An oath burst from him and he began to tremble. “There are only two women there. But—”
At that instant there was a movement among the little throng across the street. Two or three of the people went running past us and I saw others hurrying in the opposite direction. They were sent by the police probably in search of a conveyance.
“My men are coming. Which is it to be. Quick,” I said, and let go my hold of him. He hesitated for no more than a second and then, tossing his hands up in despair, he turned away, walked a few steps, then quickened his pace, and at last ran at full speed.
Barosa having been caught as he was leaving the little side street, it was possible that the police might take a fancy to search some of the houses, so I deemed it prudent to hang about until they had gone and the commotion caused by the affair had subsided.
Two carriages arrived almost together, one from each direction. Barosa and the wounded man were placed in one and the police drove away. The driver of the other was moving off, grumbling at having been brought there for nothing, when I stepped into the roadway and hailed him.
“Drive away and come back in a quarter of an hour, and wait at this corner for me,” I told him.
“Wouldn’t your highness like a four-in-hand?” he asked with a contemptuous jeer at my poverty-stricken appearance.
A milreis changed his sneer to a glance of curiosity and amazement. “It will pay you to do what I say and keep your tongue between your teeth,” I said curtly.
“I’ll be here,” he replied, and rattled away down the hill.
I crossed to the house at once and knocked lightly at the door. No one opened it; so I knocked again, a little louder; and again a third time. Still with no result. The house was, as I have said, all in darkness, and, although I listened intently, I could not hear a sound.