slowly.
“Arabic,” corrected the other; “ — but that deduction isn’t clever, because the Jesuits at Madrid are all engaged in scholastic work.”
“But I knew you came from Madrid.”
“Because we both came by the same train,” said the calm priest, “and for the same purpose.”
The stranger’s eyes narrowed.
“For what purpose, father?” he asked.
“To witness the eclipse,” said the priest. A few minutes later the stranger watched the black-robed figure with the broad-rimmed hat disappearing in the crowd with a little feeling of irritation.
He drank the remainder of his café en tasse, paid the waiter, and stepping out into the stream, was swept up the hill to where a number of English people were gathered, with one eye upon their watches and another upon the livid shadow that lay upon the western sky.
He found a place on the slope of the hill tolerably clear of sightseers, and spread a handkerchief carefully on the bare baked earth and sat down. He had invested a penny in a strip of smoked glass, and through this he peered critically at the sun. The hour of contact was at hand, and he could see the thin rim of the obstruction cover the edge of the glaring ball.
“Say, this will do; it’s not so crowded.”
The stranger buried his chin in the high collar of his cappa, pulled down his felt hat over his eyes, and from beneath its brim gazed eagerly at the newcomers.
One was short and stout and breathed stertorously, having recently climbed the hill. His face was a heavy oval, with deep creases running from nostril to jaw. The other, the speaker, was a tall, lean man, with an eagle cast of countenance. He wore, somewhat carelessly, a brown overcoat and a derby. Both were unmistakably American tourists, who had stopped off at Burgos to see the eclipse.
“Phew!” exclaimed the fat man. “I don’t know which was worse, the climb or the crowd. I hate crowds,” he grumbled. “You lose things,”
“Have you lost anything?” asked the other. His own hand went unconsciously to his breast pocket. The stranger saw this out of the corner of his eye — inside breast pocket on the left, he noted.
“You shouldn’t carry valuables in a place like this,” the man continued, “that is to say, not money.”
“How about letters, eh, Baggin? Letters — and plans? They are sometimes worth money to the right party.”
His companion frowned. “Nothing that I carry is worth money,” he returned shortly. “I flatter myself that not a man in the world, no, not even you, Grayson,” there was a slight sneer in his voice, “could make head or tail of my memoranda. And yet, there it is, the entire proposition, written down, in black and white. But it’s all in code, and I carry the code in my head.”
“I’m sincerely glad to hear it,” replied the other. He looked about him nervously. “I have a feeling that we oughtn’t to have come here.”
“You make me tired,” said Baggin wearily.
“We oughtn’t be seen together,” persisted the other. “All sorts of people are here. Men from the city, perhaps. Suppose I should be recognised — my picture was in all the papers.”
“Don’t be a fool,” said Baggin roughly. “And for Heaven’s sake, don’t peer around in that silly fashion. Let me give you an epigram of Poltavo’s. ‘It is the observer who is always observed.’ Rather neat, eh?”
“I wish he were in with us on this thing.”
“I don’t,” retorted Baggin. “So that’s settled. He’s done his work, and that’s the end of him.”
“I doubt it,” returned the other thoughtfully.
“And, frankly, if the matter comes up again, I shall vote to admit him.”
“Well, wait till it does come up,” growled Baggin. “And don’t talk shop in a crowd like this.
Do you know what Poltavo says? ‘Men babble away their secrets, and whisper away their lives.’” There was a long pause, and the stranger knew that one of the Americans was making dumb-show signals of warning. They were nodding at him, he felt sure, so he bowed and asked politely:
“At what hour is the eclipse?”
“No savvy,” said the fat man, “no hablo Espagnol.”
The stranger shrugged his shoulders, and turned again to the contemplation of the plain below.
“He doesn’t speak English,” said the fat man, “none of these beggars do.”
His friend made no reply, but after a silence of a few minutes he said quietly and in English:
“Look at that balloon.”
But the stranger was not to be trapped by a simple trick like that, and continued his stolid regard of the landscape; besides he had seen the balloons parked on the outskirts of the town, and knew that intrepid scientists would make the ascent to gather data.
He took another look at the sun. The disc was and blue, and the little clouds that flecked the sky were iridescent. Crowds still poured up the hill, and the slope was now covered with people. He had to stand up, and in doing so, he found himself side by side with the fat man. A strange light was coming to the world; there were triple shadows on the ground, and the stout man shifted uneasily.
“Don’t like this, Baggin,” he said fretfully, “it’s hateful — never did like these wonders of the sky, they make me nervous. It’s awful. Look out there, out west behind you. It’s black, black — it’s like the end of the world!”
“Cut it out!” said his unimaginative companion.
Then of a sudden the black shadow in the west leaped across the sky, and the world went grey-black. Where the sun had been was a hoop of fire, a bubbling, boiling circle of golden light, and the circling horizon was a dado of bright yellow. It was as though the sun had set at its zenith, and the sunset glows were shown, east, west, north, and south.
“My God, this is awful!”
The stout man covered his face with one hand and clung tightly with the other to Baggin. He was oblivious to everything, save a gripping fear of the unknown that clawed at his heart. Baggin himself paled, and set his jaw grimly.
For the moment he was blind and deaf to the hustling, murmuring crowd about him; he only knew that he stood in the darkness at high noon, and that something was happening which he could not compress within the limits of his understanding.
Three minutes the eclipse lasted; then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.
A blazing, blinding wave of light flooded the world, and the stars that had studded the sky went out.
“Yes — yes, I know I’m a fool.” Grayson’s face was bathed in perspiration. “It’s — it’s my temperament. But never again! It’s an experience.”
