Long Odds

by Harold Bindloss

They did it at Ormsgill's bidding, and left him sitting in a basket chair in a big, cool room, after which his host brought in a few cigars and a flask of wine.

"They are at your service, señor," he said. "I would suggest that you give me a little more information. I am one who can, at least, now and then respect a confidence."

Ormsgill looked at him steadily, and made up his mind. It was clear that if his host meant to hand him over to the Authorities there was nothing to prevent him doing so, and reticence did not appear likely to serve any purpose, since he was wholly in his hands. He spoke for a few minutes, and the other nodded.

"I think it was wise of you to tell me this," he said. "There are, I may mention, others besides myself who desire to see certain changes made in our administration, and they would, I think, sympathize with you. Some of them are gentlemen of influence, but we have confidence in Dom Clemente and another man of greater importance—and we are waiting. To proceed, I think it would not be difficult to keep you here awhile without anyone we would not wish to know becoming aware of it. The thing is made easier by the fact that my wife and the girl Anita are away, and my sister, who is very deaf and does not like society, rules the household. Now if it is permissible I will examine your leg."

He did so, and looked a trifle grave after it. "I know a little of these matters, and it is advisable that this should be seen to," he said. "Now the Portuguese doctor is not exactly a friend of mine, and might ask questions as to how you got hurt and where you came from, but there is a half-breed who I think is clever, and he would probably refrain from mentioning anything that appeared unusual if he is remunerated sufficiently. It is"—and he made a little expressive gesture, "a thing he is accustomed to doing."

Ormsgill suggested that the man should be sent for early next morning, and went to sleep an hour later in greater comfort than he had enjoyed for a considerable time. He did not, however, sleep soundly, and was awake when the half-breed doctor came into his room next morning. The latter set to work and managed to extract the piece of iron, but before nightfall the fever which had left him alone of late had Ormsgill in its grip. It shook him severely during several days, and then, as sometimes happens, left him suddenly, limp and nerveless in mind and body. He was content to lie still and wait almost unconcernedly. Nothing seemed to matter, and he felt that effort of any kind was futile.

He lay one morning in this frame of mind when there were footsteps on the veranda outside his door, and he heard a voice that sounded curiously familiar. Then the door opened, and Benicia Figuera who came into the room started when she saw him. Ormsgill, however, betrayed no astonishment. He was too languid, and he lay still gravely watching her. The sunlight that streamed in through the open door fell full upon her, gleaming on her trailing white draperies and forcing up bronze lights in her dusky hair. He did not see the faint tinge of color that crept into the ivory of her cheek, but he vaguely noticed the pity shining in her eyes. She seemed to him refreshingly cool and reposeful.

He did not remember exactly what she said, though he fancied she mentioned that she had some business with his host's sister, and he had no recollection of his own observations, but he sank into tranquil sleep when she went away and awoke refreshed, to wonder when she would come back again. As it happened, she came next day, bringing him choice fruits and wine, and it was by her instructions he was carried out on the veranda above the patio where she sat and talked to him. Her voice was low and tranquil, her mere presence soothing, and she did not seem to mind when he grew drowsy. Once or twice again, when she was not aware that he was watching her, he saw compassion in her eyes. Afterwards, though this was not quite in accordance with Iberian customs, she came for an hour or two frequently, and Ormsgill grew curiously restless when she stayed away. Sometimes his host sat with them and discoursed on politics, but more often he left his deaf sister, who would wander away to superintend the dusky servants' lax activities.

The house, like others of the same type, might have been built for a fortress, and afforded those within it all the seclusion any one could desire. One arched entrance pierced the tall white walls, which had a few little windows with heavy green lattices set high in them. Within, the building rose, tinted a faint pink and terraced with verandas supported by tottering wooden pillars, about a quadrangular patio, and it was characteristic that it was more or less ruinous. When the outer windows were open the sea breeze blew through it, and sitting in cool shadow one could hear the drowsy murmur of the surf. Ormsgill found the latter inexpressibly soothing when Benicia sat near him, and he would lie still contentedly listening to her and watching the shadow creep across the patio. Weak as he was in body, with his mind relaxed, he allowed no misgivings to trouble him. He was vaguely grateful for her presence as a boon that had been sent him without his request, and whether Benicia understood his attitude, or what she thought of it, did not appear.

That was at first, however, and by degrees he took himself to task as his strength came back, until in the hot darkness of one sleepless night he realized towards what all this was leading him. As it happened, Benicia did not appear the next day, and he had nerved himself for an effort by the one that followed. He had an interview with his host and the half-breed doctor, who both protested, and then lay waiting for the girl in a state of tense expectancy. He recognized now what it was most fitting that he should do, but that, after all, is a good deal less than half the battle. It was late in the afternoon when she came, and the first glance showed her that there was a change in Ormsgill.