No one spoke.
As usual Arithelli led the way.
Vardri, who had arrived last of all, rode forward to join her, but was
curtly ordered to the rear by Sobrenski.
They should see enough of each other later on,--when it was time.
Before they started on their ride he spoke to Arithelli alone, and gave
her his final instructions, and saw for himself that the pistol she
wore at her belt was properly charged. He never left anything to
chance, especially in important undertakings such as the present one.
"There will not be a long meeting to-night," he said. "You will have
an hour free to do your work. You hear?"
His eyes were fixed on hers, compelling an answer. None came, though
she bowed her head in token of acquiescence, and though he could hear
no word Sobrenski was satisfied. He had seen that shrinking attitude,
that mechanical gesture before. In the plot to assassinate General
Morales there had been a young Spanish student who had given some
trouble. He had developed a conscience at the last minute, and vowed
that he could not kill an old and defenceless man, that he would rather
die himself.
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