"Does that prevent your thinking?" she softly asked, dropping on her knees at his side and letting one hand rest on his shoulder.
For moments, lengthening into minutes, he sat immovable, fighting back the agonized and torrential flood of thought which burst upon him with unwarned temptation. The danger was not after all a danger to the woman he loved, but a menace to his enemy. She was safe three thousand feet above the threatening city. He had only to hold his hand, perhaps, for a half-hour; had only to keep her here and let matters follow their course.
He was not entertaining the thought, except to assure himself that he could not entertain it, but it was racking him with its suddenness. The King was there—in peril. She was here—safe. Insistently these two facts assaulted his brain.
"Pardon, Señor." Blanco broke noisily down through the pines and halted where the path emerged. For an instant he stood in bewildered surprise.
"Pardon, Your Highness—" he exclaimed, bending low; then, quenching the recognition in his eyes and assuming mistake, he laughed. "Ah, I ask forgiveness, Señorita. I mistook you for the Princess. The resemblance is strong. I see my error."
"Manuel!" Benton rose unsteadily and stared at the toreador with a face pallid as chalk. He spoke wildly, "Quick, Manuel—have you learned anything?"
The Spaniard glanced inquiringly at the girl, and as Benton nodded reassurance went on in a lowered voice. Only fragments of his speech reached Cara's ears. Her own thoughts left her too apathetic to listen.
"The plan is this. It is to happen at the Fortress do Freres this afternoon while the King inspects the arsenal. Now, in fifteen minutes!" He pointed down toward the city. "See, the cortége leaves the Palace! Lapas was to be here at the rock—the blessed Saints help him! He is hobbled to his telescope." Swiftly he rehearsed the story as it had come from the lips of Lapas.
Benton was studying the Duke's lodge with his glasses. "There is a flag flying on the west tower," he muttered.
He turned slowly toward the Princess. Outstanding veins were tracing cordlike lines on his temples. His fingers trembled as he focused the glasses.