“I couldn't make it work,” Carmona said hastily.
Click! went the spring under skilled fingers. The door sliding back gave me a rush of light and air which set me blinking for a second or two; and there I stood at the stranger's mercy.
What I saw, when my suddenly contracted pupils expanded, was a little man in the palace livery; a pale little man with insignificant features, and large, steady eyes. There was absolutely no expression in his face as for one brief instant our glances met. Then—“God be with you, Don Cristóbal,” said he. “I am glad to have been even of this slight service. I hope, señorito, you have not suffered from lack of air?”
“Very little,” said I. I held out my hand. He took it respectfully.
“Is it long since you saw each other?” asked Carmona, sallow and red by turns.
“About two years only, Señor Duque,” replied his ex-servant, expressionless as before, and quietly respectful to all. “I could not forget the date, for the Señor Colonel and the señorita, as well as the señorito himself, were always very good to me.”
[pg 120] The Duke was silenced. The test invented by himself had failed. Calmenare accepted me as Cristóbal O'Donnel; he was obliged to accept me too—at least for the present.
“Shall we get out of this place?” he said to Lady Vale-Avon.
She swept her daughter with her; but Monica had a backward look for me, sparkling now with malice for Carmona, radiant with relief for Casa Triana.
We said good-bye to Calmenare in the Duke's presence; and I would have pressed a gold piece into his hand for “opening my prison door,” but he would not have it. Afterwards, while we followed the grey car on the downhill road to Madrid, Pilar told the whole story with dramatic effect to the Cherub.