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The more Dave thought about Ed Austin's death, the more certain he became that it was in some way connected with Alaire's disappearance; and the loose end by which the tangle might be unraveled, it seemed to him, lay in the hands of Rosa Morales, José's sweetheart.
But we must combat our enemies with the weapons we have not only those who bear arms with Candeleria, but those who shelter themselves beyond the Rio Grande." Alaire's face fell. "I had hoped that you would understand and help me, but I shall go to Mexico City and demand my rights, if necessary." "Wait! I SHALL help." Longorio beamed enthusiastically.
He seemed almost immature until he spoke, then one realized with a curious shock that he was a man indeed, and a man, moreover, with all the ardor and passion of a woman. Such was Alaire's first hasty impression of Luis Longorio, the Tarleton of Potosi's army.
"How disagreeable of you to put it that way!" The car leaped forward as if spurred by Alaire's mortification. "I wondered how you knew about the French Revolution. 'That Bastilly was some calaboose, wasn't it'?" She quoted his own words scornfully. "I dare say you've had a fine laugh at my expense?" "No!" gravely denied the man.
"Alaire!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Read this My eyes O God!" Wonderingly she took the sheets from his shaking hands and read aloud the paragraph he indicated: Fifth: I bequeath to my adopted son, David, offspring of the unfortunate American woman who died in my house at Escovedo Again Dave cried out and knelt at Alaire's feet, his arms about her knees, his face buried in her dress.
I offer you the President's palace and Chapultepec. And with all that I offer you such passionate love as no woman of history ever possessed." He paused, spent by the force of his own intensity; it was plain that he expected an immediate surrender. Alaire's lips parted in the faintest of mocking smiles. "You have great confidence in yourself," she said. "Yes. I know myself as no one knows me."
In this instance, however, it might be well to make a clean breast of the affair, since Ellsworth was Alaire's attorney, and would doubtless be selected to secure her divorce. The judge was waiting when Dave called after supper, but for some time he maintained a flow of conversation relating to other things than the one they had met to discuss.
A moment later Alaire's car drove into the black shadows, but, fearing to switch on her headlights, she felt her way cautiously between the walls of foliage until at her right another opening showed, like a narrow arroyo, diverging from the one they followed. Into this she swerved, regardless of the fact that it was half grown up with brush.
The occasion for this was made plain when an engine drawing a single caboose appeared. Even before it had come to a pause a tall figure in spotless uniform leaped to the ground and strode to the waiting coaches. It was Luis Longorio. He waved a signal to the conductor, then swung aboard the north-bound train. The general was all smiles as he came down the and bowed low over Alaire's hand.
As Las Palmas had been the elder Austin's wedding-gift to his son, so Alaire's dowry from her father had been La Feria, a grant of lands across the Rio Grande beyond the twenty-league belt by which Mexico fatuously strives to guard her border. And to Las Palmas had come the bride and groom to live, to love, and to rear their children.
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