He bent over her, in an agony of distress, and put his arms about her.
"Cord!" The voice came to him, strangled with sobs.
"Darling?" his mouth was close to her lips.
"But they will kill you--too!" she moaned.
"Not me!" he said cheerfully. "Not after this!" He raised her tearful face to his. "Tell me, at least, where a letter may find you."
"I shall be with my father," she replied evasively. "Count Poltavo and Mr. Baggin are in open rupture," she hurried on. "Each is fighting for mastery. Count Poltavo has the brains, but Baggin has the money. Between them, they tear my poor father to pieces."
"And you!" he cried in a choked, angry voice. "They are killing you, too."
"I am a pawn in the game," she said listlessly. "Each side plays me off against the other." She rose. "It is late. Maria."
The old woman materialised out of the gloom, and held open the gate. Cord arose also.
"You are not to come with me!" she whispered urgently. "Good-night!"
She rearranged the lace mantilla about her head, and held out her hand.
"I am coming with you," he said composedly.
Something in his tone checked the protest on her lips.
[Illustration: Something in his tone checked the protest on her lips]
They walked quietly along the narrow street, the duenna behind, climbed a slight ascent, and stopped in front of a house standing apart, and surrounded by a large garden.
She turned to him, laying one hand upon a small wicket gate.
"One moment," he implored. "Count Poltavo---- Your promise----"
"I gave my pledge to him if he would save my father," she said sadly. "That he has not done." She opened the gate.
She lifted her head proudly. "Then I should redeem my pledge."
She vanished into the darkness of the garden, and the young man retraced his steps to the hotel.
The next morning he mounted the steep little street with hope in his heart, and hung about, watching anxiously. No sign of life exhibited itself. The windows, with their close-drawn shades, stared at him blankly. Presently an old woman hobbled out of the little wicket gate.
Van Ingen approached her eagerly. "The young lady----" he began in a low tone.
"Gone, señor!" She threw out her hands with an expressive gesture, to indicate illimitable distances. "They departed, in mad haste, in the night."