This was awkward. In order to get to the front of the house he must either go past the stables or make a long circuit through the gardens. Since there were lights in the side of the house visible to him, it was very probable that the rooms in the front were also lit up. This would make it difficult to approach unseen, and he thought for a moment of waiting until the lights were put out for the night; but he saw on reflection that his chance of discovering the negro in the dark would be very small. He decided therefore to make for the back of the house, and to let his future proceedings be guided by circumstances.
As he left the shelter of the plantation he saw to his right the lights of the camp, from which came a continuous hum. It was long past the time for "lights-out" with any well-disciplined force; but discipline was lax in the army of General Carabaño, liberator of Venezuela. Will moved along rapidly, keeping at a distance from the house until he had assured himself as to the extent to which the back was illuminated. There was a dim light in one room: the rest were in darkness. Then he struck directly towards the house, avoiding, as he drew nearer, the triangle of ground illuminated by the light in the room, and so came to the veranda.
The general construction of the house was familiar to him through having been several times the guest of De Mello. The rooms opened on to the patio within, and several had doors of communication between them. The only door to the outside besides that of the main entrance led from the servants' quarters on the right-hand side looking towards the lake. De Mello's own sanctum was the centre room on the left-hand side opposite the stables. To reach it from the back of the house one had either to go along the patio until one came to the door, or to enter from the bedroom adjoining. It struck Will as probable that General Carabaño would have appropriated the private den of the owner, as it was certainly the most comfortable room in the house, and convenient in having the bedroom next to it. The important matter at the moment, however, was not General Carabaño's quarters, but José's.
Will stood in the darkness under the veranda, considering what he had better do. He peeped into the lighted room: it was a small bed-chamber. A candle-lamp was burning on a bracket. The next room was in darkness, but the French window was open, and from the patio beyond came the muffled hum of voices. Evidently some of the officers were taking their ease there. Listening to make sure that no one was approaching, Will stepped into the room, stole to the door, and gently opened it an inch, so that he could see into the patio. It was cloudy with tobacco smoke. Half-a-dozen officers sprawled in comfortable chairs, within easy reach of small tables on which stood bottles and glasses. But Will could not see General Carabaño or Captain Espejo.
He felt himself at a check. Certainly he could not venture into the patio; the room in which he stood did not communicate with those on either side of it. He went out again: it occurred to him to try De Mello's dressing-room, which was on the left-side of the house, next to the bedroom. From the plantation he had seen that the bedroom itself was lit up, but he did not remember whether there had been a light in the dressing-room also. Stealthily creeping round the wall, he came to the window of the dressing-room, and found that it was itself in darkness, though a light came through from the bedroom, the door being slightly ajar. He tried the catch of the French window: it was not fastened, so that he could enter the room. His heart almost failed him at the thought of the risk of being discovered, but having come so far he was not disposed to return without making an attempt to discover what had happened to José. He noiselessly opened the window and stepped in.
Now he heard muffled voices. He peeped into the bedroom: it was empty. A lamp stood on a table. The door opening into De Mello's sanctum was partly open, and it was from this room that the voices proceeded. There being no sound of movement, he stole across the room on tiptoe and peeped into the room beyond. A screen stood just within, completely hiding the occupants. He now distinguished General Carabaño's fruity voice, and it suddenly flashed upon him that he might discover something even more important than José's whereabouts. Slipping back into the bedroom, he glanced quickly round to learn the position of the articles of furniture in case he had to escape suddenly; then he turned out the light and crept back to the door. The General was still speaking.
"The only doubtful point, Espejo, is whether we can time our attack from the railway so that it is simultaneous with Colonel Orellana's from the south-east. The Jefe at Bolivar has no doubt received the message recalling the reinforcements that have just reached him--that is to say, if your friend at the central telegraph office is as clever as you were, Señor Machado. He has something to work for, and be sure neither you nor he shall be forgotten when Caracas is in our hands."
"If any one can pull off your little plan, Excellency," said Machado's smooth voice, "it is my friend Pereira."
"Good. Now this is the only doubtful spot." Will heard the crackle of paper: the General had apparently unfolded a map. "Colonel Orellana should be through the swamps south of Bolivar by mid-day to-morrow. If our good fortune holds he may get close to the city unobserved. At any rate, as he will be marching for the greater part of the night, his movement will scarcely be discovered before the Government troops leave on their return journey in the early morning. At that time Colonel Orellana should be about twenty-five kilometres from the city. His attack from the south-east will be commenced at noon, a good time to catch them napping. If we start before eight we can run through in four hours provided the line is clear, and I think we can trust the signalman at the junction: he has too much at stake to fail me. The only doubtful point, as I say, is here--Santa Marta. All depends on our surprising the man there. How much of the line is visible from the station at Santa Marta, Señor Machado?"
"About three kilometres, Excellency."