we know pretty exactly which are the white squares. If a row begins, we calculate that we have rather the balance of strength on that cheerful plateau. But I hope there will be no row. I don’t like that crude way of doing things.”
Archie passed a hand over his forehead.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said plaintively. “There must be a row, a most unholy row. You want to raise the Indians, assisted by your friends in the Police and in the Mines, against the Administration. The Gobernador, if he is what you say he is, will resist like a tiger, and he has his gunmen behind him, and Olifa at the back of all. You will have to fight Castor… “
Sandy smiled. “Oh, no. We will not fight Castor. We mean to fight for him. Castor will be our leader. The Indians in the back-country are wearing medals with his face on them, and look to him as their deliverer. That’s the advantage of being a mystery man. No one knows him, except the Conquistadors, who don’t count. He is going to be the Bolivar of the Gran Seco, the pioneer of liberty.”
“Good God! Do you mean to say you are working in with him?”
“No. I won’t go as far as that. But we hope to make him work for us. He won’t like it, but it’s the obvious move in the game. It will not be a rising of the oppressed against the Administration, but a revolt of the whole Gran Seco, oppressed and oppressors, against the tyrannical government of Olifa. And in the forefront of the battle will be Castor, like a new Uriah the Hittite.”
Janet, who had been listening with a strained face, suddenly broke into one of her fits of helpless laughter.
“That was your idea. Sandy. Mr Blenkiron never thought of anything so wild.”
“It is not wild. It is common sense. It’s ju-jitsu, where you use the strength of your opponent to defeat him.”
“It is not common sense,” Archie declared vehemently. “It is insanity. If Dick Hannay were here, he’d say the same thing. Supposing you unite the Gran Seco, with Castor at your head, what better off are you? You’re up against Olifa with an army that will crumple you as easy as winking. You are cut off from the sea. You have no base and no communications. Where are you to get your munitions? Olifa will smash you in a week—or, better still, starve you out in a month.”
“May be,” said Sandy calmly. “That’s the risk we run. But it isn’t quite as bad as you think. We have a base, and presently you’ll hear all about it. Also, I rather think it will be a new kind of war. I always had a notion of a new kind of war—an economical war—and I’m going to have a shot at it, even though we take a good many chances. You’ve been doing useful work, old man, in sticking your nose into Olifa’s army system, and you naturally have a high regard for it. So have I. But it’s an old-fashioned system.”
“You’re wrong. It’s the most up-to-date thing on the globe.”
“It has learned all the lessons of our little scrap in France and Flanders, and I daresay it would make a very good showing in that sort of business. But it won’t be allowed to, for it’s going to be a different kind of business. We’re the challengers, and will decide the form of the combat. The Olifa army is as rigid in its up-to-dateness as the old British army was rigid in its antiquarianism. Castor is going to puzzle it.”
Archie called fervently upon his Maker.
“You’re as mad as a hatter,” he cried, “but it’s a madness I’ve got to have a hand in. You promised to let me in, Sandy. I’ll do anything I’m told… “
“I gave you a promise. But now you know what we propose, do you still hold me to it? What do you say, Janet? I can’t put the odds better than three to one. We may all be blotted out. Worse still, we may end in a fiasco with our reputation gone for good. This is not your quarrel. I’ve no business to implicate you, and if you both slip down to Olifa and take the next steamer home, I admit I’ll be happier in my mind.”
“You want us to go home?” Janet asked. Her slight figure in the firelight had stiffened like a soldier on parade.
“I should be easier if you went.”
Miss Dasent rose and came out of the shadows.
“You say it is not Sir Archibald’s quarrel,” she said. The clear sweet pallor of her skin was coloured by the glow from the hearth, and her dark eyes had the depth of a tragic muse. “But is it your quarrel, Lord Clanroyden? Why are you doing this? Only out of friendship for my uncle? If you say that, I cannot believe you. I could understand you taking any risk to get my uncle out of the Gran Seco—that would be your loyalty—but this is more than that. It cannot be for America’s sake, for I have heard you say harsh things about my country. What is your reason? You can’t expect Lady Roylance to answer till she has heard it.”
Sandy flushed under the gaze of the dark eyes.
“I don’t know. I never analyse my motives. But I think I think I would go on with this affair, even if your uncle were out of it. You see, down at the bottom of my heart I hate the things that Castor stands for. I hate cruelty. I hate using human beings as pawns in a game of egotism. I hate all rotten, machine-made, scientific creeds. I loathe and detest all that superman cant, which is worse nonsense than the stuff it tries to replace. I really believe in liberty, though it’s out of fashion… And because America in her queer way is on the same side, I’m for America.”
“Thank you,” the girl said quietly.
Janet held out her hand.
“We shan’t stay out, Sandy. I wouldn’t let Archie go home if he wanted to. We’re both too young to miss this party. It’s what I used to dream about as a child at Glenraden… Is there anything to drink? We ought to have a toast.”
“I said I would be happier if you went home,” said Sandy, “but I lied.”
Luis jumped to his feet. A whistle had blown faintly out-of-doors, and a second later there was another low whistle in the corridor.
“Quick,” he said to Sandy. “That is Jose. The outer pickets have seen something, and passed the word back.”
The two men slipped through the curtained window into the darkness. Don Mario rang a bell and bade a servant bring mate and other drinks, and no more than five glasses. Earlier in the evening the company had numbered six. Then Luis re-entered by the window, drew the curtains, and dropped into an armchair with a cigarette.
Presently there was the sound of a motor-car on the hard earth of the courtyard, and the bustle of arrival in the hall.
The door of Don Mario’s room was thrown open, and the butler ushered in three men in the uniform of the Olifa police. Two were junior officers, but the third was no less than Colonel Lindburg, the commissioner of the province in which Veiro lay.
The Colonel was a tall Swede, with a quick blue eye, close-cropped hair, and a small jaw like a terrier’s. He greeted Don Mario heartily, announcing that he was on his way to Bonaventura, and had called to beg an additional tin of petrol. Luis he already knew, and he was introduced to the others—Sir Archie who limped about to get him a chair, Janet who was turning over an American picture paper, Miss Dasent who was busy with a small piece of needle-work. The group made a pleasant picture of a family party, just about to retire to bed. The Colonel noted the five glasses, and when the servants brought mint juleps the three officers toasted Don Mario and the ladies. The newcomers talked of horses, of the visit of the Gobernador on the previous
