The Lighted Match - Page 99/142

"They put him off?"

"Yes, at Malta. Meantime he was stripped to the waist and armed with a

shovel in the stoke-hold."

Benton laughed.

"There was another phase to it, though--" began the boy afresh.

At that moment the whistle of the small excursion steamer below broke

out in a shrill scream. Young Harcourt hurriedly pushed back his chair

and grabbed for his Panama hat. "Cæsar!" he cried, "there's the whistle.

I shall miss my boat for the Grotto." And he hastened off with a shout

of summons to a crazy victoria that was clattering by empty.

During a long silence Blanco studied the cone of Vesuvius.

"Blanco!" Benton leaned across the table with an anxious frown and

stretched out a hand which over-turned the wine glasses. "There was one

thing he said that stuck in my memory. He said the Powers would see that

in the end Louis had his throne."

The Spaniard shook his head dubiously.

"The Powers have lost their instrument! You forget, Señor, that this

is underground diplomacy. It must appear to work itself out and the new

King must be logical. With Louis a prisoner their meddling hands are

bound."

Benton rose and pushed back his chair. His companion joined him and

together they passed out through the stone-flagged court and into the

road. For fifteen minutes they walked morosely and in silence through

the steep streets where the shops are tourist-traps, alluringly baited

with corals and trinkets. Finally they came out on the beach where many

fishing boats were dragged up on the sand, and nets stretched, drying in

the sun.

Then Benton spoke.

"In God's name, Manuel, what do I care who occupies the throne of

Galavia? No other man could so block my path as Karyl." Then as one in

the confessional he declared shamefacedly: "I have never said it to any

man because it is too much like murder, but--sometimes I wish I had

reached Cadiz one day later than I did." He drew his handkerchief and

wiped the moisture from his forehead.

The Spaniard skillfully kindled a cigarette in the spurt of a match,

which the gusty sea-breeze made short-lived.

"And now," he calmly suggested, "it is still possible to let Europe play

out her game alone. After all, Señor, we are as the young touristo

indicated--only amateurs."

"And yet, Manuel," the American smiled half-quizzically, "yet we seem

foreordained to play bodyguard to Karyl. Fate throws him on our hands."

"We might decline in future to accept the charge."

Benton halted so close to the water's edge that a bit of sea-weed was

washed up close to his feet. "Any threat to the throne of Galavia now is

also a threat to Her. We must learn what these Powers purpose doing."

He threw back his shoulders and his step quickened with the resolution

of fresh action.