She was not there. He passed the open
door of her room; it was empty. At the end of the passage a faint light
stole from a door opening into the garden that was still ajar. She must
have passed out that way. He opened it, and stepped out into the garden.
The sound of voices beside a ruined fountain a hundred yards away
indicated the vicinity of the party; but a single glance showed him that
she was not among them. So much the better--he would find her alone.
Cautiously slipping beside the wall of the house, under the shadow of a
creeper, he gained the long avenue without attracting attention. She was
not there. Had she effectively evaded contact with the others by leaving
the garden through the little gate in the wall that entered the Mission
enclosure? It was partly open, as if some one had just passed through.
He followed, took a few steps, and stopped abruptly. In the shadow of
one of the old pear-trees a man and woman were standing. An impulse of
wild jealousy seized him; he was about to leap forward, but the next
moment the measured voice of the Comandante, addressing Mrs. Markham,
fell upon his ear. He drew back with a sudden flush upon his face.
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