“Where is the Señorita Lucía?” he abruptly asked Sardiola, who was watching by the body.
“I do not know.” The Biscayan looked up and by a swift intuition he read in the distorted features of the husband a hundred things at once. Miranda rushed out like a rocket, and went through the rooms calling Lucía’s name. There was no answer. Then he went quickly out on the balcony and ran down into the garden.
A dark form at the same moment descended the stairs leading from the vestibule of Artegui’s home. By the light of the stars and of the distant street lamps could be perceived the unsteadiness of the gait, the frequent pressing of the hands over the face. Miranda waited, like the hunter lying in wait for his prey. The figure drew nearer. Suddenly from a clump of bushes emerged the form of a man, and the silence was broken by a vulgar exclamation, which in polite language might be rendered:
Sounds of violence followed, and a body fell to the ground. At this moment another figure came running down the staircase of the hotel, and rushing between the two, bent down to raise Lucía from the ground. Miranda gesticulated wildly, and in a hoarse, choking voice, stuttering with rage, and throwing every vestige of good-breeding to the winds, cried:
“Out of this, boor, intermeddler! What business is this--is this of yours? I struck--struck her, because I had--had--had the right to do so, and because I wished to do it. I am her husband. If you don’t take yourself off without delay I will cut--cut you in two. I will let daylight through you.”
If Sardiola had been a stone wall he could not have paid less heed to the words of Miranda than he did. With supreme indifference to his threats, and with Herculean force, he took the unconscious form in his arms, and thrusting the husband aside with a vigorous movement, carried his lovely burden up the stairs, not stopping till he had placed it on a sofa in the chamber of death. The madman followed close behind, but he controlled himself somewhat, seeing the warlike attitude and the flashing eyes of the Carlist ex-volunteer, who formed a rampart with his body for the defense of the insensible woman.
“If you do not take yourself off----” yelled Miranda, shaking his clenched fists.