"... ary Engineering Co ..." he read.
His heart beat when he went below. Luck had given him a hard job, but he had put it across. Soon after Terrier arrived he went to the engineering company's office and the manager looked at him curiously. Then he gave Lister some wine and, after studying his drawings and patterns, said he could make the things required. Lister drove to the town, and going to a Spanish barber's, started when he saw his reflection in a glass. He had not shaved for long, and fresh water was scarce on board the tug. His face was haggard, the engine grime had got into his skin, and his eyes were red. He was forced to wait, and while the barber attended to other customers, he fell asleep in his chair. When he left the shop he went to a hotel and slept for twelve hours.
[CHAPTER VI]
[LISTER MEETS AN OLD ANTAGONIST]
The hotel Catalina, half-way between Las Palmas harbor and the town, was not crowded, and a number of the quests had gone to a ball at the neighboring Metropole. Barbara, going out some time after dinner, found the veranda unoccupied and sat down. Mrs. Cartwright was getting better and did not need her, and Barbara was satisfied to be alone. Her thoughts were disturbing, and trying to banish them for a few minutes, she looked about.
The veranda was long, and the lights from the hotel threw the shadow of the wooden pillars across the dusty grass. Barbara's figure was outlined in a dark silhouette. She did not wear a hat and, since the night was warm, had put nothing over her thin dinner dress. She looked slender and very young.
A strip of parched garden, where a few dusty palms grew, ran down to the road, across which the square block of the Metropole cut the shining sea. Steamers' lights swung gently against the dark background of the Isleta hill. Beyond the Metropole a white belt of surf ran back to the cluster of lights at the foot of the mountain that marked Las Palmas. One heard the languid rollers break upon the beach and the measured crash of surges on the reefs across the isthmus. Sometimes, when the throb of the surf sank, music came from the Metropole. A distant rattle indicated a steam-tram going to the port.
The long line across the harbor was the mole, and Barbara had thought the small steamer, lying near its end, like Terrier. There was nothing in the soft blue dark behind the mole until one came to the African coast. Then Barbara firmly turned her glance. In a sense, she had sent Lister to Africa, but she was not going to think about him yet. She must not think about him until she had weighed something else.
A few hours since she had got a jar. Walking in the town she saw a man whose figure and step she thought she knew. He was some distance off, and she entered a shop and bought a Spanish fan she did not want. Perhaps her disturbance was ridiculous, but the man was very like Shillito, and their meeting at the busy port was not impossible. Las Palmas was something like an important railway junction. Numerous steamers called, and passengers from all quarters, particularly South America and the West Indies, changed boats. Then Barbara understood that a fugitive from justice was safer in South and Central America than anywhere else. She wondered with keen anxiety whether the man had seen her.
She knew now she had not loved Shillito. He had cunningly worked upon her ignorance, discontent, and longing for romance. Illumination had come on board the train, but although she had found him out and escaped, she had afterwards felt herself humiliated and set apart from happy girls who had nothing to hide. The humiliation was not altogether earned, and the people who knew about her adventure were not numerous, but they were all the people for whom she cared. When she thought about it, she hated Louis Shillito.