Betty thrilled. Her heart beat and her eyes were wet. She was moved by keen emotion, and for a moment she had seen Kit. Then Cayman went about and he was hidden by the swinging canvas. She came up to the wind again. Jibs and topsail ran down, she stopped, and the anchor splashed. People shouted and pushed towards the landing steps.
Cayman's boat was lowered. Betty saw Kit, Macallister and some others jump on board. The boat pulled for the steps and the crowd surged along the edge of the mole. When the boat stopped, hats were thrown up, and Betty knew in Spain one throws one's hat to the maestro after a great exploit in the bull-ring. Hoarse shouts pierced the rumble of the sea.
"Viva el Yngles! Buen' muchacho! Viva el Señor Jefferson."
CHAPTER IX
KIT'S REWARD
On the morning after their arrival, Kit and Macallister went to the Metropole. Macallister wore a neat blue uniform, a cap with the company's badge, and spotless white deck-shoes. His talk was careless and now and then his eyes twinkled. Kit's look was moody, and he wore plain duck clothes. He did not know if he was the company's servant and rather thought he was not; Don Arturo had sent for him, and he was probably going to be dismissed.
When they went up the drive to the big square hotel Macallister looked about.
"Don Arturo's a great man, but he has no' much eye for beauty," he remarked. "When his architect built the Metropole his model was a block. Maybe the cube style's economical. We get the maist room inside wi' the least span o' wall, but if I was a Spaniard, I'd make a bomb and blow up the ugly thing."
He stopped and putting his head on one side studied the hotel. "Bulk has value, if it's properly relieved. The old Greeks kenned; they used the square but they broke the line wi' pillars and cornices. Maybe, if ye worked in two, three mouldings and ran a loggia along the front——"
"I didn't know you were an architect," Kit said impatiently.