I RACKED my wits in vain to think of some clue to the place where Barosa was likely to hide. I ransacked my memory to recall every incident of my stay in the city, every word which had been dropped in my hearing, and every man I had met, having any connexion with him or any of his companions. But it led to no result.
All I could think of was to institute a house-to-house search of the whole city; and I wrote to urge Volheno to have this done, declaring I would cheerfully bear all the expense and give a liberal reward to any one who brought me the information I craved.
But the thought of the length of time which such a search would involve drove me to the verge of despair. I must find some means by which I myself could take part in the search. To sit still with folded hands was a sheer impossibility.
I thought of Inez. She might now be willing to help me. I had the key now to what had so perplexed me during the last few minutes I had spent in her house. While she and Barosa were wrangling, Marco had rushed up with the news of the police raid, and this had prevented Inez from keeping her promise to return to me.
She had meant to return—that was clear now—and she was in fierce earnest that Miralda should leave the house with me. The loaded revolver—which had proved such a Greek gift when the police had found it upon me—had been honestly given, to provide me with the means of overcoming any opposition, whether from Barosa or others, to our getting away.
But the words she had used in giving it only pointed to greater danger now. “Get Miralda away or I will not answer for myself.” With Barosa and Miralda still associated, the devil of jealousy I had roused in Inez might goad her to some act of wild rage against Miralda; and the thought that I had placed her in this added peril stung and scorched me with all the agony of a festering wound.
My helplessness was torture; and yet I could not think how to commence my search, where to go, or what to do. Stay in the house I could not, and I rushed out into the streets, wandering aimlessly about, scrutinizing every one I met, as if I expected that some of those I sought would stroll about publicly in the full light of day in order that I might see them.
After a time I found myself close to Inez’ house, and as I loitered about I narrowly escaped being once more arrested by the police. I went from there to the house in the Rua Catania and then to the Rua Formosa, where I had been subjected to the “test”—the most unlikely spots in all the city, of course, where I should find any one. And that I should go there at all only proved the fatuous vagueness of my thoughts.
From the latter place I was on my way back to my rooms when I remembered where Henriques had been employed as a porter. I hurried there at once, but without result. Not a trace was to be found.
I returned to my rooms in despair. It was now late in the afternoon, and little Pia was waiting for me. She had finished her few preparations and was ready to go.
“You are in great trouble, Mr. Donnington. What is the matter?” she asked as I entered, her smile of welcome changing on the instant to a look of deep concern and sympathy.
“Yes, I am in sore trouble. Wellnigh beside myself, but I will see to your matters.”
“Tell me. Let me help you.”
“Could you help me, I wonder.” I had not thought of her. She might know of some places where I could search, but on the other hand, she could not give me the information without bringing those with whom she had been associated into danger of arrest.
“Tell me. You can surely trust me,” she urged.
“You could only help me by betraying your former friends. Do you know a Dr. Barosa?”
“By name, yes. There is nothing you can ask me I will not tell you. You believe that as I am sure you believe I will keep everything you say secret.”
A few seconds decided me to tell her enough to make the position clear—that what I wanted was to know where to look for Barosa.
“I do not know that I could help you much in any case. It is very difficult,” she murmured, her face troubled and her manner expressing both perplexity and wistful anxiety.
“I do not understand,” I said.
“You said I might have to betray my former associates. Does that mean that you will take the police with you?” She paused and sat biting her lip in great distress. “If you ask me, I cannot refuse.”
“If I can find Mademoiselle Dominguez without the police it is all I want.”
She brightened instantly. “Can you get me some disguise?” Seeing my surprise, she explained, “I would go without it, but it would not help you. Since we parted this morning, I have had a very narrow escape from arrest in my own name. The police are swarming near my lodging, and it is in that district we must search. I was on my way there when by good fortune I met a friend—a girl who had lived in the same house as myself. She warned me not to go near it because the police were in it. Her brother had been arrested and she herself was flying. To go as I am, therefore, would not help you.”
“You must not go at all. Tell me where to go,” I said.
She hesitated again. “If I hesitate, you will understand me. Let me be frank. Some of the people have been very kind to me and to put them into the hands of the police would be an ill return.”
“I will not take the police with me. Tell me where to search, and I’ll find means of doing what I need without the police.”
“A little to the west of the Theatre of Donna Amelia and close to the Square of Camoes is a nest of streets; and many of the houses are those of our friends where any refugees are certain of a ready shelter. It is there I should expect to find those whom you seek. But you must go not as you are. It would be not only useless but dangerous, and you must be careful to have help at hand. If your object were suspected, you would look in vain for a friend in all that district.”
I opened a map and she pointed the neighbourhood out to me and indicated a spot at the corner of the Square which would be the best for my purpose.
“There are three theatres close there, and the hawkers always stand about there to catch the people going to them. You could thus watch without being suspected;” she explained.
I took her advice and set about my preparations forthwith, and while getting ready, a thought occurred to me. I sent Bryant with a note to Volheno telling him I had an important clue and I asked him, as I had already had a narrow escape of being arrested, to give me a line or two which would protect me from anything of the kind and enable me to call upon the police to assist me if I should need their help.
Pia helped me to disguise myself as a pedlar of matches, suggesting many clever touches—the result probably of her experiences—and when I was ready not a soul in all Lisbon would have recognized me.
Volheno sent me the letter I asked for, and when Bryant returned with it I told him to disguise himself also and to watch me from another corner of the Square, and to have Simmons and Foster, who had not gone in the Stella, in a liquor shop close at hand.
Then I slipped out of the house and shuffled off on my search in the character of a match seller. I had about a mile to go across the city to my destination, but I did not reach it. I had just turned into the Rua da Carmo when a man carrying a bag and having the air of a commercial traveller crossed the street and came up to buy a box of matches.
His disguise was good, but as he lit his cigarette I recognized him. It was Marco; and in a moment my other plan was abandoned and I decided to follow him.
He made straight for the Central Station. After studying the time-tables, he went to the booking place, entered into conversation with the clerk and bought some tickets, turned away with a casual air and left the building again.
Either Pia was all wrong in her guess as to the locality where Barosa was likely to hide, or Marco was not going back to him. He sauntered idly across the Square of San Pedro, turned into the Rua Bitesgo, quickened his pace slightly as he reached the Rua da Magdalena, and branching off to the left, when about half-way down, threaded his way at a quick pace among the maze of streets which form the district of Eastern Lisbon.
This was directly in the opposite direction from that which Pia had suggested; but I was certain by the change from his former sauntering pace to a quick stride, that he was taking me where I wanted to go.
His speed made it difficult for me to keep him in sight without his discovering that I was shadowing him. Twice I nearly lost him as he made a double turn in the short tortuous streets, and after that I had to lessen the distance between us, doing my best to slink along in the shadow of the houses.
Presently he turned into a very steep hilly street and, slackening, began to look about him warily. I guessed that he was getting near his destination, and redoubled my caution. About half-way down the hill he stopped at the corner of a dark street somewhat wider than the rest, where the houses were larger, and I slipped to cover in the wide porch of a house on the opposite side.
Two men were in sight, one coming down the hill and the other up, and lighting a cigarette as a pretext for loitering, Marco waited until both men had passed and gave each of them a sharp searching look. As soon as they were out of sight, he turned and hurried along the side street.
I followed quickly, but when I reached the corner he had disappeared.
I had run him to earth; but which house he had entered I could not tell, of course. I passed the mouth of the street and had a good look at the houses. He had not had time to go more than fifty yards; and within that distance there were only six houses, the two nearest of which were detached and stood well apart from one another.
Keeping under the shadow of the buildings I walked the length of the street and discovered that it had no outlet at the farther end. I returned to the corner with the same caution, and then considered what to do.
I felt at liberty to seek the help of the police if necessary. My promise to Pia not to do so did not apply now, since my discovery was not due to anything she had told me, but to the accidental meeting with Marco.
At the same time, I did not wish to bring the police into it except in the very last extremity. It was quite possible that they would arrest every one in the house, including Miralda herself; and after my terrible experiences of the previous night, the thought that she should endure even for an hour the horrors of such a den of beastliness was unendurable.
If it proved necessary for me to enter any house in search of Miralda, it would be nothing short of sheer madness to do so alone; and in that case I must have the help of the police.
But it might not come to that. Marco’s visit to the railway station and his purchase of tickets was plain evidence that some one, presumably Barosa, was meditating immediate flight from the city. But as there was only the one outlet from the street, he could not leave without passing me; and certainly he could not get Miralda away.
There was another consideration. The meditated flight suggested that Miralda was not in any immediate danger. It might be better to risk a little delay, therefore, rather than take a hasty step with consequences which I might afterwards have bitter cause to regret.
Then I began to consider whether I could possibly find means of sending a message to Bryant so as to bring him and the others to my assistance. With them to help me, I should have no hesitation in entering the house, if I could ascertain definitely in which Barosa was hiding.
I was puzzling over this when Marco came out of the second house, and I noticed one little significant fact. In addition to the bag, he was carrying an overcoat on his arm. This meant that he at any rate had been staying in the house; and it decided me not to follow him.
He walked to the corner of the street and was turning up the hill away from me when he changed his mind and came straight towards me. I drew back against the wall to avoid him, and he had all but passed when he caught sight of me. The start he gave showed that he recognized me as the man from whom he had bought the matches.
He paused a moment, put his hand to his head, as if he had forgotten something and turned to retrace his steps. He meant to warn the others in the house, of course; and as I had to prevent this at any cost, I stepped forward quickly and grabbed him by the wrist.
“What do you want with me, you old fool?” he said roughly, trying at the same time to shake off my hold.
“You are my prisoner,” I said sternly. “Who are in that house there?”
“I don’t know what you mean. Which house?”
“The one you have just left. I know you. Answer at once.”
His answer was both clever-witted and quick. He flung the overcoat he carried over my head and made a fierce snatch to break away from me, while reaching at the same time for a weapon.
I held on, however, and managed to trip him up. As we fell together the coat dropped away and I was in time to seize the barrel of a revolver he had succeeded in drawing, and drag it out of his hand.
“It’s no use, Marco,” I said.
He knew me then. “The Englishman!” he cried with an oath of unbounded amazement.
“Yes, the Englishman,” I said.