"For all things born one gate
Opens, . . . and no man sees
Beyond the gods and Fate."
SWINBURNE.
WHEN Emile arrived at the Hippodrome, only a few minutes after his usual time, he found no one but the dresser, who was clearing away the litter of clothes, jewellery, powder-puffs and flowers.
Arithelli had vanished.
She had never before failed to wait for him, and he knew she would not have started alone without some very good reason. He questioned the dresser and found she knew nothing beyond that "La Nina," as she called the girl affectionately, had left immediately after her last turn. She had asked if the Señor had been in yet, but hearing he had not, she had dressed and gone at once. She had not even stayed to put on a cloak, and had left her hair still in a plait, and only a velo over it. She had seemed in great haste (but that was always so with the English!) and had looked ill. The Señor must not be alarmed, she added, folding Arithelli's blue habit with wrinkled, careful hands. True, Barcelona was an evil place for one so young as "La Nina," but the blessed saints—
Emile gave her a peseta, and left her to her invocations. In the long passage that led from the dressing-rooms he ran into Estelle, who was just sufficiently drunk to be excitable and quarrelsome. She still had on her dancer's costume of short skirts of poppy-coloured tulle, and scarlet shoes and tights. She was further adorned with long, dangling, coral ear-rings, and a black bruise on the left side of her face under the eye, the outward and visible sign of her last encounter with the Manager.
She saluted Emile with a vindictive glare from her black eyes, and tried to push past him. She hated him in a spiteful feminine way for his complete appropriation of Arithelli, of whom, thanks to him, she now saw very little. She had quarrelled with all the other women employed in the Circus, but Arithelli had always helped her to dress, and given her cigarettes and listened to her woes.
Emile blocked the way, catching the dancer by the wrist as she attempted to slip by, leaving his question unanswered. He repeated it, and after a minute's sullen refusal to speak, Estelle stamped her foot savagely upon the floor, and collapsed into a state of hysterical volubility. No, she had seen nothing, nothing! she protested in French. Scarcely ever did she see her little friend now, and whose fault was that? Would Monsieur Poleski answer her? As Monsieur Poleski did nothing of the kind, she continued to rage. All men were brutes! Yes, all! She had no friends now and if she did console herself—what would he have?
Emile decided that she was speaking the truth, and that there was no use wasting time in making other enquiries.
One thing seemed certain—that Arithelli had left the building. From the Hippodrome he went next to her lodgings, also with no result. He could only now suppose that Sobrenski had sent her off at a moment's notice on some unusual errand. The possibility of her having gone to the house in the Calle de Pescadores did not occur to him. According to the last arrangement they were not expected there till after midnight. It was only eleven now. He would go to the Café Colomb, and spend the hour there. It was no use to search for her further, and as he assured himself there was not the least reason to become alarmed. She was not likely to lose her head, and she knew her way about the place.
The Colomb was more or less a recognised resort of the many revolutionaries with whom the city abounded. The proprietor was known to be in sympathy with their schemes, though he took no active part in them himself. He was considered trustworthy, for notes and messages were often left in his charge, and his private room was at the disposal of those who wished for a few minutes' secret interview. When Emile entered he was greeted by several of the men who sat in groups of two and three at little tables, busy with Monte and other card games.