Vardri, who had arrived last of all, rode forward to join her, but was curtly ordered to the rear by Sobrenski.
They should see enough of each other later on,—when it was time.
Before they started on their ride he spoke to Arithelli alone, and gave her his final instructions, and saw for himself that the pistol she wore at her belt was properly charged. He never left anything to chance, especially in important undertakings such as the present one.
"There will not be a long meeting to-night," he said. "You will have an hour free to do your work. You hear?"
His eyes were fixed on hers, compelling an answer. None came, though she bowed her head in token of acquiescence, and though he could hear no word Sobrenski was satisfied. He had seen that shrinking attitude, that mechanical gesture before. In the plot to assassinate General Morales there had been a young Spanish student who had given some trouble. He had developed a conscience at the last minute, and vowed that he could not kill an old and defenceless man, that he would rather die himself.
He had died, and so had Morales, and both by the explosion of the bomb that had been launched by the hand of the former.
Sobrenski held rightly that those who meddled with politics on either side must dispense with such useless things as scruples.
The night was still and sultry, with a full moon hanging low in the sky. The weather had been unnaturally warm for the time of year, all day, down in the city.
They were all glad when they had mounted above the sea-level.
There was a little breeze met them, and the tired and patiently plodding horses raised their heads.