That being his purpose, how would he act when he got my reply? The story of the injured hand would seem to him to be the result of the trouble with Livenza; but it was almost certain that he would come himself to see me. If he did so, and found me absent, he might suspect, and perhaps even at the eleventh hour postpone the coup.
A question to Livenza showed me how he would communicate the change of time to those whom it concerned, and the moment I had arranged that I rushed back to my rooms, swathed my hand in bandages, improvised a sling under my coat, and sat down to wait. It was then three o'clock, and I must be away in two hours—by five, that was—if I was not to run a risk of being late, or perhaps of being observed.
My guess was right again, and at a quarter past three Quesada was shown into my room. He found me with his letter lying open on my table, while I was trying with infinite pains to write a reply with my left hand. I received him with a welcoming laugh as I flourished my right arm in its sling, and held out my left.
"My dear Ferdinand, Carlos brought me word that you had injured your hand and could not ride with me this afternoon. I was all anxiety, and have cancelled my arrangements that I may give up the time to cheer you. Tell me, are you much hurt? How did it all happen, in the name of misfortune?"
I cursed his solicitude, and saw his object. He had come to see that I did no mischief. But I replied lightly—
"That is the act of a good, true friend. Sit down, light a cigar, and let us chat. I was at that moment writing to you—have you ever tried to write with the left hand? It is the devil's trouble. See here," and I held out the letter, taking care that he should see his own at the same time, and laughed over the stumbling effort. "I have been trying ever since Carlos went to write and thank you, and say how sorry I am I can't dine with you either, because I am engaged for the afternoon with my sister and her friend Mrs. Curwen. We came from England together, you know. But I am not due until four o'clock, so we can smoke, drink, and chatter till then."
"But you're hurt—what is wrong?"
"My dear Quesada, though you are what we at home call Home Minister, and therefore head of everything that pertains to law and order in the capital, as elsewhere—and a most capable head, too—this Madrid of yours is the devil's own place for a brawl. And I am bound to say that when the Spanish blood's up the knife's out, and I can speak from experience that the man who gets his fingers in the way of a Spanish knife is a good many kinds of a fool for his trouble. But don't ask any questions; I shall be right again in a day or so, and meanwhile I mean to take care of my left hand;" and I flourished it, laughed again, and gave him a look which might have been intended to suggest any kind of intrigue.
He accepted the explanation, I thought, and in a few minutes we were chatting much as usual. As the time passed I grew very anxious for him to go, but he sat on for an hour, showing no indication of leaving, and then I gave him a hint, which he didn't take.
"Now do me a favour," I said then. "Come with me this afternoon—I must go, for I am due now—and allow me to present you to my sister?" I said it as earnestly as though I knew Mercy and Mrs. Curwen were really at the hotel waiting for me, and to my dismay he hesitated.