Another woman--another
woman actually here in London! So there was someone upon whom he
did not look in that half-amused and half-compassionate manner.
How she hated him! How she hated the woman to whom he had but a
moment ago returned!
"Then he will marry this other one?" she said suddenly.
"Oh, no. Already he neglects her. We think she will go back."
Zahara experienced a swift change of sentiment. She seemed to be
compounded of two separate persons, one of whom laughed cruelly
at the folly of the other.
"What is the name of this man you think your friend has
recognized?" she asked.
The big stick was rapping furiously during this colloquy.
"We are both sure, Senorita. His name is Major Spalding."
That Spalding and Grantham were neighbouring towns in
Lincolnshire Zahara did not know, but:
"No one of that name comes here," she replied.
"The one you heard and--who has gone--is not called by that
name." She spoke with forced calm. It was Grantham they sought!
"But what happens if I show you this one who is not called
Spalding?"
"No matter! Point him out to me," answered the Spaniard eagerly
--and his dark eyes seemed to be on fire--"point him out to me
and fifty pounds of English money is yours!"
"Let me see.
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