Benton looked up with a rush of memories, and was glad that the Galavian
could not see him.
Like all the men concerned, Von Ritz was inconspicuously a civilian in
dress, but as he came down the center of the room he was, as always, the
commanding figure, challenging attention. His steady eyes swept the
place with dispassionate scrutiny. His straight mouth-line betrayed no
expression. He came slowly, idly, as though looking for someone. When
still some distance from the table where sat the Duke Louis, he halted
and their eyes met. Those of the Duke, as he inclined his head slightly,
stiffly, wore a glint of veiled hostility. Those of Von Ritz, as he
returned the salute, no whit more cordially, were blank, except that for
the moment, as he stood regarding the party, his non-committal pupils
seemed to bore into each face about the table and to catalogue them all
in an insolent inventory.
Each man in the group uneasily shifted his eyes. Then Karyl's officer
turned on his heel and left the place. Louis watched him, scowling, and
as the Colonel passed into the street turned suddenly and spoke in a
vehement whisper. Jusseret's sardonic lips twisted into a wry smile as
though in recognition of an adversary's clever check.
The café was now filled. Few tables remained unoccupied, and of these,
several were near that of the Ducal party.
Blanco rose. "Wait for me, Señor," he whispered, then went to the
front of the café where Benton lost him in a crowd at the door. A moment
later he came lurching back. His lower lip was stupidly pendent, his
eyes heavy and dull, and as he floundered about he dropped with the
aimless air of one heavily intoxicated into a chair by a vacant table
not more than ten feet distant from that of Louis, the Dreamer.
There he remained huddled in apparent torpor and for some moments
unobserved, until the Duke signaled to a passing waiter and indicated
the toreador with a glance. The waiter came over to Blanco. "The
Señor will find another table," he said with the ingratiating courtesy
of one paying a compliment. "It is regrettable, but this one is
reserved." Blanco appeared too stupid to understand, and when finally he
did grasp the meaning he rose with profuse and clumsy apologies and
staggered vacantly about in the immediate neighborhood of the conspiring
coterie. Finally, after receiving further attention and guidance from
the waiter, he returned to Benton, and dropping into his chair leaned
over, his white teeth flashing a satisfied smile. "The matches may not
flare, Señor," he said, "but it would appear it was planned. Now
Martin and Borttorff cannot go to Puntal. Since the brief visit of Von
Ritz they are branded men. The others are already known to Karyl's
government."