The Lighted Match

On the next afternoon at the base of the flag-staff above Look-out Rock,

Lieutenant Lapas nervously swept the leagues of sea and land, spreading

under him, with strong glasses. Though the air was somewhat rarer and

cooler here than below, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and

the cigarettes which he incessantly smoked followed each other with a

furious haste which denoted mental unrest.

At a sound of foliage rustled aside and a displaced rock bumping down

the slope, the watcher took the glasses from his eyes with a nervous

start.

Up the hill from the left climbed an unknown man. His features were

those of a Spaniard. As the officer's eyes challenged him he halted,

panting, to mop his brow with the air of one who takes a breathing space

after violent exertion. The newcomer smiled pleasantly as he leaned

against a bowlder and genially volunteered: "It is a long journey from

the shore." Then after a moment he added in a tone of respectful

inquiry: "You are Lieutenant Lapas?"

The officer had regained his composure. He regarded the other with a

mild scrutiny touched with superciliousness as he nodded acquiescence

and in return demanded: "Who are you?"

"Do you see that speck of white down yonder by the sea?" Blanco drew

close and his outstretched finger pointed a line to the Duke's lodge. "I

come from there," he explained with concise directness.

The officer bit his lip.

"Why did you come?" The Spaniard paused to roll a cigarette before he

answered: "I come from the Duke, of course. Why else should I climb this accursed

ladder of hills?"

"What Duke?" The interrogation tumbled too eagerly from the soldier's

lips to be consonant with his wary assumption of innocence. "There are

so many Dukes. Myself, I serve only the King."

The Spaniard's teeth gleamed, and there was a strangely disarming

quality in the smile that broke in sudden illumination over his dark

face.

"I have been here only a few days," explained Blanco. Then, lying with

apt fluency, he continued: "I have arrived from Cadiz in the service of

the Grand Duke Louis Delgado, who will soon be His Majesty, Louis of

Galavia, and I am sent to you as the bearer of his message." He ignored

the other's protestations of loyalty to the throne as completely as he

ignored the frightened face of the man who made them.

Lapas had whitened to the lips and now stood hesitant. "I don't

understand," he stammered.

The Spaniard's expression changed swiftly from good humor to the

sternness of a taskmaster.

"The Duke is impatient," he asserted, "of delays and misunderstandings

on the part of his servants. His Grace believed that your memory had

been well schooled. Louis, the King, may prove forgetful of those who

are forgetful of Louis, the Duke."