e he could not go out under the observant eyes of
Rollo and with that abandoned Abigail smiling her ironic smile. So,
perforce, he had to sit uneasily with his elbows on the table and watch
the dreary game of dominoes which his companions were playing with the
chipped and greasy cubes belonging to the venta of Gaspar and Esteban
Perico.

And outside, though they knew it not, the red and white pennon was still
flying from the roof of the mill-house of Sarria, and on the hills to
the south, through the white sun-glare, flickered at intervals an
answering signal.

Meanwhile in a hushed chamber the outlaw sat with his wife's hand in
his, and thought on nothing, save that for him the new day had come.

CHAPTER XX

THE BUTCHER OF TORTOSA

Upon the village of Sarria and upon its circling mountains night
descended with Oriental swiftness. The white houses grew blurred and
indistinct. Red roofs, green shutters, dark window squares, took on the
same shade of indistinguishable purple.

But in the west the rich orange lingered long, the typical Spanish
after-glow of day edging the black hills with dusky scarlet, and
extending upwards to the zenith sombre and mysterious, like her own
banner of gold and red strangely steeped in blood.

In the mill-house of Sarria they were not idle. Ramon Garcia and Rollo
had constructed a carrying couch for Dolores, where, on a light and
pliant framework of the great bulrush _canas_ that grew along the canal
edges, her mattress might be laid.

It was arranged that, after Dolores had been conveyed with Concha and La
Giralda in attendance to the Convent of the Holy Innocents, the three
young men and El Sarria should return in order to release and warn the
brothers Fernandez of the consequences of treachery. Thereafter they
were to ride out upon their mission.

Crisp and clear the night was. The air clean-tasting like spring water,
yet stimulating as a draught of wine long-cooled in cellar darkness.

Very gently, and as it were in one piece like a swaddled infant, Dolores
was lifted by El Sarria in his arms and laid upon the hastily-arranged
ambulance. The four bearers fell in. La Giralda locked the doors of the
mill-house, and by a circuitous route, which avoided the village and its
barking curs, they proceeded in the direction of the convent buildings.

As often as the foot of any of the bearers slipped upon a stone, Ramon
grew sick with apprehension, and in a whisper over his sh