Of course this would be the signal for war, since Julio always had a chip upon his shoulder; but Roderic was willing to accept the consequences, so long as the terrible suspense was ended.
He began to slip up on the Spaniard, and with all his faculties aroused Roderic was able to carry this part of his programme out to perfection.
The streets were far from deserted—in places even crowds could be seen, doubtless eagerly discussing the great events overhanging San Juan, with an American army landed on Porto Rico soil—for by this time the dreadful news had come of Santiago's fall and the total destruction of Cervera's fleet, so that Spanish respect for Yankee valor was rising fast—first Dewey, then Sampson and last of all Shafter, to be followed by Miles.
Owen was now but three paces behind the couple, and could almost hear what they said, though their voices were exceedingly low.
His former diagnosis of the case was strengthened by a closer survey—in height, and figure Julio's companion was exactly a counterpart of Georgia—add to this the peculiar little individualities such as usually mark a woman's personality and the fact that this man had once before come between them, what fault could be found with Roderic for suspecting?
Well, the time had come for action.
That miserable gauze had baffled him long enough, and he was determined to know the worst, Julio to the contrary.
Before the Spaniard could guess what was in the wind Roderic had darted to the side of the girl, while his eager hand reached out and seized upon her veil in a ruthless grasp.
He heard her give a little scream as though terrorized at his boorish act.