Evelyn started, for the hint was plain; the señora was anxious to get rid of her rival. Evelyn grasped at the chance to go. The money could be repaid; it might be some time before Grahame arrived, and the woman could be trusted to convey a note to him, because she could not give it to Gomez without betraying her complicity in the girl's escape.
For a time they struggled to grasp each other's meaning, but at last the señora Garcia showed she understood that she was to deliver a note to an Englishman who would come in search of the girl. Evelyn was to find a peon who lived outside the town and would put her on the way to Villa Paz. It would, no doubt, prove a difficult journey, but she was determined to make it.
She was soon ready, and walked carelessly across the plaza as if she had no object. The townspeople knew her, and she met with no troublesome curiosity. After a time, she entered a shady street, where she stopped once or twice to look into a shop. Leaving it at the other end, she came out into a hot, stony waste, dotted with tall aloes and clumps of cactus, and presently reached a dilapidated adobe hut.
As she stood, hesitating, before it a man came out to meet her and she felt her heart beat fast, for she was now confronted by her first danger. The fellow might rob her or perhaps take her back. His white clothes were threadbare, but they were clean, and on the whole she liked his look; and the sight of a woman peeping through the door was somehow reassuring.
It was not easy to make him understand what she wanted, but he looked thoughtful when she repeated a word the señora Garcia had taught her. Then he went in, apparently to consult the woman, and, returning, signified that he would do what she wished. She must, however, go on alone to a village some distance off; on the way he would overtake her with a mule. Evelyn thought it curious that he had not asked for money, but as he seemed anxious that she should not delay she set off. So far, her escape had proved easier than she had imagined.
The sun was at its highest, and it was very hot; the road was a rough track where loose stones lay among the heavy dust. Where water ran down the hillside in artificial channels, there were palms and belts of foliage; elsewhere outcropping rock and stones flung up a dazzling brightness. In the background, rugged peaks rose against a sky of intense blue, and far off on the opposite hand a misty gleam indicated the sea.
Evelyn soon began to get tired, and she found her thin shoes badly suited to the roughness of the ground. The dust that rose about her gathered on her skin; she got hot and thirsty; but the water she tried to drink was slimy and she toiled on. It seemed wiser to press forward while she could, for there was nobody at work in the scattered fields. Her eyes ached with the glare and her feet were sore, but the peon did not come, and when she looked back the road wound along the hillside, white and empty. Here and there tall trees filled the hollows among the rocks, but the country seemed deserted and she could not see a house anywhere.
At last, when the sun was low and the shadows were long and cool, she saw a cluster of small white patches shining amid a belt of green ahead, and supposed this was the aldea the peon had meant. Limping on wearily, she came within half a mile of it, and then, finding a place where she was hidden by a clump of cactus, she sat down to watch the road. She might run some risk of being robbed or stopped if she entered the village alone, for it was obvious that a well-dressed foreigner traveling on foot could not hope to escape notice, and the hill peasants would probably not understand her few words of Castilian.
The shadows lengthened until they covered the hillside, and the air got cool, but her guide did not come, and Evelyn began to wonder what had delayed him. He had seemed willing to assist in her escape, and she suspected that he must sympathize with the revolutionaries; but, if so, it was strange that the señora Garcia should have known the password which had apparently decided him. She had, however, been told that these people were fond of intrigue, and that a general plot was often accompanied by minor conspiracies, so to speak, one inside the other. The señora Garcia had perhaps some object of her own to serve; but this did not matter—it was more important that the peon did not arrive.
It began to get dark. The dew soaked Evelyn's thin dress, and she felt hungry and achingly tired. Then a light or two twinkled among the trees and some one began to sing to a guitar. The lights and the music, with their suggestions of home and rest after the day's toil, troubled the girl. She was alone and apparently deserted, with enemies behind her and the way ahead unknown. For a few minutes her courage failed and she was in danger of breaking down; then, with a determined effort, she recovered her calm and roused herself to listen.