had enabled his enemy to escape, and that his poor Angela’s untimely death had been avenged, de Richleau walked back to the General’s house and made a hearty early breakfast. A few hours later he took leave of the Quirogas and left Barcelona on a morning train.

  On the evening of the 14th he arrived back in San Sebastian. It was too late to send a message to Guilia letting her know of his return; but soon after midnight he went to the livery stable and collected the horse, which he had left instructions should be kept at his disposal. In the orchard behind the Villa he hobbled it as in the past, then he got out the ladder from the gardener’s shed and climbed up to Gulia’s window.

  Her relief and delight at his safe return were unbounded. They had been separated for a week so in the hours that followed the ardour of their passion for one another reached new heights and, since between their embraces de Richleau had to tell her the long story of his doings in Barcelona, they did not sleep a wink.

  Next morning the Duke waited on Don Alfonso and was received most kindly by him. After the King had listened to his report, he said that all the parties of the Left would make so much capital out of Ferrer’s execution that a very difficult time lay ahead. But he fully agreed that they had done the right thing; adding that if the people desired reforms they must bring them about in a constitutional manner, and that in the meantime it was the duty of the Government to protect the innocent from violence by criminal fanatics such as Ferrer.

  That night de Richleau rode out to the Villa again. Once more the two lovers took their joy of one another, but their transports of the preceeding night had taken toll even of their seemingly insatiable desire, and during it they had hardly closed their eyes. In consequence, as they had often done before, at about three o’clock in the morning, clasped in each other’s arms, they first fell into a blissful doze, then slept.

  With a soldier’s trained ability to wake at any hour, a little before dawn the Duke opened his eyes, freed himself from Gulia’s embrace and sat up. He had just lit the bedside lamp so that he could see to dress, when he heard the sound of someone coming up the ladder. Next moment a cloaked figure scrambled in through the window.

  As de Richleau stared in that direction it flashed into his mind that, naked as he was, he was at a considerable disadvantage in tackling a burglar. But at that moment the intruder turned towards the bed and the light from the lamp shone full on his face.

  The Duke drew a sharp breath. For a few seconds he thought he must be seeing a ghost. But it was no wraith from the dead that stood scowling at him. It was a man of flesh and blood; and he was Gulia’s husband, José de Cordoba.

  23

  Sunrise in the bay

  During the course of his thirty-odd years de Richleau had found himself in many dangerous situations and a certain number of embarrassing ones, but none more embarrassing than the present. Occasional contretemps with the husbands of lovely ladies were the hazards which had to be accepted by a virile man who had spent nearly all his life as a bachelor and was so fastidious in his choice of mistresses that he had never kept a demi-mondaine. But never before had he been caught naked in bed with a woman; much less the wife of a friend whom he had believed to be dead.

  Temporarily bereft of speech, he stared at the stalwart, bearded figure. Then, finding his tongue, he exclaimed, ‘I thought …’

  ‘I can very well guess what you thought,’ de Cordoba burst out, his face convulsed with rage. ‘You thought that I was not returning from South America until the end of October. You would have been right, and free to continue to practise your vile treachery, but for the threat to the peseta brought about by the war in Morocco. Ruiz cabled me three weeks ago asking me to return and resume control here. I was three hundred miles up the Amazon when his cable reached me, but I started for home at once.’

  As the Conde paused for breath de Richleau began again. ‘But I thought …’ then he checked himself. It had suddenly dawned upon him that if Ruiz had sent that cable towards the end of August he could not possibly have received news at the beginning of the month that his brother was dead. Therefore Gulia had lied. She must have invented the whole story about her husband’s death.

  Turning his head he shot a swift glance at her. She was sitting up in bed beside him, with the top of the sheet held up in front of her to hide her superb breasts. Her long Titian gold hair hung about her in disorder, her big eyes were wide and shining, her breath was coming fast; but on her beautiful face there was an expression of defiance as she looked straight before her at her husband.

  Swiftly the Duke grasped the fact that he was in a cleft stick. Either he must reveal the deception she had practised on him, or allow de Cordoba to believe that he had deliberately seduced his wife during his absence. De Richleau had never been a man to kiss and tell. Within seconds he decided that, wicked as Gulia’s trickery had been, he could not give her away. Feeling that his only course now was to carry the war into the enemy’s camp, he began again, more firmly than before.

  ‘Very well. I understand. But you might have spared yourself this unpleasant discovery if you had not returned like a thief in the night. It seems you must have been spying on us to arrive here at this hour and by way of the ladder.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing of the kind,’ de Cordoba retorted harshly. ‘And it is you who are the thief. My ship docked at Bilbao yesterday evening. I thought that by hiring an automobile I could easily get home by midnight. But the cursed thing broke down and it was six hours before I reached a town where I could hire another. When I did get here, not wishing to wake the whole household I went round to the back of the Villa to see if I could find a way to get in. I found one. Yes, I found a ladder leading up to my wife’s bedroom. And what then? What a welcome home! I found a man whom I regarded with affection and respect in my wife’s bed.’

  ‘I sympathise with you in the shock you sustained,’ replied the Duke calmly. ‘What more can I say? That which is done is done. In such a situation an apology would only sound insincere.’

  ‘Apology be damned!’ the Conde exploded. ‘By God, you’re going to give me satisfaction, and that before you are much older.’

  De Richleau sighed. ‘Since you demand it, I am entirely at your service.’

  ‘Demand it! Of course. What else would you expect? Now collect your clothes and get out of here. You can dress in the bathroom.’

  ‘No,’ the Duke shook his head, and his jaw became aggressive. ‘That I will not do. I refuse to be humiliated by getting naked out of bed in front of you. And unless you wish to lower yourself by entering on an unseemly brawl you cannot make me. It is you who will leave this room while I dress at my leisure.’

  For a moment de Cordoba glowered at him, then he sneered, ‘One would hardly expect to find such delicacy in a man base enough to seduce the wife of a friend. But let it be as you say. You’ll find me down in the hall. Be quick about it. I’ll stand for no delay in making our arrangements.’ Turning, he marched from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  As his footsteps faded away down the corridor, Gulia and de Richleau took their eyes from the door and looked at one another. ‘Well,’ he asked coldly. ‘What have you to say?’

  Two great tears had welled up into her eyes and were running down her magnolia-petal cheeks. Sadly she shook her head. ‘Oh Armand, my dear love, I never dreamed that things would end for us like this.’

  ‘Nor I; which is less surprising since I believed him dead,’ de Richleau replied bitterly. ‘But you; you lied to me. You made up that story about his having been mauled by a puma, and that Ruiz had asked you to keep his death secret because if it became known there would be a run on the bank. It’s obvious now that you knew him to be alive all the time, but did not expect him back until the end of October.’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘It’s true. But I beg you not to think too badly of me because of that. We have
had such a wonderful time together. Think of the happiness I have given you. And your conscience, at least, is clear.’

  ‘My conscience!’ he burst out. ‘Yes, but not my reputation in your husband’s eyes. Do you not realise that whatever may happen now he will regard me with contempt—as a man who has sullied his honour?’

  ‘Honour! Oh Armand, why must you men make so much of that? Surely love counts for more. You love me. I know you do.’ Suddenly raising her arms she threw them round his neck.

  ‘Love you!’ Breaking her hold he thrust her from him. ‘After what you have done, how can I do anything else than despise you.’

  As she collapsed sobbing on her pillow, he angrily kicked the bedclothes aside, jumped out of bed and started to dress.

  By the time he was in his shirt and trousers she was sitting up again, watching him with tear-dimmed eyes. In a hoarse voice she spoke. ‘Armand. This duel that he insists on fighting. It is I who have brought it on you. Oh, I pray to God that you will not be hurt. If you were killed I … I’d never get over it. I … I …’

  He felt calmer now, and quickly reassured her. ‘You’ve little need to let that worry you. I am used to arms, whereas he, poor devil, is only used to handling butterfly nets. There’s one chance in a hundred that he might pip me at the regulation twenty paces, but no more.’

  Getting out of bed she stood in front of him, naked and as beautiful as Venus arisen from the foam. But her arms hung slack by her sides and her head was bowed. Choking back a sob she said,

  ‘I don’t think I am a wanton. I have refused the pleading of scores of handsome men. That I am a wicked woman to have behaved so despicably towards you I confess. But love drove me to it, Armand. From the very first moment I saw you I knew you were the only man that I could ever love profoundly. I wanted you desperately—desperately. I did everything I could to get you. I even lied about José. He was very far from being a satisfactory husband, but I’ve no reason at all to believe that he really kept a mistress in Madrid. Yet you were too honourable to give way to my tempting. It was then the idea came to me that if I could only free you from your scruples I’d get my heart’s desire. My plan succeeded. But it was born neither out of greed nor ordinary wantonness. If I died tonight I’d die happy in the knowledge that for just a few weeks in my life I had had you for my lover. And you returned my love, Armand. You know you did. Can you not possibly forgive me?’

  His heart melted within him. He suddenly felt that during the past quarter of an hour he had behaved towards her like a prig and a brute. Softly he said:

  ‘I understand. Yes, I understand. And someone once said, “to understand all is to forgive all”, didn’t they. Anyway, I take back everything I said just now, and ask your forgiveness for it. Oh my darling, what can I say to comfort you? It was I who, by putting honour before love, drove you to do as you did. That you should have had the strength and courage to carry through your purpose shows the depth of your feeling for me, and I humbly thank the gods that I should have been blessed with a love so great as yours.’

  She lifted her face to his and once more her eyes were shining. Gently, he took her in his arms. They kissed, but with all passion drained from them, as two beings who for a little time dwelt in heaven together, and, whether or not they met again in this life, would forever remain long-time friends.

  Two minutes later he had put on his coat and left her. Down in the hall he found de Cordoba agitatedly pacing up and down. Without a word the Conde led the way into the small library. De Richleau followed him in. From the drawer of a bureau the Conde took an oblong mahogany box. Placing it on the centre table, he opened it, disclosing a pair of silver-mounted duelling pistols and compartments that contained cleaning materials and shot.

  ‘These will serve our purpose,’ he said tonelessly. ‘Be good enough to take your choice, and put a few bullets in your pocket.’

  ‘Surely,’ protested the Duke in astonishment, ‘you cannot be suggesting that we should fight here and now.’

  ‘No, down in the private bay. One could hardly find a better place to fight a duel than on its fiat, firm sands, and it will take us only a few minutes to walk down there.’

  ‘But … But one cannot fight a duel without seconds, and a doctor within call.’

  ‘I see nothing against doing so.’

  ‘There is a great deal,’ replied de Richleau promptly. ‘However intense your resentment against me, Conde, I beg you to exercise a little patience. Put away these weapons for the time being. Although as the challenged party I have the right of choice I am willing to accept them. But allow me to return to my hotel. Send two of your friends there and I will ask two friends of mine to make proper arrangements with them. Then I will meet you at any time or place they may decide.’

  De Cordoba shook his head. ‘No. We will go down to the shore and settle this matter without delay.’

  ‘But why this unseemly haste, Conde? Why?’

  ‘Because I have no mind to allow witnesses at this affair. You have sullied your honour, but mine remains unbesmirched. How could we fight in the presence of others yet prevent them from talking afterwards? Whatever pretext we might give them for our meeting they would suspect the truth. For you to have reached such a degree of intimacy with Gulia, you must first have been a great deal in her company. It will be said that she betrayed me with you and I found her out. I have the honour of my family to consider, and I refuse to submit to the humiliation of having my Condesa’s name bandied about as that of a whore.’

  ‘That is the very last thing I would wish, either for her or for yourself,’ the Duke agreed. ‘But there are other considerations; and most serious ones. A duel is a duel and, although illegal, if carried out according to accepted traditions no serious notice is taken of it by the authorities. For two men to discharge pistols at one another when alone and, as might emerge later, with a cause for anger, is a very different matter. Should one of them have the misfortune to be killed the other would be accounted guilty of murder.’

  ‘That risk can be overcome,’ replied the Conde stubbornly. ‘I will leave a note on the hall table for my butler, asking him to have an early breakfast ready for us at seven o’clock, and saying that you and I have gone down to the shore to practise pistol shooting at the seagulls. Then, when it transpires that one of us has been wounded or killed it will be taken as an accident.’

  De Richleau shook his head. ‘Such an explanation would not bear investigation. Is it likely that on returning from a long absence overseas, and before your household even knows that you are back, you would stroll down to the beach to practise with a pistol? And what am I supposed to have been doing here at this hour?’

  ‘I thought that at least you were a man of courage,’ sneered the Conde. ‘But your cowardice is in keeping with the character of a wife-stealer.’

  ‘The Duke’s face suddenly went white and he said softly, ‘You shall pay for that. To insist on this is the act of a fool. You are a fool, too, to have challenged me. I doubt if you could hit a haystack, whereas I could put a bullet through your brain at fifty yards. But you shall have your way. Your blood be on your own head.’

  Taking the nearest pistol from the case, he broke it, squinted down its barrel, slipped a few bullets into his pocket, and walked out of the room.

  De Cordoba followed him and caught him up. Side by side, maintaining a frigid silence, they walked along the path fringed with pines, tamarisks and myrtle that led down to the beach. The tide was going out and had left a quarter mile long stretch of smooth, clean sand. As they reached it and halted, the Conde said:

  ‘I have never before fought a duel, so I must request you to state in detail how we should proceed.’

  During their walk down to the shore de Richleau’s anger had cooled, and he said quickly, ‘Then why fight this one? I know that I have done you a great wrong, but for one of us to wound or kill the other cannot undo that which has been done. Will you not …’

  ‘No!’ the Conde cut him
short. ‘One expects a certain frailty in women, and in view of the relations between Gulia and myself I do not blame her overmuch. But men are made of sterner stuff. For you there can be no excuse, and with God’s help I hope to punish you for your despicable behaviour.’

  ‘Very well, then. We load our pistols and stand back to back. I will ask you if you are ready. When you reply “Yes”, I shall then say the one word, “March”. On that we shall both walk ten paces away from one another then turn about face to face. Either of us may fire instantly upon turning, or hold his fire to take more careful aim. Ten paces, you understand. And may I suggest that when you take your stance to fire you should stand sideways, so that your body presents a minimum width of target to me.’

  ‘Thank you. I appreciate the chivalry you display in making that suggestion.’

  Having loaded his pistol with the single bullet that the duelling weapon held, de Richleau looked out over the bay. A sick nostalgia seized him as he thought of the many happy hours he had spent there with Gulia. Whatever might be the outcome of the duel he knew that never again would they swim there together or sit side by side talking and laughing on these golden sands. It had been for them an earthly paradise, and now her husband had come back, like an avenging angel with a flaming sword, to drive him out of it for ever.

  With a sharp word de Cordoba recalled him to the present. They took up their positions back to back. ‘Are you ready?’ asked the Duke. ‘Yes,’ replied the Conde. ‘March,’ cried de Richleau, and in swift strides each covered his ten paces.

  The Duke knew that if de Cordoba took a snap shot at him immediately upon turning, only by an extraordinary fluke could the bullet fail to go wide. Therefore, to have any hope of hitting him at all, the Conde must give at least ten seconds to taking aim. He, on the other hand, was a crack shot. Two seconds would be ample for him to draw a bead on his opponent and fire. In consequence, when walking down to the beach, he had decided to put a quick end to the matter by winging the Conde in his pistol arm before he had a chance to discharge his weapon.