Under the lamps of the Alameda McKildrick regarded him quizzically.
“And what do you gain by that?” he asked.
“Well, I force Sam into the open,” declared Roddy, “and I’m no longer on the suspect list. Look at my record! I’ve insulted everybody. I have insulted Rojas, insulted Vega, insulted Caldwell, all enemies of Alvarez. So now the Alvarez crowd will love me. Now they trust me! If they caught me digging the tunnel and I told them I was building a light-house, they’d believe me. If I insult a few more people they’ll give me the Order of Bolivar.”
The next morning Roddy attended Mass. But he was not entirely engrossed in his devotions. Starting from the front entrance of the church he moved slowly nearer and nearer to the altar, and, slipping from the shelter of one pillar to another, anxiously scanned the rows of kneeling women. He found the mantilla a baffling disguise, and as each woman present in the church wore one, and as the hair of each was black, and as the back of the head of one woman is very much like that of another, it was not until the worshippers had turned to leave that he discovered the Señorita Inez Rojas. In her black satin dress, with her face wreathed by the black lace mantilla, Roddy thought he had never seen her look more beautiful.
After her explicit commands that he should not attempt to see her again he was most anxious she should not learn how soon he had disobeyed her; and that she was walking with her sister and mother made it still more necessary that he should remain unnoticed.
But in his eagerness and delight in the sight of her he leaned far forward. Inez, at that instant raising her eyes, saw him. Of the two Roddy was the more concerned. The girl made no sign of recognition, but the next moment, with an exclamation, she suddenly unclasped her hands, and, as though to show they were empty, held them toward her mother and sister. Leaving them, she returned hurriedly toward the altar. Señora Rojas and the sister continued on their way toward the door, exchanging greetings with the women of their acquaintance, whom, after an absence of two years, they now met for the first time. Seeing them thus engaged Inez paused and, turning, looked directly at Roddy. Her glance was not forbidding, and Roddy, who needed but little encouragement, hastened to follow. The church was very dark. The sunlight came only through the lifted curtains at the farthest entrance, and the acolytes were already extinguishing the candles that had illuminated the altar. As Inez, in the centre of the church, picked her way among the scattered praying-chairs, Roddy, in the side aisle and hidden by the pillars, kept pace with her.
Directly in front of the altar Inez stooped, and, after picking up a fan and a prayer-book, stood irresolutely looking about her. Roddy cautiously emerged from the side aisle and from behind the last of the long row of pillars. Inez came quickly toward him. The last of the acolytes to leave the altar, in their haste to depart, stumbled and tripped past them, leaving them quite alone. Concealed by the great pillar from all of those in the far front of the church, Inez gave Roddy her hand. The eyes that looked into his were serious, penitent.
“I am so sorry,” she begged; “can you forgive me?”
“Forgive you!” whispered Roddy. His voice was filled with such delight that it was apparently a sufficient answer. Inez, smiling slightly, withdrew her hand, and taking from inside her glove a folded piece of paper, thrust it toward him.
“I brought this for you,” she said.