The Car of Destiny 19 – Williamson · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
The Car of Destiny 19A Parcel for Lieutenant O’Donnel
18
Literature · Romance
The Car of Destiny 19
A Parcel for Lieutenant O’Donnel
WilliamsonEnglish
Never was such a man as Don Cipriano, Conde de Roldan. Not content with lending me his wings that I might fly while he was left to crawl, he proposed to heap other favours upon the friend of his friends.
He offered me an asylum at his place for my rejuvenated car, lest the enemy in reconnoitring should learn our secret before the time; and, better still, he volunteered to visit the camp of that enemy, and discover his plans.
Being an acquaintance of the lady whom Carmona had jilted, he was no admirer of the Duke’s. Nevertheless, he was a member of a club which Carmona frequented when in Madrid, and he thought that the Duke would look in next day. Even if he should decide to proceed by rail, after discovering how “two can play at the same game,” such a change of plan would mean delay; therefore Carmona and his party would spend at least one day in Madrid. Don Cipriano offered to go early to the club, and not to leave until he had seen the Duke. The moment he had any news he would bring it to us.
I accepted my new friend’s invitation to house the Gloria, as his place was so close to town that Ropes or I could spin her back at short notice; and at dawn, when merry Madrid was thinking of bed, my car towed out his dismantled one. Pilar and her father had gone home to dream their good deeds over; Dick, when he heard that we were to drive behind the Conde’s horses, developed a headache, and Ropes and I had to carry the business through ourselves.
We bathed and breakfasted in the country, and drove back to Madrid while the gay world slept. He would now, Don Cipriano announced, spend the day in the city, on watch-dog duty; but as he would have no news until afternoon, I might visit the picture galleries if I liked. “They will make you feel proud of your country,” he said; and so they would, no doubt. But I resolved to sacrifice them in the fear that, after all, Carmona might evade me if I gave him so good a chance.
Never had I seen Dick so gloomy as when I returned to him, and the black dog was not chased away by my praises of Don Cipriano. He cheered up, however, at the prospect of sightseeing with the Cherub and Pilar; the Cherub martyred; Pilar joyous in the thought of showing off the Murillos and Velasquez which she adored.
They did the Armería and picture galleries all the morning, until they were drooping with fatigue; waggled back in a dilapidated cab, clamouring for their lunch and my tidings; departed again in the afternoon to finish what they had left undone.
Meanwhile I had heard nothing; and the day, spent in waiting for Don Cipriano or for some bit of gossip picked up by Ropes, was long.
But five o’clock and Don Cipriano came together. Carmona had been to the club. The Conde de Roldan had not spoken to him, but the Duke had talked to another man, a motoring friend of the King’s. Perhaps, with few others, would the Duke have been so expansive. He had said, “I’m only in Madrid for the day. Should have been off this morning, with my mother and two ladies who are going to visit her in Seville, but had an accident to my automobile, which has made me a lot of bother. I hope to get away, though, sometime to-morrow.” Then he had asked after the health of a certain actress, and the subject had been definitely changed.
This was a triumph. I heartily thanked Don Cipriano, all the while feeling a guilty thing; for if I were loyal to Dick and wished him luck, I must be disloyal and wish defeat for my benefactor.
We spoke of the road, which he knew, and said was not too bad; and about brigands, who were making themselves talked of just then. “You’d better buy arms, if you haven’t them,” said Don Cipriano; “but there’s not much danger on this side Seville.”
He had brought a road-map; and we were examining it, in the reading-room of the hotel, wondering whether Cannona would take the direct way through Manzanares, Valdepeñas, and Cordoba, or another which Don Cipriano considered better, though longer, by Talavera de la Reina, Trujillo, and Zafra, when the concièrge came to say a messenger with a parcel wished to see me.
“It must be a mistake,” I replied.
“He asked for el Teniente O’Donnel; and he has a packet for you.”
“Bring it in, please, and let me see how it’s addressed.”
“He won’t give it up, sir, without seeing you himself. Those were his instructions.”
I got up impatiently and went into the hall, where a boy in the livery of some shop handed me a small parcel. There was no address upon it, and I wondered if this were not some purchase of Pilar’s, sent back to my care. However, I decided to open it, and found nothing inside except a little steel paper-knife with the word Toledo engraved on the black and gold handle.
I stared at the thing stupidly for a moment, as I fumbled for a pourboire to give the messenger, when it occurred to me that he might explain the mystery. “Did a lady buy this?” I asked; “a young lady, with a tall señor also young, and another middle-aged?”
“A young lady? yes, sir. But she was with only one señor, and two señoras, both of an age.”
“You saw them?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Describe all four, and you shall have two pesetas instead of one.”
“One señora was Spanish, brunette, fat, with dead eyes in a large, soft face of two chins. The other was tall and foreign, handsome, but with an air! I would not be her servant. The señor was distinguished. Dark, with a thin nose that turned down, like his moustache; a face of an old picture; one shoulder higher than the other.”
“But the young lady?”
“Oh, sir, the señorita was a white and gold angel, made of a sunbeam! It was she who bought the knife, while the others chose a thing for the tall señora. She quickly gave it and the money to an attendant, with the address, saying it must be put into the gentleman’s own hand.”
I gave the boy five pesetas instead of two.
A paper-knife with the word Toledo engraved upon it from Monica for me! No message, only that! But was it not in itself a message—the only one she could find a way to send?
I went back to Don Cipriano. “I’ve just heard,” said I, “that when Carmona starts, he intends to go to Toledo.”
