Then he was flung against the pillar, and there was a crash as a shadowy object leapt into the doorway. A man reeled out of it in a blundering fashion, another sped down the street, and Appleby, staggering out, leaned, gasping, against the wall. It was some moments before he could make anything out, and then he saw two men standing close in front of him. One held something in his hand, and by their voices he fancied they were the peons he had met in the wine-shop. Looking round him as his scattered senses came slowly back, he saw another man apparently crawling out of the gutter. Then there was a rapid tramp of feet further up the street, and one of the men seemed to look at his companion, who made a sign of agreement.
“The civiles!” he said.
Then they fell upon the man in the gutter, dragged him to his feet, drove him before them with kicks, and stood still again while he reeled away in an unsteady fashion which suggested that he was at least half dazed. In the meanwhile the rapid tramp behind them had been growing louder, and the shuffling steps had scarcely ceased when a light was flashed into Appleby’s face, and he saw a man with a lantern in trim white uniform standing a few paces away, and another who carried a pistol behind him. Then the light was turned aside, and revealed the two peons from the wine-shop waiting quietly to be questioned.
Appleby recognized the men in uniform as civil guards, and knew that almost every man in that body had won distinction in the military service.
The street was now very silent again, and it was evident that the peons did not consider it advisable to put the civiles on the track of the fugitive just yet. The one who held the lantern looked at them, standing erect, with knee bent a trifle and a big pistol projecting from the holster at his belt.
“There was a shot, and by and by a shout,” he said. “An explanation is desired. You are warned to be precise.”
“It is simple,” said one of the peons. “Comes this señor the American, into the wine-shop of Cananos where we are sitting. There he takes a glass of Vermouth and goes away. Then comes a man slipping by where it is darkest, and we go to warn the señor taking the caña bottle. It appears there is another man waiting in this doorway, there is a struggle, and Vincente strikes down one of the prowlers with the bottle. He gets to his feet again, and they go in haste when they hear you coming. Then we find the señor faint and short of breath.”
The civile stretched out his hand for the caña bottle, which was apparently corked, and balanced it. “It would serve—a man might be killed with it,” he said. “But you had a knife!”
“With excuses,” said the peon. “We respect the law. The knife is forbidden.”
There was a little grim twinkle in the civile’s eyes, but he fixed them on Appleby. “I will not ask you to shake your sleeve, or question your comrade, because his tale would be the same,” he said. “That is what happened, señor?”