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Across her shoulder Hillyard looked into a broad room, where three other girls sat at desks, and against one wall stood a great bureau with many tiny drawers like pigeon-holes. Several of these drawers stood open and disclosed cards standing on their edges and packed against each other. Hillyard's hopes revived.
A word was coming out clear, writing itself unmistakably in the middle of the line, at the bottom of the sheet a signature. Zimmermann! "From the General Staff!" said Hillyard, in a whisper of excitement. "My word!" He looked at Fairbairn with an eager smile of gratitude. "It's your doing that we have got this yours and Lopez Baeza's!"
The night was so still that the noise at the water's edge below seemed to fill the world. Hillyard slipped off the back of his donkey and took his rifle from his boy. "Gamus!" whispered the shikari. Hillyard almost swore aloud. There was a creek, three hours' march away, where the reed buck came down to drink in the morning.
It would be quite impolitic for that cruiser to discover José Medina's tobacco stores, as Medina himself and Martin Hillyard, and the captain of the cruiser, all very well knew.
The small crowd laughed with Hillyard, and made way for him. A man offered to him with a flourish and a bow a card advertising a garage at which motor-cars could be hired for expeditions in the island. Hillyard accepted it and put it into his pocket. He paid a visit to his consul, and thereafter sat in a café for an hour.
Joan laughed simply and lovingly as she spoke. Hillyard had never seen her more beautiful than she was at this moment. If grief had taken from her just the high brilliancy of her beauty, it had added to it a most appealing tenderness. "After all," she said again, "Harry fulfilled himself. I love to think of that.
His eyes were fixed curiously upon his visitor, but there was no recognition in them. "There were two carts waiting, to carry the tobacco up to the hills." "Two?" José Medina interrupted sharply. "Let me think! That first cargo! It is so long ago." Medina reflected carefully. Here was a detail of real importance which would put this Señor Hillyard to the test if only he could himself remember.
The motor-cars and the coaches streamed up over Duncton Hill and wound down the Midhurst Road to pleasant Charlton, with its cottages and gardens of flowers. Martin Hillyard went too. As he walked away from Captain Graham's eyrie he met Sir Chichester Splay in Pall Mall. "Where have you been these eight months?" inquired Sir Chichester. "'The Dark Tower' is still running, I see. A good play, Mr.
Commodore Graham's forefinger travelled along the written lines and stopped at the number and distinguishing sign of the telegram, sent and received. "Yes," continued Graham. "Here's your answer. 'Emma Grutzner is the governess in a Spanish family at Torrevieja, and she goes occasionally, once a month or so, to the house of Diego Perez in Murcia." "Yes, yes! I routed that out," said Hillyard.
Juan de Maestre has nothing whatever to do nowadays." Hillyard smiled with contentment. He could understand a German going to any lengths for Germany. He was prepared to do the same himself for his country. But when a neutral under the cloak of his neutrality meddles in this stupendous conflict for cash, for his thirty miserable pieces of silver, he could feel no inclination of mercy.
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