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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6d854de --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #52956 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/52956) diff --git a/old/52956-8.txt b/old/52956-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d3846b4..0000000 --- a/old/52956-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8786 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bitter Heritage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Bitter Heritage - A Modern Story of Love and Adventure - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: September 2, 2016 [EBook #52956] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BITTER HERITAGE *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the -Web Archive (New York Public Library) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: - https://archive.org/details/abitterheritage00blougoog - (New York Public Library) - 2. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe] - - - - - - -Appletons' -Town and Country -Library -No. 272 - - - -A BITTER HERITAGE - - - - - - -By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON. -*********** -Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. -*********** - - -A Bitter Heritage. - -"Mr. Bloundelle-Burton is one of the most successful of the purveyors -of historical romance who have started up in the wake of Stanley -Weyman and Conan Doyle. He has a keen eye for the picturesque, a happy -instinct for a dramatic (or more generally a melodramatic) situation, -and he is apt and careful in his historic paraphernalia. He usually -succeeds, therefore, in producing an effective story."--_Charleston -News and Courier_. - - -Fortune's my Foe. - -"The story moves briskly, and there is plenty of dramatic -action."--_Philadelphia Telegraph_. - - -The Clash of Arms. - -"Well written, and the interest is sustained from the beginning to the -end of the tale."--_Brooklyn Eagle_. - -"Vividness of detail and rare descriptive power give the story life -and excitement."--_Boston Herald_. - - -Denounced. - -"A story of the critical times of the vagrant and ambitious Charles I, -it is so replete with incident and realistic happenings that one seems -translated to the very scenes and days of that troublous era in -English history."--_Boston Courier_. - - -The Scourge of God. - -"The story is one of the best in style, construction, information, and -graphic power, that have been written in recent years."--_Dial, -Chicago_. - - -In the Day of Adversity. - -"Mr. Burton's creative skill is of the kind which must fascinate those -who revel in the narratives of Stevenson, Rider Haggard, and Stanley -Weyman. Even the author of 'A Gentleman of France' has not surpassed -the writer of 'In the Day of Adversity' in the moving interest of his -tale."--_St. James's Gazette_. - -*************** -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. - - - - - - -A BITTER HERITAGE - -_A MODERN STORY OF LOVE AND ADVENTURE_ - - - -BY -JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON -AUTHOR OF THE SEAFARERS, FORTUNE'S MY FOE, -THE CLASH OF ARMS, IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY, -DENOUNCED, THE SCOURGE OF GOD, ETC. - - - -NEW YORK -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY -1899 - - - - - - -Copyright, 1899, -By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. - -_All rights reserved_. - - - - - - -CONTENTS. - - -CHAPTER - -I.--"You will forgive?" - -II.--The story of a crime. - -III.--"The land of the golden sun." - -IV.--An encounter. - -V.--"A half-breed--named Zara." - -VI.--"Knowledge is not always proof." - -VII.--Madame Carmaux takes a nap. - -VIII.--A midnight visitor. - -IX.--Beatrix. - -X.--Mr. Spranger obtains information. - -XI.--A visit of condolence. - -XII.--The reminiscences of a French gentleman. - -XIII.--A change of apartments. - -XIV.--"This land is full of snakes." - -XV.--Recollections of Sebastian's birth. - -XVI.--A drop of blood. - -XVII.--"She hates him because she loves him." - -XVIII.--Sebastian is disturbed. - -XIX.--A pleasant meeting. - -XX.--Love's blossom. - -XXI.--Julian feels strange. - -XXII.--In the dark. - -XXIII.--Warned. - -XXIV.--Julian's eyes are opened. - -XXV.--A dénouement. - -XXVI.--"You have killed him!" - -XXVII.--"I will save you." - -XXVIII.--"I live--to kill him." - -XXIX.--The watching figure. - -XXX.--Beyond passion's bound. - -XXXI.--"The man I love." - -XXXII.--The Shark's Tooth Reef. - -XXXIII.--Madame Carmaux tells all. - -XXXIV.--Contentment. - - - - - - -A BITTER HERITAGE. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -"YOU WILL FORGIVE?" - - -A young man, good-looking, with well-cut features, and possessing a -pair of clear blue-grey eyes, sat in a first-class smoking compartment -of a train standing in Waterloo Station--a train that, because there -was one of those weekly race-meetings going on farther down the line, -which take place all through the year, gave no sign of ever setting -forth upon its journey. Perhaps it was natural that it should not do -so, since, as the dwellers on the southern banks of the Thames are -well aware, the special trains for the frequenters of race-courses -take precedence of all other travellers; yet, notwithstanding that -such is the case, this young man seemed a good deal annoyed at the -delay. One knows how such annoyance is testified by those subjected to -that which causes it; how the watch is frequently drawn forth and -consulted, the station clock glanced at both angrily and often, the -officials interrogated, the cigarette flung impatiently out of the -window, and so forth; wherefore no further description of the symptoms -is needed. - -All things, however, come to an end at last, and this young man's -impatience was finally appeased by the fact of the train in which he -sat moving forward heavily, after another ten minutes' delay; and also -by the fact that, after many delays and stoppages, it eventually -passed through Vauxhall and gradually, at a break-neck speed of about -ten miles an hour, forced its way on towards the country. - -"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Julian Ritherdon, "thank goodness! At last -there is a chance that I may see the dear old governor before night -falls. Yet, what on earth is it that I am to be told when I do see -him--what on earth does his mysterious letter mean?" And, as he had -done half a dozen times since the waiter had brought the "mysterious -letter" to the room in the huge caravansary where he had slept -overnight, he put his hand in the breast pocket of his coat and, -drawing it forth, began another perusal of the document. - -Yet his face clouded--as it had done each time he read the letter, as -it was bound to cloud on doing so!--at the first worst words it -contained; words which told the reader how soon--very soon now, unless -the writer was mistaken--he would no longer form one of the living -human units of existence. - -"Poor old governor, poor old dad!" Lieutenant Ritherdon muttered as he -read those opening lines. "Poor old dad! The best father any man ever -had--the very best. And now to be doomed; now--and he scarcely fifty! -It is rough. By Jove, it is!" - -Then again he read the letter, while by this time the train, by -marvellous exertions, was making its way swiftly through all the -beauty that the springtide had brought to the country lying beyond the -suburban belt. Yet, just now, he saw nothing of that beauty, and -failed indeed to appreciate the warmth of the May day, or to observe -the fresh young green of the leaves or the brighter green of the -growing corn--he saw and enjoyed nothing of all this. How should he do -so, when the letter from his father appeared like a knell of doom that -was being swiftly tolled with, for conclusion, hints--nay! not hints, -but statements--that some strange secrets which had long lain hidden -in the past must now be instantly revealed, or remain still -hidden--forever? - -It was not a long letter; yet it told enough, was pregnant with -matter. - -"If," the writer said, after the usual form of address, "your ship, -the Caractacus, does not get back with the rest of the Squadron ere -long, I am very much afraid we have seen the last of each other; -that--and Heaven alone knows how hard it is to have to write such -words!--we shall never meet again in this world. And this, Julian, -would make my death more terrible than I can bear to contemplate. My -boy, I pray nightly, hourly, that you may soon come home. I saw the -specialist again yesterday and he said----Well! no matter what he -said. Only, only--time is precious now; there is very little more of -it in this world for me." - -Julian Ritherdon gazed out of the open window as he came to these -words, still seeing nothing that his eyes rested on, observing neither -swift flowering pink nor white may, nor budding chestnut, nor laburnum -bursting into bloom, nor hearing the larks singing high up above the -cornfields--thinking only again and again: "It is hard. Hard! Hard! To -die now--and he not fifty!" - -"And I have so much to tell you," he read on, "so much to--let me say -it at once--confess. Oh! Julian, in my earlier days I committed a -monstrous iniquity--a sin that, if it were not for our love for each -other--thank God, there has always been that between us!--nothing can -deprive the past of that!--would make my ending even worse than it -must be. Now it must be told to you. It must. Already, because I begin -to fear that your ship may be detained, I have commenced to write down -the error, the crime of my life--yet--yet--I would sooner tell it to -you face to face, with you sitting before me. Because I do not think, -I cannot think that, when you recall how I have always loved you, done -my best for you, you will judge me hardly, nor----" - -The perusal of this letter came, perforce, to an end now, for the -train, after running through a plantation of fir and pine trees, had -pulled up at a little wayside station; a little stopping-place built -to accommodate the various dwellers in the villa residences scattered -all around it, as well as upon the slope of the hill that rose a few -hundred yards off from it. - -Here Julian Ritherdon was among home surroundings, since, even before -the days when he had gone as a cadet into the Britannia and long -before he had become a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, his father had -owned one of those villas. Now, therefore, the station-master and the -one porter (who slept peacefully through the greater part of the day, -since but few trains stopped here) came forward to greet him and to -answer his first question as to how his father was. - -Nor, happily, were their answers calculated to add anything further to -his anxiety, since the station-master had not "heerd" that Mr. -Ritherdon was any "wus" than usual, and the porter had "seed" him in -his garden yesterday. Only, the latter added gruesomely, "he was that -white that he looked like--well, he dursn't say what he looked like." - -Mr. Ritherdon kept no vehicle or trap of any sort, and no cab was ever -to be seen at this station unless ordered by an intending arrival or -departing traveller on the previous day, from the village a mile or so -off; wherefore Julian started at once to walk up to the house, bidding -the porter follow him with his portmanteau. And since the villa, which -stood on the little pine-wooded eminence, was no more than a quarter -of a mile away, it was not long ere he was at the garden gate and, a -moment later, at the front door. Yet, from the time he had left the -precincts of the station and had commenced the ascent of the hill, he -had seen the white face of his father at the open window and the white -hand frequently waved to him. - -"Poor old governor," he thought to himself, "he has been watching for -the coming of the train long before it had passed Wimbleton, I'll be -sworn." - -Then, in another moment, he was with his father and, their greeting -over, was observing the look upon his face, which told as plainly as -though written words had been stamped upon it of the doom that was -about to fall. - -"What is it?" he said a little later, almost in an awestruck manner. -Awestruck because, when we stand in the presence of those whose -sentence we know to be pronounced beyond appeal there falls upon us a -solemnity almost as great as that which we experience when we gaze -upon the dead. "What is it, father?" - -"The heart," Mr. Ritherdon answered. "Valvular disease. Sir Josias -Smith says. However, do not let us talk about it. There is so much -else to be discussed. Tell me of the cruise in the Squadron, where you -went to, what you saw----" - -"But--your letter! Your hopes that I should soon be back. You have not -forgotten? The--the--something--you have to tell me. - -"No," Mr. Ritherdon answered. "I have not forgotten. Heaven help me! -it has to be told. Yet--yet not now. Let us enjoy the first few hours -together pleasantly. Do not ask to hear it now." - -And Julian, looking at him, saw those signs which, when another's -heart is no longer in its normal state, most of us have observed: the -lips whitening for a moment, the left hand raised as though about to -be pressed to the side, the dead white of the complexion. - -"If," he said, "it pains you to tell me anything of the past, -why--why--tell it at all? Is it worth while? Your life can contain -little that must necessarily be revealed and--even though it should do -so--why reveal it?" - -"I must," his father answered, "I must tell you. Oh!" he exclaimed, -"oh! if at the last it should turn you against me--make -you--despise--hate--" - -"No! No! never think that," Julian replied quickly, "never think that. -What! Turn against you! A difference between you and me! It is -impossible." - -As he spoke he was standing by his father's side, the latter being -seated in his armchair, and Julian's hand was on the elder man's -shoulder. Then, as he patted that shoulder--once, too, as he touched -softly the almost prematurely grey hair--he said, his voice deep and -low and full of emotion: - -"Whatever you may tell me can make no difference in my love and -respect for you. How can you think so? Recall what we have been to -each other since I was a child. Always together till I went to -sea--not father and son, but something almost closer, comrades----" - -"Ah, Julian!" - -"Do you think I can ever forget that, or forget your sacrifices for -me; all that you have done to fit me for the one career I could have -been happy in? Why, if you told me that you--oh! I don't know what to -say! how to make you understand me!--but, if you told me you were a -murderer, a convict, a forger, I should still love you; love you as -you say you loved the mother I never knew----" - -"Don't! Don't! For Heaven's sake don't speak like that--don't speak of -her! Your mother! I--I--have to speak to you of her later. But -now--now--I cannot bear it!" - -For a moment Julian looked at his father, his eyes full of amazement; -around his heart a pang that seemed to grip at it. They had not often -spoken of his mother in the past, the subject always seeming one that -was too painful to Mr. Ritherdon to be discussed, and, beyond the -knowledge that she had died in giving birth to him, Julian knew -nothing further. Yet now, his father's agitation--such as he had never -seen before--his strange excitement, appalled, almost staggered him. - -"Why?" he exclaimed, unable to refrain from dwelling upon her. "Why -not speak of her? Was she----" - -"She was an angel. Ah," he continued, "I was right--this story of my -past must be told--of my crime. Remember that, Julian, remember that. -My crime! If you listen to me, if you will hear me, as you must--then -remember it is the story of a crime that you will learn. And," he -wailed almost, "there is no help for it. You must be told!" - -"Tell it, then," Julian said, still speaking very gently, though even -as he did so it seemed as if he were the elder man, as if he were the -father and the other the son. "Tell it, let us have done with -vagueness. There has never been anything hidden between us till now. -Let there be nothing whatever henceforth." - -"And you will not hate me? You will--forgive, whatever I may have to -tell?" - -"What have I said?" Julian replied. And even as he did so, he again -smoothed his father's hair while he stood beside him. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE STORY OF A CRIME. - - -The disclosure was made, not among, perhaps, surroundings befitting -the story that was told; not with darkness outside and in the -house--with, in truth, no lurid environments whatever. Instead, the -elderly man and the young one, the father and son, sat facing each -other in the bright sunny room into which there streamed all the -warmth and brilliancy of the late springtide, and into which, now and -again, a humble-bee came droning or a butterfly fluttered. Also, -between them was a table white with napery, sparkling with glass and -silver, gay with fresh-cut flowers from the garden. It is amid such -surroundings that, nowadays, we often enough listen to stories brimful -with fate--stories baneful either to ourselves or others--hear of -trouble that has fallen like a blight upon those we love, or learn -that something has happened which is to change forever the whole -current of our own lives. - -It was thus that Julian Ritherdon listened to the narrative his father -now commenced to unfold; thus amid such environment, and with a -freshly-lit cigarette between his lips. - -"You do not object to this?" he asked, pointing to the latter; "it -will not disturb you?" - -"I object to nothing that you do," Mr. Ritherdon replied. "In my day, -I have, as you know, been a considerable smoker myself." - -"Yes, in the days, your days, that I know of. But--forgive me for -asking--only--is it to tell me of your earlier years, those with which -I am not acquainted, that you summoned me here and bade me lose no -time in coming to you?--those earlier days of which you have spoken so -little in the past?" - -"For that," replied the other slowly, "and other reasons. To hear -things that will startle and disconcert you. Yet--yet--they have their -bright side. You are the heir to a great----" - -"My dear father!" - -"Your 'dear father'! Ay! Your 'dear father'!" Once more, nay, twice -more, he repeated those words--while all the time the younger man was -looking at him intently. "Your 'dear father.'" Then, suddenly, he -exclaimed: "Come, let us make a beginning. Are you prepared to hear a -strange story?" - -"I am prepared to hear anything you may have to tell me." - -"So be it. Pay attention. You have but this moment called me your -'dear father.' Well, I am not your father! Though I should have been -had all happened as I once--so long ago--so--so long ago--hoped would -be the case." - -"_Not--my--father!_" and the younger man stared with a startled look -at the other. "Not--my--father. You, who have loved me, fostered me, -anticipated every thought, every wish of mine since the first moment I -can recollect--not my father! Oh!" and even as he spoke he laid his -hand, brown but shapely, on the white, sickly looking one of the -other. "Don't say that! Don't say that!" - -"I must say it." - -"My God! who, then, are you? What are you to me? -And--and--who--am--_I_? It cannot be that we are of strange blood." - -And the faltering words of the younger man, the blanched look that had -come upon his face beneath his bronze--also the slight tremor of the -cigarette between his fingers would have told Mr. Ritherdon, even -though he had not already known well enough that such was the case, -how deep a shock his words had produced. - -"No," he answered slowly, and on his face, too, there was, if -possible, a denser, more deadly white than had been there an hour -ago--while his lips had become even a deeper leaden hue than before. -"No. Heaven at least be praised for that! I am your father's brother, -therefore, your uncle." - -"Thank Heaven we are so near of kin," and again the hand of the young -man pressed that of the elder one. "Now," he continued, though his -voice was solemn--hoarse as he spoke, "go on. Tell me all. Blow as -this is--yet--tell me all." - -"First," replied the other, "first let me show you something. It came -to me by accident, otherwise perhaps I should not have summoned you so -hurriedly to this meeting; should have restrained my impatience to see -you. Yet--yet--in my state of health, it is best to tell you by word -of mouth--better than to let you find out when--I--am--dead, through -the account I have written and should have left behind me. But, to -begin with, read this," and he took from his breast pocket a neatly -bound notebook, and, opening it, removed from between the pages a -piece of paper--a cutting from a newspaper. - -Still agitated--as he would be for hours, for days hence!--at all that -he had already listened to, still sorrowful at hearing that the man -whom he loved so much, who had been so devoted to him from his -infancy, was not his father, Julian Ritherdon took the scrap and -read it. Read it hastily, while in his ear he heard the other man -saying--murmuring: "It is from a paper I buy sometimes in London at a -foreign newspaper shop, because in it there is often news of a--of -Honduras, where, you know, some of my earlier life was passed." - -Nodding his head gravely to signify that he heard and understood, -Julian devoured the cutting, which was from the well-known New Orleans -paper, the Picayune. It was short enough to be devoured at a glance. -It ran: - - -Our correspondent at Belize informs us by the last mail, amongst other -pieces of intelligence from the colony, that Mr. Ritherdon (of -Desolada), one of the richest, if not the richest, exporters of -logwood and mahogany, is seriously ill and not expected to recover. -Mr. Ritherdon came to the colony nearly thirty years ago, and from -almost the first became extremely prosperous. - - -"Well!" exclaimed Julian, laying down the slip. "Well! It means, I -suppose--that----" - -"He is your father? Yes. That is what it does mean. He is your father, -and the wealth of which that writer speaks is yours if he is now dead; -will be yours, if he is still alive--when he dies." - -Because, when our emotion, when any sudden emotion, is too great for -us, we generally have recourse to silence, so now Julian said nothing; -he sitting there musing, astonished at what he had just heard. Then, -suddenly, knowing, reflecting that he must hear more, hear all, that -he must be made acquainted now with everything that had occurred in -the far-off past, he said, very gently: "Yes? Well, father--for it is -you whom I shall always regard in that light--tell me everything. You -said just now we had better make a beginning. Let us do so." - -For a moment Mr. Ritherdon hesitated, it seeming as if he still -dreaded to make his avowal, to commence to unfold the strange -circumstances which had caused him to pass his life under the guise of -father to the young man who was, in truth, his nephew. Then, suddenly, -nerving himself, as it seemed to Julian, he began: - -"My brother and I went to British Honduras, twenty-eight years ago, -three years before you were born; at a time when money was to be made -there by those who had capital. And _he_ had some--a few thousand -pounds, which he had inherited from an aunt who died between his birth -and mine. I had nothing. Therefore I went as his companion--his -assistant, if you like to call it so. Yet--for I must do him -justice--I was actually his partner. He shared everything with me -until I left him." - -"Yes," the other said. "Yes. Until you left him! Yet, in such -circumstances, why----?" - -"Leave him, you would say. Why? Can you not guess? Not understand? -What separates men from each other more than all else, what divides -brother from brother, what----" - -"A woman's love, perhaps?" Julian said softly. "Was that it?" - -"Yes. A woman's love," Mr. Ritherdon exclaimed, and now his voice was -louder than before, almost, indeed, harsh. "A woman's love. The love -of a woman who loved me in return. That was his fault--that for which, -Heaven forgive me!--I punished him, made him suffer. She was my -love--she loved me--that was certain, beyond all doubt!--and--she -married him." - -"Go on," Julian said--and now his voice was low, though clear, "go -on." - -"Her name was Isobel Leigh, and she was the daughter of an English -settler who had fallen on evil days, who had gone out from England -with her mother and with her--a baby. But now he had become a man who -was ruined if he could not pay certain obligations by a given time. -They said, in whispers, quietly, that he had used other people's names -to make those obligations valuable. And--and--I was away in New -Orleans on business. You can understand what happened!" - -"Yes, I can understand. A cruel ruse was practised upon you." - -"So cruel that, while I was away in the United States, thinking always -about her by day and night, I learnt that she had become his wife. -Then I swore that it should be ruse against ruse. That is the word! He -had made me suffer, he had broken, cursed my life. Well, henceforth, I -would break, curse him! This is how I did it." - -Mr. Ritherdon paused a moment--his face white and drawn perhaps from -the emotion caused by his recollection, perhaps from the disease that -was hurrying him to his end. Then, a moment later, he continued: - -"There were those with whom I could communicate in Honduras, those who -would keep me well informed of all that was taking place in the -locality: people I could rely upon. And from them there came to New -Orleans, where I still remained, partly on business and partly because -it was more than I could endure to go back and see her his wife, the -news that she was about to become a mother. That maddened me, drove me -to desperation, forced me to commit the crime that I now conceived, -and dwelt upon during every hour of the day." - -"I begin to understand," Julian said, as Mr. Ritherdon paused. "I -begin to understand." Then, from that time he interrupted the other no -more--instead, both the narrative and his own feelings held him -breathless. The narrative of how he, a newborn infant, the heir to a -considerable property, had been spirited away from Honduras to -England. - -"I found my way to the neighbourhood of Desolada, stopping at Belize -when once I was back in the colony, and then going on foot by night -through the forest towards where my brother's house was--since I was -forced to avoid the public road--forests that none but those who knew -their way could have threaded in the dense blackness of the tropical -night. Yet I almost faltered, once I turned back, meaning to return to -the United States and abandon my plan. For I had met an Indian, a -half-caste, who told me that she, my loved, my lost Isobel was dying, -that--that--she could not survive. And then--then--I made a compact -with myself. I swore that it she lived I would not tear her child away -from her, but that, if--if she died, then he who had made me wifeless -should himself be not only wifeless but childless too. He had tricked -me; now he should be tricked by me. Only--if she should live--I could -not break her heart as well. - -"But again I returned upon my road: I reached a copse outside -Desolada, outside the house itself. I was near enough to see that the -windows were ablaze with lights, sometimes even I saw people passing -behind the blinds of those windows--once I saw my brother's figure and -that excited me again to madness. If she were dead I swore that then, -too, he should become childless. Her child should become mine, not -his. I would have that satisfaction at least. - -"Still I drew nearer to the house, so near that I could hear people -calling to each other. Once I thought--for now I was quite close--that -I could hear the wailing of the negro women-servants--I saw a -half-breed dash past me on a mustang, riding as for dear life, and I -knew, I divined as surely as if I had been told, that he was gone for -the doctor, that she was dying--or was dead. Your father's chance was -past." - -"Heaven help him!" said Julian Ritherdon. "Heaven help him. It was an -awful revenge, taken at an awful moment. Well! You succeeded?" - -"Yes, I succeeded. She _was_ dead--I saw that when, an hour later, I -crept into the room, and when I took you from out of the arms of the -sleeping negro nurse--when, God forgive me, _I stole you!_" - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -"THE LAND OF THE GOLDEN SUN." - - -The mustang halted on a little knoll up which the patient beast had -been toiling for some quarter of an hour, because upon that knoll -there grew a clump of _gros-gros_ and moriche palms which threw a -grateful shade over the white, glaring, and dusty track, and Julian -Ritherdon, dropping the reins on its drenched and sweltering neck, -drew out his cigar-case and struck a light. Also, the negro "boy"--a -man thirty years old--who had been toiling along by its side, flung -himself down, crushing crimson poinsettias and purple dracćna beneath -his body, and grunted with satisfaction at the pause. - -"So, Snowball," Julian said to this descendant of African kings, "this -ends your journey, eh? I am in the right road now and we have got to -say 'Good-bye.' I suppose you don't happen to be thirsty, do you, -Pompey?" - -"Hoop! Hoop!" grunted the negro, showing a set of ivories that a -London belle would have been proud to possess, "always thirsty. Always -hungry. Always want tobaccy. Money, too." - -"Do you!" exclaimed Julian. "By Jove! you'd make a living as a London -johnny. That's what they always want. Pity you don't live in London, -Hannibal. Well, let's see." - -Whereon he threw his leg over the great saddle, reached the ground, -and began opening a haversack, from which he took a bottle, a packet, -and a horn cup. - -"Luncheon time," he said. "Sun's over the foremast! Come on, Julius -Cćsar, we'll begin." - -After which he opened the packet, in which was a considerable quantity -of rather thickly cut sandwiches, divided it equally, and then filled -the horn cup with the liquid from the bottle, which, after draining, -he refilled and handed to his companion. - -"I'm sorry it isn't iced, my lily-white friend," he said; "it does -seem rather warm from continual contact with the mustang's back, but I -daresay you can manage it. Eh?" - -"Manage anything," the negro replied firmly, his mouth full of -sandwich, "anything. Always----" - -"Yes, I know. 'Thirsty, hungry, want tobacco and money.' I tell you, -old chap, you're lost in this place. London's the spot for you. You're -fitted for a more advanced state of civilization than this." - -"Hoop. Hoop," again grunted the negro, and again giving the huge -smile--"want----" - -"This is getting monotonous, Sambo," Julian exclaimed. "Come, let's -settle up;" whereon he again replenished the guide's cup, and then -drew forth from his pocket two American dollars, which are by now the -standard coin of the colony. "One dollar was the sum arranged for," -Julian said, "but because you are a merry soul, and also because a -dollar extra isn't ruinous, you shall have two. And in years to come, -my daisy, you can bless the name of Mr. Ritherdon as that of a man -both just and generous. Remember those words, 'just and generous.'" - -The negro of many sobriquets--at each of which he had laughed like a -child, as in absolute fact the negro is when not (which is extremely -rare!) a vicious brute--seemed, however, to be struck more forcibly by -some other words than those approving ones suggested by Julian as -suitable for recollection, and, after shaking his woolly head a good -deal, muttered: "Ritherdon, Ritherdon," adding afterwards, "Desolada." -Then he continued: "Hard man, Massa Ritherdon. Hard man, Massa -Ritherdon. Hard man. Cruel man. Beat Blacky. Beat Whity, too, -sometimes. Hard man. Cruel man." - -"Sambo," said Julian, feeling (even as he spoke still jocularly to the -creature--a pleasant way being the only one in which to converse with -the African) that he would sooner not have heard these remarks in -connection with his father, "Sambo, you should not say these things to -people about their relatives. _That_ would not do for London;" while -at the same time he reflected that it would be little use telling his -guide of the old Latin proverb suggesting that one should say nothing -but good of the dead. - -"You relative of Massa Ritherdon!" the other grunted now, though still -with the unfailing display of ivories. "You relative. Oh! I know not -that. Now," he said, thinking perhaps it was time he departed, and -before existing amicable arrangements should be disturbed, "now, I go. -Back to Belize. Good afternoon to you, sir. Good-bye. I hope you like -Desolada. Fifteen miles further on;" and making a kind of shambling -bow, he departed back upon the road they had come. Yet not without -turning at every other three or four steps he took, and waving his -hand gracefully as well as cordially to his late employer. - -"A simple creature is the honest black!" especially when no longer a -dweller in his original equatorial savagery. - -"Like it," murmured Julian to himself, "Yes, I hope so. Since it is -undoubtedly my chief inheritance, I hope I shall!" - -He had left Belize that morning, by following a route which the negro -knew of, had arrived in the neighbourhood of a place called Commerce -Bight--a spot given up to the cultivation of the cocoanut-tree. And -having proceeded thus far, he knew that by nightfall he would be at -Desolada--the dreary _hacienda_ from which, twenty-six years before, -his uncle had ruthlessly kidnapped him from his father--the father -who, he had learnt since he arrived in the colony, had been dead three -months. Also he knew that this property called Desolada lay some dozen -miles or so beyond a village named All Pines, and on the other side of -a river termed the Sittee, and, as he still sat beneath the palm-trees -on the knoll where they had halted for the midday meal, he wondered -what he would find when he arrived there. - -"It is strange," he mused to himself now, as from out of that cool, -refreshing shade he gazed across groves upon groves of mangroves at -his feet, to where, sparkling in the brilliant cobalt-coloured -Caribbean Sea, countless little reefs and islets--as well as one large -reef--dotted the surface of the ocean, "strange that, at Belize, I -could gather no information of my late father. No! not even when I -told the man who kept the inn that I was come on a visit to Desolada. -Why, I wonder, why was it so? My appearance seemed to freeze them into -silence, almost to startle them. Why? Why--this reticence on their -part? Can it be that he was so hated all about here that none will -mention him? Is that it? Remembering what the negro said of him, of -his brutality to black and white, can that be it? Yet my uncle hinted -at nothing of the kind." - -Still thinking of this, still musing on what lay before him, he -adjusted the saddle (which he had previously loosened to ease the -mustang) once more upon the animal's back. Then, as his foot was in -the stirrup there came, swift as a flash of lightning, an idea into -his mind. - -"I must be like him," he almost whispered to himself, "so like him, -must bear such a resemblance to him, that they are thunderstruck. And, -if any who saw me can recollect that, twenty-six years ago, his -newborn child was stolen from him on the night his wife died, it is no -wonder that they were thunderstruck. That is, if I do resemble him so -much." - -But here his meditations ceased, he understanding that his name, which -he had inscribed in the visitor's book lying on the marble table of -the hotel, would be sufficient to cause all who learnt it to refrain -from speaking about the recently dead man--his namesake. - -"Yet all the same," he muttered to himself, as now the mule bore him -along a more or less good road which traversed copses of oleanders and -henna plants, allamandas and Cuban Royal palms--the latter of which -formed occasionally a grateful shade from the glare of the sun--"all -the same, I wish that darkey had not spoken about my father's cruelty. -I should have preferred never to learn that he bore such a character. -He must have been very different from my uncle, who, in spite of the -one error of his life, was the gentlest soul that ever lived." - -All the way out from England to New Orleans, and thence to Belize by a -different steamer, his thoughts had been with that dear uncle--who -survived the disclosure he had made but eight days--he being found -dead in his bed on the morning of the ninth day--and those thoughts -were with him now. Gentle memories, too, and kindly, with in them -never a strain of reproach for what had been done by him in his hour -of madness and desire for revenge; and with no other current of ideas -running through his reflections but one of pity and regret for the -unhappiness his real father must have experienced at finding himself -bereft at once of both wife and child. Regret and sorrow, too, for the -years which that father must have spent in mourning for him, perhaps -in praying that, as month followed month, his son might in some way be -restored to him. And now he--that son--was in the colony; here, in the -very locality where the bereaved man must have passed so many sad and -melancholy years! Here, but too late! - -Ere he died, George Ritherdon had bidden his nephew make his way to -British Honduras and proclaim himself as what he was; also he had -provided him with that very written statement which he had spoken of -as being in preparation for Julian's own information in case he should -die suddenly, ere the latter returned home. - -"With that in your possession," he had said, two days before his death -actually occurred, "what's there that can stand in the way of your -being acknowledged as his son? He cannot have forgotten my -handwriting; and even if he has, the proofs of what I say are -contained in the intimate knowledge that I testify in this paper of -all our surroundings and habits out there. That paper is a certificate -of who you are." - -"Suppose he is dead when I get there, or that he should have married -again. What then?" - -"He may be dead, but he has not married again. Remember what I told -you last night. I know my brother has remained a widower." - -"I wonder the paper did not also say that his son was stolen from him -many years ago, or that there was no heir to his property, or -something to that effect." - -"It is strange perhaps that such a state of things is not mentioned. -Yet, the Picayune's correspondent may have forgotten it, or not known -it, or not have thought it worth mention--or have had other news which -required to be published. Half a hundred things might have occurred to -prevent mention of that one." - -"And," said Julian, "presuming I do go out to British Honduras if I -can get leave from the Admiralty, on 'urgent private affairs'----" - -"You _must_ go out. It is a fortune for you. Your father cannot be -worth less than forty thousand pounds. You _must_ go out, even though -you have to leave the navy to do so." - -Julian vowed inwardly that in no circumstances should the latter -happen, while, at the same time, he thought it by no means unlikely -that the necessary leave would be granted. He had already fifty days' -leave standing to his credit, and he knew that not only his captain, -but all his superiors in the service, thought well of him. The "urgent -private affairs," when properly explained to their lordships, would -make that matter easy. - -"When I go to British Honduras, then," said Julian, putting now the -question which he had been about to ask in a slightly different form, -but asking it nevertheless, "what am I to do supposing he is dead? I -may have many obstacles to encounter--to overcome." - -"There can be none--few at least, and none that will be -insurmountable. I had you baptised at New Orleans as his son, and, -with my papers, you will find the certificate of that baptism, while -the papers themselves will explain all. Meanwhile, make your -preparations for setting out. You need not wait for my death----" - -"Don't talk of that!" - -"I must talk of it. At best it cannot be far off. Let us face the -inevitable. Be ready to go as soon as possible. If I am alive when you -set out, I will give you the necessary documents; if I die before you -start, they are here," and as he spoke he touched lightly the desk at -which he always wrote. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -AN ENCOUNTER. - - -And now Julian Ritherdon was here, in British Honduras, within ten or -fifteen miles of the estate known as Desolada--a name which had been -given to the place by some original Spanish settlers years before his -father and uncle had ever gone out to the colony. He was here, and -that father and uncle were dead; here, and on the way to what was -undoubtedly his own property; a property to which no one could dispute -his right, since George Ritherdon, his uncle, had been the only other -heir his father had ever had. - -Yet, even as the animal which bore him continued to pace along amid -all the rich tropical vegetation around them; even, too, as the -yellow-headed parrots and the curassows chattered above his head and -the monkeys leapt from branch to branch, he mused as to whether he was -doing a wise thing in progressing towards Desolada--the place where he -was born, as he reflected with a strange feeling of incredulity in his -mind. - -"For suppose," he thought to himself, "that when I get to it I find it -shut up or in the occupation of some other settler--what am I to do -then? How explain my appearance on the scene? I cannot very well ride -up to the house on this animal and summon the garrison to surrender, -like some knight-errant of old, and I can't stand parleying on the -steps explaining who I am. I believe I have gone the wrong way to work -after all! I ought to have gone and seen the Governor or the Chief -Justice, or taken some advice, after stating who I was. Or Mr. -Spranger! Confound it, why did I not present that letter of -introduction to him before starting off here?" - -The latter gentleman was a well-known planter and merchant living on -the south side of Belize, to whom Julian had been furnished with a -letter of introduction by a retired post-captain whom he had run -against in London prior to his departure, and with whom he had dined -at a Service Club. And this officer had given him so flattering an -account of Mr. Spranger's hospitality, as well as the prominent -position which that personage held in the little capital, that he now -regretted considerably that he had not availed himself of the chance -which had come in his way. More especially he regretted it, too, when -there happened to come into his recollection the fact that the gallant -sailor had stated with much enthusiasm--after dinner--that Beatrix -Spranger, the planter's daughter, was without doubt the prettiest as -well as the nicest girl in the whole colony. - -However, he comforted himself with the reflection that the journey -which he was now taking might easily serve as one of inspection -simply, and that, as there was no particular hurry, he could return to -Belize and then, before making any absolute claim upon his father's -estate, take the advice of the most important people in the town. - -"All of which," he said to himself, "I ought to have thought of before -and decided upon. However, it doesn't matter! A week hence will do -just as well as now, and, meanwhile, I shall have had a look at the -place which must undoubtedly belong to me." - -As he arrived at this conclusion, the mustang emerged from the -forest-like copse they had been passing through, and ahead of him he -saw, upon the flat plain, a little settlement or village. - -"Which," thought Julian, "must be All Pines. Especially as over there -are the queer-shaped mountains called the 'Cockscomb,' of which the -negro told me." - -Then he began to consider the advisability of finding accommodation at -this place for a day or so while he made that inspection of the estate -and residence of Desolada which he had on his ride decided upon. - -All Pines, to which he now drew very near, presented but a bare and -straggling appearance, and that not a particularly flourishing one -either. A factory fallen quite into disuse was passed by Julian as he -approached the village; while although his eyes were able to see that, -on its outskirts, there was more than one large sugar estate, the -place itself was a poor one. Yet there was here that which the -traveller finds everywhere, no matter to what part of the world he -directs his footsteps and no matter how small the place he arrives at -may be--an inn. An inn, outside which there were standing four or five -saddled mules and mustangs, and one fairly good-looking horse in -excellent condition. A horse, however, that a person used to such -animals might consider as showing rather more of the hinder white of -its eye than was desirable, and which twitched its small, delicate -ears in a manner equally suspicious. - -There seemed very little sign of life about this inn in spite of these -animals, however, as Julian made his way into it, after tying up his -own mustang to a nail in a tree--since a dog asleep outside in the sun -and a negro asleep inside in what might be, and probably was, termed -the entrance hall, scarcely furnished such signs. All the same, he -heard voices, and pretty loud ones too, in some room close at hand, as -well as something else, also--a sound which seemed familiar enough to -his ears; a sound that he--who had been all over the world more than -once as a sailor--had heard in diverse places. In Port Said to wit, in -Shanghai, San Francisco, Lisbon, and Monte Carlo. The hum of a wheel, -the click and rattle of a ball against brass, and then a soft -voice--surely it was a woman's!--murmuring a number, a colour, a -chance! - -"So, so!" said Julian to himself, "Madame la Roulette, and here, too. -Ah! well, madame is everywhere; why shouldn't she favour this place as -well as all others that she can force her way into?" - -Then he pushed open a swing door to his right, a door covered with -cocoanut matting nailed on to it, perhaps to keep the place cool, -perhaps to deaden sound--the sound of Madame la Roulette's clicking -jaws--though surely this was scarcely necessary in such an -out-of-the-way spot, and entered the room whence the noise proceeded. - -The place was darkened by matting and Persians; again, perhaps, to -exclude the heat or deaden _sound_; and was, indeed, so dark that, -until his eyes became accustomed to the dull gloom of the room--vast -and sparsely furnished--he could scarcely discern what was in it. He -was, however, able to perceive the forms of four or five men seated -round a table, to see coins glittering on it; and a girl at the head -of the table (so dark that, doubtless, she was of usual mixed Spanish -and Indian blood common to the colony) who was acting as croupier--a -girl in whose hair was an oleander flower that gleamed like a star in -the general duskiness of her surroundings. While, as he gazed, she -twirled the wheel, murmuring softly: "Plank it down before it is too -late," as well as, "Make your game," and spun the ball; while, a -moment later, she flung out pieces of gold and silver to right and -left of her and raked in similar pieces, also from right and left of -her. - -But the sordid, dusty room, across which the motes glanced in the -single ray of sunshine that stole in and streamed across the table, -was not--it need scarcely be said--a prototype of the gilded palace -that smiles over the blue waters of the Mediterranean, nor of the -great gambling chambers in the ancient streets behind the Cathedral in -Lisbon, nor of the white and airy saloons of San Francisco--instead, -it was mean, dusty, and dirty, while over it there was the f[oe]tid, -sickly, tropical atmosphere that pervades places to which neither -light nor constant air is often admitted. - -Himself unseen for the moment--since, as he entered the room, a -wrangle had suddenly sprung up among all at the table over the -disputed ownership of a certain stake--he stared in amazement into the -gloomy den. Yet that amazement was not occasioned by the place itself -(he had seen worse, or at least as bad, in other lands), but by the -face of a man who was seated behind the half-caste girl acting as -croupier, evidently under his directions. - -Where had he seen that face, or one like it, before? That was what he -was asking himself now; that was what was causing his amazement! - -Where? Where? For the features were known to him--the face was -familiar, some trick or turn in it was not strange. - -Where had he done so, and what did it mean? - -Almost he was appalled, dismayed, at the sight of that face. The nose -straight, the eyes full and clear, the chin clear cut; nothing in it -unfamiliar to him except a certain cruel, determined look that he did -not recognise. - -The dispute waxed stronger between the gamblers; the half-caste girl -laughed and chattered like one of the monkeys outside in the woods, -and beat the table more than once with her lithe, sinuous hand and -summoned them to put down fresh stakes, to recommence the game; the -men squabbled and wrangled between themselves, and one pointed -significantly to his blouse--open at the breast; so significantly, -indeed, that none who saw the action could doubt what there was inside -that blouse, lying ready to his right hand. - -That action of the man--a little wizened fellow, himself half -Spaniard, half Indian, with perhaps a drop or two of the tar-bucket -also in his veins--brought things to an end, to a climax. - -For the other man whose face was puzzling Julian Ritherdon's brain, -and puzzling him with a bewilderment that was almost weird and -uncanny, suddenly sprang up from beside, or rather behind, the girl -croupier and cried-- - -"Stop it! Cease, I say. It is you, Jaime, you who always makes these -disputes. Come! I'll have no more of it. And keep your hand from the -pistol or----" - -But his threat was ended by his action, which was to seize the man he -had addressed by the scruff of his neck, after which he commenced to -haul him towards the door. - -Then he--then all of them--saw the intruder, Julian Ritherdon, -standing there by that door, looking at them calmly and -unruffled--calm and unruffled, that is to say, except for his -bewilderment at the sight of the other man's face. - -They all saw him in a moment as they turned, and in a moment a fresh -uproar, a new disturbance, arose; a disturbance that seemed to bode -ominously for Julian. For, now, in each man's hands there was a -revolver, drawn like lightning from the breast of each shirt or -blouse. - -"Who are you? What are you?" all cried together, except the girl, who -was busily sweeping up the gold and silver on the table into her -pockets. "Who? One of the constabulary from Belize? A spy! Shoot him!" - -"No," exclaimed the man who bore the features that so amazed Julian -Ritherdon, "no, this is not one of the constabulary;" while, as he -spoke, his eyes roved over the tropical naval clothes, or "whites," in -which the former was clad for coolness. "Neither do I believe he is a -spy. Yet," he continued, "what are you doing here? Who are you?" - -Neither their pistols nor their cries had any power to alarm Julian, -who, young as he was, had already won the Egyptian medal and the -Albert medal for saving life; wherefore, looking his interrogator -calmly in the face, he said-- - -"I am on a visit to the colony, and my name is Julian Ritherdon." - -"Julian Ritherdon!" the other exclaimed, "Julian Ritherdon!" and as he -spoke the owner of that name could see the astonishment on all their -faces. "Julian Ritherdon," he repeated again. - -"That is it. Doubtless you know it hereabouts. May I be so bold as to -ask what yours is?" - -The man gave a hard, dry laugh--a strange laugh it was, too; then he -replied, "Certainly you may. Especially as mine is by chance much the -same as your own. My name is Sebastian Leigh Ritherdon." - -"What! Your name is Ritherdon? You a Ritherdon? Who in Heaven's name -are you, then?" - -"I happen to be the owner of a property near here called Desolada. The -owner, because I am the son of the late Mr. Ritherdon and of his wife, -Isobel Leigh, who died after giving me birth!" - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -"A HALF-BREED NAMED ZARA." - - -To describe Julian as being startled--amazed--would not convey the -actual state of mind into which the answer given by the man who said -that his name was Sebastian Leigh Ritherdon, plunged him. - -It was indeed something more than that; something more resembling a -shock of consternation which now took possession of him. - -What did it mean?--he asked himself, even as he stood face to face -with that other bearer of the name of Ritherdon. What? And to this -question he could find but one answer: his uncle in England must, for -some reason--the reason being in all probability that his hatred for -the deceit practised on him years ago had never really become -extinguished--have invented the whole story. Yet, of what use such an -invention! How could he hope that he, Julian, should profit by such a -fabrication, by such a falsehood; why should he have bidden him go -forth to a distant country there to assert a claim which could never -be substantiated? - -Then, even in that moment, while still he stood astounded before the -other Ritherdon, there flashed into his mind a second thought, another -supposition; the thought that George Ritherdon had been a madman. That -was--must be--the solution. None but a madman would have conceived -such a story. If it were untrue! - -Yet, now, he could not pursue this train of thought; he must postpone -reflection for the time being; he had to act, to speak, to give some -account of himself. As to who he was, who, bearing the name of -Ritherdon, had suddenly appeared in the very spot where Ritherdon was -such a well-known and, probably, such an influential name. - -"I never knew," the man who had announced himself as being the heir of -the late Mr. Ritherdon was saying now, "that there were any other -Ritherdons in existence except my late father and myself; except -myself now since his death. And," he continued, "it is a little -strange, perhaps, that I should learn such to be the case here in -Honduras. Is it not?" - -As he spoke to Julian, both his tone and manner were such as would not -have produced an unfavourable impression upon any one who was witness -to them. At the gaming-table, when seated behind the half-caste girl, -his appearance would have probably been considered by some as -sinister, while, when he had fallen upon the disputatious gambler, and -had commenced--very roughly to hustle him towards the door, he had -presented the appearance of a hectoring bully. Also, his first address -to Julian on discovering him in the room had been by no means one that -promised well for the probable events of the next few moments. But -now--now--his manner and whole bearing were in no way aggressive, even -though his words expressed that a certain doubt in his mind -accompanied them. - -"Surely," he continued, "we must be connections of some sort. The -presence of a Ritherdon in Honduras, within an hour's ride of my -property, must be owing to something more than coincidence." - -"It is owing to something more than coincidence," Julian replied, -scorning to take refuge in an absolute falsehood, though acknowledging -to himself that, in the position in which he now found himself--and -until he could think matters out more clearly, as well as obtain -some light on the strange circumstances in which he was suddenly -involved--diplomacy if not evasion--a hateful word!--was necessary. - -"More than coincidence. You may have heard of George Ritherdon, your -uncle, who once lived here in the colony with your father." - -"Yes," Sebastian Ritherdon answered, his eyes still on the other. -"Yes, I have heard my father speak of him. Yet, that was years ago. -Nearly thirty, I think. Is he here, too? In the colony?" - -"No; he is dead. But I am his son. And, being on leave from my -profession, which is that of an officer in her Majesty's navy, it has -suited me to pay a visit to a place of which he had spoken so often." - -As he gave this answer, Julian was able to console himself with the -reflection that, although there was evasion in it, at least there was -no falsehood. For had he not always believed himself to be George -Ritherdon's son until a month or so ago; had he not been brought up -and entered for the navy as his son? Also, was he sure now that he was -_not_ his son? He had listened to a story from the dying man telling -how he, Julian, had been kidnapped from his father's house, and how -the latter had been left childless and desolate; yet now, when he was -almost at the threshold of that house, he found himself face to face -with a man, evidently well known in all the district, who proclaimed -himself to be the actual son--a man who also gave, with some -distinctness in his tone, the name of Isobel Leigh as that of his -mother. She Sebastian Ritherdon's mother! the woman who was, he had -been told, his own mother: the woman who, dying in giving birth to her -first son, could consequently have never been the mother of a second. -Was it not well, therefore, that, as he had always been, so he should -continue to be, certainly for the present, the son of George -Ritherdon, and not of Charles? For, to proclaim himself here, in -Honduras, as the offspring of the latter would be to bring down upon -him, almost of a surety, the charge of being an impostor. - -"I knew," exclaimed Sebastian, while in his look and manner there was -expressed considerable cordiality; "I knew we must be akin. I was -certain of it. Even as you stood in that doorway, and as the ray of -sunlight streamed across the room, I felt sure of it before you -mentioned your name." - -"Why?" asked Julian surprised; perhaps, too, a little agitated. - -"Why! Can you not understand? Not recognise why--at once? Man alive! -_We are alike!_" - -Alike! Alike! The words fell on Julian with startling force. Alike! -Yes, so they were! They were alike. And in an instant it seemed as if -some veil, some web had fallen away from his mental vision; as if he -understood what had hitherto puzzled him. He understood his -bewilderment as to where he had seen that face and those features -before! For now he knew. He had seen them in the looking-glass! - -"No doubt about the likeness!" exclaimed one of the gamblers who had -remained in the room, a listener to the conference; while the -half-breed stared from first one face to the other with her large eyes -wide open. "No doubt about that. As much like brothers as cousins, I -should say." - -And the girl who (since Julian's intrusion, and since, also, she had -discovered that it was not the constabulary from Belize who had -suddenly raided their gambling den), had preserved a stolid -silence--glancing ever and anon with dusky eyes at each, muttered also -that none who saw those two men together could doubt that they were -kinsmen, or, as she termed it, _parienti_. - -"Yes," Julian answered bewildered, almost stunned, as one thing after -another seemed--with crushing force--to be sweeping away for ever all -possibility of George Ritherdon's story having had any foundation in -fact, any likelihood of being aught else but the chimera of a -distraught brain; "yes, I can perceive it. I--I--wondered where I had -seen your face before, when I first entered the room. Now I know." - -"And," Sebastian exclaimed, slapping his newly found kinsmen somewhat -boisterously on the back, "and we are cousins. So much the better! For -my part I am heartily glad to meet a relation. Now--come--let us be -off to Desolada. You were on your way there, no doubt. Well! you shall -have a cordial welcome. The best I can offer. You know that the -Spaniards always call their house 'their guests' house.' And my house -shall be yours. For as long as you like to make it so." - -"You are very good," Julian said haltingly, feeling, too, that he was -no longer master of himself, no longer possessed of all that ease -which he had, until to-day, imagined himself to be in full possession -of. "Very good indeed. And what you say is the case. I was on my -way--I--had a desire to see the place in which your and my father -lived." - -"You shall see it, you shall be most welcome. And," Sebastian -continued, "you will find it big enough. It is a vast rambling place, -half wood, half brick, constructed originally by Spanish settlers, so -that it is over a hundred years old. The name is a mournful one, yet -it has always been retained. And once it was appropriate enough. There -was scarcely another dwelling near it for miles--as a matter of fact, -there are hardly any now. The nearest, which is a place called 'La -Superba,' is five miles farther on." - -They went out together now to the front of the inn--Julian observing -that still the negro slept on in the entrance-hall and still the -dog slept on in the sun outside--and here Sebastian, finding the -good-looking horse, began to untether it, while Julian did the same -for his mustang. They were the only two animals now left standing in -the shade thrown by the house, since all the men--including he who had -stayed last and listened to their conversation--were gone. The girl, -however, still remained, and to her Sebastian spoke, bidding her make -her way through the bypaths of the forest to Desolada and state that -he and his guest were coming. - -"Who is she?" asked Julian, feeling that it was incumbent on him to -evince some interest in this new-found "cousin's" affairs; while, as -was not surprising, he really felt too dazed to heed much that was -passing around him. The astonishment, the bewilderment that had fallen -on him owing to the events of the last half-hour, the startling -information he had received, all of which tended, if it did anything, -to disprove every word that George Ritherdon had uttered prior to his -death--were enough to daze a man of even cooler instincts than he -possessed. - -"She," said Sebastian, with a half laugh, a laugh in which contempt -was strangely discernible, "she, oh! she's a half-breed--Spanish and -native mixed--named Zara. She was born on our place and turns her hand -to anything required, from milking the goats to superintending the -negroes." - -"She seems to know how to turn her hand to a roulette wheel also," -Julian remarked, still endeavouring to frame some sentences which -should pass muster for the ordinary courteous attention expected from -a newly found relation, who had also, now, assumed the character of -guest. - -"Yes," Sebastian answered. "Yes, she can do that too. I suppose you -were surprised at finding all the implements of a gambling room here! -Yet, if you lived in the colony it would not seem so strange. We -planters, especially in the wild parts, must have some amusement, even -though it's illegal. Therefore, we meet three times a week at the inn, -and the man who is willing to put down the most money takes the bank. -It happened to me to-day." - -"And, as in the case of most hot countries," said Julian, forcing -himself to be interested, "a servant is used for that portion of the -game which necessitates exertion. I understand! In some tropical -countries I have known, men bring their servants to deal for them at -whist and mark their game." - -"You have seen a great deal of the world as a sailor?" the other -asked, while they now wended their way through a thick mangrove wood -in which the monkeys and parrots kept up such an incessant chattering -that they could scarcely hear themselves talk. - -"I have been round it three times," Julian replied; "though, of -course, sailor-like, I know the coast portions of different countries -much better than I do any of the interiors." - -"And I have never been farther away than New Orleans. My mother ca--my -mother always wanted to go there and see it." - -"Was she--your mother from New Orleans?" Julian asked, on the alert at -this moment, he hardly knew why. - -"My mother. Oh! no. She was the daughter of Mr. Leigh, an English -merchant at Belize. But, as you will discover, New Orleans means the -world to us--we all want to go there sometimes." - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -"KNOWLEDGE IS NOT ALWAYS PROOF." - -If there was one desire more paramount than another in Julian's -mind--as now they threaded a campeachy wood dotted here and there with -clumps of cabbage palms while, all around, in the underbrush and -pools, the Caribbean lily grew in thick and luxurious profusion--that -desire was to be alone. To be able to reflect and to think -uninterruptedly, and without being obliged at every moment to listen -to his companion's flow of conversation--which was so unceasing that -it seemed forced--as well as obliged to answer questions and to -display an interest in all that was being said. - -Julian felt, perhaps, this desire the more strongly because, by now, -he was gradually becoming able to collect himself, to adjust his -thoughts and reflections and, thereby, to bring a more calm and clear -insight to bear upon the discovery--so amazing and surprising--which -had come to his knowledge but an hour or so ago. If he were alone now, -he told himself, if he could only get half-an-hour's entire and -uninterrupted freedom for thought, he could, he felt sure, review the -matter with coolness and judgment. Also, he could ponder over one or -two things which, at this moment, struck him with a force they had not -done at the time when they had fallen with stunning--because -unexpected--force upon his brain. Things--namely words and -statements--that might go far towards explaining, if not towards -unravelling, much that had hitherto seemed inexplicable. - -Yet, all the same, he was obliged to confess to himself that one thing -seemed absolutely incapable of explanation. That was, how this man -could be the child of Charles Ritherdon, the late owner of the vast -property through which they were now riding, if his brother George had -been neither demented nor a liar. And that Sebastian should have -invented his statement was obviously incredible for the plain and -simple reasons that he had made it before several witnesses, and that -he was in full possession, as recognised heir, of all that the dead -planter had left behind. - -It was impossible, however, that he could meditate--and, certainly, he -could not follow any train of thought--amid the unfailing flow of -conversation in which his companion indulged. That flow gave him the -impression, as it must have given any other person who might by chance -have overheard it, that it was conversation made for conversation's -sake, or, in other words, made with a determination to preclude all -reflection on Julian's part. From one thing to another this man, -called Sebastian Ritherdon, wandered--from the trade of the colony to -its products and vegetation, to the climate, the melancholy and -loneliness of life in the whole district, the absence of news and of -excitement, the stagnation of everything except the power of making -money by exportation. Then, when all these topics appeared to be -thoroughly beaten out and exhausted, Sebastian Ritherdon recurred to a -remark made during the earlier part of their ride, and said: - -"So you have a letter of introduction to the Sprangers? Well! you -should present it. Old Spranger is a pleasant, agreeable man, while as -for Beatrix, his daughter, she is a beautiful girl. Wasted here, -though." - -"Is she?" said Julian. "Are there, then, no eligible men in British -Honduras who could prevent a beautiful girl from failing in what every -beautiful girl hopes to accomplish--namely getting well settled?" - -"Oh, yes!" the other answered, and now it seemed to Julian as though -in his tone there was something which spoke of disappointment, if not -of regret, personal to the man himself. "Oh, yes! There are such men -among us. Men well-to-do, large owners of remunerative estates, -capitalists employing a good deal of labour, and so forth. -Only--only----" - -"Only what?" - -"Well--oh! I don't know; perhaps we are not quite her class, her -style. In England the Sprangers are somebody, I believe, and Beatrix -is consequently rather difficult to please. At any rate I know she has -rejected more than one good offer. She will never marry any colonist." - -Then, as Julian turned his eyes on Sebastian Ritherdon, he felt as -sure as if the man had told him so himself that he was one of the -rejected. - -"I intend to present that letter of introduction, you know," he said a -moment later. "In fact I intended to do so from the first. Now, your -description of Miss Spranger makes me the more eager." - -"You may suit her," the other replied. "I mean, of course, as a -friend, a companion. You are a naval officer, consequently a gentleman -in manners, a man of the world and of society. As for us, well, we may -be gentlemen, too, only we don't, of course, know much about society -manners." - -He paused a moment--it was indeed the longest pause he had made for -some time; then he said, "When do you propose to go to see them?" - -"I rather thought I would go back to Belize to-morrow," Julian -answered. - -"To-morrow!" - -"Yes. I--I--feel I ought not to be in the country and not present that -letter." - -"To-morrow!" Sebastian Ritherdon said again. "To-morrow! That won't -give me much of your society. And I'm your cousin." - -"Oh!" said Julian, forcing a smile, "you will have plenty of that--of -my society--I'm afraid. I have a long leave, and if you will have me, -I will promise to weary you sufficiently before I finally depart. You -will be tired enough of me ere then." - -To his surprise--since nothing that the other said (and not even the -fact that the man was undoubtedly regarded by all who knew him as the -son and heir of Mr. Ritherdon and was in absolute fact in full -possession of the rights of such an heir) could make Julian believe -that his presence was a welcome one--to his surprise, Sebastian -Ritherdon greeted his remark with effusion. None who saw his smile, -and the manner in which his face lit up, could have doubted that the -other's promise to stay as his guest for a considerable time gave him -the greatest pleasure. - -Then, suddenly, while he was telling Julian so, they emerged from one -more glade, leaving behind them all the chattering members of the -animal and feathered world, and came out into a small open plain which -was in a full state of cultivation, while Julian observed a house, -large, spacious and low before them. - -"There is Desolada--the House of Desolation as my poor father used to -call it, for some reason of his own--there is my property, to which -you will always be welcome." - -His property! Julian thought, even as he gazed upon the mansion (for -such it was); his property! And he had left England, had travelled -thousands of miles to reach it, thinking that, instead, it was _his_. -That he would find it awaiting an owner--perhaps in charge of some -Government official, but still awaiting an owner--himself. Yet, now, -how different all was from what he had imagined--how different! In -England, on the voyage, the journey from New York to New Orleans, nay! -until four hours ago, he thought that he would have but to tell his -story after taking a hasty view of Desolada and its surroundings to -prove that he was the son who had suddenly disappeared a day or so -after his birth: to show that he was the missing, kidnapped child. He -would have but to proclaim himself and be acknowledged. - -But, lo! how changed all appeared now. There was no missing, kidnapped -heir--there could not be if the man by his side had spoken the -truth--and how could he have spoken untruthfully here, in this -country, in this district, where a falsehood such as that statement -would have been (if not capable of immediate and universal -corroboration), was open to instant denial? There must be hundreds of -people in the colony who had known Sebastian Ritherdon from his -infancy; every one in the colony would have been acquainted with such -a fact as the kidnapping of the wealthy Mr. Ritherdon's heir if it had -ever taken place, and, in such circumstances, there could have been no -Sebastian. Yet here he was by Julian's side escorting him to his own -house, proclaiming himself the owner of that house and property. -Surely it was impossible that the statement could be untrue! - -Yet, if true, who was he himself? What! What could he be but a man who -had been used by his dying father as one who, by an imposture, might -be made the instrument of a long-conceived desire for vengeance--a -vengeance to be worked out by fraud? A man who would at once have been -branded as an impostor had he but made the claim he had quitted -England with the intention of making. - -Under the palms--which grew in groves and were used as -shade-trees--beneath the umbrageous figs, through a garden -in which the oleanders flowered luxuriously, and the plants and -mignonette-trees perfumed deliciously the evening air, while -flamboyants--bearing masses of scarlet, bloodlike flowers--allamandas, -and temple-plants gave a brilliant colouring to the scene, they rode -up to the steps of the house, around the whole of which there was a -wooden balcony. Standing upon that balcony, which was made to traverse -the vast mansion so that, no matter where the sun happened to be, it -could be avoided, was a woman, smiling and waving her hand to -Sebastian, although it seemed that, in the salutation, the newcomer -was included. A woman who, in the shadow which enveloped her, since -now the sun had sunk away to the back, appeared so dark of complexion -as to suggest that in her veins there ran the dark blood of Africa. - -Yet, a moment later, as Sebastian Ritherdon presented Julian to her, -terming him "a new-found cousin," the latter was able to perceive that -the shadows of the coming tropical night had played tricks with him. -In this woman's veins there ran no drop of black blood; instead, she -was only a dark, handsome Creole--one who, in her day, must have been -even more than handsome--must have possessed superb beauty. - -But that day had passed now, she evidently being near her fiftieth -year, though the clear ivory complexion, the black curling hair, in -which scarcely a grey streak was visible, the soft rounded features -and the dark eyes, still full of lustre, proclaimed distinctly what -her beauty must have been in long past days. Also, Julian noticed, as -she held out a white slim hand and murmured some words of cordial -welcome to him, that her figure, lithe and sinuous, was one that might -have become a woman young enough to have been her daughter. Only--he -thought--it was almost too lithe and sinuous: it reminded him too much -of a tiger he had once stalked in India, and of how he had seen the -striped body creeping in and out of the jungle. - -"This is Madame Carmaux," Sebastian said to Julian, as the latter -bowed before her, "a relation of my late mother. She has been here -many years--even before that mother died. And--she has been one to me -as well as fulfilling all the duties of the lady of the house both for -my father and, now, for myself." - -Then, after Julian had muttered some suitable words and had once more -received a gracious smile from the owner of those dark eyes, Sebastian -said, "Now, you would like to make some kind of toilette, I suppose, -before the evening meal. Come, I will show you your room." And he led -the way up the vast campeachy-wood staircase to the floor above. - -Tropical nights fall swiftly directly the sun has disappeared, as it -had now done behind the still gilded crests of the Cockscomb range, -and Julian, standing on his balcony after the other had left him and -gazing out on all around, wondered what was to be the outcome of this -visit to Honduras. He pondered, too, as he had pondered before, -whether George Ritherdon had in truth been a madman or one who had -plotted a strange scheme of revenge against his brother; a scheme -which now could never be perfected. Or--for he mused on this also--had -George Ritherdon spoken the truth, had Sebastian---- - -The current of his thoughts was broken, even as he arrived at this -point, by hearing beneath him on the under balcony the voice of -Sebastian speaking in tones low but clear and distinct--by hearing -that voice say, as though in answer to another's question: - -"Know--of course he must know! But knowledge is not always proof." - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -MADAME CARMAUX TAKES A NAP. - - -On that night when Sebastian Ritherdon escorted Julian once more up -the great campeachy-wood staircase to the room allotted to him, he had -extorted a promise from his guest that he would stay at least one day -before breaking his visit by another to Sprangers. - -"For," he had said before, down in the vast dining-room--which would -almost have served for a modern Continental hotel--and now said again -ere he bid his cousin "good-night," "for what does one day matter? -And, you know, you can return to Belize twice as fast as you came -here." - -"How so?" asked Julian, while, as he spoke, his eyes were roaming -round the great desolate corridors of the first floor, and he was, -almost unknowingly to himself, peering down those corridors amid the -shadows which the lamp that Sebastian carried scarcely served to -illuminate. "How so?" - -"Why, first, you know your road now. Then, next, I can mount you on a -good swift trotting horse that will do the journey in a third of the -time that mustang took to get you along. How ever did you become -possessed of such a creature? We rarely see them here." - -"I hired it from the man who kept the hotel. He said it was the proper -thing to do the journey with." - -"Proper thing, indeed! More proper to assist the bullocks and mules in -transporting the mahogany and campeachy, or the fruits, from the -interior to the coast. However, you shall have a good trotting Spanish -horse to take you into Belize, and I'll send your creature back -later." - -Then, after wishing each other good-night, Julian entered the room, -Sebastian handing him the lamp he had carried upstairs to light the -way. - -"I can find my own way down again in the dark very well," the latter -said. "I ought to be able to do so in the house I was born in and have -lived in all my life. Good-night." - -At last Julian was alone. Alone with some hours before him in which he -could reflect and meditate on the occurrences of this eventful day. - -He did now that which perhaps, every man, no matter how courageous he -might have been, would have done in similar circumstances. He made a -careful inspection of the room, looking into a large wardrobe which -stood in the corner, and, it must be admitted, under the bed also; -which, as is the case in most tropical climates, stood in the middle -of the room, so that the mosquitoes that harboured in the whitewashed -walls should have less opportunity of forcing their way through the -gauze nets which protected the bed. Then, having completed this survey -to his satisfaction, he put his hand into his breast and drew from a -pocket inside his waistcoat that which, it may well be surmised, he -was not very likely to be without here. This was an express revolver. - -"That's all right," he said as, after a glance at the chambers, he -laid it on the table by his side. "You have been of use before, my -friend, in other parts of the world and, although you are not likely -to be wanted here, you don't take up much room." - -"Now," he went on to himself, "for a good long think, as the paymaster -of the Mongoose always used to say before he fell asleep in the -wardroom and drove everybody else out of it with his snores. Only, -first there are one or two other little things to be done." - -Whereon he walked out on to the balcony--the windows of course being -open--and gave a long and searching glance around, above, and below -him. Below, to where was the veranda of the lower or ground floor, -with, standing about, two or three Singapore chairs covered with -chintz, a small table and, upon it, a bottle of spirits and some -glasses as well as a large carafe of water. All these things were -perfectly visible because, from the room beneath him, there streamed -out a strong light from the oil lamp which stood on the table within -that room, while, even though such had not been the case, Julian was -perfectly well aware that they were there. - -He and Sebastian had sat in those chairs for more than an hour talking -after the evening meal, while Madame Carmaux, whose other name he -learnt was Miriam, had sat in another, perusing by the light of the -lamp the Belize Advertiser. Yet, now and again, it had seemed to -Julian as though, while those dark eyes had been fixed on the sheet, -their owner's attention had been otherwise occupied, or else that she -read very slowly. For once, when he had been giving a very guarded -description of George Ritherdon's life in England during the last few -years, he had seen them rest momentarily upon his face, and then be -quickly withdrawn. Also, he had observed, the newspaper had never been -turned once. - -"Now," he said again to himself, "now, let us think it all out and -come to some decision as to what it all means. Let us see. Let me go -over everything that has happened since I pulled up outside that -inn--or gambling house!" - -He was, perhaps, a little more methodical than most young men; the -habit being doubtless born of many examinations at Greenwich, of a -long course in H.M.S. Excellent, and, possibly, of the fact that he -had done what sailors call a lot of "logging" in his time, both as -watchkeeper and when in command of a destroyer. Therefore, he drew -from his pocket a rather large, but somewhat unbusinesslike-looking -pocketbook--since it was bound in crushed morocco and had its leaves -gilt-edged--and, ruthlessly tearing out a sheet of paper, he withdrew -the pencil from its place and prepared to make notes. - -"No orders as to 'lights out,'" he muttered to himself before -beginning. "I suppose I may sit up as long as I like." - -Then, after a few moments' reflection, he jotted down: - -"S. didn't seem astonished to see me. (Qy?) Ought to have done so, if -I came as a surprise to him. Can't ever have heard of me before. -Consequently it was a surprise. Said who he was, and was particularly -careful to say who his mother was, viz. I. S. R. (Qy?) Isn't that odd? -Known many people who tell you who their father was. Never knew 'em -lug in their mother's name, though, except when very swagger. Says -Madame Carmaux relative of his mother, yet Isobel Leigh was daughter -of English planter. C's not a full-bred Englishwoman, and her name's -French. That's nothing, though. Perhaps married a Frenchman." - -These little notes--which filled the detached sheet of the ornamental -pocketbook--being written down, Julian, before taking another, sat -back in his chair to ponder; yet his musings were not satisfactory, -and, indeed, did not tend to enlighten him very much, which, as a -matter of fact, they were not very likely to do. - -"He must be the _right_ man, after all, and I must be the wrong one," -he said to himself. "It is impossible the thing can be otherwise. A -child kidnapped would make such a sensation in a place like this that -the affair would furnish gossip for the next fifty years. Also, if a -child was kidnapped, how on earth has this man grown up here and now -inherited the property? If I was actually the child I certainly didn't -grow up here, and if he was the child and did grow up here then there -was no kidnapping." - -Indeed, by the time that Julian had arrived at this rather complicated -result, he began to feel that his brain was getting into a whirl, and -he came to a hasty resolution. That resolution was that he would -abandon this business altogether; that, on the next day but one, he -would go to Belize and pay his visit to the Sprangers, while, when -that visit was concluded, he would, instead of returning to Desolada, -set out on his return journey to England. - -"Even though my uncle--if he was my uncle and not my father--spoke the -truth and told everything exactly as it occurred, how is it to be -proved? How can any legal power on earth dispossess a man who has been -brought up here from his infancy, in favour of one who comes without -any evidence in his favour, since that certificate of my baptism in -New Orleans, although it states me to be the son of the late owner of -this place, cannot be substantiated? Any man might have taken any -child and had such an entry as that made. And if he--he my uncle, or -my father--could conceive such a scheme as he revealed to me--or _such -a scheme as he did not reveal to me_--then, the entry at New Orleans -would not present much difficulty to one like him. It is proof--proof -that it be----" He stopped in his meditations--stopped, wondering -where he had heard something said about "proof" before on this -evening. - -Then, in a moment, he recalled the almost whispered words; the words -that in absolute fact were whispered from the balcony below, before he -went down to take his seat at the supper table; the utterance of -Sebastian: - -"Know--of course he must know. But knowledge is not always proof." - -How strange it was, he thought, that, while he had been indulging in -his musings, jotting down his little facts on the sheet of paper, he -should have forgotten those words. - -"Knowledge is not always proof." What knowledge? Whose? Whose could it -be but his! Whose knowledge that was not proof had Sebastian referred -to? Then again, in a moment--again suddenly--he came to another -determination, another resolve. He did possess some knowledge that -this man, Sebastian could not dispute--for it would have been folly to -imagine he had been speaking of any one else but him--though he had no -proof. So be it, only, now, he would endeavour to discover a proof -that should justify such knowledge. He would not slink away from the -colony until he had exhausted every attempt to discover that proof. If -it was to be found he would find it. - -Perhaps, after all, his uncle was his uncle, perhaps that uncle had -undoubtedly uttered the truth. - -He rose now, preparing to go to bed, and as he did so a slight breeze -rattled the slats of the green persianas, or, as they are called in -England, Venetian blinds--a breeze that in tropical land often rises -as the night goes on. It was a cooling pleasant one, and he remembered -that he had heard it rustling the slats before, when he was engaged in -making his notes. - -Yet, now, regarding those green strips of wood, he felt a little -astonished at what he saw. He had carefully let the blinds of both -windows down and turned the laths so that neither bats nor moths, nor -any of the flying insect world which are the curse of the tropics at -night, should force their way in, attracted by the flame of the lamp; -but now, one of those laths was turned--turned, so that, instead of -being downwards and forming with the others a compact screen from the -outside, it was in a flat or horizontal position, leaving an open -space of an inch between it and the one above and the next below. A -slat that was above five feet from the bottom of the blind. - -He stood there regarding it for a moment; then, dropping the revolver -into his pocket, he went towards the window and with his finger and -thumb put back the lath into the position he had originally placed it, -feeling as he did so that it did not move smoothly, but, instead, a -little stiffly. - -"There has been no wind coming up from the sea that would do that," he -reflected, "and, if it had come, then it would have turned more than -one. I wonder whether," and now he felt a slight sensation of -creepiness coming over him, "if I had raised my eyes as I sat writing, -I should have met another pair of eyes looking in on me. Very likely. -The turning of that one lath made a peep-hole." - -He pulled the blind up now without any attempt at concealing the noise -it caused--that well-known clatter made by such blinds as they are -hastily drawn up--and walked out on to the long balcony and peered -over on to the one beneath, seeing that Madame Carmaux was asleep in -the wicker chair which she had sat in during the evening, and that the -newspaper lay in her lap. He saw, too, that Sebastian Ritherdon was -also sitting in his chair, but that, aroused by the noise of the -blind, he had bent his body backwards over the veranda rail and, with -upturned face, was regarding the spot at which Julian might be -expected to appear. - -"Not gone to bed, yet, old fellow," he called out now, on seeing the -other lean over the balcony rail; while Julian observed that Madame -Carmaux opened her eyes with a dazzled look--the look which those have -on their faces who are suddenly startled out of a light nap. - -And for some reason--since he was growing suspicious--he believed that -look to have been assumed as well as the slumber which had apparently -preceded it. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -A MIDNIGHT VISITOR. - - -"Not yet," Julian called down in answer to the other's remark, "though -I am going directly. Only it is so hot. I hope I am not disturbing the -house." - -"Not at all. Do what you like. We often sit here till long after -midnight, since it is the only cool time of the twenty-four hours. -Will you come down again and join us?" - -"No, if you'll excuse me. I'll take a turn or two here and then go to -bed." - -Whereon as he spoke, he began to walk up and down the balcony. - -It ran (as has been said of the lower one on which Sebastian and -Madame Carmaux were seated) round the whole of the house, so that, had -Julian desired to do so, he could have commenced a tour of the -building which, by being continued, would eventually have brought him -back to the spot where he now was. He contented himself, however, with -commencing to walk towards the right-hand corner of the great rambling -mansion, proceeding as far upon it as led to where the balcony turned -at the angle, then, after a glance down its--at that place--darkened -length, he retraced his steps, meaning to proceed to the opposite or -left-hand corner. - -Doing so, however, and coming thus in front of his bedroom window, -from which, since the blind was up, the light of his lamp streamed out -on to the broad wooden floor of the balcony, he saw lying at his feet -a small object which formed a patch of colour on the dark boards. A -patch which was of a pale roseate hue, the thing being, indeed, a -little spray, now dry and faded, of the oleander flower. And he knew, -felt sure, where he had seen that spray before. - -"I know now," he said to himself, "who turned the slat--who stood -outside my window looking in on me." - -Picking up the withered thing, he, nevertheless, continued his stroll -along the balcony until he arrived at the left angle of the house, -when he was able to glance down the whole of that side of it, this -being as much in the dark and unrelieved by any light from within as -the corresponding right side had been. Unrelieved, that is, by any -light except the gleam of the great stars which here glisten with an -incandescent whiteness; and in that gleam he saw sitting on the floor -of the balcony--her back against the wall, her arms over her knees and -her head sunk on those arms--the half-caste girl, Zara, the croupier -of the gambling-table to which Sebastian had supplied the "bank" that -morning at All Pines. - -"You have dropped this flower from your hair," he said, tossing it -lightly down to her, while she turned up her dark, dusky eyes at him -and, picking up the withered spray, tossed it in her turn -contemptuously over the balcony. But she said nothing and, a moment -later, let her head droop once more towards her arms. - -"Do you pass the night here?" he said now. "Surely it is not wholesome -to keep out in open air like this." - -"I sit here often," she replied, "before going to bed in my room -behind. The rooms are too warm. I disturb no one." - -For a moment he felt disposed to say that it would disturb him if she -should again take it into her head to turn his blinds, but, on second -considerations, he held his peace. To know a thing and not to divulge -one's knowledge is, he reflected, sometimes to possess a secret--a -clue--a warning worth having; to possess, indeed, something that may -be of use to us in the future if not now, while, for the rest--well! -the returning of the spray to her had, doubtless, informed the girl -sufficiently that he was acquainted with the fact of how she had been -outside his window, and that it was she who had opened his blind wide -enough to allow her to peer in on him. - -"Good-night," he said, turning away. "Good-night," and without waiting -to hear whether she returned the greeting or not, he went back to the -bedroom. Yet, before he entered it, he bent over the balcony and -called down another "good-night" to Sebastian, who, he noticed, had -now been deserted by Madame Carmaux. - -For some considerable time after this he walked about his room; long -enough, indeed, to give Sebastian the idea that he was preparing for -bed, then, although he had removed none of his clothing except his -boots, he put out the lamp. - -"If the young lady is desirous of observing me again," he reflected, -"she can do so. Yet if she does, it will not be without my knowing it. -And if she should pay me another visit--why, we shall see." - -But, all the same, and because he thought it not at all unlikely that -some other visitor than the girl might make her way, not only to the -blind itself but even to the room, he laid his right arm along the -table so that his fingers were touching the revolver that he had now -placed on that table. - -"I haven't taken countless middle watches for nothing in my time," he -said to himself; "another won't hurt me. If I do drop asleep, I -imagine I shall wake up pretty easily." - -He was on the alert now, and not only on the alert as to any one who -might be disposed to pay him a nocturnal visit, but, also, mentally -wary as to what might be the truth concerning Sebastian Ritherdon and -himself. For, strange to say, there was a singular revulsion of -feeling going on in his mind at this time; strange because, at -present, scarcely anything of considerable importance, scarcely -anything sufficiently tangible, had occurred to produce this new -conviction that Sebastian's story was untrue, and that the other story -told by his uncle before his death was the right one. - -All the same, the conviction was growing in his mind; growing -steadily, although perhaps without any just reason or cause for its -growth. Meanwhile, his ears now told him that, although Madame Carmaux -was absent when he glanced over the balcony to wish Sebastian that -last greeting, she undoubtedly had not gone to bed. From below, in the -intense stillness of the tropic night--a stillness broken only -occasionally by the cry of some bird from the plantation beyond the -cultivated gardens, he heard the soft luscious tones of the woman -herself--and those who are familiar with the tones of southern women -will recall how luscious the murmur can be; he heard, too, the deeper -notes of the man. Yet what they said to each other in subdued whispers -was unintelligible to him; beyond a word here and there nothing -reached his ears. - -With the feeling of conviction growing stronger and stronger in his -mind that there was some deception about the whole affair--that, -plausible as Sebastian's possession of all which the dead man had left -behind appeared; plausible, too, as was his undoubted position here -and had been from his very earliest days, Julian would have given much -now to overhear their conversation--a conversation which, he felt -certain, in spite of it taking place thirty feet below where he was -supposed to be by now asleep, related to his appearance on the scene. - -Would it be possible? Could he in any way manage to thus overhear it? -If he were nearer to the persianas, his ear close to the slats, his -head placed down low, close to the boards of the room and of the -balcony as well--what might not be overheard? - -Thinking thus, he resolved to make the attempt, even while he told -himself that in no other circumstances would he--a gentleman, a man of -honour--resort to such a scheme of prying interference. But--for still -the certainty increased in his mind that there was some deceit, some -fraud in connection with Sebastian Ritherdon's possession of Desolada -and all that Desolada represented in value--he did not hesitate now. -As once he, with some of his bluejackets, had tracked slavers from the -sea for miles inland and into the coast swamps and fever-haunted -interior of the great Black Continent, so now he would track this -man's devious and doubtful existence, as, remembering George -Ritherdon's story, it seemed to him to be. If he had wronged -Sebastian, if he had formed a false estimate of his possession of this -place and of his right to the name he bore, no harm would be done. For -then he would go away from Honduras for ever, leaving the man in -peaceable possession of all that was rightly his. But, if his -suspicions were not wrong---- - -He let himself down to the floor from the chair on which he had been -sitting in the dark for now nearly an hour, and, quietly, noiselessly, -he progressed along that solid floor--one so well laid in the past -that no board either creaked or made any noise--and thus he reached -the balcony, there interposing nothing now between him and it but the -lowered blind. - -Then when he had arrived there, he heard their voices plainly; heard -every word that fell from their lips--the soft murmur of the woman's -tones, the deeper, more guttural notes of the man. - -Only--he might as well have been a mile away from where they sat, he -might as well have been stone deaf as able to thus easily overhear -those words. - -For Sebastian and his companion were speaking in a tongue that was -unknown to him; a tongue that, in spite of the Spanish surroundings -and influences which still linger in all places forming parts of -Central America, was not Spanish. Of this language he, like most -sailors, knew something; therefore he was aware that it was not that, -as well as he was aware that it was not French. Perhaps 'twas Maya, -which he had been told in Belize was the native jargon, or Carib, -which was spoken along the coast. - -And almost, as he recognised how he was baffled, could he have laughed -bitterly at himself. "What a fool I must have been," he thought, "to -suppose that if they had any confidences to make to each other, any -secrets to talk over in which I was concerned they would discuss them -in a language I should be likely to understand." - -But there are some words, especially those which express names, which -cannot be translated into a foreign tongue. Among such, Ritherdon -would be one. Julian, too, is another, with only the addition of the -letter "o" at the end in Spanish (and perhaps also in Maya or Carib), -and George, which, though spelt Jorge, has, in speaking, nearly the -same pronunciation. And these names met his ear as did others: -Inglaterra--the name of the woman Isobel Leigh, whom Julian believed -to have been his mother, but whom Sebastian asserted to have been -his; also the name of that fair American city lying to the north of -them--New Orleans--it being referred to, of course, in the Spanish -tongue. - -"So," he thought to himself, "it is of me they are talking. Of -me--which would not, perhaps, be strange, since a guest so suddenly -received into the house and having the name of Ritherdon might well -furnish food for conversation. But, when coupled with George -Ritherdon, with New Orleans, above all with the name of Isobel -Leigh----" - -Even as that name was in his mind, he heard it again mentioned below -by the woman--Madame Carmaux. Mentioned, too, in conjunction with and -followed by a light, subdued laugh; a laugh in which his acuteness -could hear an undercurrent of bitterness--perhaps of derision. - -"And she was this woman's relative," he thought, "her relative! Yet -now she is jeered at, spoken scornfully of by----" - -In amazement he paused, even while his reflections arrived at this -stage. - -In front of where his eyes were, low down to the floor of the balcony, -something dark and sombre passed, then returned and stopped before -him, blotting from his eyes all that lay in front of them--the tops of -the palms, the woods beyond the garden, the dark sea beyond that. Like -a pall it rested before his vision, obscuring, blurring everything. -And, a moment later, he recognised that it was a woman's dress which -thus impeded his view, while, as he did so, he heard some five feet -above him a light click made by one of the slats. - -Then, with an upward glance of his eyes, that glance being aided by a -noiseless turn of his head, he saw that a finger was holding back the -lath, and knew--felt sure--that into the darkness of the room two -other eyes were gazing. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -BEATRIX. - - -Thirty-six hours later Julian Ritherdon sat among very different -surroundings from those of Desolada; certainly very different ones -from those of his first night in the gloomy, mysterious house owned by -that other man who bore his name. - -He was seated now in a wicker chair placed beneath the cool shadow -cast by a vast clump of "shade-trees," as the royal palm, the thatch -palm, and, indeed, almost every kind and species of that form of -vegetation are denominated. These shade-trees grew in the pretty and -luxuriant garden of Mr. Spranger's house on the southern outskirts of -Belize, a garden in which, for some years now, Beatrix Spranger had -passed the greater part of her days, and sometimes when the hot simoon -was on, as it was now, and the temperature scarcely ever fell below -85°, a good deal of the early part of her nights. - -She, too, was seated in that garden now, talking to Julian, while -between them there lay two or three books and London magazines (three -or four months old), a copy of the Times of the same ancient date, and -another of the Belize Advertiser fresh from the local press. Yet -neither the news from London which had long since been published, nor -that of the immediate neighbourhood, which was quite new but not -particularly exciting, seemed to have been able to secure much of -their attention. And this for a reason which was a simple one and -easily to be understood. All their attention was at the present moment -concentrated on each other. - -"You cannot think," Beatrix Spranger was saying now, "what a welcome -event the arrival of a stranger is to us here, who regard ourselves -more or less as exiles for the time being. Moreover," she continued, -without any of that false shame which a young lady at home in England -might have thought necessary to assume, even though she did not -actually feel it, "it seems to me that you are a very interesting -person, Lieutenant Ritherdon. You have dropped down into a place where -your name happens to be extremely well known, yet in which no one ever -imagined that there was any other Ritherdon in existence anywhere, -except the late and the present owners of Desolada." - -"People, even exiles, have relatives sometimes in other parts of the -world," Julian murmured rather languidly--the effect of the heat and -the perfume of the flowers in the garden being upon him--"and you -know----" - -"Oh! yes," the girl said, with an answering smile. "I do know all -that. Only I happen to know something else, too. You see we--that is, -father and I--are acquainted with your cousin, and we knew his father -before him. And it is a rather singular thing that they have always -given us to understand that, so far as they were aware, they hadn't a -relation in the world." - -"They had, though, you see, all the same. Indeed, they had two until a -short time ago; namely, when my father, Mr. George Ritherdon, was -alive." - -"Mr. Ritherdon, Sebastian's father, hadn't seen him for many years, -had he? He didn't often speak of him, and always gave people the idea -that his brother was dead. I suppose they had not parted the best of -friends?" - -"No," Julian answered quietly, "I don't think they had. As a matter of -fact, my--George Ritherdon--was almost, indeed quite, as reticent -about his brother Charles as Charles seems to have been about him." -Then, suddenly changing the subject, he said: "Is Sebastian popular -hereabouts. Is he liked?" - -"No," the girl replied, rather more frankly than Julian had expected, -while, as she did so, she lifted a pair of beautiful blue eyes to his -face. "No, I don't think he is, since you ask me." - -"Why not? You may tell me candidly, Miss Spranger, especially as you -know that to-night I am going to have a rather serious interview with -your father, and shall ask him for his advice and assistance on a -matter in which I require his counsel." - -"Oh! I don't know quite," the girl said now. "Only--only--well! you -know--because you have told us that you saw him doing it--he--he--is -too fond of play, of gambling. People say--different things. Some that -he is ruining his brother planters, and others that he is ruining -himself. Then he has the reputation of being very hard and cruel to -some of his servants. You know, we have coolies and negroes and Caribs -and natives here, and a good many of them are bound to the employers -for a term of years--and--and--well--if one feels inclined to be -cruel--they can be." - -As she spoke of this, Julian recognised how he had been within an ace -of discovering, some time before he reached the inn at All Pines, that -the late Mr. Ritherdon had not died without leaving an heir, apparent -or presumptive, as he had supposed when he landed at Belize. The negro -guide on whom he had bestowed so many good-humoured sobriquets had -spoken of Mr. Ritherdon as being a hard and cruel man, both to blacks -and whites. But--in his ignorance, which was natural enough--he had -supposed that the statement could only have applied to the one owner -of Desolada of whom he had ever heard--the man lately dead. - -Now, he reflected, he wished he had really understood to whom that -negro referred. It might have made a difference in his plans, he -thought; might have prevented him from going on farther on the road to -All Pines and Desolada; from meeting this unexpected, unknown of, -possessor of what he believed to be his, until those plans had become -more matured. Until, too, he had had time to decide in what form, if -any, he should present himself before the man who was called Sebastian -Ritherdon. - -However, it was done. He had presented himself and, if he knew -anything of human nature, if he could read a character at all, his -appearance had caused considerable excitement in the minds of both -Sebastian Ritherdon and Madame Carmaux. - -"Do _you_ like Sebastian?" he asked now, and he could scarcely have -explained why he was anxious to hear a denial of any liking for that -person on the part of Beatrix Spranger. It may have been, he thought, -because this girl, with her soft English beauty, which the climate of -British Honduras during some years of residence had--certainly, as -yet--had no power to impair, seemed to him far too precious a thing to -be wasted on a man such as Sebastian was--rough, a gambler, and -possessing cruel instincts. - -"Do you think I should like him?" she asked in her turn, and again the -eyes which he thought were so beautiful glanced at him from beneath -their thick lashes, "after what I have told you of the character he -bears? What I have told you, perhaps, far too candidly, saying more -than I ought to have done." - -"Do not think that," he made haste to exclaim. "To-night I am going to -be even more frank with Mr. Spranger. I am going to tell him one or -two things in connection with my 'cousin,' when I ask him for his -assistance and advice, which will make your father at least imagine -that I have not formed a very favourable impression of my new-found -relative." - -"And mayn't I be told, too--now?" she asked, thoroughly womanlike. - -"Not yet," he answered, with a smile. "Not yet. Later--perhaps." - -"Oh!" she exclaimed, with something that might almost be described as -a pout. "Oh! Not even after my candour about your cousin! You _are_ a -man of mystery, Lieutenant Ritherdon. Why! you won't even tell us how -it happens that you arrived here from Desolada with that round your -arm," and as she spoke she directed her blue eyes to a sling around -his neck in which his arm reposed. "Nor that," she added, nodding now -towards his forehead, where, on the left side, were affixed two or -three pieces of sticking-plaster. - -"Yes," he said, "I will tell you that. I feel, indeed, that I ought to -do so, if only as an apology for presenting myself before you in such -a guise. You see, it is so easy to explain this, that it is not worth -making any mystery about it. It all comes from the fact that I am a -sailor, and sailors are proverbial for being very bad riders," and as -he spoke he accompanied his words with another smile. - -But Beatrix did not smile in return. Instead, she said, half gravely, -perhaps almost half severely: "Go on. Lieutenant Ritherdon, if you -please. I wish to hear how the accident happened," while she added -impressively, "on your journey from Desolada to Belize." - -"I'm a bad rider," he said again, but once more meeting her glance, he -altered his mode of speech and said: - -"Well, you see, Miss Spranger, it happened this way. I set out on my -journey of inspection, on my road to Desolada, on a rather ancient -mustang which the worthy landlord of the hotel with a queer Spanish -name recommended to me as the proper thing to do the journey easily -on. Later, when I had made Sebastian's acquaintance, he rather -ridiculed my good Rosinante." - -"Did he!" Beatrix interjected calmly. - -"He did, indeed. In fact he said such creatures were scarcely ever -used in the colony except for draught purposes. Then he said he would -mount me on a good horse of Spanish breed, such as I believe you use a -great deal here; so that when I was returning to Belize yesterday to -present myself before you and Mr. Spranger, I should be able to make -the journey rapidly and comfortably." - -"That was very kind of him," Beatrix exclaimed. "Though, as you did -not arrive until nine o'clock at night, you hardly seem to have made -it very rapidly, and those things," with again a glance at the sling -and the plasters, "are not usually adjuncts to comfort." - -"Well, you see, I'm a sailor and not a good ri----" - -"Go on, please." - -"Yes, certainly. I started under favourable circumstances at six in -the morning, receiving, I believe, a kind of blessing or benediction -from Sebastian and Madame Carmaux, as well as strong injunctions to -return as soon as possible." - -"People are hospitable in this country," Beatrix again interrupted. - -"We got along very well, anyhow, for a time; at a gentle trot, of -course, because already it was getting hot, and as we neared All Pines -I was just thinking of slowing down to a walk when----" - -"The creature bolted? Was that it?" - -"As a matter of fact it was. By the way, you seem to know the manners -and customs of the animals in this country, Miss Spranger." - -"I know that many lives are lost in this country," the girl said -gravely now, "owing to unbroken horses being ridden too young horses, -too, that are sometimes full of vice. The landlord of the hotel here -did you a better service than your cousin." - -"Perhaps this was one of those horses," Julian remarked. "But, anyhow, -it bolted. Then, a little later, it did something else. It stopped -dead in a gallop and, after nearly shooting me over its head, it -reared upright and did absolutely throw me off it backwards. -Fortunately, I fell at the side of the road onto a sort of undergrowth -full of ferns and interspersed with lovely flowering shrubs; so I got -off with what you see. The horse, however, had killed itself. It fell -over on its back with a tremendous sort of backward bound and, when I -got up and looked at it, it was just dying. Later, I came on from All -Pines in a kind of cart--that is, when I had been bandaged up. -Perhaps, however, it wouldn't have happened if I had not been such a -bad rider and----" - -"It would have happened," Beatrix said, decisively, "if you had been a -circus rider or a cowboy. That is, unless you had been well acquainted -with the horse, and, even then, it would probably have happened just -the same." - -After this they were silent for a little while, Julian availing -himself of Beatrix's permission to smoke, and she sitting meditatively -behind her huge fan. And, although he did not tell her so, Julian -agreed with her that the accident would probably have happened even -though he had been a circus rider or a cowboy, as she had said. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -MR. SPRANGER OBTAINS INFORMATION. - - -Mr. Spranger was at home later in the afternoon, his business for the -day being done, and in the evening they all sat down to dinner in the -now almost cool and airy dining-room of his house. And, at this meal, -Julian thought that Beatrix looked even prettier than she had done in -the blue-and-white striped dress worn by her during the day. She had -on now one of those dinner jackets which young ladies occasionally -assume when not desirous of donning the fullest of evening gowns, and, -as he sat there observing the healthy sunburn of her cheeks (which was -owing to her living so much in the open air) that contrasted markedly -with the whiteness of her throat, he thought she was one of the most -lovely girls he had ever seen. Which from him, who had met so much -beauty in different parts of the world, was a very considerable -compliment--if she had but known it. Also, if the truth must be told, -her piquant shrewdness and vivacity--which she had manifested very -considerably during Julian's description of the vagaries of the animal -lent to him by his cousin--appealed very much to him, so that he could -not help reflecting how, should this girl eventually be made -acquainted with all the doubts and difficulties which now perplexed -him as to his birthright, she might possibly become a very valuable -counsellor. - -"She has ideas about my worthy cousin for some reason," he thought to -himself more than once during dinner, "and most certainly she suspects -him of--well of not having been very careful about the mount he placed -at my disposal. So do I, as a matter of fact--only perhaps it is as -well not to say so just at present." - -Moreover, now was not the time to take her into his confidence; the -evening was required for something else, namely, the counsel and -advice of her father. He had made Mr. Spranger's acquaintance -overnight on his arrival, and, in the morning of the present day, -before that gentleman had departed to his counting house in Belize, he -had asked if he would, in the evening, allow him to have his counsel -on some important reasons connected with his appearance in British -Honduras. Whereon, Mr. Spranger having told him very courteously that -any advice or assistance which he could give should be at his service, -Julian knew that the time had arrived for him to take that gentleman -into his confidence. Arrived, because now, Beatrix, rising from the -table, made her way out to the lawn, where, already, a negro servant -had placed a lamp on the rustic table by which she always sat; she -saying that when they had done their conference they would find her -there. - -"Now, my boy," said Mr. Spranger, who was a hale, jovial Englishman, -on whom neither climate nor exile had any depressing influence, and -who, besides, was delighted to have as his guest a young man who, as -well as being a gentleman, could furnish him with some news of that -far-off world from which he expected to be separated for still some -years. "Now, help yourself to some more claret--it is quite sound and -wholesome--and let me see what I can do for you." - -"It will take some time in the telling," Julian said. "It is a long -story and a strange one." - -"It may take till midnight, if you choose," the other answered. "We -sit up late in this country, so as to profit by the coolest hours of -the day." - -"But--Miss Spranger. Will she not think me very rude to detain you so -long?" - -"No," he replied. "If we do not join her soon, she will understand -that our conversation is of importance." - - -It was nearly midnight when Julian had concluded the whole of his -narrative, he telling Mr. Spranger everything that had occurred from -the time when George Ritherdon had unfolded that strange story in his -Surrey home, until the hour when he himself had arrived at the house -in which he now was, with his arm bandaged up and his head dressed. - -Of course there had been interruptions to the flow of the narrative. -Once they had gone out onto the lawn to bid Beatrix good-night and to -chat with her for a few moments during which Julian had been amply -apologetic for preventing her father from joining her, as well as for -not doing so himself--and, naturally, Mr. Spranger had himself -interrupted the course of the recital by exclamations of astonishment -and with many questions. - -But that recital was finished now, and still the elder man's -bewilderment was extreme. - -"It is the most extraordinary story I ever heard in my life! A -romance. And it seems such a tangled web! How, in Heaven's name, can -your father's, or uncle's, account be the right one?" - -"You do not believe his story?" Julian asked; "you believe Sebastian -is, in absolute fact, Charles Ritherdon's son?" - -"What am I to believe? Just think! That young man has been brought up -here ever since he was a baby; there must be hundreds upon hundreds of -people who can recollect his birth, twenty-six years ago, his -christening, his baptism. And Charles Ritherdon--whom I knew very well -indeed--recognised him, treated him in every way, as his son. He died -leaving him his heir. What can stand against that?" - -"Doubtless it is a mystery. Yet--yet--in spite of all, I cannot -believe that George Ritherdon would have invented such a falsehood. -Remember, Mr. Spranger, I had known him all my life and knew every -side and shade of his character. And--he was dying when he told it all -to me. Would a man go to his grave fabricating, uttering such a lie as -that?" - -For a moment Mr. Spranger did not reply, but sat with his eyes turned -up towards the ceiling of the room--and with, upon his face, that look -which all have seen upon the faces of those who are thinking deeply. -Then at last he said-- - -"Come, let us understand each other. You have asked my advice, my -opinion, as the only man you can consult freely. Now, are we to talk -frankly--am I to talk without giving offence?" - -"That is what I want," Julian said, "what I desire. I must get to the -bottom of this mystery. Heaven knows I don't wish to claim another -man's property--I have no need for it--there is my profession and some -little money left by George Ritherdon. On the other hand, I don't -desire to think of him as dying with such a deception in his heart. I -want to justify him in my eyes." - -Then, because Mr. Spranger still kept silence, he said again: "Pray, -pray tell me what you do think. Pray be frank. No matter what you -say." - -"No," Mr. Spranger said now. "No. Not yet at least. First let us look -at facts. I was not in the colony twenty-six years ago, but of course, -I am acquainted with scores of people who were. And those people knew -old Ritherdon as well as they know me; also they have known Sebastian -all his life. And, you must remember, there are such things as -registers of births, registers kept of baptism, and so forth. What -would you say if you saw the register of Sebastian's birth, as well as -the register of your--of Mrs. Ritherdon's death?" - -"What could I say in such circumstances? Only--why, then, the attempt -to make me break my neck on that horse? Why the half-caste girl -watching me through the night, and why the conversation which I -overheard, the contemptuous laugh of Madame Carmaux at my mother's--at -Isobel Leigh's name? Why all that, coupled with the name of George -Ritherdon, of myself, of New Orleans--where he said he had me baptized -when he fled there after kidnapping me?" - -As Julian spoke, as he mentioned the name of New Orleans, he saw a -light upon Mr. Spranger's face--that look which comes upon all our -faces when something strikes us and, itself, throws a light upon our -minds; also he saw a slight start given by the elder man. - -"What is it?" Julian asked, observing both these things. "What?" - -"New Orleans," Mr. Spranger said now, musingly, contemplatively, with, -about him, the manner of one endeavouring to force recollection to -come to his aid. "New Orleans--and Madame Carmaux. Why do those -names--the names of that city--of that woman--connect themselves -together in my mind. Why?" Then suddenly he exclaimed, "I know! I have -it! Madame Carmaux is a New Orleans woman." - -"A New Orleans woman!" Julian repeated. "A New Orleans woman! Yet he, -Sebastian, said when we met--that--that--she was a connection of -Isobel Leigh; 'a relative of my late mother,' were his words. How -could she have been a relative of hers, if Mr. Leigh came out from -England to this place bringing with him his English wife and the child -that was Isobel Leigh, as George Ritherdon told me he did? Also----" - -"Also what?" Mr. Spranger asked now. "Also what? Though take -time--exert your memory to the utmost. There is something strange in -the discrepancy between George Ritherdon's statement made in England -and Sebastian's made here. What else is it that has struck you?" - -"This. As we rode towards Desolada he was telling me that he had never -been farther away from Honduras than New Orleans. Then he began to -say--I am sure he did--that his mother came from there, but he broke -off to modify the statement for another to the effect that she had -always desired to visit that city. And when I asked him if his mother -came from New Orleans, he said: 'Oh, no! She was the daughter of Mr. -Leigh, an English merchant at Belize.'" - -"You must have misunderstood him," Mr. Spranger said; "have -misunderstood the first part of his remark at any rate." - -"Perhaps," Julian said quietly, "perhaps." But, nevertheless, he felt -perfectly sure that he had not done so. Then suddenly he said-- - -"You knew Mr. Ritherdon of Desolada. Tell me, do I bear any -resemblance to him?" - -"Yes," Mr. Spranger answered gravely, very gravely. "So much of a -resemblance that you might well be his son. As great a resemblance to -him as you do in a striking manner to Sebastian. You and he might -absolutely be brothers. - -"Only," said Julian, "such a thing is impossible. Mrs. Ritherdon did -not become the mother of twins, and she died within a day or so of -giving her first child birth. She could never have borne another." - -"That," Spranger acquiesced, "is beyond doubt." - -They prepared to separate now for the night, yet before they did so, -his host said a word to Julian. "To-morrow," he told him, "when I am -in the city, I will speak to one or two people who have known all -about the Desolada household ever since the place became the property -of Mr. Ritherdon. And, as perhaps you do not know, twenty-five years -ago all births along the coast, and far beyond Desolada, were -registered in Belize. Now, they are thus registered at All Pines--but -it is only in later days that such has been the case." - -And next morning, when Mr. Spranger had been gone from his home some -two or three hours, and Julian happened to be sitting alone in -Beatrix's favourite spot in the garden--she being occupied at the -moment with her household duties--a half-caste messenger from the city -brought him a letter from Mr. Spranger, or, rather, a piece of paper, -on which was written-- - - -"Miriam Carmaux's maiden name was Gardelle and she came from New -Orleans. She married Carmaux in despair, after, it is said, being -jilted by Charles Ritherdon (who had once been in love with her). Her -marriage took place about the same time as Mr. Ritherdon's with Miss -Leigh, but her husband was killed by a snake bite a few months -afterwards. Sebastian's birth was registered here by Mr. Ritherdon, of -Desolada, as taking place on the 4th of September, 1871, he being -described as the child of 'Charles Ritherdon, of Desolada, and Isobel -his wife, now dead.' - -"Her death is also registered as taking place on the 7th of September, -1871." - - -"Sebastian's birth registered as taking place on the 4th of September, -1871!" Julian exclaimed, as the paper fell from his hand. "The 4th of -September, 1871! The very day that has always been kept in England as -my birthday. The very day on which I am entered in the Admiralty books -as being born in Honduras!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -A VISIT OF CONDOLENCE. - - -The remainder of that day was passed by Julian in the society of -Beatrix--since Mr. Spranger never came back to his establishment--which -was called "Floresta"--until he returned for good in the evening; the -summer noontide heat causing a drive to and from Belize for lunch to be -a journey too full of discomfort to be worth undertaking. Therefore, -this young man and woman were drawn into a companionship so close that, -ere long, it seemed to each of them that they had been acquainted for a -considerable time, while to Beatrix it began to appear that when once -Lieutenant Ritherdon should have taken his departure, the cool shady -garden of her abode would prove a vastly more desolate place than it -had ever done before. - -But, while these somewhat dreary meditations occupied her thoughts, -Julian was himself revolving in his own mind a determination to which -he had almost, if not quite, arrived at as yet--a determination that -she should be made a confidante of what engrossed now the greater part -of his reflections, i.e., the mystery which surrounded both his own -birth and that of Sebastian Ritherdon. The greater part, but not the -whole of these reflections! because he soon observed that one other -form--a form far different from the handsome but somewhat rough and -saturnine figure and personality of his cousin Sebastian--was ever -present in his mind and, if not absolutely present before his actual -eyes, was never absent from his thoughts. - -That form was the tall, graceful figure of Beatrix, surmounted by the -shapely head and beautiful features of the girl; the head crowned by -masses of fair curling hair, from beneath which those calm and clear -blue eyes gazed out through the thick and somewhat darker lashes. - -"I must do it," he was musing to himself now, as they sat in the shade -when the light luncheon was over, and while around them were all the -languorous accompaniments of a tropic summer day, with, also, the -cloying, balmy odours of the tropic summer atmosphere; "I must do it, -must take her into my confidence, obtain her opinion as well as her -father's. She can see as far as any one, as she showed plainly enough -by her manner when I told her about my ride on that confounded horse. -She might in this case perhaps, see something, divine something of -that which at present is hidden from her father and from me." - -Yet, although he had by now arrived at the determination to impart to -her all that now so agitated him, he also resolved that he would not -do so until he had taken her father's opinion on the subject. - -"He will not refuse, I imagine," he thought to himself. "Why should -he? Especially when I represent to him that, by excluding her from the -various confidences which he and I must exchange on the matter--since -he has evidently thrown himself heart and soul into unravelling the -mystery--we shall also be dooming her to a great many hours of dulness -and lack of companionship." - -But this, perhaps, savoured a little of sophistry--although probably -imperceptibly so to himself--since it must be undoubted that he also -recognised how great a lack of her companionship he was likewise -dooming himself to if she was not allowed to participate in their -conversation on the all important subject. - -Young people are, however, sometimes more or less of sophists, -especially those who, independently of all other concerns of -importance, are experiencing a certain attractiveness that is being -exercised by members of the other sex into whose companionship they -are much thrown by chance. - -The day drew on; above them the heat--that subtle tropical heat which -has been justly compared with the atmosphere of a Turkish bath or the -engine room of a steamer--was exerting its full and irresistible power -on all and everything that was subject to its influence. Even the -yellow-headed parrots had now ceased their chattering and clacking; -while Beatrix's pet monkey, whose home was on the lower branches of a -huge thatch-palm, presented a mournful appearance of senile -exhaustion, as it sat with its head bowed on its breast and its now -drawn-down, wizened features a picture of absolute but resigned -despair. And even those two human beings, each ordinarily so full of -life and youth and vigour, appeared as if--despite all laws of good -breeding to the effect that friends and acquaintances should not go to -sleep in each other's presence--they were about to yield to the -atmospheric influence. Julian knew that he was nodding, even while, as -he glanced to where Beatrix's great fan had now ceased to sway, he was -still wide awake enough to suspect that his were not the only eyes -that were struggling to keep open. - -As thus all things human and animal succumbed, or almost succumbed, to -the dead, unruffled atmosphere, and while, too, the scarlet flowers of -the flamboyants and the lilac-coloured blossoms of the oleanders -drooped, across the lawn so carefully sown, with English grass seeds -every spring and mowed and watered regularly, there fell a heavy -footstep on the ears of Beatrix and Julian--footsteps proclaimed -clearly by the jingle of spurs, if in no other way. And, a moment -later, a sonorous voice was heard, expressing regret for thus -disturbing so grateful a siesta and for intruding at all. - -"Good afternoon, Mr. Ritherdon," Julian said, somewhat coldly, as now -Sebastian came close to them; while Beatrix--her face as calm as -though no drowsiness had come near her since the past night--greeted -him with a civility that might almost have been termed glacial, and -was, undoubtedly, distant. "I suppose you have heard of my little -adventure on the horse you so kindly exchanged for my mustang?" - -"It is for that that I am here," the other answered, dropping into a -basket-chair towards which Beatrix coldly waved her hand. "I cannot -tell you what my feelings, my remorse, were on hearing what had -befallen you. Good Heavens! think--just think--how I should have felt -if any real, any serious accident had befallen you! Yet, it was not my -fault." - -"No?" asked Julian. "No? Did you not know the animal's peculiarities, -then?" - -"Of course. Naturally. But, owing to the carelessness of one of the -stable hands, you were given the wrong one. I can tell you that that -fellow has had the best welting he ever had in his life and has been -sent off the estate. You won't see him there when you return to me." - -"No," thought Beatrix to herself, "he won't. And what's more he never -would have seen him, unless he has the power of creating imaginary -people out of those who have no actual existence." While, although her -lips did not move, there was in her eyes a look--conveyed by a hasty -glance towards Julian, which told him as plainly as words could have -done, what her thoughts were. - -"We had bought a new draft of horses," Sebastian went on, "and by a -mistake this one--the one on which you rode--got into the wrong stall, -the stall properly belonging to the animal you ought to have had. -Heavens!" he exclaimed again, "when I heard that it had been found -lying dead near All Pines and that you had been attended to -there--your injuries being exaggerated, I am thankful to see--I -thought I should have gone mad. You, my guest, my cousin, to be -treated thus." - -"It doesn't matter. Only, when I come to see you, I hope your -stableman will be more careful." - -As he spoke of returning to Desolada once more, the other man's face -lit up with a look of pleasure in the same manner that it had done on -a previous occasion. Any one regarding him now would have said that -there was a generous, hospitable host, to whom no greater satisfaction -could be afforded than to hear that his invitations were sought after -and acceptable. - -He did not deceive either of his listeners, however; not Julian, who -now had reason to suspect many things in connection with this man's -existence and possession of Desolada; nor Beatrix who, without knowing -what Julian knew, had always disliked Sebastian and, since the affair -of the horse, had formed the most unfavourable opinions concerning his -good faith. - -Probably, however, Sebastian, who also had good reasons for doubting -whether either of them was likely to believe his explanations, -scarcely expected that they should be deceived. He expressed, -nevertheless, the greatest, indeed the most vivid, satisfaction at -Julian's words, and exclaimed, "Ah! when next you come to see me? That -is it--what I desire. You shall be well treated, I can assure you--the -honoured relative, and all that kind of thing. Now fix the date, Mr. -Rither--cousin Julian." - -The poets and balladmongers (also the lady novelists) have told us so -frequently that there is no possibility of our ever forgetting it, -that there exists, such a thing as the language of the eyes, while, to -confirm their statements, we most of us have our own special knowledge -on the subject. And that language was now being used with considerable -vehemence by Beatrix as a means of conveying her thoughts to Julian, -her sweet blue eyes signalling clearly to him a message which she took -care should be unseen by Sebastian. A message that, if put into words, -would have said: "Don't go! Don't go!" or, "Don't fix a date." - -But--although Julian understood perfectly that language--it was not -his cue to act upon it at the present moment. Beatrix did not know all -yet, though he was determined she should do so that very night; and, -also, he had already resolved that he would once more become an inmate -of Desolada. There, if anywhere, he believed that some proof might be -found, some circumstances discovered to throw a light upon what he -believed to be a strange reversal of the proper state of things that -ought to actually exist; in short, he was determined to accept -Sebastian's invitation. - -Purposely avoiding Beatrix's glance, therefore, while meaning to -explain his reason for doing so later on, when they should be alone, -he said now to his cousin-- - -"You are very good, and, of course, I shall be delighted to come back -and stay with you. As to the date, well! Mr. and Miss Spranger are so -kind and hospitable that you must let me avail myself of their welcome -for a little longer. I suppose a day need not be actually fixed just -now?" - -"Why, no, my dear fellow," Sebastian exclaimed, with that almost -boisterous cordiality which he had unfailingly evinced since they had -first met, and which might be either real or assumed. "Why, no, of -course not. Indeed, there is no need to fix any date at all. There is -the house and everything in it, and there am I. Come when you like and -you will find a welcome, rough as it must needs be in this country, -but at any rate sincere." - -After which there was nothing more for Julian to do than to mutter -courteous thanks for such proffered hospitality and to promise that, -ere long, he would again become a guest at Desolada. - -They walked with Sebastian now to the stable, where his horse was -awaiting him, Beatrix proffering refreshment--to omit which courtesy -to a visitor would have been contrary to all the established, though -unwritten, laws of Honduras, as well as, one may say, of most -colonies--but Sebastian, refusing this, rode off to Belize, where he -said he had business. And Julian could not help wondering to himself -if that business could possibly have any connection with the same -affairs which had brought him out from England. - -"You either didn't see my signals, or misunderstood them," Beatrix -said, as now they returned once more to the coolness of the garden. - -"Pardon me," Julian replied, "I did. Only, it is necessary--absolutely -necessary, I think--that I should pay another visit to my cousin's -house. To-night your father and I are going to invite your opinion on -a matter between Sebastian and me. Then I think you will also agree -that it is necessary for me to return to Desolada." - -"I may do so," Beatrix said, "but all the same I don't like the idea -of your being an inhabitant of that place--of your being under his -roof again." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE REMINISCENCES OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN. - - -A week later Julian was once more on his way towards Desolada, and -upon a journey which he was fully determined should either result in -satisfying him that Sebastian did not properly occupy the position -which he now held openly in the eyes of the whole colony, or should be -his last one. - -He did not 'come to this decision without much anxious consideration -being given to the subject by himself, by Mr. Spranger, and by -Beatrix--who had been taken into the confidence of the others on the -evening following Sebastian's visit to "Floresta." Nor had he arrived -at the decision to again become his cousin's guest without taking -their opinions on that subject as well. - -And the result was--when briefly stated--that he was on his road once -more. - -Now, as he rode along a second time on the mule (which had been -returned to its owner by a servant from Desolada), because it was at -least a safe and trusty animal although not speedy--such a -qualification being, indeed, unnecessary, in a country where few -people ride swiftly because of the heat--he was musing deeply on all -that the past weeks had brought forth. - -"First," he reflected, "it has done one thing which was not to be -expected, and may or may not have a bearing on what I am in this place -for. It has caused me to fall over head and ears in love. Some people -would say, 'That's good.' Others that it is bad, since it might -distract my attention from more serious matters. So it would be bad, -for me, if she doesn't feel the same way. I suppose I shall have -courage to tell her all about it some day, but at present I'm sure I -couldn't do it. And, anyhow, we will first of all see who and what I -am. As the owner of Desolada I should be a more suitable match than as -a lieutenant of five years' seniority with a few thousand pounds in -various colonial securities." - -Whereupon, since the animal had by now reached the knoll where he had -halted with his guide for luncheon upon the occasion of his former -journey along the same road, he dismounted and, drawing out of his -haversack a packet of sandwiches prepared for him by Beatrix's cook, -commenced, while eating them to reconsider all that had taken place -during the past week. - -What had taken place needs, indeed, to be set down here, since the -passage of the last few days had brought to light more than one -discrepancy in connection not only with Sebastian's first statements -to Julian, but also with his possession of all that the late Mr. -Ritherdon had left him the sole possessor of. - -Mr. Spranger had brought home with him to dinner, on the night -following that when Beatrix had been informed of the strange variance -between the statement made by George Ritherdon in England, and the -recognised position held by Sebastian in British Honduras, an elderly -gentleman who filled a position in one of the principal schools -established by the Government and in receipt of Government aid, in the -city; while, before doing so, he had suggested to Julian that he -should keep his ears open but say as little as possible. To his -daughter he had also made the same suggestion, which was, as a matter -of fact, unnecessary, since that young lady had now thrown herself -heart and soul into the unravelling of a mystery which she said was -more interesting than the plot of any novel she had read for many a -long day. Also, it need scarcely be said to which side her opinions -inclined, or in which quarter her sympathies were enlisted. Julian had -wondered later, as he ate his lunch on the knoll, whether the -affection which had sprung up in his heart for this girl was ever -likely to be returned; but, had he been able to peer closely into that -mystical receptacle of conglomerate feelings--a woman's heart--his -wonderment might, perhaps, have ceased to exist. - -With considerable skill, Mr. Spranger led the conversation at dinner -to the old residents in the colony and, at last, by more or less -devious ways, to the various personages who at one time or another had -been inhabitants of Desolada. Then, when he and his guest were, to use -a hunting metaphor, in full cry over a fine open country, he casually -remarked that, among others, Madame Carmaux had herself held a -considerable place of trust in the establishment for a great many -years. - -"Yes, yes," said the old gentleman, who was himself a French-American -from Florida, "yes, a long time. Miriam Carmaux! Ha! Miriam -Carmaux--Miriam Gardelle as she was when she arrived here from New -Orleans and sought a place as governess. A beautiful girl then; oh! my -faith, she was beautiful." - -"Did she get a place as governess?" Mr. Spranger asked, filling -Monsieur Lemaire's glass. - -"Well, you see, she did and she did not. She got lessons in families, -but no posts, no. No posts. Then, of course, she married poor Carmaux. -Oh! these snakes--ah! _mon Dieu_, that coral-snake, and the -tommy-goff--there are dreadful creatures for you! It was a tommy-goff -that killed poor Jules Carmaux." - -"Was it, though? And what was poor Carmaux?" - -"Ah!" said Monsieur Lemaire, shaking his head most mournfully, "he -was not a solid man, not steady. Oh! no, not at all steady. Carmaux -loved pleasure too much: all kinds of pleasure. He loved cards, -and--and--excuse me, Miss Spranger--but he loved this also," while as -he spoke the old gentleman shook his head reprovingly at the claret -jugs. "Also he loved sport--shooting the curassow, hunting the raccoon -and the jaguar--ah! he did not love work. Oh, no! Work and he were -never the best of friends. Then the tommy-goff killed him in the -woods." - -"Perhaps," remarked Beatrix with one of her bright smiles, "as a -punishment for his not loving work." - -"But," said Mr. Spranger, "he must have been a poor husband for that -young lady, Mademoiselle Gardelle, as she was then. If he would not -work, how did he support a wife?" - -"Ah!" said Monsieur Lemaire with a very emphatic shake of his head -now, so that Beatrix wondered he did not get quite warm over the -exertion, "Ah! they did say that he thought she might earn the money -to support him." And still he wagged his head. - -"I wonder," exclaimed Julian, who had been listening to all this with -considerable interest, "that she should have married him. He seems to -have been a useless sort of man." - -"Ah! Ah! There were reasons, very sad reasons. You see, she had been -in love with another man. Ah! _mon Dieu_, these love affairs. Another -man, Mr. Ritherdon, was supposed to have been the object of her -affections." - -"Dear! dear," said Mr. Spranger. - -"Yes. Only--" and now Monsieur Lemaire made a sort of apologetic, -old-court-life-in-France style of bow to Beatrix, as though beseeching -pardon for the errors of his own sex--sinking his voice, too, to a -kind of pleading one, as well as one reprobating the late Mr. -Ritherdon's conduct--"only he jilted her." - -"Good gracious!" exclaimed the girl, feeling it necessary to say -something in return for the old Frenchman's politeness, while, as a -matter of fact, she had heard the story from her father only a night -or so before. "Good gracious!" - -"Ah! yes. Ah! yes," Lemaire continued. "It was so indeed. Indeed it -was. Then, they do say----" And now he sank his voice so much that he -might have been reciting the history of some most awful and -soul-stirring Greek tragedy, "they do say that in her rage and despair -she flung herself away on Carmaux. But the tommy-goff killed him after -he trod on it in the woods--and, so, she was free." Then his voice -rose crescendo, as though the mention of the tragedy being concluded, -a lighter tone was permissible. - -"Take some more claret," said Mr. Spranger; "help yourself." While as -the old gentleman did so, he continued-- - -"But how in such circumstances did she become a resident in Mr. -Ritherdon's house? One would have thought that was the last place she -would be found in next." - -"Ah!" said Monsieur Lemaire, "then the woman's heart, the heart of all -good women"--and he bowed solemnly now to Beatrix--"exerted its sway. -She was bereft, even the little girl, the poor little daughter that -had been born to her after Carmaux's death--when the tommy-goff killed -him--was dead and buried----" - -"So she had had a daughter?" said Mr. Spranger. - -"Poor woman, yes. But what--what was I saying. The good woman's heart -prompted her, and, smothering her own griefs, forgetting her own -wrongs, knowing the stupendous misery which had fallen on the man who -had jilted her through the loss of his wife, she went to him and -offered to look after the poor little motherless Sebastian; to be a -guide and nurse to it. Ah! a noble woman was Miriam Carmaux, a woman -who buried her own griefs in assuaging those of others." - -"She went to Desolada," Julian said, "after Mrs. Ritherdon's death? -She did that? After Mrs. Ritherdon's death?" - -"_Si_. After her death. Soon. Very soon. As soon as her own sorrows, -her own loss, were more or less softened." - -That night, when Monsieur Lemaire had been driven back into the city -in Mr. Spranger's buggy, the latter gentleman, his daughter and -Julian, sat out on the lawn, inhaling the cool breeze which comes up -from the sea at sunset as well as watching the fireflies dancing. All -were quite silent now, for all were occupied with their own thoughts: -Julian in reflecting on what Monsieur Lemaire had said; Beatrix in -wondering whether George Ritherdon's dying disclosures could possibly -have been true; Mr. Spranger in feeling positive that they were false. -Everything, he told himself, or almost everything, pointed to such -being the case. The registration of Sebastian's birth by the late Mr. -Ritherdon; the acknowledgment of the young man during all the dead -man's remaining years as his heir: the knowledge which countless -people possessed in the colony of Sebastian's whole life having been -passed at Desolada! And against this, what set-off was there? - -Only the falsehood--for such it must have been--told by Sebastian to -the effect that Miriam Carmaux was his mother's relative, which, since -she was a French creole, was impossible. Nothing much more than that; -nothing tangible. - -As for the slip made by him to Julian, the words, "My mother ca--I -mean my mother always wanted to go there and see it," (New Orleans -being the place referred to) well, there was nothing in that. It was a -slip any one might easily have made. And no living soul in British -Honduras had ever heard a whisper of any stolen child. Surely that was -enough to settle all doubt. - -Then, breaking in upon the silence around, he and his daughter heard -Julian saying: "If Monsieur Lemaire's facts are accurate, Sebastian -made another misstatement to me. He said that Madame Carmaux had been -at Desolada for many years, _even before his mother died_. That could -not have been so." - -"And," said Beatrix, emerging now from the silence which she had -preserved so long, "it was perhaps with reference to that subject that -he had uttered the words which you overheard, to the effect that you -must know something, but that knowledge was not always proof." - -"All the same," said Mr. Spranger now, "it is a blank wall, a wall -against which you will push in vain, I fear. Honestly, I see no -outlet." - -"Nor I," answered Julian, "yet all the same I mean to try and find -one. At present I am groping in the dark; perhaps the light will come -some day." - -"I cannot believe it," Mr. Spranger said, "much as I might like to do -so. If--if Charles Ritherdon's child had been stolen from its father's -house how could it be that, in so small a place as this, the thing -would never have been heard of? And if it was stolen, if you were -stolen, how could another, a substitute, take your place?" - -"Heaven only knows," Julian replied. "It is to find out this that I am -going back to Desolada," while as he spoke, he saw again on Beatrix's -face the look of dissent to that proposed journey which, a day or two -before, she had signalled to him through her eyes. - -So--determinate, resolved to fathom the mystery, if mystery there -were; refusing, too, to believe that George Ritherdon's story could -have been one huge fabrication, one hideous falsehood from beginning -to end, and that a fabrication, a falsehood, which must ere long be -disproved, directly it was challenged--he did set out and was by now -drawing near the end of his journey. - -"Only," said Beatrix to him on the morning of his departure, "I do so -wish you would let me persuade you not to go. I dread----" - -"What?" - -"Oh!" she said, raising her hands to her hair with a bewildered -movement--a movement that perhaps expressed regret as to the -destination for which he was about to depart. "I do not know. -Yet--still--I fear. Sebastian Ritherdon is cruel;--fierce--if--if--he -thought you were about to cross his path--if--he knows anything that -you do not know, then I dread what the end may be. And, I shall think -always of that half-caste girl--peering in--glaring into your room, -with perhaps, if she is a creature, a tool of his, murder in her -heart." - -"Fear nothing, I beseech you," he said deeply moved at her sympathy. -"I can be very firm--very resolute--when occasion needs. Fear -nothing." - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -A CHANGE OF APARTMENTS. - - -A boisterous welcome from Sebastian, a cordial grasp of the hand, -accompanied by a smile from the dark eyes of Madame Carmaux (which -latter would have appeared more sincere to Julian had the corners of -the mouth been less drawn down and the eyelids closed a little less, -while the eyes behind those lids glittering with a light that seemed -to him unnatural), did not, to use a metaphor, throw any dust in his -own eyes. - -For long reflection on everything that had occurred since first -George Ritherdon had made his statement in the Surrey home until now, -when Julian stood once more in the house in which he believed himself -to have been born, had only served to produce in his mind one -conviction--the firm conviction that George Ritherdon was his uncle -and had spoken the truth; that Sebastian was--in spite of all evidence -seeming to point in a totally different direction--occupying a -position which was not rightly his. A belief that, before long, he was -resolved at all hazards to himself to justify and disprove once and -for all. - -The hilarious welcome on the part of Sebastian did not deceive him, -therefore; the greeting of Madame Carmaux was, he felt, insincere. And -feeling thus he knew that in the latter was one against whom he would -have to be doubly on his guard. - -And on his guard, against both the man and the woman, he commenced to -be from the moment when he once more entered the precincts of -Desolada. - -That night at dinner, which was here called supper, but which only -varied from the former meal in name, he observed a most palpable -desire on the part of both his hosts to extract from him all that he -had done while staying with the Sprangers--as well as an even stronger -desire to discover into what society he might have been introduced, or -what acquaintances he might happen to have made. - -"I made one acquaintance," he replied to Madame Carmaux, who was by -far the most pertinacious in her inquiries, "the hearing about whom -may interest you considerably. A gentleman who knew you long ago." - -"Indeed!" she said, "and who might that be?" - -She asked the question lightly, almost indifferently, yet--unless the -flicker of the lamp in the middle of the table was playing tricks with -his vision--there came suddenly a look of nervousness, of -apprehension, upon her face. A look controlled yet not altogether to -be subdued. - -"It was Monsieur Lemaire," he replied, "the professor of modern -languages at the Victoria College. He said he knew you very well once, -before your marriage." - -"Yes," she replied, "he did," and now he saw that, whatever -nervousness she might be experiencing, she was exerting a strong power -of suppression of any visible outward sign of her feelings. "Monsieur -Lemaire was very good to me. He enabled me to find employment as a -teacher in various houses. What did he tell you besides?" - -"He mentioned the sad ending to your marriage. Also the death of your -little---- Excuse me," he broke off, "but you have upset your glass. -Allow me," and from where he sat he bent forward, and with his napkin -sopped up the spilt water which had been in that glass. - -"It was very clumsy," she muttered. "My loose sleeves are always -knocking things over. Thank you. But what was it you said he -mentioned? The death of my----" - -"Little daughter," Julian replied softly, feeling sorry--and indeed, -annoyed with himself--at what he now considered a lack of delicacy and -consideration. A lack of feeling, because he thought it very possible -that, even after a long lapse of time, this poor widowed woman might -still lament bitterly the death of her little child. - -"Ah! yes," she said, though why now her face should brighten -considerably he did not understand. "Ah! yes. Poor little thing, it -did not live long, only a very little while. Poor little baby!" - -Looking still under the lamp and feeling still a little disconcerted -at the reflection that he had quite unintentionally recalled unhappy -recollections to Madame Carmaux, he saw that Sebastian was also -regarding her with a strange, almost bewildered look in his eyes. What -that look meant, Julian was not sufficiently a judge of expression to -fathom; yet, had he been compelled there and then to describe what -feeling that glance most suggested to him, he would probably have -termed it one of surprise. - -Surprise, perhaps, that Madame Carmaux should have been so emotional -as to exhibit such tenderness at the recollection being brought to her -mind of her little infant daughter, dead twenty-five years ago and -almost at the hour of its birth. - -No more was said, however, on the subject and an adjournment was made -directly the meal was over to the veranda, that place on which in -British Honduras almost all people pass the hours of the evening; none -staying indoors more than is absolutely necessary. And here their -conversation became of the most ordinary kind for some time, its -commonplace nature only being varied occasionally by divers questions -put to Julian by both Sebastian and Madame Carmaux as to what George -Ritherdon's existence had been since he quitted Honduras to return to -England. - -"It was a quiet enough one," replied Julian, carefully weighing every -word he uttered and forcing himself to be on his guard over every -sentence. "Quiet enough. He took to England some capital from this -part of the world, as I have always understood, and he was enabled to -make a sufficient living by the use of it to provide for us both. He -was never rich, yet since his desires were not inordinate, we did well -enough. At any rate, he was able to place me in the only calling I was -particularly desirous of following, without depriving himself of -anything." - -"And he left money behind?" Madame Carmaux asked, while, even as she -did so, Julian could not but observe that her manner was listless and -absent, as well as to perceive that she only threw in a remark now and -again with a view of appearing to be interested in the conversation. - -"Yes," he replied, "he left money behind him. Not much; some few -thousand pounds fairly well invested. Enough, anyhow, for a sailor -who, at the worst, can live on his pay." - -"All the same," Sebastian said, "a few thousand pounds is a mighty -good thing to have handy. I wish I had a few." - -"You!" exclaimed Julian, looking at him in surprise. "Why! I should -have thought you had any amount. This is a big property, even for the -colonies, and Mr. Ritherdon--your father--has left the reputation -behind him in Belize of being one of the richest planters in the -place." - -"Ay," said Sebastian, "rich in produce, stores, cattle, and so forth, -but no money. No ready money. Not sufficient to work a large place -like this. Why, look here, Julian, as a matter of fact, you and I are -each other's heirs, yet I expect I'd sooner come in for your few -thousands than you would for Desolada. One can do a lot with a few -thousands. I wish I had some." - -"Didn't your father leave any ready money, then?" Julian asked. - -"Oh, yes! He did. But it's all sunk in the place already." - -Such a conversation as this would, in ordinary circumstances, have -been one of no importance and certainly not worth recording, had it -not--short as it was--furnished Julian with some further food for -reflections. And among other shapes which those reflections took, one -was that he did not believe that all the money which Mr. Ritherdon was -stated to have died possessed of had been sunk in the estate. He, the -late Mr. Ritherdon, had been able to put by money out of the products -of that estate--it scarcely stood to reason, therefore, that his -successor would have instantly invested all that money in it. -Wherefore Julian at once came to the conclusion that if it was really -gone--vanished--it had done so in Sebastian's gambling transactions. - -Then, as to their being each other's heirs! Well, that view had never -occurred to him--certainly it had never occurred to him that by any -chance Sebastian could be his heir. Yet, if Sebastian was in truth -Charles Ritherdon's son and he, Julian, was absolutely George -Ritherdon's son, such was the case. And, if anything should happen to -him while staying here at Desolada, where he had announced himself -plainly as the son of George Ritherdon, he could scarcely doubt that -Sebastian would put in a claim as that heir. If anything should happen -to him! - -Well! it might! One could never tell. It might! Especially as, when -Sebastian had uttered those words, he had seen a flash from Madame -Carmaux's eyes and had observed a light spring into them which told -plainly enough that she had never regarded matters in that aspect -before; that this new view of the state of things had startled her. - -If anything should happen to him! Well, to prevent anything doing so -he must be doubly careful of himself. That was all. - -The evening--like most evenings spent in the tropics and away from the -garish amusements and gaieties of tropical towns--was passed more or -less monotonously, it being got through by scraps of conversation, by -two or three cooling drinks being partaken of by Julian and Sebastian, -and by Madame Carmaux in falling asleep in her chair. Though, Julian -thought, her slumbers could neither have been very sound nor -refreshing, seeing that, whenever he chanced to turn his eyes towards -her, he observed how hers were open and fixed on him, though shut -immediately that she perceived he had noticed that they were unclosed. - -"Come," exclaimed Sebastian now, springing from out of his chair with -as much alacrity as is ever testified in the tropics, while as he did -so Madame Carmaux became wide-awake in the most perfect manner. "Come, -this won't do. Early to bed you know--and all the rest of it. We -practise that good old motto here." - -"I thought you practised stopping up rather late when I was here -last," Julian remarked quietly. "As I told you, I heard your voices -and saw you sitting in the balcony long after I had turned in." - -"But to-night we must be off to bed early," Sebastian replied. "I have -to start for Belize to-morrow in good time, as I remarked to you at -supper, and you are going to take a gun and try for some shooting in -the Cockscomb mountains. Early to bed, my boy, early, and, also, an -early breakfast." - -After which Julian and Madame Carmaux made their adieux to each other -for the night, while Sebastian, as he had done before, escorted his -cousin up the vast stairs to his room. This room was, however, a -different one from that occupied previously by Julian, it being on the -other side of the house and looking towards those Cockscomb mountains -which, gun in hand, he was to explore on the morrow. - -"It is a better room," said Sebastian, "than the other, as you see; -although not so large. And the sun will not bother you here in the -morning, nor will our chatter on the balcony beneath or inside the -room do so either. Good night, sleep well. To-morrow, breakfast at -six." - -"Good-night," replied Julian as he entered the room, and, after -Sebastian was out of earshot (as he calculated), turned the key in the -lock. Then, as he sat himself down in his chair, after again producing -his revolver and placing it by his side, he thought to himself: - -"Yes! he spoke truly. Their conversation below will not disturb me, -nor will there be any chance of my overhearing it. All right, -Sebastian, you understand the old proverb about one for me and two for -yourself. But you have for gotten a little fact, namely, that a sailor -can move about almost as lightly as a cat when he chooses, and, if I -think you and your respected housekeeper have anything to say that it -will be worth my while to hear--why, I shall be a cat for the time -being." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -"THIS LAND IS FULL OF SNAKES." - - -The truth was, as the reader is by now very well aware, that Julian no -more believed in either Sebastian's lawful possession of Desolada or -in his being the son of Charles Ritherdon, than he believed that -George Ritherdon had concocted the whole of that story which he -narrated ere his death. "For," said the young man to himself, "if it -were true, his manner and her manner--that of the superb Madame -Carmaux--would not be what they are. 'Think it out,' our old naval -instructor in the Brit, used to say, 'analyze, compare, exercise the -few brains Heaven has mercifully given you.' Well, I will--or, rather, -I have." - -And he had done so. He had thought it all over and over -again--Sebastian's manner, Madame Carmaux's manner, Sebastian's slight -inaccuracies of statement, Madame Carmaux's pretence of being asleep -when she was awake, and her strange side-glances at him when she -thought he was not observing her. - -"I played _Hamlet_ once at an amateur show in the Leviathan," he -mused. "It was an awful performance, and, if it had been for more -than one act, I should undoubtedly have been hissed out of the ship. -All the same it taught me something. What was it the poor chap said? -'I'll take the ghost's word for a thousand pounds.' Well, I'll take my -uncle's word--for uncle he was and he was telling the truth--for -a thousand pounds, too. Only, how to prove it? That is the -question--which, by-the-bye, Hamlet also remarked." - -That was indeed the question. How to prove it! - -"That fellow is no more Charles Ritherdon's son than I'm a soldier," -he went on, "and I _am_ the son. That I'm sure of! Everything, every -fresh look on their faces, every word they say, convinces me only the -more certainly. Even this shifting of the room I am to occupy: why, -Lord bless me! does he think I'm a fool? Yet, all the same, I don't -see how it is to be proved. Confound them! Some one played a trick on -Charles Ritherdon after George had stolen me--for steal me he -did--some trick or other. And she, this Madame Carmaux was in it. Only -why--why--_why?_" - -He clenched his hands in front of his forehead, as he recalled now Mr. -Spranger's words: "It is a blank wall against which you will push in -vain." Almost, indeed, he began to fear that such was the case; that -never would he throw down that wall which rose an adamantine object -between him and his belief. Yet, even as he did so, he recollected -that he was an Englishman and a sailor; that, consequently, he must be -resolved not to be beaten. Only, how was it to be accomplished; how -was the defeat to be avoided? - -As he arrived at this determination he heard, outside on the -veranda, a sound which he had heard more than once on his first visit, -and when he slept on the other side of the mansion. A sound, light, -stealthy--such a one as if some soft-footed creature, a cat, perhaps, -was creeping gently in the night along the balcony. Creeping nearer to -his window in front of which, as had been the case before, the -Venetian blind was lowered. - -Then he resolved that, this time, his strange visitant should know -that he had discovered the spying to which he was again to be -subjected. - -In a moment he feigned sleep as he sat by the table on which stood the -lamp--casting out a considerable volume of light--while, as he did so, -he let his outstretched hands and fingers cover the revolver. - -And still the weird, soft scraping of those catlike feet came nearer; -he knew that his ghost-like visitor was close to the open window. He -heard also, though it was the faintest click in the world, the slat or -lath turning the least little bit, he knew that now those eyes that -had gleamed into the other and darkened room were gleaming in at him -in this one. - -Then, suddenly, he opened his own eyes as wide as he could, while with -his outstretched hand he now raised the revolver and pointed it at the -little dusky figure that he could see was holding the slat back, while -he said in a voice, low but perfectly clear in the silence of the -night: - -"Don't move. Stop where you are--there--outside that blind till I come -to you. If you do move I will scatter your brains on the floor of the -veranda!" - -And as he rose and went towards the persianas he could see that his -instructions were--through fear--obeyed. The eyes, now white, -horrible, almost chalky in their glare of fright, instead of being -dusky as he had once seen them, stared with a hideous expression of -terror into the room. Also, the brown finger which was crooked over -the blind-slat trembled. - -He pulled the persianas up with his left hand, still keeping his right -hand extended with the revolver in it (of course only with the -intention of frightening the girl into making no attempt to fly); -then, when he had fastened the pulley he took her unceremoniously by -the upper part of the arm and led her into the room. - -"Now, Mademoiselle Zara, as I understand your name to be, kindly give -me an explanation of why, whenever I am in my room in this house, you -honour me with these attentions. My manly beauty can be observed at -any time in the daylight much better than at night, and----" - -"Don't tell him," the girl whispered, and he felt as he still held her -arm that she was trembling, while, also, he saw that she was deathly -pale, her usual coffee-and-milk complexion being more of the latter -than the former now. "Oh, don't tell him!" - -"Don't tell whom?" he asked astonished. Astonished at first, since he -had deemed her an emissary of his host, sent to pry in on him for some -reason best known to both of them. Then, he reflected, this was only -some ruse hatched in her scheming, half-Indian brain, whereby to -escape from his clutches; upon which he said: - -"Now, look here. No lies. What do you come peeping and prying in on me -for in the middle of the night. Perhaps you're not aware that I saw -you do so the last time I was here." - -"I came to see," she said inconsequently, "if you were comfortable; I -am a servant----" - -But now Julian laughed so loudly at this ridiculous statement that the -girl in hasty terror--and if it was assumed, she must be a good -actress, he thought--put up her hand as though she intended to clap it -over his mouth. - -"Oh!" she whispered, "don't! Don't! He will hear you--or _she_ -will----" - -"Well, what if they do! I suppose they know you are here just as much -as I do. Come," he continued, "come, don't look so frightened, I'm not -going to shoot you or harm you in any way. Though, mind you, my dark -beauty, you might have got shot if you had timed your visit at a later -hour and startled me out of a heavy slumber, or if I had seen those -eyes looking in on me in the dead of night However, out with the -explanation. Quick." - -For a moment the girl paused as though thinking deeply, then she -looked up at him with all the deep tropical glow once more in her -sombre eyes, and said: - -"I won't tell you. No. But----" - -"But what?" - -"I--will you believe what I say?" - -"Perhaps. That depends. I might, if it sounded likely." - -"Listen, then. I don't come here to do you any harm. My visits won't -hurt you. Only--only--this is a dangerous house in more ways than one. -It is a very old one--strange things happen sometimes in it. How," she -said, and now her voice which had been sunk to a whisper became even -lower, "how would you like to die in it?" - -Perhaps the slow mysterious tones of that voice--the something weird -and wizard in the elf-like appearance of this dusky girl who was, in -truth, beautiful with that beauty often found in the half-caste -Indian--was what caused Julian to feel a sort of creepiness to come -over him in spite of the warm, bath-like temperature of the night. - -"Neither in this house nor elsewhere, just at present," he remarked, -steadying his nerves. "But," he continued, "I don't suppose there is -much likelihood of that. Who is going to cause me to die?" - -For answer the girl cast those marvellous orbs of hers all around the -room, taking, meanwhile, as she did so, the mosquito curtains in her -hands and shaking them with a swish away from the floor on which they -drooped in festoons; she looking also behind the bedposts and in other -places. - -"No one--to-night," she said, "but--but--if I may not come here again, -if you will not let me, then do this always. And--perhaps--some night -you will know." - -After which she moved off towards the window, her lithe, graceful -figure seeming to glide without the assistance of any movement from -her feet towards the open space; and made as though she meant to -retire. Yet, as she stood within the framework of that window, she -turned and looked back at him, her finger slightly raised as though -impressing silence. - -Then she stepped outside on to the boards of the veranda and peered -over the front of it down towards the garden from which, now, there -rose the countless perfumes exhaled by the Caribbean wealth of -flowers. Also, she crept along to either side of the window, glancing -to right and left of her until, at that moment, borne on the soft -night breeze, there came from the front of the house, a harsh, -strident, and contemptuous laugh--the laugh of Sebastian Ritherdon. -When, seemingly reassured by this, she returned again towards the open -window and said: - -"You go to-morrow to the Cockscomb mountains shooting. Yet, when -there, be careful. Danger is there, too. This land is full of snakes, -the coral snake--which kills instantly, even like the _fer de lance_ -of the islands, the rattlesnake, the tamagusa, or, as you English say, -the 'tommy-goff.' One killed him--her husband," and she pointed down -to where Madame Carmaux might be supposed to be sitting at this -moment, while as she did so he saw in her eyes a look so -startling--since they blazed with fire--that he stared amazed. Was -she, this half-savage girl, gloating over the horrid death of a man -which must have taken place ere she was born? Or--or--what? - -"In all the land," she went on, "there are snakes. Those I tell you -of--and--others. You understand? And others." - -"I almost understand," Julian muttered hoarsely--though he knew not -why. "_And others_. Is that--? ah! yes--I do understand. Yet tell me -further, tell----" - -But she was gone; the window frame was empty of the dark shadowy -figure it had enshrouded. Gone, as he saw when he stepped out on to -the balcony and observed a sombre form stealing along betwixt the -bright gleams of the low-lying stars and himself. - -"Why does she warn me thus," he muttered to himself as now he began to -undress slowly, "why? She is that man's servant--almost, as servants -go here, his slave. Why warn me--she whom I deemed his creature--she -who does his dirty work as croupier at a gambling hell? And she -gloated over Carmaux's death in days of long ago--why that also? Does -she hate this woman who governs here as mistress of the house?" - -With some degree of horror on him now, with some sort of mystic terror -creeping over him at unknown and spectrelike dangers that might be -surrounding his existence, he turned down the light serape stretched -over the bed for coverlet, and threw back the upper sheet Then he -started away with a hoarse exclamation at what he saw. - -For, lying coiled up in the middle of the bed, yet with a hideous flat -head raised and vibrating, while from out that head gleamed a pair of -threatening and scintillating emerald eyes, was a small, red -coral-coloured snake--a snake that next unwound itself slowly with -horribly lithe and sinuous movements which caused Julian to turn cold, -warm as the night was. - -"So," he whispered to himself, as now he seized a rifle that he had -brought out from England with him, and, after beating the reptile on -to the floor, used the stock as a bat and sent the thing flying out of -the window; "this is what she was looking for, what she expected to -find. But where are the others? The other snakes she hinted at? I -think I can guess." - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -RECOLLECTIONS OF SEBASTIAN'S BIRTH. - - -It is forty miles inland to where the Cockscomb mountains rear their -appropriately named crests, but not half that distance to where -obliquely from north to south there run spurs and ridges which, though -they do not rise to the four thousand feet that is attained by the -highest peak or summit of the range, are still lofty mountains. Here, -amidst these spurs and ridges, which dominate and break up what is -otherwise a country, or lowland, almost as flat as Holland (and which -until a few years ago was marked on the maps as "unexplored country"), -Nature presents a different aspect from elsewhere in the colony. The -country becomes wild and rugged; the copses of mangroves are -superseded by woods and forests of prickly bamboos and umbrageous -figs; vast clumps of palms of all denominations cluster together, -forming in their turn other little woods, while rivers, whose sources -are drawn from the great lagoons inland, roll swiftly towards the sea. - -Here, upon the bank of one of those lagoons, Julian sat next day -beneath the shadow of a clump of locust-trees, in which were -intermingled other trees of salm-wood, braziletto, and turtle-bone, as -well as many others almost unknown of and unheard of by Europeans, -with at his feet a fowling-piece, while held across his knees was a -safety repeating rifle. This was the rifle with which he had overnight -beaten out on to the veranda (where this morning he had left it dead -and crushed) the coral snake, and which he had provided himself with -ere he left England in case opportunities for sport should arise. The -gun, an old-fashioned thing lent him by Sebastian, he had not used -against any of the feathered inhabitants of the woods, although many -opportunities had arisen of shooting partridges, wild pigeons, -whistling ducks, quails, and others. Had not used it because, -remembering one or two other incidents, such as that of the horse and -that of the coral-snake (which might have crept into his bed for extra -warmth, as such reptiles will do even in the hottest climates, but on -the other hand might have reached that spot by different means), and -because since also he was now full of undefined suspicion, he thought -it very likely that if used it would burst in his hands. - -He was not alone, as by his side, there sat now a man whose features, -as well as his spare, supple frame, bespoke him one of that tribe of -half-breeds, namely, Spanish and Carib Indian, which furnishes so -large a proportion of the labourers to the whole of Central America. -He was an elderly man, this--a man nearer sixty than fifty, with -snow-white hair; yet any one who should have regarded him from behind, -or watched his easy strides from a distance, or his method of mounting -an incline, might well have been excused for considering him to be -about thirty-five. - -"What did Mr. Ritherdon strike you for this morning?" Julian asked -now, while, as he spoke he raised his rifle off his knee, and, with it -ready to be brought to the shoulder, sat watching a number of ripples -which appeared a hundred and fifty yards away in the lagoon. - -"Because he is a cruel man," his companion, who was at the present -time his guide, replied; "because, too, everything makes him angry -now--even so small a thing as my having buckled his saddle-girth too -loose. A cruel man and getting worse. Always angry now." - -"Why?" asked Julian, raising the rifle and aiming it at this moment -towards a conical grey-looking object that appeared above the ripples -on the lagoon--an object that was, in absolute fact, the snout of an -alligator. - -"Because--don't fire yet, senor; he's coming nearer--because, oh! -because things go very bad with him, they say. He lose much money -and--and--pretty Missy Sprangy don't love him." - -"Does he love her?" - -"They say. Say, too, Massa Sprangy much money. Seabastiano wants money -as well as pretty missy. Never get it, though. Perhaps, too, he not -live get much more." - -"What do you mean?" asked Julian, lowering the rifle as the huge -reptile in the lagoon now drew its head under water; while he looked -also at the man with stern, inquiring eyes. "What do you mean?" Though -inwardly he said to himself: "This is a new phase in these mysterious -surroundings. My life doesn't seem just now one that the insurance -companies would be very glad to get hold of, while also my beloved -cousin's doesn't appear to be a very good one. Lively place, this!" - -"He very much hated," the half-breed answered. "Very cruel. Some day -tommy-goffy give him a nice bite, or half-breed gentleman put a knife -in his liver." - -"The snakes don't hate him, do they? He can't be cruel to them." - -The other gave a laugh at this; it was indeed a laugh which was -something between the bleating of a sheep and the (so-called) terrible -war-whoop of a North-American Indian; then he replied: "Easy enough -make tommy-goffy hate him. Take tommy into room where a man sleeps, -wrapped up in a serape with his head out, then put him mouth to man's -arm. Tommy do the rest. Gentleman want no breakfast." - -"This _is_ a nice country!" Julian thought. "I'm blessed if some of -these chaps couldn't give the natives in India, or the dear old -Chinese, a tip or two." - -While as he so reflected, he also thought: "Easy enough, too, to put -tommy-goff into a man's bed. Then that man wouldn't want any breakfast -either. It's rather a good job that I found myself with an appetite -this morning." - -"Here he comes," the man, whose name was Paz, exclaimed, now suddenly -referring to the alligator. "Hit him in the eye if you can, seńor, or -mouth. If he gets on shore we shall have to run." While, as he spoke, -from out of the lagoon there rose the head of an enormous alligator, -which seemed to have touched bottom since it was waddling ashore. - -"I shall never hit him in the eye," Julian said, taking deliberate -aim, however. "Gather up the traps, Paz, and get further away. I'll -have a shot at him; and, then if he comes on land, I'll have another. -Here goes." - -But now, even as he prepared to fire, the beast gave him a chance, -since, either from wishing to draw breath or from excitement at seeing -a probable meal, it suddenly began opening and shutting its vast jaws -as it came along, so that the hideous rows of yellow teeth, and the -whity-pink roof of its mouth were plainly visible. And, at that -moment, from the repeating rifle rang out a report, while, after the -smoke had drifted away, it was easy to perceive that the monster had -received a deadly wound. It was now spread-eagled out upon the rim of -the lagoon's bank, its short, squat legs endeavouring to grip the -sand, its eyes rolled up in its head and a stream of blood pouring -from its open mouth. - -"Though," said Julian, as now he approached close to the creature, -and, taking steady aim, delivered another bullet into its eye which -instantly gave it the _coup de grace_; "though I don't know why I -should have killed the poor beast either. It couldn't have done me any -harm." Then he thought, "I might as well have reserved the fire for -something that threatened danger to me." - -He had had enough sport for the day by now, having done that which -every visitor to Central America is told he ought to do, namely, kill -a jaguar and an alligator; wherefore, bidding Paz go on with the -skinning of the former (which the man had already began earlier) since -the spotted coat of this creature is worth preserving, he took a last -look at the dead reptile lying half in and half out of the lagoon, and -then made preparations for their return to Desolada. These -preparations consisted of readjusting the saddle on the mustang, which -he was still the temporary proprietor of, and in also saddling Paz's -mule for him. - -Then, when the operation of skinning was finished, they took their way -back towards the coast. - -Among other questions which Julian had asked this man during the -morning with reference to the owner of the above abode, was one as to -how long he had been present on the estate--a question which had -remained unanswered owing to the killing of the jaguar having occurred -ere it could be answered. But now--now that they were riding easily -forward, the skin of the creature hanging like a horse-cloth over the -tail of the half-breed's mule, he returned to it. - -"How long did you say you had known Mr. Ritherdon and his household?" -he asked, referring of course to the late owner of the property to the -borders of which they were now approaching. - -"Didn't say anything," Paz replied, "because then we killed him," and -he touched the fast drying skin of the dead animal. "But I know -Desolada for over thirty years. Before Massa Ritherdon come." - -"Then you've known the present Mr. Ritherdon all his life--since the -day he was born." - -"Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. Since that day. Always remember that. Same day my -poor old mother die. She Carib from Tortola." - -"Did you know his--mother--too; the lady who had been Miss Leigh?" - -"Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. I know her. I remember she beautiful young -girl--English missy. With the blue eye and the skin like the peach and -the hair like the wheat. Oh, yes. I remember her. Very beautiful." - -"Blue eyes, skin like a peach, hair like the wheat," thought Julian to -himself; "his supposed mother, my own mother as before Heaven I -believe. Yet he, Sebastian, speaks of this woman Carmaux, this woman -of French origin hailing from New Orleans, as a near relative of hers. -Bah! it is impossible." - -"Also I remember," Paz went on, "when--when--his brother--the man who -Sebastian tell us the other day was your father--love her too. And she -love him. Only old man Leigh he say that no good. Old man ruin very -much. They say constabulary and old man English Chief Justice very -likely to arrest him. Then Missy Leigh save her father and marry Massa -Ritherdon when Massa George's back turned." - -Julian nodded as he heard all this--nodded as though confirming Paz's -story. Though, in fact, it was Paz's story which confirmed that which -the dead man in England had told him. - -"You knew her and her father, Mr. Leigh?" he asked now. - -"Know him! Know him! I worked for him at the Essex hacienda----" - -"Essex hacienda!" - -"Yes, he gave it that name because he love it. 'All my family, Paz,' -he say to me one day when I was painting the name on waggon--'all -my family come from Essex many, many long years. All born -there--grandmother, father, mother, myself, and daughter Isobel, Paz. -All; every one. Oh! Paz,' he say to me, 'England always been good -enough for us till my turn come. Then I very bad young man--very -dis--dis--dis--something he say. Now, he say, I have to be the first -exile of family, I and poor little Isobel. No Leigh ever have to live -abroad before!" - -"Did he say all that, Paz? Is this the truth?" - -"Truff, sir! Sir, my father Spanish gentleman, my mother Carib lady. -Very fine lady." - -"All right. I beg your pardon. Never mind, I did not mean that. And so -you remember when this Mr. Ritherdon was born, eh? Did the old -gentleman seem pleased?" - -"He very pleased about the son--very sad about the poor wife. He weep -much, oh! many weeps. But he give us all money to drink Sebastian's -health, and he tell us that as his poor wife dead. Mam Carmaux come -keep the house and bring up little boy." - -"Did he?" said Julian, and then lapsed into silence as they rode -along. Yet, to himself he said continually: "What is this mystery? -What is the root of it all? What is at the bottom? Somehow I feel as -certain as that I am alive that I was this son--yet--yet--he was -pleased--gave money--oh! shall I ever unravel it all?" - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -A DROP OF BLOOD. - - -They were drawing near the coast now as the sun sank slowly away over -the crest of the Cockscomb mountains towards Guatemala; and already -there were signs that the night--the swift night that comes to all -spots which lie betwixt Capricorn and Cancer--was drawing near. - -The sun, although now hidden behind the topmost ridge of the -Cockscombs, was still an hour above the blue horizon, yet nevertheless -the signs were apparent that he would soon be gone altogether. The -parrots and the monkeys were becoming still and quiet in the -branches--that is to say, as still and quiet as these screeching and -chattering creatures ever do become in their native state--in dark and -shade places where now the evening glow scarce penetrated, the -fireflies gleamed little sparks and specks of molten gold; while, -above all, there rose now from the earth that true tropical sign of -coming night, the incense exuded by countless flowers and shrubs, as -well as the cool damp of the earth when refreshed by the absence of -the burning sun. Sometimes, too, across their path, an unmade one, or -only made by the tracks of wild deer or the mountain cow, two or three -of the former would glide swiftly and gracefully, seeking their lair, -or the iguana would scuttle before their animals into the nearest -copse, while the quash and gibonet were often visible. - -They rode slowly, not only because of the heat, but also because none -could progress at a swift rate through those tangled copses, the trees -of which were often hung with masses of wild vines whose tendrils met -and interlaced with each other, so that sometimes almost a wall of -network was encountered. Also they rode slowly, because Desolada was -but a mile or so off now, and they would be within its precincts ere -the sun was quite gone for the day. And as they did so in silence, -Julian was acknowledging to himself that, with every fresh person he -encountered and every fresh question he asked, his bewilderment was -increased. - -For now, by his side, rode this man, half Spaniard, half Indian, named -Ignacio Paz, who not only had been present at the birth of Mr. -Ritherdon's son, but also had known that son's mother before she was -married. And, Julian asked himself, how did the knowledge now -proclaimed by this man--this man who, if he possessed any feelings -towards Sebastian possessed only those of hatred--this man who had -prophesied for him a violent death as the reward of his brutality and -cruelty--how did that knowledge make for or against the story told by -George Ritherdon? Let him see. - -It served above all to corroborate, to establish, Sebastian's position -as the true son and inheritor of Charles Ritherdon. So truly an -acknowledged son and inheritor that, undoubtedly no contrary proof -could ever be brought of sufficiently powerful nature to overwhelm all -that the evidence of the last twenty-five or twenty-six years -affirmed. Had not this man, Paz, been one of those who had received -money from Mr. Ritherdon to drink Sebastian's health? Surely--surely, -therefore, the old man was satisfied that this was his son. And -if he, Sebastian, was his son, who then was he, Julian? - -On the other hand, the half-breed proved by old Mr. Leigh's -conversation that there was some inaccuracy--perhaps an intentional -inaccuracy--in Sebastian's statement that Miriam Carmaux, or Gardelle, -was a relative of Isobel Leigh. That was undoubted! There was an -inaccuracy. Old Leigh had definitely said that he was the first of his -family who had ever been forced to earn a living in exile--yet she, -this woman, with a French maiden, as well as married, name, was a -native of New Orleans, was a Frenchwoman. Was it not enormous odds, -therefore, against her being any connection of the English girl with -the fair, wheat-coloured hair, the peachlike complexion, and the blue -eyes who had been brought as an infant from Essex to Honduras? - -Also, was it not immeasurably unlikely that, even if then the women -were connected by blood, such coincidences should have occurred that -both should have come to the colony at almost an identical time; that -Mr. Ritherdon's wandering heart should have chanced to be captivated -by each of those women; that he should have jilted the one for the -other, and that eventually one, the jilted woman, should have dropped -into the place of mistress of the household which death had caused the -other to resign? What would the doctrine of chances say in connection -with these facts, he would like to know? - -"One other thing perplexes me, too," he thought to himself, as now -they reached an open glade across which the swift departing sun -streamed horizontally, "perplexes me marvellously. Does Sebastian -know, does he dream, that against his position and standing such a -story has been told as that narrated to me in England by my uncle--as -still I believe him to be. And if--if there is some chicanery, some -dark secret in connection with his and my birth, does he know of -it--or is he inno----" - -He paused, startled now at an incident that had happened, an incident -that drove all reflection from his mind. - -Across that glade there had come trotting easily, and evidently -without any fear on its part, one of the red deer common enough in -British Honduras. Only this deer was not as those are which sportsmen -and hunters penetrate into the forests and the mountains to shoot and -destroy; instead, it was one which Julian had himself seen roaming -about the parklike grounds and surroundings of Desolada, the territory -of which began on the other side of the open glade. - -Yet this was not the incident, nor the portion of the incident which -startled both him and Paz. Not that, but something else more serious -than a tame deer crossing an open grassland a few hundred yards in -diameter each way. There was nothing to startle in that--though much -to do so in what followed. - -What followed being that as the deer, still slowly trotting over the -broad-leaved grass, which here forms so luxurious a pasture for all -kinds of cattle, came into line with Julian and Paz riding almost side -by side, though with the latter somewhat ahead of the former--there -came from out of the mangrove trees on the other side of the little -opening, a spit of flame, a puff of smoke, and the sharp crack of a -rifle, while, a second later, from off the side of a logwood tree -close by them there fell a strip of bark to the ground. - -"By Jove!" exclaimed Julian, his accustomed coolness not deserting him -even at this agitating moment, "the gallant sportsman is a reckless -kind of gentleman. One would think we were the game he is after and -not the deer which, by-the-bye, has departed like a streak of greased -lightning. I say, Paz, that bullet passed about three inches behind -your head and not many more in front of my nose. People don't go out -shooting human beings here as they do partridges at home, do they?" -and he turned his eyes on his companion. - -If, as an extra excitement to add to the incident, he had desired to -observe now a specimen of native-born ferocity, he would have been -gratified as he thus regarded Paz. For the man in whose veins ran the -hot blood of a Spaniard, mixed with the still more hot and tempestuous -blood of the Indian, seemed almost beside himself now with rage and -fury. His dark coffee-hued skin had turned livid, his eyes glared like -those of a maddened wolf, and his hands, which were now unstrapping -the rifle that he too carried slung to his saddle, resembled masses of -vibrating cords. Yet they became calm enough as, the antique -long-barrelled weapon being released, he raised that rifle quickly, -brought it to the shoulder and fired towards the exact spot whence -they had observed the flame and smoke of the previous rifle to come. - -"Are you mad?" exclaimed Julian, horrified at the act. "Great Heavens! -Do you want to commit a murder? If the person who let drive at that -deer has not moved away yet, you have very likely taken a human life." - -But Paz, who seemed now to have recovered his equanimity and to have -relieved his feelings entirely by that savage idea of retaliation, -which had been not only sprung into his mind, but had also been -instantly put into practice, only shrugged his shoulders indifferently -while he restrapped his rifle. Then he pointed a long lean finger at -the spot across the glade where the first discharge had taken place, -directing the digit next to the spot where the deer had been, after -which he pointed next to their heads and then to the tree, in which -they could see the hole where the bullet was buried two or three -inches. Having done all which, he muttered: - -"Fired at the deer. At the deer! The deer was there--there--there," -and he directed his eyes to a spot five yards off the line which would -be drawn between the other side of the glade whence the fire had come -and the deer, "and we are here. Tree here, too." - -"What do you suspect?" Julian asked, white to the lips now -himself--appalled at some hitherto unsuspected horror. "What? Whom?" -And as he spoke his lips seemed to take the form of a name which, -still, he hesitated to give utterance to. - -"No," the half-caste said in reply, his quick intelligence grasping -without the aid of any speech the identity of the man to whom Julian's -expression pointed. "No. He is in Belize by now. He must be there. He -has money--much money--to pay to lawyer this morning. Not him. Not -him." After which the mysterious creature laughed in a manner that set -Julian's mind reflecting on how he had heard the Indians of old -laughed at the tortures endured by their victims. - -"Come," he said now, feeling suddenly cold and chilled, as he had felt -once or twice before in Desolada and its surroundings. "Come, let us -go ho----back to the house," and he started the mustang forward on the -route they had been following. - -"No," Paz exclaimed, "however, not that way now. Other way. Quite as -near. Also," and his dark eyes glistened strangely as he fastened them -on Julian, "lead to hacienda. To Desolada. Come. We go through -wood--over glade. Very nice wood." - -"What do you expect to do there?" Julian asked, divining all the same. - -"Oh! oh!" Paz said, his face alight with a demoniacal gleam. "Oh! oh! -Perhaps find a body. Who knows? Gunny he shoot very straight. Perhaps -a wounded man. Who knows?" - -So they crossed the glade, making straight for the spot whence the -murderous belch of flame had sprung forth, and, pushing aside -flowering cacti and oleanders as well as other lightly knitted -together shrubs and bushes, looked all around them. But, except that -there were signs of footmarks on the bruised leaves of some of the -greater shrubs and also that the undergrowth was a little trodden -down, they saw nothing. Certainly nobody lay there, struck to death by -Paz's bullet. - -The keen eyes of the half-caste--glinting here and there and -everywhere--and looking like dark topazes as the rays of the evening -sun danced in them--seemed, however, to penetrate each inch of the -surrounding shrubbery. And, at last, Julian heard him give a little -gasp--it was almost a bleat--and saw him point with his finger at -something about three feet from the ground. - -At a leaf--a leaf of the wild oleander--on which was a speck that -looked like a ladybird. Only--it was not that! But, instead, a drop of -blood. A drop that glistened, as his eyes had glistened in the sun; a -drop that a step or two further onward had a fellow. Then--nothing -further. - -"I hit him," Paz said, "somewhere. Only--did not kill." While, -instantly he wheeled round and gazed full into Julian's eyes--his face -expressing a very storm of demoniacal hate against the late owner of -that drop. - -"That," he almost hissed, "will keep. For a later day. When I know -him." - -They went now toward the house, each intent on his own meditations and -with hardly a word spoken between them; or, at least, but a few words: -Julian requesting Paz to say nothing of the incident, and the latter -replying that by listening and not talking was the way to discover a -secret. - -"Ha! the gentle lady," said the half-breed now, as they observed -Madame Carmaux seated on the veranda arranging some huge lilies in a -glass bowl, while the form of Zara was observed disappearing into the -house. "Ha! the gracious ruler and mistress." Then, as they drew near -and stepped on to the veranda, Paz began bowing and scraping before -the former with extraordinary deference. Yet, all the same, Julian -observed that his eyes were roving everywhere around, and all over the -boards near where Madame Carmaux sat, so that he wondered what it was -for which the half-breed sought! - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -"SHE HATES HIM BECAUSE SHE LOVES HIM." - - -"It would be folly," said Julian to himself that night, "not to -recognise at once that each moment I spend in this house, or, indeed -in this locality, is full of danger to me. Therefore, from this moment -I commence to take every precaution that is possible. Now let us think -out how to do it." - -On this occasion he was the sole occupant of the lower veranda, in -spite of its being quite early in the evening, and owing to the fact -that Sebastian was passing the night in Belize, while Madame Carmaux, -having announced that she had a severe headache, had taken herself off -to her own room before supper, he had partaken of that meal alone. So -that he sat there quite by himself now, smoking; and, as a matter of -fact, he was not at all sorry to do so. - -He recognised that any attempt at conversation with the "gentle lady" -as Paz had termed her--in an undoubtedly ironical and subacid -manner--was the veriest make-believe; while, as to Sebastian, when he -was at home--well, his conversation was absolutely uninteresting. He -never talked of anything but gambling and the shortness of ready -money, diversified occasionally by a torrent of questions as to what -George Ritherdon had done and what he had said during the whole time -of his life in England. While, as Julian reflected, or, indeed, now -felt perfectly sure, that even this wearisome talk was but assumed as -a mask or cloak to the other's real thoughts, it was not likely that -Sebastian's absence to-night could be a cause of much regret. - -"Let me think out how to do it," he said again, continuing his -meditations; "let me regard the whole thing from its proper aspect. I -am in danger. But of what at the worst? Well, at the worst--death. -There is, it is very evident, a strong determination on the part of -some people in this place to relieve the colony of my interesting -presence. First, Sebastian tries to break my neck with an untrained -horse; next, some one probably places a coral snake in my bed; while, -thirdly, some creature of his endeavours to shoot me. Paz--who seems -to have imbibed many ancient ideas from his Spanish and savage -ancestors--appears, however, if I understand him, to imagine he was -the person shot at, his wild and barbaric notions about the sacredness -of the guest making him suppose, apparently that my life could not be -the one aimed at. Well, let him think so. At any rate, his feelings of -revenge and hatred are kept at boiling-pitch against some unknown -enemy. - -"Now," he went on, with still that light and airy manner of looking at -difficulties (even difficulties that at this time seemed to be -assuming a horrible, not to say, hideous, aspect) which had long since -endeared him to countless comrades in the wardroom and elsewhere. -"Now, I will take a little walk in the cool of the evening. Dear -Madame Carmaux's headache has deprived her of the pearls of my -conversation, wherefore I will, as her countrymen say, 'go and take -the air.'" - -Upon which he rose from his seat, and, pushing aside the wicker table -on which stood a bottle of Bourbon whisky, a syphon, and also a pen -and ink with some writing-paper, he took from off it a letter directed -and stamped, and dropped it into the pocket of his white jacket. - -"The creole negro--as they call those chaps here--passes the foot of -the garden in five minutes' time," he said to himself, looking at a -fine gold watch which he had gained as a prize at Greenwich, "and he -will convey this to Spranger's hands. Afterwards, from to-night, I -will make it my business to send one off from All Pines every day. I -should like Spranger and Beat--I mean Miss Spranger--to receive a -daily bulletin of my health henceforth. - -"Sebastian," he continued to reflect, as now he made his way beneath -the palms towards where the road ran, far down at the foot of the -garden, "has meditations about being my heir--well, so have I about -being his. Yet I think, I do really think, I would rather be -Sebastian's if it's all the same to him. Nevertheless, in case -anything uncomfortable should happen to me, I should like Spranger and -Beat--Miss Spranger, to be acquainted with the fact. It might make the -succession easier to--Sebastian." - -He heard the "creole negro's" cart coming along, even as he reached -the road; he heard also the chuckles and whoops with which the -conveyer of her Majesty's mails urged on the flea-bitten, raw-boned -creature that carried them; and then, the cart drew into sight and was -pulled up suddenly as Julian emerged into the road. - -"Hoop! Massa Sebastian, you give me drefful fright," the sable driver -began, "thought it was your ghost, as I see you in Belize this berry -morning----" - -"So it would have been his ghost," remarked Julian, as he came close -to the cart with the letter in his hand, "if you had happened to see -him now. Meanwhile, kindly take this letter and put it in your -mail-bag." - -"Huah! huah!" grunted the negro, while he held out his great black -hand for the missive and, opening the mouth of the bag which was in -the cart behind him, thrust it in on the top of all the others he had -collected on his route along the coast; "he get there all right about -two o'clock this morning. But, massa, you berry like Massa Sebastian. -In um white jacket you passy well for um ghost or brudder." - -"So they tell me," Julian answered lightly. "But, you see, we happen -to be cousins, and, sometimes, cousins are as much alike as brothers. -My friend," he said, changing the subject, "are you a teetotaller?" - -"Hoop! Huah! Teetotallum. Huah! Teetotallum! Yes, massa, when I've no -money. Then berry good teetotallum. Berry good." - -"Well, now see, here is some money," and he gave the man a small piece -of silver. "Take a drink at All Pines as you go by; it will keep this -limekiln sort of air out of your throat--or wash it down. Off with -you, only take two drinks. Have the second when you get to Belize." - -Profuse in thanks, the darkey drove off, wishing Julian good-night, -while the latter's cheery, "Good-night, fair nymph," seemed to him so -exquisite a piece of humour that, for some paces along the road, the -former could hear him chuckling and murmuring in his musical bass: -"Fair nymph. Hoah! Fair nymph. Hoah! Fair nymph. That's me." - -"Now," Julian said to himself as he strolled along the road, "we shall -see if Spranger comes to meet me as he said he would if I wanted his -assistance. If he doesn't, then bang goes this one into the All Pines -post-box to-morrow;" the "this one" being an exact duplicate of the -letter which the negro postman had at that moment in his mail-bag. - -"I'm getting incredibly cunning," Julian murmured to himself, -"shockingly so. Yet, what is one to do? One must meet ruse with ruse -and cunning with cunning, and I do believe Sebastian is as artful as a -waggon-load of monkeys. However, if things go wrong with me, if I -should get ill--Sebastian says the climate is bad and lays a good deal -of stress on the fact, although other people say it's first-rate---or -disappear, or furnish a subject for a first-class funeral, there is -one consolation. Spranger, on not hearing from me, will soon begin to -make inquiries and, as the novelists say, 'I shall not die unavenged.' -That's something." - -It is permissible for those who record veracious chronicles such as -this present one, to do many things that in ordinary polite society -would not be tolerated. Thus, we have accompanied Julian to his -bedchamber on more than one occasion, and now we will look over his -shoulder as, an hour before this period, he indited the letter to Mr. -Spranger (which at the present moment is in the Belize post-cart), and -afterwards made a copy of it for posting the next day at All Pines. - -It was not a lengthy document--since the naval officer generally -writes briefly, succinctly and to the purpose--and simply served to -relate the various startling "incidents" which had occurred after he -had returned to Desolada. And he told Mr. Spranger that, henceforth, a -letter would be posted for him at All Pines every day, which, so long -as it conveyed no tidings of ill news, required no answer; but that, -if such letter should fail to come, then Spranger might imagine that -he stood in need of succour. It concluded by saying that if this -gentleman had a few hours to spare next day and could meet him -half-way betwixt Belize and Desolada--say, opposite a spot called -Commerce Bight--he would take it as a favour--would meet him, say, in -the early morning, about ten o'clock, before the heat was too great. - -"Sebastian," the letter ended, "seems to harp more, now, on the fact -that he's my heir than on anything else. He evidently imagines that I -have more to leave than I have. But, however that may be, I don't want -him to inherit yet." - -He was thinking about this letter, and its duplicate which was to -follow to-morrow, if the first one did not bring his friend from -Belize, when he heard voices near him--voices that were pitched low -and coming closer with every step he took, and then, suddenly, he came -upon the girl, Zara, and the man, Ignacio Paz, walking along the road -side by side. - -"Well, my Queen of Night," he said to the former, "and how are you? -You heard that I found the snake after all, I suppose?" - -"Yes, I heard," the girl said, her dark slumbrous eyes gleaming at him -in the light of the stars. "I heard. Better always look. This is a -dangerous land. Very dangerous to white men." - -"So Sebastian tells me. Thank you, Zara. Henceforth I will be sure to -look. I am going to take a great deal of care of my precious health -while I am in this neighbourhood." - -"That is well," the girl said; then, having noticed his bantering -manner, she added, "you may laugh--make joke, but it is no joke. Take -care," and a moment later she was gone swiftly up to the house, -leaving him and his companion of the morning standing together in the -dusty road. - -"I wonder why Zara is such a good friend of mine?" Julian asked -meditatively now, looking into the eyes of Paz, which themselves -gleamed brightly. - -"You wonder?" the half-caste said, with that bleating little laugh -which always sounded so strangely in Julian's ears. "_Do_ you wonder? -Can't you guess? Do you wonder, too, why I'm a friend of yours?" - -"You, Paz! Why we've only known each other about fifteen hours. Though -I'm glad to hear it, all the same." - -"Friends long enough to nearly get killed together to-day," the man -replied. "That's one reason." - -"And the other--Zara's reasons? What are they?" - -Again the man's eyes glistened in the starlight; then he put out his -long lithe finger, which, Indianlike, he used to emphasize most of his -remarks. - -"She hates him. So do I." - -"You I can understand. He beat you this morning. But--Zara! I thought -she was his faithful adherent." - -"She hates him because," the man replied laconically, "she loves him." - -"Loves him. And he? Well--what?" - -"Not love her. He love 'nother. English missy. You know her." - -"I do," Julian answered emphatically. "I do. Now, I'll add my share to -this little love story. She, the English missy, does not love him." - -"Zara think she do. Thinks he with her now. Go Belize, see her." - -"Bah! Bosh! The English missy wouldn't--why, Paz," he broke off -suddenly, "what's this in your hand? Haven't you had enough sport -to-day--or are you going out shooting the owls to-night for a change?" -while as he spoke he pointed to a small rifle the half-caste held in -his hand. "Though," he added, "one doesn't shoot birds with rifles." - -"No," the other replied, with again the bleat, and with, now, his eyes -blazing--"no. Shoot men with him. Nearly shoot one to-day. I find him -near where I find drop of blood this afternoon. Hid away under ferns. -I take a little walk this evening in the cool. Then I find him." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -SEBASTIAN IS DISTURBED. - - -"This knoll is becoming historic," Julian said to himself the next -morning, as he halted the mustang where twice he had halted it before, -when he had been journeying the other way from that which he had now -come. "When, some day, the life and adventures of Admiral Ritherdon, -K.C.B., and so forth, are given to an admiring world, it must figure -in them. Make a pretty frontispiece, too, with its big shady palms and -the blue sea beyond the mangroves down below." - -In spite, however, of his bright and buoyant nature, which -refused to be depressed or subdued by the atmosphere of doubt or -suspicion--to give that atmosphere no more important name--he -recognised very clearly that matters were serious with him. He knew, -too, that the calamities which had approached, without absolutely -overwhelming him--so far--were something more than coincidences; -natural enough as each by itself might have been in a country which, -even now, can scarcely be called anything else than a wild and -unsettled one. - -"I was once flung off a horse, a buckjumper," he reflected, "in -Western Australia when I was a 'sub'; I found a snake in my bed in -Burmah; and a chap shot at me once in Vera Cruz--but--but," and he -nodded his head meditatively over his recollections, "the whole lot -did not happen together in Australia or Burmah or Vera Cruz. If they -had done so, it would have appeared rather pointed. And--well--they -_have_ all happened together here. That looks rather pointed, too." - -"All the same," Julian went on reflectively, as now he tethered the -mustang to a bush where it could stand in the shade, and also drew -himself well under the spreading branches of the palms--"all the same, -I can't and won't believe that Sebastian sees danger to his very -firmly-established rights by my presence here. He said on that first -night to Madame Carmaux, 'Knowledge is not proof,' and what proof have -I against him? This copy of my baptism at New Orleans which I possess -can't outweigh that entry of his birth which Spranger has seen in -Belize. And there is nothing else. Nothing! Except George Ritherdon's -statement to me, which nobody would believe. My own opinion is," he -concluded, "that Sebastian, who at the best is a rough, untutored -specimen of the remote colonist, with very little knowledge of the -world beyond, thinks that if anything happened to me he would only -have to put in a claim to whatever I have in England, prove his -cousinship, and be put in possession of my few thousands. What a -sublime confidence he must have in the simplicity of the English -laws!" - -Even, however, as he thought all this, there came to him a -recollection, a revived memory, of something that had struck him after -George Ritherdon's death--something that, in the passage of so many -other stirring events, had of late vanished from his mind. - -"He said," Julian murmured to himself--"my uncle said in the letter I -received when we got back to Portsmouth, that he had commenced to -write down the error, the crime of his life, in case he did not live -to see me. And--and--later--after he had told me all, on the next day, -he remarked that the whole account was written down; that when--poor -old fellow! he was gone I should find it in his desk; that it would -serve to refresh my memory. But--I never did find it, and, I suppose, -he thought it was best destroyed. I wish, however, he hadn't done it; -even his handwriting would have been some corroboration of the -statement. At least it would have shown, if I ever do make the -statement public, that I had not invented it." - -While he had been indulging in these meditations he had kept his eyes -fixed on the long, white, dusty road that stretched from where the -knoll was on which he sat toward Belize; a road which, through this -flat country, could be traced for two or three miles, it looking like -a white thread lying on a dark green carpet the colour of which had -been withered by the sun. - -And now, as he looked, he saw upon the farthest end of that thread a -speck, even whiter than itself--a speck, that is to say, white above -and black beneath--which was gradually travelling along the road, -coming nearer and growing bigger each moment. - -"It may be Mr. Spranger," he thought to himself, still watching the -oncoming party-coloured patch as it continued to loom larger; -"probably is. Yet for a man of his time of life, and in such a baker's -oven as that road is, he is a bold rider. I hope he won't get a -sunstroke or a touch of heat apoplexy in his efforts to come and meet -me." - -At last, however, the person, whoever it was, drew so near that the -rider's white tropical jacket stood out quite distinct from the black -coat of the animal he bestrode; while, also, the great white sombrero -on the man's head was distinctly visible. - -"That's not Spranger," Julian said to himself, "but a much younger -man. By Jove!" he exclaimed, "it's Sebastian. And I might have -expected it to be him. Of course. It is about the time he would be -returning to Desolada." - -His recognition of his cousin was scarcely accomplished beyond all -doubt, when Sebastian's horse began to slow down in its stride, owing -to having commenced the ascent of the incline that led up to the knoll -where Julian sat, and in a very few more moments the animal, emitting -great gusts from its nostrils, had brought its rider close to where he -was. While, true to his determination to exhibit no outward sign of -anything he might suspect concerning Sebastian's designs toward him, -as well as to resolve to assume a light and cheerful manner, and also -a friendly one, Julian called out pleasantly: - -"Halloa, Sebastian! How are you this fine morning? Rather a hot ride -from Belize, isn't it?" - -If, however, he had expected an equally cordial greeting in return, -or, to put it in other and more appropriate words, a similar piece of -acting on Sebastian's part, he was very considerably mistaken. For, -instead of his cousin returning his cheerful salutation in a -corresponding manner, his reception of it betokened something that -might very well have been considered to be dismay. Indeed, he reined -his horse up so suddenly as almost to throw the panting creature on -its haunches, in spite of the ascent it was making; while his face, -sunbrowned and burned as it was, seemed to grow nearly livid behind -the bronze. His eyes also had in them the startled expression which -might possibly be observed in those of a man who had suddenly been -confronted by a spectre. - -"Why!" he said, a moment later, after peering about and around and -into all the rich luxuriant vegetation which grew on the knoll, as -though he might have expected to see some other person sitting among -the wild allamandas or ixoras--"why, what on earth are you doing here, -Julian? I--I thought you were at Desolada, or--or perhaps out shooting -again. By the way, I had left Desolada before you were up yesterday -morning; what sort of a day did you have of it?" - -"Most exciting," Julian replied, himself as cool as ice. "Quite a -field-day." And then he went on to give his cousin, who had by now -dismounted and was sitting near him, a _résumé_ of the whole day's -adventures--not forgetting to tell him also of the interesting -discovery of the coral snake in his bed. - -"If," he thought to himself, "he wants to see how little he can -frighten one of her Majesty's sailors, he shall see it now." - -He had, however, some slight hesitation in narrating the retaliation -of Paz upon the unknown, would-be assassin--for such the person must -have been who had fired at where the deer was not--he being in some -doubt as to how this fact would be received. - -At first it was listened to in silence, Sebastian only testifying how -much he was impressed at the recountal by the manner in which he kept -his eyes fixed on Julian--and also by the whiteness of his lips, to -which the circulation seemed unable to find its way. Also, it seemed -as though, when he heard of the drop of blood upon the leaf, once more -the blood in his own veins was impeded--and as if his heart was -standing still. Then, when the recital was concluded, he said: - -"Paz did right. It was a cowardly affair. I wish he had killed the -villain. I suppose it was some enemies of his. Some fellow half-caste. -Paz has enemies," he added. - -"Probably," said Julian quietly. - -"And," went on Sebastian now in a voice of considerable equanimity, -though still his bronze and sunburn were not what they usually were; -"and how did you leave Madame Carmaux? Was she not horrified at such a -dastardly outrage?" - -"I did not have much time with her. Not time enough indeed to tell -her. She went to bed directly I got back----" - -"Went to bed! Why?" - -"She was not well. Said she had a headache, or rather sent word to -that effect. Nor did she come down to breakfast. Rather slow, you -know, all alone by myself, so I thought I'd come on here for a ride. -Must do something with one's time." - -"Of course! Of course! I told you Desolada was Liberty Hall. Went to -bed, eh? I hope she is not really ill. I don't know what I should do -without her," and as he spoke Julian observed that, if anything, he -was whiter than before. Evidently he was very much distressed at -Madame Carmaux's suffering from even so trifling an ailment as a -headache. - -"I think I'll get on now," Sebastian said, rising from where he was -sitting. "If she is laid up I shall have a good deal of extra work to -do, I suppose it really is a headache." - -"I suppose it is," Julian said, "it is not likely to be much else. She -was arranging flowers in a vase when Paz and I returned." - -"Was she!" Sebastian exclaimed, almost gleefully; "was she! Oh, well! -then there can't be much the matter with her, can there? I am glad to -hear that. But, anyhow, I'll go on now. You'll be back by sundown, I -suppose. You know it's bad to be out just at sunset. The climate is a -tricky one." - -"So I have heard you say. Never mind, I'll be back in the evening, or -before. Meanwhile I may wander into the woods and shoot a monkey or -so." - -"Shoot! Why! you haven't got a gun with you," Sebastian exclaimed, -looking on the ground and at the mustang's back where, probably, such -a thing would have been strapped. - -"No, I haven't. But I've always got this," and he showed the handle of -his revolver in an inside pocket. - -"You're a wise man. Though, if you knew the colony better, you'd -understand there isn't much danger to human life here." - -"There was yesterday. And Paz has taught me a trick or two. If any one -fired at me now I should do just what he did, and, perhaps, I too -might find a leaf with a drop of blood on it afterwards." - -"You're a cool fish!" exclaimed Sebastian after bursting out into a -loud laugh which, somehow, didn't seem to have much of the ring of -mirth in it. "Upon my word you are. Well, so long! Don't go committing -murder, that's all." - -"No, I won't. Bye-bye. I'll be back to-night." - -After which exchange of greetings, Sebastian got on his horse and -prepared to continue his journey to Desolada. - -"By the way," he said, however, before doing so, "about that snake! -How could it have got into your bed?" - -"_I_ don't know," Julian replied with a half laugh. "How should I? The -coral snake is a new acquaintance, though I've known other specimens -in my time. It got there somehow, didn't it?" - -"Of course! They love warmth, you know. Perhaps it climbed up the legs -of the bed and crept in where it would be covered up." - -"It was rather rude to do such a thing in a visitor's bed though, -wasn't it? It isn't as though I was one of the residents. And it must -have been a clever chap, too, because it got in without disarranging -the mosquito curtains the least little bit. That _was_ clever, when -you come to think of it!" - -At which Sebastian gave a rather raucous kind of laugh, and then set -his horse in motion. - -"_Au revoir!_" said Julian. "I hope you'll find Madame Carmaux much -better when you get back." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -A PLEASANT MEETING. - - -The morning was drawing on and it was getting late--that is, for the -tropics--namely, it was near nine o'clock, and soon the sun would be -high in the heavens, so that it was not likely along the dusty white -road from Belize any sign of human life would make it appearance until -sunset was close at hand. - -"If Mr. Spranger doesn't come pretty soon," Julian said consequently -to himself, "he won't come at all, and has, probably, important -business to attend to in the city. Wherefore I shall have to pass -to-day alone here, or have a sunstroke before I can get as far back as -All Pines for a meal. I ought to have brought some lunch with me." - -"Halloa, my friend," he remarked a moment later to the mustang, which -had commenced to utter little whinnies, and seemed to be regarding him -with rather a piteous sort of look, "what's the matter with you? You -don't want to start back and get a sunstroke, do you? Oh! I know. Of -course!" and he rose from his seat and, going further into the bushes -behind the knoll, began to use both his eyes and his ears. For it had -not taken him a moment to divine--he who had been round the world -three times! that the creature required that which in all tropical -lands is wanted by man and animal more than anything else--namely, the -wherewithal to quench their thirst. - -Presently, he heard the grateful sound of trickling water, which in -British Honduras is bountifully supplied by Providence, and discovered -a swift-flowing rivulet on its way to the sea below--it being, in -fact, a little tributary of Mullin's River--when, going back for the -creature, he led it to where the water was, while, tying its bridle to -some reeds, he left it there to quench its thirst. After which he -returned to the summit of the knoll to continue his lookout along the -road from Belize. - -But now he saw that, during his slight absence, some signs of -other riders had appeared, there being at this present moment two -black-and-white blurs upon the white dusty thread. Two that progressed -side by side, and presented a duplicate, party-coloured imitation of -that which, earlier, Sebastian Ritherdon and his steed had offered to -his view. - -"If that's Mr. Spranger," Julian thought to himself, "he has brought a -companion with him, or has picked up a fellow traveller. By Jove -though! one's a darkey and, well! I declare, the other's a woman. Oh!" -he exclaimed suddenly, joyfully too; "it's Miss Spranger. Here's -luck!" and with that, regardless of the sun's rays and all the -calamities that those rays can bring in such a land, he jumped into -the road and began waving his handkerchief violently. - -The signal, he saw, was returned at once; from beneath the huge green -umbrella held over the young lady's head--and his own--by the negro -accompanying her, he observed an answering handkerchief waved, and -then the mass of white material which formed a veil thrown back, as -though she was desirous that he who was regarding her should not be in -any doubt as to who was approaching. Yet, she need not have been thus -desirous. There is generally one form (as the writer has been told by -those who know) which, when we are young, or sometimes even, no longer -boys and girls, we recognise easily enough, no matter how much it may -be disguised by veils or dust-coats or other similar impediments to -our sight. - -Naturally, Beatrix and her sable companion rode slowly--to ride fast -here on such a morning means death, or something like it--but they -reached the knoll at last, and then, after mutual greetings had been -exchanged and Julian had lifted Miss Spranger off her horse--one may -suppose how tenderly!--she said: - -"Father was sorry, but he could not come. So I came instead. I hope -you don't mind." - -"Mind!" he said, while all the time he was thinking how pretty she -looked in her white dress, and how fascinating the line which marked -the distinction between the sunburn of her face and the whiteness of -her throat made her appear--"mind!" Then, words seeming somehow to -fail him (who rarely was at a loss for such things, either for the -purpose of jest or earnest) at this moment, he contented himself with -a glance only, and in preparing for her a suitable seat in the shade. -Yet, all the same, he was impelled directly afterwards to tell her -again and again how much he felt her goodness in coming at all. - -"Jupiter," she said to the negro now, "bring the horses in under the -shade and unsaddle and unbridle them. And, find some 'water for them. -I am going to stay quite a time, you know," she went on, addressing -Julian. "I can't go back till sunset, or near sunset, so you will have -to put up with my company for a whole day. I suppose you didn't happen -to think of bringing any lunch or other provisions?" - -"The mere man is forgetful," he replied contritely, finding his tongue -once more, "so----" - -"So I am aware. Therefore, I have brought some myself. Oh! yes, quite -enough for two, Mr. Ritherdon; therefore you need not begin to say you -are not hungry or anything of that sort. Later, Jupiter shall unpack -it. Meanwhile, we have other things to think and talk about. Now, -please, go on with that," and she pointed to the pipe in his hand -which he had let go out in her presence, "and tell me everything. -Everything from the time you left us." - -Obedient to her orders and subject to no evesdropping by the discreet -Jupiter--who, having been told by Julian where the rivulet was, had -conducted the two fresh horses there and was now seated on the bank -crooning a mournful ditty which, the former thought, might have been -sung by some African sorcerer to his barbaric ancestors--he did tell -her everything. He omitted nothing, from the finding of the -coral-snake in his bed to his last meeting with Sebastian half an hour -ago. - -While the girl sitting there by his side, her pure clear eyes -sometimes fixed on the narrator's face and sometimes gazing -meditatively on the sapphire Caribbean sparkling a mile off in front -of them, listened to and drank in and weighed every word. - -"Lieutenant Ritherdon," she said, when he had concluded, and placing -her hand boldly, and without any absurd false shame, upon his sleeve, -"you must give me a promise--a solemn promise--that you will never go -back to that place again." - -"But!" he exclaimed startled, "I must go back. I cannot leave and give -up my quest like that. And," he added, a little gravely, "remember I -am a sailor, an officer. I cannot allow myself to be frightened away -from my search in such a manner." - -"Not for----" she began interrupting. - -"Not for what?" he asked eagerly, feeling that if she said, "not for -my sake?" he must comply. - -"Not for your life? Its safety? Not for that?" she concluded, almost -to his disappointment. "May you not retreat to preserve your life?" - -"No," he answered a moment later. "No, not even for that. For my own -self-respect, my own self-esteem I must not do so. Miss Spranger," he -continued, speaking almost rapidly now, "I know well enough that I -shall do no good there; I have come to understand at last that I shall -never discover the truth of the matter. Yet I do believe all the same -that George Ritherdon was my uncle, that Charles Ritherdon was my -father, that Sebastian Ritherdon is a--well, that there is some -tricking, some knavery in it all. But," he continued bitterly, "the -trickery has been well played, marvellously well managed, and I shall -never unearth the method by which it has been done." - -"Yet, thinking this, you will not retreat! You will jeopardize your -life?" - -"I have begun," he said, "and I cannot retreat, short of absolute, -decisive failure. Of certain failure! And, oh! you must see why, you -must understand why, I can not--it is because my life is in jeopardy -that I cannot do so. I embarked on this quest expecting to find no -difficulties, no obstacles in my way; I came to this country and, at -once, I learned that my appearance here, at Desolada, meant deadly -peril to me. And, because of that deadly peril, I must, I will, go on. -I will not draw back; nor be frightened by any danger. If I did I -should hate myself forever afterwards; I should know myself unworthy -to ever wear her Majesty's uniform again. I will never draw back," he -repeated emphatically, "while the danger continues to exist." - -As he had spoken, Julian Ritherdon--the bright, cheery Englishman, -full of joke and quip, had disappeared: in his place had come another -Julian--the Englishman of stern determination, of iron nerve; the man -who, because peril stared him in the face and environed his every -footstep, was resolute to never retreat before that danger. - -While she, the girl sitting by his side, her eyes beaming with -admiration (although he did not see them), knew that, as he had -said, so he would do. This man--fair, young, good-looking, and -_insouciant_--was, beneath all that his intercourse with the world and -society had shaped him into being, as firm as steel, as solid as a -rock. - -What could she answer in return? - -"If you are so determined," she said now, controlling her voice for -fear that, through it, she should betray her admiration for his -strength and courage, "you will, at least take every measure for your -self-preservation. Write every day, as you have said you will in your -letter to my father, be ever on your guard--by night and day. Oh!" she -went on, thrusting her hands through the beautiful hair from which she -had removed her large Panama hat for coolness while in the shade, "I -sicken with apprehension when I think of you alone in that mournful, -mysterious house." - -"You need not," he said, and now he too ventured to touch her sleeve -as she had previously touched his--"you need not do so. Remember, it -is man to man at the worst; Sebastian Ritherdon--if he is Sebastian -Ritherdon--against Julian. And I, at least, am used to facing risks -and dangers. It is my trade." - -"No," she answered, almost with a shudder, while her lustrous eyes -expressed something that was very nearly, if not quite, horror--"no! -it is not. It is a man and a woman--and that a crafty, scheming -woman--against a man. Against you. Lieutenant Ritherdon," she cried, -"can you doubt who--who----" - -"Hush," he said, "hush. Not yet. Let us judge no one yet. Though -I--believe me--_I_ doubt nothing. _I_, too, can understand. But," he -went on a little more lightly now, "remember, Sebastian is not the -only one possessed of a female auxiliary, of female support. Remember, -I have Zara." - -"Zara," she repeated meditatively, "Zara. The girl with whom he amused -himself by making believe that he loved her; made her believe that, -when this precious Madame Carmaux should be removed, she might reign -over his house as his wife." - -"Did he do that?" - -"He did. If all accounts are true he led her to believe he loved her -until he thought another woman--a woman who would not have let him -serve her as a groom--might look favourably on his pretensions." - -"Therefore," said Julian, ignoring the latter part of her remark, -though understanding not only it, but the deep contempt of her tone, -"therefore, now she hates him. May she not be a powerful ally of -mine, in consequence. That is, if she does hate him, as my other -ally--Paz--says." - -"Yes, yes," Beatrix said, still musing, still reflectively. "Yet, if -so, why those mysterious visits to your bedroom window, why that -haunting the neighbourhood of your room at midnight?" - -"I understand those visits now, I think I understand them, since the -episode of the coral snake. I believe she was constituting herself a -watch, a guard over me. That she knows much--that--that she suspects -more. That she will at the worst, if it comes, help me to--to thwart -him." - -"Ah! if it were so. If I could believe it." - -"And Paz, too. Sebastian told me to-day that Paz has enemies. Well! -doubtless he has--only, I would rather be Paz than one of those -enemies. You would think so yourself if you had seen the blaze of the -man's eyes, the look upon his face, when that shot was fired, and, -later, when he showed me the rifle which he had found close by the -spot. No; I should not like to be one of Paz's enemies nor--a false -lover of Zara's." - -"If I could feel as confident as you!" Beatrix exclaimed. "Oh! if I -could. Then--then--" but she could find no ending for her sentence. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -LOVE'S BLOSSOM. - - -A fortnight had elapsed since that meeting on the palm-clad knoll, and -Julian was still an inmate of Desolada. But each day as it came and -went--while it only served to intensify his certainty that some -strange trickery had been practised at the time when he was gone and -when George Ritherdon had stolen him from his dying, or dead, mother's -side--served also to convince him that he would never find out the -manner in which the deceit had been practised, nor unravel the clue to -that deceit. He had, too, almost decided to take his farewell of -Desolada and its inmates, to shake the dust of the place off his shoes, -and to abandon any idea of endeavouring to obtain further -corroboration of his uncle's statement. - -For he had come to believe, to fear, that no corroboration was to be -found. Every one in British Honduras regarded Sebastian as the -undoubted child and absolute heir of the late Charles Ritherdon, -while, in addition, there were still scores of persons alive, black -and white and half-caste, who remembered the birth of the boy, though -not one individual could be discovered who had heard even a whisper of -any kidnapping having ever taken place. Once, Julian had thought that -a journey to New Orleans and a verification of the copy of his -baptismal certificate with the original might be of some use, but on -reflection he had decided that this, as against the certificate of -Sebastian's baptism in Belize, would be of no help whatever. - -"It is indeed a dead wall, a solid rock, against which I am pushing, -as Mr. Spranger said," he muttered to himself again and again. "And -it is too firm for me. I shall have to retreat--not because I fear my -foe, but because that foe has no tangible shape against which to -contend." - -He had not returned to Desolada on the night that followed his meeting -with, first, Sebastian on the knoll and then with Beatrix; he making -his appearance at that place about dawn on the following morning. The -reason whereof was, that, after passing the whole day with Miss -Spranger on that spot (the lunch she had brought with her being amply -sufficient to provide an afternoon, or evening, meal), he had insisted -on escorting her back to her father's house. - -At first she protested against his doing this, she declaring that -Jupiter was quite sufficient cavalier for her, but he would take no -denial and was firm in his resolve to do so. He did not tell her, -though (as perhaps, there was no necessity for him to do, since, if -all accounts are true, young ladies are very apt at discovering the -inward workings of those whom they like and by whom they are liked), -that he regarded this opportunity as a most fortuitous one, and, as -such, not to be missed. Who is there amongst us all who, given youth -and strength and the near presence of a woman whom we are fast -beginning to love with our whole heart, would not sacrifice a night's -rest to ride a score of miles by her side? Not one who is worthy to -win that woman's love! - -So through the tropical night--where high above them blazed the -constellations of the Southern Crown, the Peacock, and the Archer, -with their incandescentlike glow--those two rode side by side; the -negro on ahead and casting many a glance of caution around at bush and -shrub and clump of palm and mangrove. Of love they did not speak, for -a sufficient reason; each knew that it was growing and blossoming in -the other's heart--that it was there! The man's love there--in his -heart, not only because of the girl's winsome beauty; but born and -created also by the knowledge that she went hand in hand with him in -all that he was endeavouring to accomplish; the woman's love -engendered by her recognition of his bravery and strength of -character. If she had not come to love him before, she did so when he -exclaimed that, because the danger was near to and threatening him, he -would never desist from the task on which he had embarked. - -But love often testifies its existence otherwise than in words, and it -did so now--not only in the subdued tones of their voices as they fell -on the luscious sultry air of the night, but also in the understanding -which they came to as to how they should be in constant communication -with each other in the future, so that, if aught of evil befell Julian -at Desolada, Beatrix might not be long unaware of the evil. - -"Perhaps," Julian said, as now they were drawing near Belize--"perhaps -it will not be necessary that I should apprise you each day of my -safety, of the fact that everything is all right with me. -Therefore----" - -"I must know frequently! hear often," Beatrix said, turning her eyes -on him. "I must. Oh! Mr. Ritherdon, forty-eight hours will appear an -eternity to me, knowing, as I shall know, that you are in that -dreadful house. Alone, too, and with none to help you. What may they -not attempt against you next!" - -"Whatever they attempt," he replied, "will, I believe, be thwarted. I -take Paz and Zara--especially Zara, now that you tell me she is a -jilted woman--against Sebastian and Madame Carmaux. But, to return to -my communications with you." - -"Yes," she said, with an inward catching of her breath--"yes, your -communications with me. - -"Let it be this way. If you do not hear from me at the end of every -forty-eight hours, then begin to think that things may be going wrong -with me; while if, at the end of a second forty-eight hours, you have -still heard nothing from me, well! consider that they have gone very -wrong indeed. Shall it be like that?" - -"Oh!" the girl exclaimed with almost a gasp, "I am appalled. Appalled -even at the thought that such an arrangement, such precautions, should -have to be made." - -"Of course, they may not be necessary," he said; "after all, we may be -misjudging Sebastian." - -"We are not," she answered emphatically. "I feel it; I know it. I -mistrust that man--I have always disliked him. I feel as sure as it is -possible to be that he meditates harm to you. And--and--" she almost -sobbed, "what is to be done if the second forty-eight hours have -passed, and still I have heard nothing from or of you." - -"Then," he said with a light laugh--"then I think I should warn some -of those gentry whom we have seen loafing about Belize in a light and -tasteful uniform--the constabulary, aren't they?--that a little visit -to Desolada might be useful." - -"Oh!" Beatrix cried again now, "don't make a joke of it, Mr. -Ritherdon! Don't, pray don't. You cannot understand how I feel, nor -what my fears are. If four days went by and I heard no tidings of you, -I should begin to think that--that----" - -"No," he said, interrupting her. "No. Don't think that! Whatever -Sebastian may suspect me of knowing, he would not do what you imagine. -He would not----" - -"Kill you, you would say! Why, then, should he mount you on that -horse? And--and was--there no intention of killing you when the coral -snake was found in your bed--a deadly, venomous reptile, whose bite is -always fatal within the hour--nor when that shot was fired at you?" - -"Is there not a chance," Julian said now, asking a question instead of -answering one, "that, after all, we are entirely on a wrong tack, -granting even that Sebastian is in a false position--a position that -by right is mine?" - -"What can you mean? How can we be on a false tack?" - -"In this way. Even should it be as I suggest, namely, that he -is--well, the wrong man, how is it possible that he should be aware -of it; above all, how is it possible that he should know that I am -aware of it? He has been at Desolada, and held the position of heir -to--to--to my father ever since he was a boy, a baby. If wrong has -been done, he was not and could not be the doer of it. Therefore, why -should he suspect me of being the right man, and consequently wish to -injure me?" - -"Surely the answer is clear enough," Beatrix replied. "However -innocent he may once have been of all knowledge of a wrong having been -done, he possesses that knowledge now--in some way. And," the girl -went on, turning her face towards him as she spoke, so that he could -see her features plainly in the starlight, "he knows that it is to you -it has been done. Would not that suffice to make him meditate harm to -you?" - -"Yet, granting this, how--how can it be? How can he have discovered -the wrongdoing. A wrongdoing that his father--his supposed -father--died without suspecting." - -"Yes, that is it; that is what puzzles me more than all else," Beatrix -exclaimed, "that Mr. Ritherdon should have died without suspecting.' -That is it. It is indeed marvellous that he could have been imposed -upon from first to last." - -Then for a time they rode on in silence, each deep in their own -thoughts: a silence broken at last by Beatrix saying-- - -"Whatever the secret is, I am convinced that one other person knows it -besides himself." - -"Madame Carmaux?" - -"Yes, Madame Carmaux. If we could find out what her influence over him -is, or rather what makes her so strong an ally of his, then I feel -sure that all would be as clear as day." - -These conversations caused Julian ample food for meditation as he rode -back towards Desolada in the coolness of the dawn--a roseate and -primrose hued dawn--after having left Beatrix Spranger at her father's -house. - -What was Madame Carmaux's influence over Sebastian? Why was she so -strong an ally of his? And for answer to his self-communings, he could -find only one. The answer that this woman, who had been bereft in one -short year of the husband she had hurriedly espoused in her bitterness -of desolation as well as of the little infant daughter who had come as -a solace to her misery, had transferred all the affection left in her -heart to the boy she found at Desolada; no matter whom that boy might -be. - -An affection that year following year had caused to ripen until, at -last, her very existence had become bound up in his. This, combined -with the fact that Desolada had been her home, and that home a -comfortable one, over which she had ruled as mistress for so many -years, was the only answer he could find. - -All was very still as he rode into the back part of the mansion where -the stables were--for it was now but little after four o'clock, and -consequently there was hardly daylight yet--when, unsaddling the -mustang himself, he closed the stable door again and prepared to make -his way into the house. This was easy enough to do, since, in such a -climate, windows were never closed at night, and, beyond the -persianas, which could easily be lifted aside, there was no bar to any -one's entrance. - -Yet early as it was or, as it should be said, perhaps, far advanced as -the night was, Sebastian had not yet sought his bed. Instead, he -seemed to have decided on taking whatever rest he might require in the -great saloon in which he seemed to pass the principal part of his time -when at home. He was asleep now in the large Singapore chair he always -sat in--it being inside the room at this time instead of outside on -the veranda--possibly for fear of any night dews that--even in this -climate--will sometimes arise; he being near the table on which was -the never-failing bottle of Bourbon whisky. "The young man's -companion," as Sebastian had more than once hilariously termed it. - -But that was not the only bottle, the only liquid, on the table by his -side. - -For there stood also by Sebastian's hand a stumpy, neckless bottle -which looked as if it might once have been part of the stock-in-trade -of some chemist's shop--a bottle which was half full of a liquid of -the faintest amber or hay-colour. And, to his astonishment, he -likewise saw standing on the table a small retort, a thing he had -never supposed was likely to be known to Sebastian. - -"Well!" he thought to himself as he moved slowly along the balcony to -the open door, not being desirous of waking the sleeping man, "you are -indeed a strange man, if 'strange' is the word to apply to you. I -wonder what you are dabbling in chemistry for now? Probably no good!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -JULIAN FEELS STRANGE. - - -A fortnight had elapsed, it has been written, since the meeting -between Beatrix and Julian on the palm-clad knoll, and during that -time the latter had found himself left very much to his own resources -by Sebastian. Indeed, Julian was never quite able to make out what -became of his "relative" during the day, although at night, when they -sat as usual on the veranda, Sebastian generally explained matters by -saying that he had been absent at one place or another on business, -the "business" consisting of trafficking with other settlers for the -sale or purchase of the productions of the various estates. As, -however, few people ever came to Desolada, and none as "visitors" in -the ordinary sense of the word, Julian had no opportunity of -discovering by outside conversation whether the other's statements -were accurate or not. Still, as he said to himself, Sebastian's -pursuits were no concern whatever of his, and at any rate the latter's -absence left him free to do whatever he chose with his own time. To -shoot curassows, wild turkeys, and sometimes monkeys, or, at least, to -appear to go out shooting them; though, as often as not, the -expedition ended at All Pines, to which place Julian made his way -every other day to post a letter to Beatrix. - -Now, after a fortnight had been spent in this manner, during the whole -of which period he had not set his eyes on Madame Carmaux, who still -kept her room and was reported to be suffering from a bilious fever, -the two men sat upon the veranda of the lower floor after the evening -meal had been concluded, both of them having their pipes in their -mouths. While, close to Sebastian's hand, was a large tumbler which -contained a very good modicum of Bourbon whisky, slightly dashed with -water. - -"You don't drink at all now," that gentleman said to his cousin, as he -always called him. "Don't you like the stuff, or what? If that's what -it is, I can get something else, you know, from Belize." - -"No," Julian replied, "that is not what it is. But of late, for a week -or so now, I have not been feeling well, and perhaps abstinence from -that is the best thing," and he nodded his head towards where the -Bourbon whisky bottle stood. - -"I told you so," Sebastian exclaimed; "only you wouldn't believe me. -You were sure to feel seedy sooner or later. Every one does at first, -when they come to this precious colony." - -"I ought to be pretty well climate-hardened all the same," Julian -remarked, "after the places I've been in. Burmah isn't considered -quite the sweetest thing in the way of health resorts, yet I got -through that all right." - -"I hope you are not going to have a fever or anything wrong with your -liver. Those are the things people suffer from here, intermittent and -remittent fevers especially. I must give you some medicine." - -"No, thanks," Julian replied; "I think I can do very well without it -at present. Besides, the time has come for me to bring my visit to a -close, you know. You have been very kind and hospitable, but there is -such a thing as overstaying one's welcome." - -To his momentary astonishment, since he quite expected that Sebastian -was looking forward to his departure with considerable eagerness and -was extremely desirous of seeing the last of him, this announcement -was not received at all as he expected. In actual truth, Julian had -imagined that his decision would be accepted with the faintest of -protests which a host could make, while, instead, he perceived that -Sebastian was absolutely overcome with something that, if not dismay, -was very like it. His face fell, as the light of the lamp (round which -countless moths buzzed and circled in the sickly night air) testified -plainly, and he uttered an exclamation that was one of unfeigned -disappointment, if not regret. - -"Oh!" he said, "but I can't allow that. I can't, indeed. Going away -because you feel queer. Nonsense, man! You'll be all right in a day or -so. And to go away after a visit of two or three weeks only! Why! when -people come such a journey as you have done from England to here, we -expect them to stop six months." - -"That in any case would be impossible. My leave of absence only covers -that space of time, and cannot be exceeded. But," Julian continued, -"don't think, all the same, that I am afraid of fever or anything of -that sort. That wouldn't frighten me away." - -"I can't see what you came for, then. What the deuce," he said, -speaking roughly now as though his temper was rising, "could have -brought you to Honduras if you weren't going to stay above a month in -the place?" - -"I wanted to see the place where my father lived," the other replied, -and as he did so he watched Sebastian's features carefully. For -although, of course, he was supposed to be the son of George Ritherdon -who had lived at Desolada once, he thought it most probable that this -remark might cause his cousin some disturbance. - -Whether it did so or not, he could, however, scarcely tell, since, as -he made it, Sebastian, who was relighting his pipe with a match, let -the latter fall, and instantly leant forward to pick it up again. - -"Oh!" he exclaimed, when he had done so, "of course, if you only -wanted to do that, two or three weeks are long enough. Yet, I must -say, I think it is an uncommon short stay. However, I suppose even now -you don't mean to go off in a wonderful hurry?" - -"To-day," said Julian, "is Wednesday. Suppose, as you are so kind, -that we fix next Monday for my departure." - -"Next Monday. Next Monday," and by the movement of Sebastian's lips, -the other could see that he was making some kind of calculation. "Next -Monday. Four clear days. Ah!" and his face brightened very much as he -spoke. "Well! that's something, isn't it? Four clear days." - -Upstairs, when Julian had reached his room, he found himself -meditating upon why Sebastian should have seemed so undoubtedly -pleased at the knowledge that he was going to stay for another "four -clear days." - -"We haven't seen such a wonderful lot of each other," he reflected, -"except for an hour or so after supper; and as I have spent my time -uselessly in mooning about this place and the neighbourhood, he can't -suppose that it's very lively for me. Especially as--as there have -been risks." - -"As--as--as there have been--risks," he repeated a few moments -afterwards. Then, while still he sat on in his chair, gazing, as he -recognised, vaguely out of the window, he noticed that his mind seemed -to have got into a dull, sodden state--that it was not active. - -"As--there--have--been risks," he repeated once more. And now he -pushed his chair on one side as he rose from it, exclaiming: - -"This won't do. There's something wrong with me. -As--there--have--no!--no! I don't want to keep on repeating this -phrase over and over again. What is the matter with me? _Have_ I got a -fever?" - -Thinking this, though as he did so he recognised that his head was by -no means clear and that he felt dull and heavy, as a man might do who -had not slept for some nights, he thought, too, that it would be best -for him to go to bed. Doubtless his liver was affected by the climate; -doubtless, also, he would be well enough in the morning. - -"There is," he said to himself, "a chemist's in the village of All -Pines--I will let him to give me a draught in the morning. I wonder if -Zara ever takes a draught--I--I--mean Beatrix. What rot I am talking!" -he murmured to himself, "and now, to add to other things the lamp is -going out." - -Whereon he made a step towards where the lamp stood on the table, and -turning up the wicks gently saw that, in a moment, the flames were -leaping up the glass chimney and blackening it. - -"I thought it was going out," he said to himself, turning the wicks -down again rapidly; "I seem to be getting blind too. There is no doubt -that I have got a fever. Let me see." - -As he spoke he put his hand into his trousers pocket to draw out his -keys, it being his intention to open his Gladstone bag and get out a -little medicine casket he always carried with him when out of England, -and especially when in tropical places; and, in doing so, he leant his -head a little to the side that the pocket was on, his chin drooping -somewhat towards the lapel of his white jacket. - -"I suppose," he muttered, "that my sense of smell's affected too, now. -Or else--jacket's getting--some beastly old--old--old tropical smell -that clings to everything--in--in such countries. Never mind. Here's -keys." - -He drew them forth, regarding the bunch with a stare as though it was -something he was unacquainted with, and then, instead of putting into -the lock of the bag the long slim key which is usual, he endeavoured -to insert a large one that really belonged to a trunk he had left -behind at the shipping office in Belize as not being wanted. - -Reflection served, however, to call to his mind that this key was not -very likely to open the bag, and at last, after giving an inane smile -at the mistake, he succeeded in his endeavour and was able to get out -the contents, and to withdraw the little medicine casket. - -"Quinine," he said, spelling the word letter by letter as he held the -phial under the lamp. "Quinine. That's it. Don't let's make a mistake. -Q-u-i-n-i-n-e. That's all right. Can't go wrong now." - -By the aid of the contents of the water-bottle and his glass he was -enabled to swallow two quinine pills of two grains each, and then he -resolved--in a hazy, uncertain kind of way--to go to bed. Whereon, -slowly he divested himself of his clothes and, in a mechanical manner, -threw back the mosquito curtains. But, whatever might be the matter -with him, and however clouded his intellect might be, he was not yet -so dense as to forget the strange occupant of that bed which he had -once before discovered there. - -"Beatrix said," he muttered, "that coral snake kills in an hour. I -don't want to die in an hour. Let's see if we've got another guest -here to-night." - -And, as he had done every night since he had returned to Desolada, he -thoroughly explored the bed, doing so, however, on this occasion in a -lethargic, heavy manner which caused him to be some considerable time -about it. - -"Turn to the left to unscrew," he said to himself, recalling some old -schoolboy phrase as he stood now by the lamp ready to extinguish it, -"to the right to screw. Same, I suppose, to turn up and down. Oh! the -revolver. Where's that? May as well have it handy." Whereupon he went -over to where he had hung up his jacket and removed the weapon from -the inside pocket. - -"A nasty smell these tropical places have," he muttered as he did so. -"There's the smell of India--no one ever forgets that--and also the -smell of Africa. Well! strikes me Honduras can go one better than -either of them." - -Then he got into bed. - -Dizzy, stupefied as he felt, however, it did not seem as if his -stupefaction or semi-delirium, or whatever it was which had overcome -him, was likely to plunge him into a heavy, dull sleep. Instead, he -found himself lying there with his eyes wide open, and, although his -brain felt like a lump of lead, while there was a weight at his -forehead as if something were pressing on it, he was conscious that -one of his senses was very acute--namely, the sense of smell. Either -that, or else some very peculiar phase in the fever which he was -experiencing, was causing a strange sense of disgust in his nostrils. - -"This bed smells just like a temple I went into in Burmah once," he -thought to himself. "What the deuce is the matter with me--or it? -Anyhow, I can't stand it." And, determined not to endure the -unpleasantness any longer, he got up from the bed, while wrapping -himself in the dark coverlet he went over to an old rickety sofa that -ran along the opposite side of the room and lay down upon it. - -And here, at least, the odour was not apparent. The old horsehair -bolster and pillow did emit, it is true, the peculiar stuffy flavour -which such things will do even in temperate climates; but beyond that -nothing else. The acrid, loathsome odour which he had smelt for the -first time when he leant his head slightly as he felt for his keys, -and which he had perceived in a far more intensified form when he lay -down in the bed, was not at all apparent now. It seemed as if he was, -at last, likely to fall asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -IN THE DARK. - - -Julian supposed when he was awakened later on, and felt that he was -drenched with a warm perspiration which caused his light tropical -clothes to stick to him with a hot clammy feeling, that he must have -slept for two hours. For now, as he lay on the sofa facing the window, -he could see through the slats of the persianas, which he had -forgotten to turn down, that, peeping round the window-frame there -came an edge of the moon, which he seemed to recollect--dimly, hazily, -and indistinctly--had risen late last night. - -And that moon--which stole more and more into his view as he regarded -it--was casting now a long ray into the bedroom, so that there came -across the floor a streak of light of about the breadth of nine -inches. - -Yet--once his bemused brain had grasped the fact that this ray was -there, while, at the same time, that brain was still clear enough to -comprehend that every moment the flood of light was becoming larger, -so that soon the apartment would be filled with it--he paid no further -attention to the matter, nor to the distant rumbling of thunder far -away--thunder that told of a tropical storm taking place at a -distance. Instead, he was endeavouring to argue silently with himself -as to the actual state in which his mind was; as to whether he was in -a dreamy kind of delirium, or whether, in spite of any fever that -might be upon him, he was still able to distinctly understand his -surroundings. - -If, as he hoped earnestly, the latter was the case; if he was not -delirious, but only numbed by some ailment that had insidiously taken -possession of him--then--why then--surely! he was in deadly peril of -some immediate attack upon him--upon his life perhaps. - -For, outside those persianas there was another light, two other lights -glittering in upon him that were not cast by the moon, but that -(because now and again her rays were thrown upon them) he discovered -to be a pair of eyes. And not the eyes of an animal either, since they -glisten in the dark, but, instead, human eyes that glared horribly as -now and again the moonbeams caught them. - -Only! was it the truth that they were real tangible eyes, or were they -but a fantasy of a mind unhinged by fever? - -He must know that! And he could only do so by lying perfectly still; -by watching. - -Those eyes which stared in at him now were low down to the floor of -the balcony, even as he seemed to recollect Zara's eyes had been on -one occasion during her nocturnal visits to him when he first arrived -at Desolada; yet now he knew, felt sure, that they were not Zara's. -Why he felt so sure he could not tell, nor in the feverish languor -that was upon him, could he even reason with himself as why he did -feel so sure. But, at the same time, he told himself, they were not -hers. Of that he was certain. - -How did they come there, low down--not a foot above the floor of the -veranda? Could they indeed be the eyes of an animal in spite of the -white eyeballs on which the rays shone with such a sickly gleam; did -they belong to some household dog which had chosen this spot for its -night's repose? Yet--yet--if such was the case, why did it not sleep -curled up or stretched out, instead of peering through the latticework -with its eyes close to the slats, as though determined to see all that -was in the room and all that was going on in it. No! it could not be -that, while, also it was not what he had deemed it might be a few -minutes ago--the eyes of a snake. It was impossible, since the eyes of -a snake would have been much closer together. - -They were--there could be no doubt about it! the eyes of a human -being, man or woman. And they were not Zara's. He was sure of that. - -But still they glared into the room, glared through the dusky -sombreness of the lower part of it, of that part of the floor which, -even now, the moonlight was not illuminating. And then to his -astonishment he saw, as the light flooded the apartment more and more, -that those eyes were staring not at him but towards another portion of -the room; towards where the bed stood enveloped in the long hanging -folds of the mosquito curtains, which, to his distempered mind, seemed -in the weird light of the tropical night to look like the hangings -that enshroud a catafalque--a funeral canopy. - -His hand, shaky though he knew it was from whatever ailed him, was on -his revolver; for a moment or so he lay there asking himself if he -should fire at that wizard thing, that creepy mystery outside his -room; if he should aim fair between those glistening eyeballs and -trust to fortune to kill or disable the mysterious watcher? But still, -however, he refrained; for, if his senses were still in his own -possession, if his mind was still able to understand anything, it -understood that near the bed in which he should have been sleeping had -it not been for the evil odours exhaled from it to-night, there was -something that might be a more fitting object of his discharge than -the creature outside. - -"If," he thought to himself, "I am neither mad nor delirious nor -drenched with fever, those eyes are watching something in this room, -and that something is not myself." - -Should he turn his head; could he turn it towards that dark patch -behind the mosquito curtains which was not illuminated with the moon's -rays? Could he do it as a man turns in his sleep--restlessly--so that -in the action there might be nothing which should alarm whatever -lurked in the darkness over there; the thing that, having got into his -room in the night full of evil intentions towards him, was now itself -being watched, suspected, perhaps trapped. Could he do it? - -As he meditated thus, feeling sure now that his stupor, his density of -mind, was not what it had been--recognising with a feeling of devout -thankfulness that, whatever his state might hitherto have been, his -mind was now becoming clear and his intellect collected, he prepared -to put this determination into practise. He would roll over on to his -right side, as he had seen sleepy sailors roll over on to theirs in -the watch below; he would roll over too, with his hand securely on the -butt of his revolver. And then--if--if, as he felt certain was the -case, there was some dark skulking thing hiding behind his bedhead, if -he should see another pair of eyes gleaming out in the rays of the -moon--why, then, woe befall it! He had had enough of these midnight -hauntings from one visitant or another in this house of mystery; he -would fire straight at that figure, he would kill it dead, if so it -must be, even if it were Sebastian himself. - -As he turned, imitating a sleeper's restlessness, as well as he was -able, there came two interruptions--interruptions that stayed his -hand. - -From near the bed--he was right! those eyes outside had been watching -something that was inside there!--close to him, across the room, he -heard a sound. A sound that was half a one, half an inward catching of -the breath, a gasp. Yet so low, so quickly suppressed, that none who -had not suspected, none who had not been on the watch for the -slightest sign, would have heard or noticed it. But he had heard it! - -The other was a noisier, a more palpable interruption. Sebastian, -below in the great saloon on the front was singing to himself, loudly -and boisterously, and then, equally boisterously, was wishing Madame -Carmaux "Good-night." Answering evidently, too, some question, which -Julian could not hear put to him by her, and expressing also the hope -that she would feel better soon. - -"Yet," thought Julian, "she cannot quit her room. It is strange. -Strange, too, that she should be up so late. It must be two o'clock, -at least." - -With a glance from his eye towards the lower part of the window, which -still he could see from the position in which he lay, he observed that -the mysterious watcher outside was gone. Those eyes, at least, no -longer gleamed from low down by the floor; through the slats of the -blind he perceived that the spot where they had lately been was now a -void. The watcher was gone! But what of the one who had been watched, -of the lurking creature that was near his bed, and that had gasped -with fear even as he turned over on the sofa? What of that? Well, it -was still there. He was alone with it. - -His thumb drew back the trigger of the revolver, the well-known click -was heard--the click which can never be disguised or silenced. A click -that many a man has listened to with mortal agony and terror of soul, -knowing that it sounds his knell. Then again on his ears there fell -that gasp, that indrawn catching of the breath, which told of a -terrified object close by his side. - -And it could not be Sebastian who had uttered it; Sebastian, the one -person alone who had reason to meditate the worst towards him that one -human being can desire for another. It could not be he. For was he not -still singing boisterously below in the front of the house? It could -not be he. And, Julian reflected, he was about to take a life, the -life of some one whom he himself did not know, of some one whose -presence in his room even at night, at such an hour of the night, -might yet be capable of explanation; that might not, in absolute fact, -bode evil to him. Suppose, that after all, it should be Zara, and that -again she was there for some purpose of serving his interest as he had -told Beatrix he believed she had been more than once before. Suppose -that, and that now he should fire and kill her! How would he feel -then! What would his remorse be? - -No! He would not do it. - -Instead, therefore, he whispered the words, "Zara, what is it?" - -Even as he did so, even as he spoke, he noticed that a change had come -over the room. It was quite dark now; the moon's rays no longer -gleamed in; the moon itself was gone, obscured. What had happened? In -a moment the question was answered. - -Upon the balcony outside there came a rattle as though a deluge of -small stones had been hurled down upon it, and he, who knew well what -the violence of tropical storms is, recognized that one had broken -over Desolada, and that the rain, if not hail, was descending in a -deluge. A moment later there came, too, a flash of purple, gleaming -lightning which was gone before he could turn his eyes into the -quarter of the room where lurked the thing that he suspected, felt -sure was there. Then, over all, there burst the roar of the thunder -from above, reverberating, pealing all around, rumbling, and reechoing -a moment later in the Cockscomb Mountains. - -"Zara!" he called louder now, so as to make himself heard above the -din of the storm--"Zara, why do you not answer me? I mean you no -harm." - -But, if amid this tumult any answer was given, he did not hear it. For -now the crash of the thunder, the downpour of the rain, the screaming -of the parrots, and the demoniacal howlings of the baboons farther -away, served to create such a turmoil that scarcely could the cry of a -human voice be heard above it all. - -"I am determined," Julian exclaimed, "to know who and what it is that -cowers there!" Wherewith he sprang from off the sofa on which he had -previously raised himself to a sitting position, and, with a leap, -rushed towards the mosquito curtains hanging by the bedhead. "I will -see who and what you are!" he cried, feeling certain that in this spot -was still lurking some strange, secret visitant. - -Yet to his astonishment the spot was empty when he reached it. Neither -human being nor animal, nor anything whatever, was there. - -"I am indeed struck with fever and delirious," he muttered to himself, -"or if not that, am mad. Yet I could have sworn it was as I thought." - -Then again, as he stood there holding in his hand the gauzy curtains -which he had brushed aside, the storm burst afresh over the house with -renewed violence; again the sheets of rain poured down; once more the -purple tropical lightning flashed and the thunder roared. And as the -tempest beat down on all beneath its violence, and while a moment of -intense darkness was followed by an instant of brilliant light, Julian -heard a stronger rattle of the Venetian blinds than the wind had made, -and saw, as again there came a flash of lightning, a dark, hooded -figure creep out swiftly past them on to the balcony--a figure -shrouded to the eyes, yet in the dark eyes of which, as the lightning -played on them, there seemed to be a look of awful fear. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -WARNED. - - -Blue as the deepest gleam within the sapphire's depth were the -heavens; bright as molten gold were the sun's rays the next morning -when the storm was past--leaving, however, in its track some marks of -its passage. For the flowers in the gardens round the house were -beaten down now with the weight of water that had fallen on them; -beneath the oleanders and the flamboyants, the allamandas and -ixoras, the blossoms strewed the pampas grass in masses; while many -crabs--which wander up from the seacoast in search of succulent plants -whereon to feed--lay dead near the roots of the bushes and shrubs. - -Yet a day's scorching sun, to be followed perhaps by an entire absence -of further rain for a month, would soon cause fresh masses of bloom to -take the place of those which were destroyed, especially as now they -had received the moisture so necessary to their existence. And Julian, -standing on his balcony and wondering who that strange nocturnal -visitor was who had fled on to this very balcony a few hours before, -thought that during his stay in this mysterious place he had never -seen its surroundings look so fair. - -Whether it was that he had received considerable benefit from the -quinine which he had taken overnight, or whether it was from the total -change of clothing which he had now assumed in place of the garments -he had worn up to now, or perhaps from his not having lain through the -night upon the bed which, particularly of late, had seemed so -malodorous, he felt very much better this morning. His brain no longer -appeared numbed nor his mind hazy, nor had he any headache. - -"Which," he said to himself, "is a mighty good thing. For now I want -all my wits about me. This affair has got to be brought to a -conclusion somehow, and Julian Ritherdon is the man to do it. Only," -he said, with now a smile on his face--"only, no more of the simple -trusting individual you have been, my friend--if you ever have been -such! Instead of suspecting Master Sebastian of being in the wrong box -you have got to prove him so, and instead of suspecting him to be -a--well! say a gentleman who hasn't got much regard for you, you have -got to get to windward of him. Now go full speed ahead, my son." - -Whereon, to commence the process of getting to windward of Sebastian -and also of carrying out the movement known in his profession as going -"full speed ahead," he informed the nigger who brought him his -shaving-water that he felt very poorly indeed, and would, with -Sebastian's permission, remain in his room that day. - -"Because," he said to himself, "I think it would be as well if I kept -a kind of watch upon this tastefully furnished apartment. Like all the -rest of this house, it is becoming what the conjurers call 'a home of -mystery,' and is consequently getting more and more interesting. And -there are only the 'four clear days' left wherein the mystery can be -solved--if ever." - -A few moments after he had made these reflections he heard a tap at -his bedroom door, and on bidding the person who was outside to come -in, Sebastian made his appearance, there being on his face a look of -regret at the information which he said the negro had just conveyed to -him. - -"I say, old fellow, this is bad news. It won't do at all. Not at all. -What is the matter with you?" he exclaimed in his usual bluff, hearty -way. - -"A touch of fever, I'm afraid," Julian replied. "Not much, I fancy, -but still worth being careful about. I'll keep my room to-day if you -don't mind." - -"Mind!" Sebastian exclaimed. "Mind; why, my dear Julian, that's the -very best thing you can do, the very thing you ought to do. And I'll -send you something appetizing by Zara. Let me see. They have brought -in this morning some of that mountain mullet you liked so much; that -will do first-rate for breakfast with some Guava jelly. How will that -suit?" - -"Nothing could be better. Those mountain mullet are superb. You are -very good." - -"Oh! that's nothing. And, look here, I have brought you a little phial -of our physic-nut oil, which the natives say will cure anything, and -almost bring a dead man back to life. Take three or four drops of -that, my boy, in your coffee, and you'll feel a new man," whereon he -drew a little phial from his pocket and stood it on the table. Then, -after a few more sympathetic remarks he prepared to depart, saying he -would have the breakfast prepared and sent up by Zara at once. - -"I was glad," Julian said casually, as Sebastian approached the door, -"to hear you wishing Madame Carmaux good-night, last night. I didn't -know she was well enough to get downstairs yet." - -"Oh! yes," the other replied in a more or less careless tone, "she -came down to supper last night and sat up late with me. I was glad of -her company, you know. So you heard us, eh? Did you hear us singing, -too? We got quite inspirited over her return to health. If you'd only -been down, my boy, we would have had a rollicking time of it." - -"Never mind," said Julian, "better luck next time. You wait till I do -come down and we'll have a regular chorus. When I give you some of my -wardroom songs, you'll be surprised." - -"Right," said Sebastian, with a laugh; "the sooner the better," -whereon he took himself off. - -"I didn't hear the silvery tones of Madame Carmaux, all the same," -Julian thought to himself after the other was gone, "neither do I -remember that I heard her return his 'good-night.' However, -Sebastian's own tones are somewhat stentorian when he lets himself go, -or as our Irish doctor used to say of the bo'sun's, 'enough to split a -pitcher,' so I suppose that isn't very strange." - -He took down his jacket now, and indeed the whole of his white drill -suit which he had discarded for an exactly similar one that he had in -his large Gladstone bag, and began to roll it up preparatory to -packing it away. Though, as he did so, he again perceived the horrible -f[oe]tid odour which it had emitted overnight--the same odour that had -also been so perceptible when he had laid his head upon the pillow. -The revolting smell that had driven him from the bed to seek repose on -that sofa. - -"Faugh!" he exclaimed, "it is loathsome. Even now, with the room full -of the fresh morning air, I feel as if I were getting giddy and -bemused again." Whereon, and while uttering some remarks that were by -no means complimentary to Honduras and some of its perfumes, he began -rolling the clothes up as quickly as he could. Yet while he did so, -being now engaged with the jacket, his eye was attracted by the lapel -of the collar, the white surface of which was discoloured--though only -in the faintest degree discoloured--a yellowish, grey colour. Each -lapel, down to where the topmost button was! Then, after a close -inspection of the jacket all over, he perceived that nowhere else was -it similarly stained. - -His curiosity becoming excited by this, since in no way could he -account for such a thing (he distinctly remembered that there had been -no stain, however faint, on the lapel before), he regarded the -waistcoat next; and there, on the small lapel of that--both left and -right--were the same marks. - -"Strange," he muttered, "strange. Very strange. One might say that the -washerwoman had spilt something on coat and waistcoat--purposely. -Something, too, that smells uncommonly nasty." - -For, by inspection, or rather test with his nostrils, he was easily -able to perceive that no other part of his discarded clothing emitted -any such disagreeable odour. While, too, as he applied his nose again -and again to the faint stains, he also perceived that in his brain -there came once more the giddiness and haziness from which he had -suffered so much last night--as well as the feeling of stupid density -amounting almost to dreaminess or delirium. - -"If that stuff was under my nose all day long yesterday, and perhaps -for a week or so before," he reflected, "I don't wonder that at last I -became almost wandering in my mind, as well as stupefied." Then, a -thought striking him, he went over to the pillow on the bed and -gazed down on it. And there, upon it, on either side, was the same -stain--faint, yellow, and emitting the same acrid, loathsome odour. - -"So, so," he said to himself, "I begin to understand. I begin to -understand very well, and to comprehend Sebastian's chemical -experiments. The woman who washed my jacket and waistcoat in England -is not the same woman who washed that pillow-case in British Honduras. -Yet the same stain and the same odour are on both. All right! A good -deal may happen in the next four days." - -Then, as he thus meditated, he opened the little phial of physic-nut -oil, which Sebastian had thoughtfully brought him and left behind with -injunctions that he should take three or four drops of it in his -coffee, and smelt it. After which he said, "Certainly, I won't fail to -do so. All right, Sebastian, it's full speed ahead now!" - -A little later, Zara arrived bearing in her hands a large tray on -which were all the necessaries for a breakfast that would have -satisfied a hungry man, let alone an "invalid." There were, of course, -innumerable other servants about this vast house, but Zara always -seemed to perform the principal duties of waiting upon those who -constituted the superiors, and in many cases to issue orders to the -others, in much such a way as a butler in England issues orders to his -underlings. - -Now, having deposited the tray upon the table, which she cleared for -the purpose, she uncovered the largest dish and submitted to Julian's -gaze a good-sized trout reposing in it and looking extremely -appetizing. - -"But," said Julian, as he regarded the fish, "that isn't what -Sebastian promised me. He said he would send one of those delicious -mountain mullet we had the other night." - -For a moment the half-caste girl's lustrous eyes dwelt almost -meditatively, as it seemed, on him; then she said, "There are none. -The men have not caught any for a long time." - -"But Mr. Ritherdon said there were. That the men----" - -"He was wrong," she interrupted, her eyes roaming all round the room, -while it seemed almost to Julian as though, particularly, they sought -the spot where the pillow was. "He was wrong. You eat that," looking -at the dish. "That will do you no--will do you good." - -And it appeared to Julian, now thoroughly on the _qui vive_ as to -everything that went on around him as well as to every word that was -uttered, as though she emphasized the word "that." - -"I'm glad to hear Madame Carmaux is so much better," he said, -conversationally, as she finished arranging the breakfast before him -and poured out his coffee. "They were pretty gay below last night." - -"Below last night," she repeated, her eyes full on him. "Below last -night. Were they? Did you hear her below last night?" - -"Didn't you?" - -"I was not there," she answered; "I was nursing a sick woman in the -plantation." - -"Oh! You didn't pass your evening on the balcony, then, as you have -sometimes done?" - -"No," she said, and still her eyes gazed so intently into his that he -wondered what was going on in her mind. - -"No." Then, suddenly, she asked, "When are you going away?" - -"That is not polite, Zara. One never asks a guest----" - -"Why," she interrupted, speaking almost savagely and showing her small -white teeth, as though with an access of sudden temper--"why do you -turn everything into a--a--_chanza_--a joke. Are you a fo--a madman?" - -"Really, Zara!" Then, seeing that the girl was contending with some -inward turbulence of spirit which seemed almost likely to end in an -outbreak, Julian said quietly, seriously, "No, Zara, I am neither a -fool nor a madman. Look here, I believe you are a good, honest, -straightforward girl. Therefore, I will be plain with you. I have told -Mr. Ritherdon that I am going on Monday. In four days----" - -"Go at once!" she interrupted again. "At once. Get news from Belize, -somehow, that calls you away. Leave Desolada. Begone!" she continued -in her quaint, stilted English, which she spoke well enough except -when obliged to use either a Spanish or Carib word. "Begone!" And as -she said this it seemed almost to Julian that, with those dark -gleaming eyes of hers, she was endeavouring to convey some -intelligence to him which she would not put into words. - -"That," he said, referring to her last sentence, "is what I am -thinking about doing. Only, even then, I shall not have done with -Desolada and its inhabitants. There is more for me to do yet, Zara." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -JULIAN'S EYES ARE OPENED. - - -Julian's slumbers of the past night having been more or less disturbed -by the various incidents of, first, his drowsy delirium, then of those -figures of the watcher and the watched, as well as by the storm and -the sight of the departing form of the latter individual, he decided -that, during the course of the present day, he would endeavour to -obtain some sleep. Especially he determined thus because, now, he knew -that there must be no more sleeping at night for him. - -Whether he remained in Desolada for the next four nights as he had -consented to do, or whether he decided to follow Zara's suggestion and -find some excuse for departing at once, he understood plainly that to -sleep again when night was over all the house might be fraught with -deadly risk to him. What that risk was, what the tangible shape which -it would be likely later on to assume, he was not yet able to -conclude--but that it existed he had no doubt. Bright and _insouciant_ -as he was, with also in his composition a total absence of fear, he -was still sufficiently cool, as well as sufficiently intelligent to -understand that here, in Desolada, he was not only regarded as an -inconvenient interloper, but one who must be got rid of somehow. - -"Which proves, if it proves anything," he thought, "that Sebastian -knows all about why I am in this country; and also that, secure as his -position seems, there is some flaw in it which, if brought to light, -will destroy that position. I know it, too, now, am certain that -George Ritherdon's story is true--and, somehow, I am going to prove it -so. I have muddled the time away too long; now I am going to be a man -of action. When I get back to Belize that action begins. Mr. Spranger -said I ought to confide in a lawyer, and in a lawyer I will confide. -Henceforth, we'll thresh this thing out thoroughly." - -Zara had come in again and removed the remnants of the breakfast, and -as he had told her that he meant to sleep as long as ever it was -possible, she had promised him that he should not be disturbed. -Wherefore, he now proceeded to darken the room in every way that he -could, without thoroughly excluding the air; namely, by letting down -the curtains of the windows as well as by closing the persianas. - -"I suppose," he thought to himself, "there is no likelihood of my -visitor coming in, in the broad daylight, yet, all the same, I will -endeavour to make sure." Upon which he proceeded to put in practise an -old trick which in his gunroom days he had often played upon his -brother middies (and had had played upon himself); while remembering, -as he did so, the merry shouts which had run along the gangway of the -lower deck on dark nights over its successful accomplishment. He took -a piece of stout cord and tied it across from one side of the window -to the other at about a foot and a half from the floor. - -"Now," he said, "If any one tries to come in here to-day--well! if -they don't break their legs they'll make such a din as will lead to -their falling into my hands." - -It was almost midday when he laid himself down on the sofa to obtain -his much needed rest--midday, and with the sun streaming down -vertically and making the apartment, in spite of its being darkened, -more like the engine room of a steamer than anything else; yet, soon, -he was in a deep refreshing sleep in spite of this disadvantage. A -slumber so calm and refreshing that he slept on and on, until, at -last, the room grew cool; partly by aid of a gentle breeze which was -now blowing down from the summits of the Cockscomb Mountains and -partly by the coming of the swift tropical darkness. - -Then he awoke, not knowing where he was nor being able to recall that -fact even for a moment or so after he was awake, nor to understand -why he lay there in the dark. Yet, as gradually he returned to his -every-day senses, he became aware that he did not alone owe his -awakening to the fact that he had exhausted his desire for slumber, -but also to a sound which fell upon his ears. The sound of a slight -tapping on his bedroom door. - -Astonished at the darkness, which now enveloped the room, more than at -anything else--for the tapping he attributed to Zara having brought -him his evening meal--he went to the door and turned the key, he -having been careful to lock the former securely before going to sleep. - -Then, to his surprise, when he had opened the door and peered into the -passage, which was also now enveloped in the shadow of night, he saw a -figure standing there which was not that of Zara, but, instead, of the -half-caste Paz. - -"What is it?" he asked, staring at the man and wondering what he -wanted. "What! Is anything the matter?" - -"Nothing very much," the half-caste answered, his eyes having a -strange glitter in them as they rested on Julian's face. "Only, think -you like to see funny sight. You like see Seńor Sebastian look very -funny. You come with me. Quietly." - -"What do you mean, Paz?" Julian asked, wondering if this was some ruse -whereby to beguile him into danger. "What is it?" - -"I show you Massa Sebastian very funny. He very strange. Don't think -he find mountain mullet very good for him; don't think he like drink -very much with physic-nut oil in it," and he gave that little bleating -laugh which Julian had heard before and marvelled at. - -Mountain mullet! Physic-nut oil! The very things that Sebastian had -suggested to Julian that morning, yet of which Julian had not -partaken. The mullet, although Zara had said the men had not caught -any for a long time. The phial which he had brought to the room, but -the oil of which he had not touched! - -"There was no mountain mullet caught--" he began, but Paz interrupted -him with that bleating laugh once more, though subdued as befitted the -circumstances. - -"Ho!" he said. "Nice mountain mullet in Desolada this morning. He -order it cook for you. Only--Zara good girl. She love Sebastian, so -she give it him and give you trout. Very good girl. But--it make him -funny. So, too, physic-nut oil. But that wrong name. Physic-nut oil -very much. Not good if mixed with drop of Amancay." - -Amancay! Where had Julian heard that name before! Then, swift as -lightning, he remembered. He recalled a conversation he had had with -Mr. Spranger one evening over the various plants and herbs of the -colony, and also how he had listened to stories of the deadly powers -of many of them--of the Manzanillo, or Manchineel, of the Florispondio -and the Cojon del gato--above all, of the Amancay, a plant whose juice -caused first delirium; then, if taken continually, raving madness, and -then--death. A plant, too, whose juice could work its deadly -destruction not only by being taken inwardly, but by being inhaled. - -"The Indians," Mr. Spranger had said, "content themselves with that. -If they can only get the opportunity of sprinkling it on the earth -where their enemy lies, or of smearing his tent canvas with it, or his -clothes, the trick is done. And that enemy's only chance is that he, -too, should know of its properties. Then he is safe. For the odour it -emits is such that none who have ever smelt it once can fail to -recognise its presence. But on those who are unacquainted with those -properties--well! God help them!" - -He wondered as he recalled those words if he had turned white, so -white that, even in the dusk of the corridor, the man standing by his -side could perceive it; he wondered, too, if his features had assumed -a stern, set expression in keeping with the determination that now was -dominant in his mind. The determination to descend to where Sebastian -Ritherdon was, to stand face to face with him, to ask him whether it -was he who had sprinkled his jacket and his waistcoat, as well as the -pillow on which he nightly slept, with the accursed, infernal juice of -the deadly Amancay. Ask! Bah! what use to ask, only to receive a lie -in return! What need at all to ask? _He knew!_ - -"Come," he said to Paz, even as he went back into the room for his -revolver. "Come, take me to where this fellow is. Yet," he said -pausing, "you say I shall see a funny sight. What is it? Is he mad--or -dying?" - -"He funny. He eat mountain mullet, he drink physic-nut oil in wine. -Zara love him dearly, he----" - -"Come," Julian again said, speaking sternly. "Come." - -Then they both went along the corridor and down the great staircase. - -"Let us go out garden, to veranda," Paz whispered. "Then we look in -over veranda through open window. See funny things. Hear funny words." -Whereupon accompanied by Julian, he went out by a side door of the -long hall, and so came around into the garden in front of the great -saloon in which Sebastian always sat in the evening. - -Sheltering themselves behind a vast bush of flamboyants which grew -close up to where the veranda ran, they were both able to see into the -room, when in truth the sight of Sebastian was enough to make the -beholders deem him mad. - -His coat was off, flung across the back of the chair, but in his hand -he had a large white pocket handkerchief with which he incessantly -wiped his face, down which the perspiration was pouring. Yet, even as -he did so, it was plain to observe that he was seeking eagerly for -something which he could not find. A large campeachy-wood cabinet -stood up against the wall exactly facing the spot where the window -was, and the doors of this were now set open, showing all the drawers -dragged out of their places and the contents turned out pell-mell. -While the man, lurching unsteadily all the time and with a stumbling, -heavy motion in his feet which seemed familiar enough to Julian (since -only last night he had stumbled and lurched in the same way), was -seizing little bottles and phials and holding them up to the light, -and wrenching the corks out of them to sniff at the contents, and then -hurling them away from him with an action of despair and rage. - -"He look for counter-poison," Paz said, using the Spanish expression, -which Julian understood well enough. "Maybe, he not find it. Then he -die," and the bleating laugh sounded now very much like a gloating -chuckle. "Then he die," he repeated. - -"Is there, then, an antidote?" Julian asked. - -"Yes. Yes," Paz whispered. "Yes, antidoty, if he find it. If he has -not taken too much." - -"How can he have taken too much? Why take any?" - -For answer Paz said nothing, but instead, looked at Julian. And, in -the light that now streamed out across the veranda to where they -stood, dimmed and shaded as it might be by the thick foliage and -flower of the flamboyant bush, the latter could see that the -half-caste's eyes glittered demoniacally and that his fingers were -twitching, and judged that it was only by great constraint that the -latter suppressed the laugh he indulged in so often. - -Then, while no word was spoken between them, Julian felt the long slim -fingers of Paz touch his and push something into his hand, something -that he at once recognised to be the phial of physic-nut oil; or, -rather, the phial that had once contained the physic-nut oil, diluted -with the juice of the murderous Amancay. - -"All love Sebastian here," the semi-savage hissed, his remaining white -teeth shining horribly in the flickering gleam through the flamboyant. -"Love him, oh! so dear." - -"He find it. He find it," he muttered excitedly an instant afterwards. -"Look! Look! Look!" - -And Julian did look; fascinated by Sebastian's manner. - -For the other held now a small bottle in his hand which he had -unearthed from some drawer in the interior of the great cabinet, and -was holding it between his eyes and the globe of the lamp, gazing as -steadily as he could at the mixture which it doubtless contained. As -steadily as he could, because he still swayed about a good deal while -he stood there; perhaps because, too, his hands trembled. Then, with a -look of exultation on his features and in his bloodshot eyes, plainly -to be observed from where the two men stood outside, he tore the -stopper out with his teeth, smelt the contents, and instantly seizing -a tumbler emptied them into that, drenched it with water, and drank -the draught down. - -Yet, a moment later, Sebastian performed another action equally -extraordinary--he seeming to remember--as they judged by the look of -dawning recollection on his face--something he had forgotten! He came, -still lurching, a little nearer to the open window, and then in a loud -voice--a voice that was evidently intended to be heard at some -distance--said: - -"Well, good-night, Miriam. Good-night, I am so thankful to think that -you are better! Good night." - -And as he uttered those words, Julian understood. - -"I see his ruse, his trick," he muttered. "He thinks that I am still -upstairs, that he is deceiving me, making me believe she is down here. -But, though I am not up there, she is! And perhaps in my room again. -Quick, Paz! Come. Follow me!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -A DÉNOUEMENT. - - -By the same way that they had descended they now mounted to the floor -above. Only, it was not Julian's intention to re-enter his room in the -same manner he had left it; namely, by the door opening out of the -corridor. To do that would be useless, unavailing. If the woman whom -he suspected was in that room now, the first sound of his footstep -outside, be it never so light, would serve to put her on the alert, to -cause her to flee out on to the balcony and away round the whole -length of it, and, thereby, with her knowledge of all the entrances -and exits of the house, to evade him. - -That, he reflected, would not do. If she escaped him now, then the -determination he had arrived at, to this night bring matters to a -climax, would be thwarted. Some other way must be found. - -"Take me on to the veranda," he whispered to Paz; "to where I shall be -outside the room I occupy. This time I will be the watcher gazing in, -not the person who is watched." - -"I take you," Paz said. "I show you. Same way I get there last night." - -"Last night! So! That was you outside, lying low down? It was you?" - -But Paz only gave him now that look which he had given before, while -he seemed at the same time to be struggling with that bleating laugh -of his--the laugh which would surely have betrayed his presence. - -"Come," he said, "I put you in big room of all. Old man Ritherdon call -it guest room. Sebastian born there." - -"Was he?" Julian asked in a whisper, "was he? Was he born there?" - -"He born there. Come." - -So, doubtless, the half-caste believed--since who in all Honduras -disputed it! Who--except Julian himself, and, perhaps, the woman he -loved; perhaps, too, her father. - -Yet, the information that he was now being led to the room in which he -felt sure that it was he who had been born and not the other, filled -him with a kind of mystic, weird feeling as they crept along side by -side towards it. For the first time since he had come to Desolada, he -was about to visit the spot in which he had been given birth--the spot -in which his mother had died; the spot wherein he had been stolen from -that dying mother's side by his uncle. - -Thinking thus, as they approached the door, he wondered, too, if by -his presence in that room any inspiration would come to him as to how -this other man had been made to supersede him, to appear as himself in -the eyes of the little world in which he moved and lived. A man -received as being what he was not, without question and with his claim -undisputed. - -"Go in," Paz whispered now, as he turned the handle. "Go in. From the -window you see all that pass--if anything pass. Or you easy get on -balcony. Your room there to right, hers there to left. If she go from -one to other--then--you surely see." - -"You will not accompany me?" Julian asked, wondering for the moment if -there was treachery lurking in the man's determination to leave him at -so critical a time; wondering, too, if, after all, he was about to -warn the woman whom he, Julian, now sought to entrap in some nefarious -midnight proceeding, of her danger. Yet, he argued with himself, that -must be impossible. If he intended to do that, would he have divulged -how Zara had changed one dish of food for another, so that he who set -the trap had himself been caught in it; would he have given him so -real a sign as to what use the phial had been put to as by placing it, -empty, in his hands? - -And, even though now Paz should meditate treachery--as, in truth, he -did not believe he meditated it--still he cared nothing. What he had -resolved to do he would do. What he had begun he would go on with. -Now--at once--this very night! - -"No. No," Paz said, in answer to his question. "No. I come not with -you. I live not here but in plantation mile away. If I found -here--he--he--try kill me. But you he will not kill. You big, strong, -brave. And," the man continued in a whisper that was in truth a hiss, -"it is you who must kill. Kill! Kill! Remember the snake in bed, the -shot in wood, the mountain mullet, the Amancay. Now, I go. This is the -room." - -Then almost imperceptibly he was gone, his form disappearing like a -black blur on the still darker, denser blackness of the corridor. - -Without hesitation, Julian softly turned the handle and entered the -room that gave egress to the balcony which he wished to gain. And -although it was as dark as night itself, there was a something, a -feeling of space, quite perceptible to his highly-strung senses, which -told him that it was a vast chamber--a room suitable for the birth of -the son and heir of the great house and its belongings. - -"Strange," he thought to himself, "that thus I should revisit the -place in which I first saw the light--that I, who in the darkness was -spirited away, should, in the darkness, return to it." - -Yet, black, impenetrable as all around was, there was an inferior -density of darkness at the other end of the great room, away where the -window was; and towards that he directed his footsteps, knowing that -there, between the laths of the persianas which it possessed in common -with every other room in the house, would be his opportunity. There -was the coign of vantage through which he could keep watch and make -observations. - -"For," he thought, "if I see her going from her room to mine I shall -know enough, as also I shall do if I see her returning from mine to -hers. While, if she does neither, then it will be easy enough to -discover whether she has been to that room or is in it still." - -He was close by the window now, having felt his way carefully to it; -he proceeded slowly so as to stumble against no obstacle nor make any -noise; and then he knew that, should any form, however shrouded, pass -before this window he could not fail to observe it. It was not so dark -outside as to prevent that; also the gleam of the stars was -considerable. And as Paz had done outside on the balcony last night, -so he did now inside the room. He lowered himself noiselessly to the -floor, kneeling on the soft carpet which this, the principal -bedchamber possessed, while through a slat a foot from the ground, -which he turned gently with his finger, he gazed out. - -At first nothing occurred. All was as still, as silent as death; save -for sometimes the bark of a distant dog, the chatter of an aroused -bird in the palms near by, and the occasional midnight howl of a -baboon farther away. - -Wonderfully still it was; so undisturbed, indeed, except for those -sounds, that almost a breath of air might have been heard. - -Then, after half an hour, he heard a noise. The noise being a gentle -one, but still perceptible, of the rattle of the persianas belonging -to some window a little distance off. And to the left of him. Surely -to the left of him! - -"She is coming," he thought, holding his breath. "Coming. On her way -to my room. To do what? What?" - -But now the silence was again intense. Upon the boards of the veranda -he could hear no footfall--Nothing. Not even the creak of one of the -planks. Nothing! What had she done? What was she doing? Almost he -thought that he could guess. Could divine how she--this woman of -mystery, this midnight visitor who had crouched near his bed some -twenty-four hours ago, who had stolen forth from his room into the -storm as a thwarted murderess might have stolen--having now reached -the veranda, was pausing to make sure that all was safe; to make sure -that there was nothing to thwart her; to disturb her in the doing of -that--whatever it might be--which she meditated. - -Then there did fall a sound upon his ears, yet one which he only heard -because it was close to him; because also all was so still. The sound -of an indrawn breath, gentle as the sigh given in its sleep by a -little child, yet issuing from a breast that had long been a stranger -to the innocence of childhood. An indrawn breath, that was in -truth--that must be--the effect of a supreme nervousness, of fear. - -"Who is she?" he wondered to himself, while still--his own breath -held--he watched and listened. "What is she to him? She is twice his -age. Surely this is not the love of the hot, passionate Southern -woman! What can she be to him that thus she jeopardizes her life? In -my place many men would shoot her dead who caught her as--as--I--shall -catch her--ere long." - -For he knew now (as he could not doubt!) that no step was to be -omitted which should remove him from Desolada, from existence. - -"Sebastian and she both know that he fills my place. Well--to-night we -come to an understanding. To-night I tell them that I know it too." - -While he thus meditated, from far down at the front of the house there -once more arose the trolling of a song in Sebastian's deep bass tones. -A noisy song; a drinking, carousing song; one that should have had for -its accompaniment the banging of drums and the braying of trombones. - -"Bah!" muttered Julian to himself, "you are too late, vagabond! Shout -and bellow as much as you choose--hoping thereby to drown all other -sounds, such as those of stealthy feet and rattling window blinds, or -to throw dust in my eyes. Shout as much as you like. She is here on -her evil errand--a moment later she will be in my hands." - -In truth it seemed to be so. Past where his eyes were, there went now, -as that boisterous song uprose, a black substance which obscured the -great gleaming stars from them--the lower part of a woman's gown. Amid -the turmoil that proceeded from below, she was creeping on towards her -goal. - -Julian could scarcely restrain himself now--now that she had passed -onward: almost was he constrained to thrust aside the blinds of this -great window and spring out upon the woman. But he knew it was not yet -the time, though it was at hand. She must be outside the window of his -own room by now. The time was near. - -Therefore, taking care that neither should his knees crack nor any -other sound whatever be made by him, he rose to his feet. Then, he put -his hand to the side of the laths to be ready to thrust them aside and -follow her. But, perhaps, because that hand was not as steady as it -should have been, those laths rattled the slightest. Had she heard? -No! He knew that could not be, since now he heard the rattling of -others--of those belonging to his own room. Those would drown the -lesser noise that he had made--those---- - -He paused in his reflections, amazed. Down where his room was to the -right he heard a sound greater than any which could be caused by the -gentle pushing aside of a Venetian blind--he heard a smothered cry, -and also something that resembled a person stumbling forward, falling! - -Then in a moment he recollected. He knew what had happened. He had -forgotten to remove the cord he had stretched across the window at -midday ere he slept. He had left it there, and she had fallen forward -over it. - -In a moment he was, himself, on the veranda and outside the window of -his own darkened room. In another he was in that room, had struck a -match, and saw her--shrouded, hooded to the eyes--over by the door -opening on to the corridor and endeavouring to unfasten it. He -noticed, too, that one arm, above the wrist, was bandaged. But she was -too late. He had caught her now. - -"So," he said, "I know who my visitor is at last, Madame Carmaux. And -I think I know your object here. Have you not dropped another phial in -your fall and broken it? The room is full of the hateful odour of the -Amancay poison." - -She made him no answer, so that he felt sure she was determined not to -let him hear her voice, but he felt that she was trembling all over, -even as she writhed in his grasp, endeavouring to avoid it. Then, -knowing that words were unnecessary, he opened the door into the -corridor and bade her go forth. - -"You know this house well and can find your way easily in the dark. -Meanwhile, I am now going to descend to have an explanation with the -master of Desolada." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -"YOU HAVE KILLED HIM!" - - -Before however, Julian descended to confront Sebastian he thought it -was necessary to do two things; first, to light the lamp to see how -much of that accursed Amancay had been spilt by the broken phial, and -next--which was the more important--to recharge and look to his -revolver. For he thought it very likely that after he had said all he -intended to say to Sebastian, he might find the weapon useful. - -When he had obtained a light by the aid of the matches which he was -never without, he saw that his surmises were fully justified. Upon the -floor there lay, glistening, innumerable pieces of broken glass and -the half of a broken phial, while all around the _débris_ was a small -pool of liquid shining on the polished wooden floor. And from it there -arose an odour so pungent and so f[oe]tid, that he began almost at -once to feel coming over him the hazy, drowsy stupefaction that he had -been conscious of last night. So seizing his water-jug he -unceremoniously sluiced the floor with its contents, washing away and -subduing the noisome exhalation; when taking his revolver from his -pocket and seeing carefully to its being charged, he dropped it into -his pocket again. He took with him, too, the remnants of the broken -phial. - -"I shall only return here to pack my few things," he thought to -himself, "but, all the same it is as well to have destroyed that -stuff. Otherwise the room would have been poisoned with it." - -And now--taking no light with him, for his experience of the last two -hours had taught him, even had he not known it before, the way down to -the garden--he descended, going out by the way that Paz had led him -and so around to the lower veranda. A moment later he reached it, and -mounting the steps, entered the saloon in which he expected to find -Sebastian. - -The man was there, he saw at once even before he stood close by the -open window. He was there, sitting at the great table where the meals -were partaken of; but looking dark and brooding now. Upon his face, as -Julian could easily perceive, there was a scowl, and in his eyes an -ominous look that might have warned a less bold man than the young -sailor that he was in a dangerous mood. - -"Has she been with him already," Julian wondered, "and informed him -that their precious schemes are at an end, are discovered?" - -"Ha!" exclaimed Sebastian, looking fixedly at him, as now Julian -advanced into the room, "so you are well enough to come downstairs -to-night. Yet--it is a little late. You have scarcely come to sing me -those wardroom songs you spoke of, I suppose!" - -"No," Julian said, "it is not to sing songs that I am here. But to -talk about serious matters. Sebastian Ritherdon--if you are Sebastian -Ritherdon, which I think doubtful--you have got to give me an -explanation to-night, not only of who you really are, but also of the -reason why, during the time I have been in this locality, you have -four times attempted my life, or caused it to be attempted." - -"Are you mad?" the other exclaimed, staring at him with still that -ominous look upon his face. "You must be to talk to me like this." - -"No," Julian replied. "Instead, perfectly sane. I was, perhaps, more -or less demented last night when under the influence of the fumes of -the Amancay plant which had been sprinkled on my pillow, as well as on -my jacket and waistcoat; and you also were more or less demented -to-night when you had by an accident taken some of the poison into -your system, owing to you making a meal of the doctored mountain -mullet you had prepared for me--your guest. But--now--we are both -recovered and--an explanation is needed." - -"My God!" exclaimed Sebastian, "you must be mad!" - -Yet, in his own heart, he knew well enough that never was the calm, -determined-looking man before him--the man who, hitherto, had been so -bright and careless, but who now stood stern as Nemesis at the other -end of the table--further removed from madness than he was this night. -He knew and felt that it was not with a lunatic but an avenger that he -had to deal. - -"I am not mad," Julian replied calmly. "Meanwhile, take your right -hand out of that drawer by your side, and keep it out. Pistol shots -will disturb the whole house, and, if you do not do as I bid you I -shall have to fire first," and he tapped his breast significantly as -he spoke, so that the other could be in no doubt of his meaning. - -"Now," he continued, when Sebastian had obeyed him, he laughing with a -badly assumed air of contempt as he did so, all the same, laying his -large brown hand upon the table--"now," said Julian, "I will tell you -all that I believe to be the case in connection with you and with me, -all that I know to have been the case in connection with your various -attempts to injure me, and, also, all that I intend to do, to-morrow, -when I reach Belize and have taken the most eminent lawyer in the -place into my confidence." - -As he mentioned the word "lawyer," Sebastian started visibly; then, -once more, he assumed the contemptuous expression he had previously -endeavoured to exhibit, but beyond saying roughly again that Julian -was a madman, he made no further remark for the moment, and sat -staring, or rather glaring, at the other man before him. Yet, had -that other man been able to thoroughly comprehend, or follow, that -glance--which, owing to the lamp being between them, he was not -entirely able to do--he would have seen that, instead of resting on -his face, it was directed to beyond where he stood. That it went past -him to away down to the farther end of the room; to where the open -window was. - -"Charles Ritherdon," said Julian now, "had a son born in this house -twenty-six years ago, and that son was stolen within two or three days -of his birth by his uncle, George Ritherdon. You are not that son, and -you know it. Yet you know who is. You know that I am." - -"You lie," Sebastian said with an oath; "you are an impostor. And even -if what you say is true--who am I? I," he said, his voice rising now, -either with anger or excitement, "who have lived here all my life, who -have been known from a child by dozens of people still alive? Who am -I, I say?" - -"That at present I do not know. Perhaps the lawyer to whom I confide -my case will be able to discover." - -"Lawyer! Bah! A curse for your lawyers. What can you tell him, what -proof produce?" - -And still, as he spoke, he kept his eyes fixed, as Julian thought, -upon him, but in absolute fact upon that portion of the room which was -in shadow behind where the latter stood. - -Upon, too--although Julian knew it not, and did not, indeed, for one -moment suspect such to be the case--a white face, that, peeping round -the less white curtains which hung by the window, never moved the dark -eyes that shone out of it from off the back of the man who confronted -Sebastian. Fixed upon, too, the form to which that face belonged, -which, even as Sebastian had raised his voice, had drawn itself a few -feet nearer to the other; finding shelter now behind the curtains of -the next or nearest window. - -"I can at least produce the proofs," Julian replied, his eyes still -regarding the other, and knowing nothing of that creeping listener -behind, "that my presence in Honduras--at Desolada as your invited -guest--caused you so much consternation, so much dismay, that you -hesitated at nothing which might remove me from your path. What will -the law believe, what will these people who have known you from your -infancy--as you say--think, when they learn that three times at least, -if not more, you have attempting my life?" - -"Again I say it is a lie!" Sebastian muttered hoarsely. - -"And I can prove that it is the truth. I can prove that this woman, -this accomplice of yours--this woman whom my father--not _your_ -father, but _my_ father--jilted, threw away, so that he might marry -Isobel Leigh, my mother--fired at me with a rifle known to be hers and -used by her on small game. I can prove that she poisoned the meal that -was to be partaken of by me; that even so late as to-night she -drenched the floor of my room--as she meant again to drench the pillow -on which I slept--with the deadly juice of the Amancay--with this," -and he held before Sebastian the broken phial he had found above. - -"You can prove nothing," Sebastian muttered hoarsely, raucously. -"Nothing." - -"Can I not? I have two witnesses." - -"Two witnesses!" the other whispered, and now indeed he looked -dismayed. "Two witnesses. Yet--what of that, of them! Even though they -could prove this--which they can not--what else can they prove? Even -though I am not Charles Ritherdon's son and you are--even though such -were the case--which it is not--how prove it?" - -"That remains to be seen. But, though it should never be proved; even -though you and that murderous accomplice of yours, that discarded -sweetheart of my father's, that woman who I believe, as I believe -there is a God in Heaven, was the prime mover in this plot----" - -"Silence!" cried Sebastian, springing to his feet now, yet still with -that look in his eyes which Julian did not follow; that look towards -where the white corpse-faced creature was by this time--namely, five -feet nearer still to Julian--"silence, I say. That woman is not, shall -not, be defamed by you. Neither here or elsewhere. She--she--is--ah! -God, she has been my guardian angel--has repaid evil for good. My -father threw her off--discarded her--and she came here, forgiving him -at the last in his great sorrow. She helped to rear me--his -son--to----" - -"Now," said Julian, still calmly, "it is you who lie, and the lie is -the worse because you know it. Some trick was played on him whom you -still dare to call your father, on him who was mine--never will I -believe he was a party to it!--and before Heaven I do believe that it -was she who played it. She never forgave him for his desertion of her; -she, this would be murderess--this poisoner--and--and--ah!" - -What had happened to him? What had occurred? As he uttered the last -words, accusing that woman of being a murderess in intention, if not -in fact--a poisoner--he felt a terrible concussion at the nape of his -neck, a blow that sent him reeling forward towards the other side of -that table against which Sebastian had sat, and at which he now stood -confronting him. And, dazed, numbed as this blow had caused him to -become, so that now the features of the man before him--those features -that were so like his own!--were confused and blurred, though with -still a furious, almost demoniacal expression in them, he scarcely -understood as he gave that cry that in his nostrils was once more the -sickening overpowering odour of the Amancay--that it was suffocating, -stifling him. - -Then with another cry, which was not an exclamation this time, but -instead, a moan, he fell forward, clutching with his hands at the -tablecloth, and almost dragging the lamp from off the table. Fell -forward thus, then sank to his knees, and next rolled senseless, -oblivious to everything, upon the floor. - -"You have killed him!" muttered Sebastian hoarsely, and with upon his -face now a look of terror. "You have killed him! My God! if any others -should be outside, should have seen"--while, forgetting that what he -was about to do would be too late if those others might be outside of -whom he had spoken, he rushed to both the windows and hastily closed -the great shutters, which, except in the most violent tempests that at -scarce intervals break over British Honduras, were rarely used. - -And she, that woman standing there above her victim with her face -still white as is the corpse's in its shroud, her lips flecked with -specks of foam, her hands quivering, muttered in tones as hoarse as -Sebastian's: - -"Killed him. Ay! I hope so. Curse him, there has been enough of his -prying, his seeking to discover the truth of our secret. And--and--if -it were not so--then, still, I would have done it. You heard--you -heard--how he sneered, gloated over my despair, my abandonment by -Charles Ritherdon, so that he might marry that child--that -chit--Isobel Leigh. The woman who cursed, who broke my life. Killed -him, Sebastian! Killed him! Yes! That at least is what I meant to do. -Because, Heaven help me! you were not man enough to do it yourself." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -"I WILL SAVE YOU." - - -Beatrix Spranger sat alone in her garden at "Floresta," and was the -prey to disquieting, nay, to horrible, emotions and doubts. For, by -this time, not only had forty-eight hours passed since she had heard -from Julian--forty-eight hours, which were to mark the limit of the -period when, as had been arranged, she was to consider that all was -still well with the latter at Desolada! but also another twelve hours -had gone by without any letter coming from him. And then--then--while -the girl had become almost maddened, almost distraught with nervous -agitation and forebodings as to some terrible calamity having occurred -to the man she had learned to love--still another twelve hours had -gone by, it being now three days since any news had reached her. - -"What shall I do?" she whispered to herself as, beneath the shade of -the great palms, she sat musing; "what! what! Oh! if father would only -counsel me; yet, instead, he reiterates his opinion that nothing can -be intended against him--that he must have gone on some sporting -expedition inland, or is on his way here. If I could only believe -that! If I could think so! But I know it is not the case. It cannot -be. He vowed that nothing should prevent him from writing every other -day so long as he was alive or well enough to crawl to the gate and -intercept the mail driver; and he would keep his word. What, what," -she almost wailed, "can have happened to him? Can they have murdered -him?" - -Even as the horrid word "murder" rose to her thoughts--a word horrid, -horrible, when uttered in the most civilized and well-protected spots -on earth, but one seeming still more terrible and ominous when thought -of in lawless places--there came an interruption to her direful -forebodings. The parrots roosting in the branches during the burning -midday heat plumed themselves, and opened their startled, staring eyes -and clucked faintly, while Beatrix's pet monkey--still, as ever, -presenting an appearance of misery and dark despair and woe--opened -its own eyes and gazed mournfully across the parched lawn. - -For these creatures had seen or heard that which the girl sitting -there had not perceived, and had become aware that the noontide -stillness was being broken by the advent of another person. Yet when -Beatrix, aroused, cast her own eyes across the yellow grass, she -observed that the newcomer was no more important person than a great -negro, who carried in one hand a long whip such as the teamsters of -the locality use, and in the other a letter held between his black -finger and thumb. - -"He has written!" she exclaimed to herself, "and has sent it by this -man. He is safe. Oh! thank God!" while, even as she spoke, she -advanced towards the black with outstretched hand. - -Yet she was doomed to disappointment when, after many bows and smirks -and a removal of his Panama hat, so that he stood bareheaded in the -broiling sun (which is, however, not a condition of things harmful to -negroes, even in such tropical lands), the man had given her the -letter, and she saw that the superscription was not in the handwriting -of Julian, but in that of his supposed cousin, Sebastian. - -"What does it mean?" she murmured half aloud and half to herself, -while, as she did so, the hand holding the letter fell by her side. -"What does it mean?" Then, speaking more loudly and clearly to the -negro, "have you brought this straight from Desolada?"--the very -mention of that place giving her a weird and creepy sensation. - -"Bring him with the gentleman's luggage, missy," the man replied, with -the never-failing grin of his race. "Gentleman finish visit there, -then come on here pay little visit. Steamer go back New Orleans -to-morrow, missy, and gentleman go in it to get to England. Read -letter, missy, perhaps that tell you all." - -The advice was as good as the greatest wiseacre could have given -Beatrix, in spite of its proceeding from no more astute Solomon than -this poor black servant, yet the girl did not at first profit by it. -For, indeed, she was too stunned, almost it might be said, too -paralyzed, to do that which, besides the negro's suggestion, her own -common sense would naturally prompt her to do. Instead, she stood -staring at the messenger, her hand still hanging idly by her side, her -face as white as the healthy tan upon it would permit it to become. - -And though she did not utter her thoughts aloud, inwardly she repeated -again and again to herself, "His luggage! His luggage! And he is going -back to England to-morrow. Without one word to me in all these hours -that have passed, and after--after--oh! Without one word to me! How -can he treat me so!" - -She had turned her face away from the negro as she thought thus, not -wishing that even this poor creature should be witness of the distress -she knew must be visible upon it, but now she turned towards him, -saying: - -"Go to the house and tell the servants to give you some refreshment, -and wait till I come to you. I shall know what to do when I have read -this letter." - -Then she went back to her basket-chair and, sitting in the shade, tore -open Sebastian's note. Yet, even as she did so, she murmured to -herself, "It cannot be. It cannot be. He would not go and leave me -like this. Like this! After that day we spent together." But -resolutely, now, she forced herself to the perusal of the missive. - - -Dear Miss Spranger (it ran): Doubtless, you have heard from Cousin -Julian (who, I understand, writes frequently to you) that he has been -called back suddenly to England to join his ship, and leaves Belize -to-morrow, by the Carib Queen for New Orleans. - -But, as you also know, he is an ardent sportsman, and said he must -have one or two days' excitement with the jaguars, so he left us -yesterday morning early, in company with a rather villainous servant -of mine, named Paz, and, as I promised him I would do, I now send on -his luggage to your father's house, where doubtless he will make his -appearance in the course of the day. - -I wish, however, he could have been induced to stay a little longer -with us, and I also wish he had not taken Paz, who is a bad character, -and, I believe, does not like him. However, Ju is a big, powerful -fellow, and can, of course, take care of himself. - -With kind regards to Mr. Spranger and yourself, - -I am, always yours sincerely, - - Sebastian Ritherdon. - - -Beatrix let the note fall into her lap and lie there for a moment, -while in her clear eyes there was a look of intense thought as they -stared fixedly at the thirsty, drooping flamboyants and almandas -around her: then suddenly she started to her feet, standing erect and -determinate, the letter crushed in her hand. - -"It is a lie," she said to herself, "a lie from beginning to end. -Written to hoodwink me--to throw dust in my eyes--to--to--keep me -quiet. 'Paz does not like him,' she went on, 'Paz does not like him.' -No, Sebastian, it is you whom he does not like, and to use Jul--Mr. -Ritherdon's own quaint expression--you have 'given yourself away.' -Well! so be it. Only if you--you treacherous snake! have not killed -him with the help of that other snake, that woman, your accomplice, we -will outwit you yet." And she went forward swiftly beneath the shade -of the trees to the house. - -"Where is that man?" she asked of another servant, one of her own and -as ebony as he who had brought the luggage and the letter; "send him -to me at once." Then, when the messenger from Desolada stood before -her, she said: - -"Tell Mr. Ritherdon you have delivered his letter, and that I have -read and understand it. You remember those words?" - -The negro grinned and bowed and, perhaps to show his marvellous -intelligence and memory, repeated the words twice, whereon Beatrix -continued: - -"That is well. Be sure not to forget the message. Now, have you -brought in the luggage?" - -For answer the other glanced down the long, darkened, and consequently -more or less cool hall, and she, following that glance, saw standing -at the end of it a cabin trunk with, upon it, a Gladstone bag as well -as a rifle. Then, after asking the man if he had been provided with -food and drink, she bade him begone. - -Yet, recognising that if, as she feared, if indeed, as she felt sure -beyond the shadow of a doubt, Julian Ritherdon was in some mortal -peril (that he was dead she did not dare to, would not allow herself -to, think nor believe) no time must be wasted, she gave orders that -the buggy should be got ready at once to take her into the city to her -father's offices. - -"He," she thought, "is the only person who can counsel me as to what -is best, to do. And surely, surely, he will not attempt to prevent me -from sending, nay, from taking assistance, to Julian. And if he does, -then--then--I must tell him that I love----" But, appalled even at the -thought of having to make use of such a revelation, she would not -conclude the sentence, though there were none to hear it. Instead, she -walked back into the garden, and, seating herself, resolved that she -would think of nothing that might unnerve her or cause her undue -agitation before she saw her father; and so sat waiting calmly until -they should come to tell her that the carriage was ready. - -But she did not know, as of course it was impossible that she should -know, that drawing near to her was another woman who would bring her -such information of what had recently taken place at Desolada as would -put all surmises and speculations as to why Sebastian Ritherdon's -letter had been written--the lying letter, as she had accurately -described it--into the shade. A woman who would tell her that if -murder had not yet been done in the remote and melancholy house, it -was intended to be done, was brewing; would be done ere long, if -Julian Ritherdon did not succumb to the injuries inflicted on him by -Madame Carmaux. One who would give her such information that she would -be justified in calling upon the authorities of Belize to instantly -take steps to proceed to Desolada, and (then and there) to render -Sebastian and his accomplice incapable of further crimes. - -A woman--Zara--who almost from daybreak had set out from the lonely -hacienda with the determination of reaching Belize somehow and of -warning Beatrix, the Englishman's friend, of the danger that -threatened that Englishman; above all, and this the principal reason, -with the determination of saving Sebastian from the commission of a -crime which, once accomplished, could never be undone. Yet, also, in -her scheming, half-Indian brain, there had arisen other thoughts, -other hopes. - -"She loves him; this cold, pale-faced English girl loves Sebastian," -she thought, still cherishing that delusion as she made her way -sometimes along the dusty road, sometimes through copses and groves -and thickets, all the paths of which she knew. "She loves him. But," -and as this reflection rose in her mind her scarlet lips parted with a -bitter smile, and her little pearl-like teeth glistened, "when she -knows, when I show her how cruel, how wicked he has intended to be to -that other man, so like him yet so different, then--then--ah! then, -she will hate him." And again she smiled, even as she pursued her way. -"She will hate him--these English can hate, though they know not -what real love means--and then when he finds he has lost her, he -will--perhaps--love me. Ah!" And at the thought of the love she longed -so for, her eyes gleamed more softly, more starlike, in the dim dawn -of the forest glade. - -"I shall save him--I shall save him from a crime--then--he--will--love -me." And still the look upon her face was ecstatic. "Will marry me. My -blood is Indian, not negro--'tis that alone with which these English -will not mix theirs; the negro women alone with whom they will never -wed. Ah! Sebastian," she murmured, "I must save you from a crime -and--from her." - -And so she went on and on, seeing the daffodil light of the coming day -spreading itself all around; feeling the rays of the swift-rising sun -striking through the forests, and parching everything with their -fierceness, but heeding nothing of her surroundings. For she thought -only of making the "cold, pale-faced English girl" despise the man -whom she hungered for herself, and of one other thing--the means -whereby to prevent him from doing that which might deprive him of his -liberty--of his life and--also, deprive her of him. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -"I LIVE TO KILL HIM." - - -Still she went on, unhalting and resolute, feeling neither fatigue nor -heat, or, if she felt them, ignoring them. She was resolved to reach -Belize, or to fall dead upon the road or in the forests while -attempting to do so. - -And thus she came at last to All Pines, seeing the white inn gleaming -in the first rays of the sun, it being now past six o'clock; while -although her thirst was great, she determined that she would not go -near it. She was known too well there as the girl, Zara, from -Desolada, and also as she who acted as croupier for all the dissipated -young planters who assembled at the inn to gamble, she doing so -especially for Sebastian when he held the bank. She would be -recognized at once and her presence commented on. - -Yet she must pass near it, go through the village street to get -forward on her way to Belize; she could only pray in her half-savage -way that there might be none about who would see her, while, even as -she did so, she knew that her chances of escaping observation were of -the smallest. In such broiling lands as those of which Honduras formed -one, the earliest and the latest hours of the day are the hours which -are the most utilized because of their comparative coolness and -consequently few are asleep after sunrise. - -Yet, she told herself, perhaps after all it was not of extreme -importance whether she was recognised or not. By to-night, if all went -well, and if the pale-faced English girl and her father had any spirit -in them, they would have taken some steps to prevent that which was -meditated at Desolada on this very night. And, if they had not that -spirit, then she herself would utter some warning, would herself see -the "old judge man," and tell him her story. Perhaps he would listen -to it and believe her even though she was but half-breed trash, as -those of her race were termed contemptuously as often as not. - -But, now, as she drew nearer to the village street, and to where the -inn stood, she started in dismay at what she saw outside the door. An -animal that she recognised distinctly, not only by itself but by the -saddle on its back and the long Mexican stirrups, and also by its -colour and flowing mane. - -She recognised the favourite horse of Sebastian, the one he always -rode, standing at the inn door. - -At first a sickening suspicion came to her mind; a fear which she gave -utterance to in the muttered words: - -"He has followed me. He knows that I have set out for Belize." Then -she dismissed the suspicion as impossible. For she remembered that -Sebastian had been absent from Desolada all the previous day, and had -not returned by the time when the others had gone to rest; she thought -now (and felt sure that she had guessed aright) that he had slept at -the inn all night, and was about to return to Desolada in the cool of -the morning. - -Determined, however, to learn what the master of that horse--and of -her--was about to do, and above all, which direction he went off in -when he came outside, she crept on and on down the street until at -last she was nearly in front of the inn door. Then, lithe and agile as -a cat, she stole behind a great barn which stood facing the _plaza_, -and so was enabled to watch the opposite house without any possibility -of being herself seen from it. - -That something of an exciting nature had been taking place within the -house (even as Zara had sought the shelter behind which she was now -ensconced) she had been made aware by the loud voices and cries she -heard--voices, too, that were familiar to her, as she thought. And -about one of those voices she had no doubt--could have no doubt--since -it was that of the man she loved, Sebastian. - -Then, presently, even as she watched the inn through a crack in the -old and sun-baked barn-door, the turmoil increased; she heard a -scuffling in the passage, more cries and shouts, Sebastian's -objurgations rising above all, and, a moment later, the girl saw the -latter dragging Paz out into the open space in front of the inn. And -he was shaking him as a mastiff might shake a rat that had had the -misfortune to find itself in his jaws. - -"You hound!" he cried, even as he did so; "you will lurk about -Desolada, will you, at light; prying and peering everywhere, as though -there were something to find out. And because you are reproved, you -endeavour to run away to Belize. What for, you treacherous dog? What -for? Answer me, I say," and again he shook the half-caste with one -hand, while with the other he rained down blows upon his almost grey -head. - -But, since the man was extremely lithe, in spite of his age, many of -the blows missed their mark; while taking advantage of the twists and -turns which he, eel-like, was making in his master's hands, he managed -during one of them to wrench himself free from Sebastian. And then, -then--Zara had to force her hands over her mouth to prevent herself -from screaming out in terror. And she had to exercise supreme -control over herself also so that she should not rush forth from her -hiding-place and spring at Paz. For, freed from his tyrant's clutches, -he had darted back from him, and a second later, with a swift movement -of his hand to his back, had drawn forth a long knife that glistened -in the morning sun. - -What he said, what his wild words were, cannot be written down, since -most of them were uttered in the Maya dialect; yet amid them were some -that were well understood by Zara and Sebastian; perhaps also by the -landlord of the inn and the two or three half-caste servants huddled -near him, all of them giving signs of the most intense excitement and -fear. And Zara, hearing those words, threw up her hands and covered -her face, while Sebastian, his own face white as that of a corpse's in -its shroud, staggered back trembling and shuddering. - -"You know," the latter whispered, "you know that! You know?" And his -hand stole into his open shirt. Yet he drew nothing forth; he did not -produce that which Zara dreaded each instant to see. In truth the man -was paralyzed, partly by Paz's words--yet, doubtless, even more so by -the look upon his face--and by his actions. - -For now Paz was creeping toward the other, even as the panther creeps -through the jungle toward the victim it is about to spring upon; the -knife clutched in his hand, upon his face a gleam of hate so hideous, -a look in his topaz eyes so horrible, that Sebastian stood rooted to -the ground. While from his white and foam-flecked lips, the man -hissed: - -"Shoot. Shoot, curse you! but shoot straight. Into either my heart or -head--for if you miss me!--if you miss me--" and he sprang full on the -other, the knife raised aloft. Sprang at him as the wild cat springs -at the hunter who has tracked it to the tree it has taken refuge in, -and when it recognises that for it there is no further shelter--his -face a very hell of savage rage and spite; his scintillating, -sparkling eyes the eyes of an infuriated devil. - -And Sebastian, cowed--struck dumb with apprehension of such a foe--a -thing half-human and half a savage beast--forgot to draw his revolver -from his breast and seemed mad with dismay and terror. Yet he must do -something, he knew, or that long glittering blade would be through and -through him, with probably his throat cut from ear to ear the moment -he was down. He must do something to defend, to save himself. - -Recognising this even in his mortal terror, he struck out -blindly--whirling, too, his arms around in a manner that would have -caused an English boxer to roar with derision, had he not also been -paralyzed with the horror of Paz's face and actions. He struck out -blindly, therefore, not knowing what he was doing, and dreading every -instant that he would feel the hot bite of the steel in his flesh, -and--so--saved himself. - -For in one of those wild, uncalculated blows, his right fist alighted -on Paz's jaw, and, because of his strength, which received accession -from his maddened fury and fear, felled the half-caste to the earth, -where he lay stunned and moaning; the deadly knife beneath him in the -dust. - -For an instant Sebastian paused, his trembling and bleeding hand again -seeking his breast, and his fury prompting him to pistol the man as he -lay there before him. But he paused only for a moment, while as he did -so, he reflected that if he slew the man who was at his mercy now it -would be murder--and that murder done before witnesses--then turned -away to where his horse stood, and, flinging himself into the saddle, -rode off swiftly to Desolada. - -As he disappeared, Zara came forth from behind the door where she had -been lurking, an observer of all that had taken place, and forgetting, -or perhaps heedless, of whether she was now seen or not, ran toward -Paz and lifted his head up in her arms. - -"Paz, Paz," she whispered in their own jargon. "Paz, has he killed -you? Answer." - -From beneath her the man looked up bewildered still, and half-stunned -by the blow; then, after a moment or so, he muttered, "No, no! I -live--to--to kill him yet." And Zara hearing those words shuddered, -for since they were both of the same half wild and savage blood, she -knew that unless she could persuade him to forego his revenge, he -would do just as he had said, even though he waited twenty years for -its accomplishment. - -"No," she said, "no. You must not. Not yet, at least, Paz, promise me -you will not. I--I--you know--I love him. For my sake--mine, Paz, -promise." - -"I do worse," said Paz, "I ruin him--drive him away. Zara, I know his -secret--now." - -"What secret?" - -"Who he is. Ah!--" for Zara had clapped her little brown hand over his -mouth, as though she feared he was going to shout out that secret -before the landlord of the inn and his servants, all of whom were -still hovering near. "Ah, I not tell it now. But to the other--the -cousin--I tell it. Because I--know it, Zara." - -"So," she whispered, "do I. But not now. Do not tell it now. Paz, I go -to Belize to fetch succour. He will kill _him_ if it comes not soon." - -"He will kill him to-night, perhaps. I, too, was going to Belize." - -"Where is he now?" the girl asked; "where is the handsome cousin? -Where have they put him?" - -"In the room at end of corridor, with the steps outside to garden. -Easy bring him down them." - -"Will he die?" - -"Not of wound," the man said, his eyes sparkling again, but -this time with intelligence, with suggestion. "Not of -wound--but--of--what--they--do--to-night." - -"I must go," Zara cried, springing to her feet. "I must go. Every -minute is gold, and--it is many miles." - -"Take the mule," Paz said. "It is there. There," and he glanced -towards the stables. "Take him. He go fast." - -"I will take him," she replied, "but--but--promise me, Paz, that you -will do nothing until I return. Nothing--no harm to him. Else I will -not go." - -"I will promise," the man said, rising now to his feet, and staggering -a little from his giddiness. "I will promise--you. Yet, I look after -him--I take care he do very little more harm now." - -"Keep him but from evil till to-night--till to-morrow, let him not hurt -Mr. Ritherdon, then all will be well." And accompanied by Paz, she -went toward the stable where his mule was. - -It took but little time for the girl to spring to its back, to ride it -out at a sharp trot from the open plaza, and, having again extorted a -promise from Paz, to be once more on her road toward Belize--she not -heeding now the fierceness of the rays of the sun, which was by this -time mounting high in the heavens. - -And so at last she drew near to "Floresta," which she knew well enough -was Mr. Spranger's abode; near to where the other girl was causing -preparations to be made for reaching her father and telling him what -she had learned through the arrival of the negro--she never dreaming -of the further revelations that were so soon to be made to her. -Revelations by the side of which the lying letter and the lying action -of Sebastian in sending forward Julian's luggage would sink into -insignificance. - -She sat on in her garden, waiting now for the groom to come and tell -her that the buggy was ready--sat on amid all the drowsy noontide -heat, and then, when once more the parrots rustled their feathers, and -the monkey opened its mournful eyes, she heard behind her a footstep -on the grass; a footstep coming not from the house but behind her, -from an entrance far down at the end of the tropical garden. And, -looking around, she saw close to her the girl Zara, her face almost -white now, and her clothes covered with dust. - -"What is it?" Beatrix cried, springing to her feet. "What brings you -here? I know you, you are Zara; you come from Desolada." - -"Yes," the other answered, "I come from Desolada. From Desolada, where -to-night murder will be done--if it is not prevented." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -THE WATCHING FIGURE. - - -With a gasp, Beatrix took a step toward the other, while as she did so -the latter almost uttered a moan herself; though her agitation -proceeded from a different cause--from, in truth, her appreciation of -how wide a gulf there was between them. Between them who both loved -the same man! Between this dainty English girl, who looked so fresh -and fair, and was dressed in so spotless and cool a garb, and her who -was black and swarthy, her who was clad almost in rags, and covered -with the dust and grime of a long journey made partly on foot and -partly on the mule's back. What chance was there for her, what hope, -she asked herself, that Sebastian should ever love her instead of this -other? - -"Murder will be done!" Beatrix exclaimed, repeating Zara's words, even -while a faintness stole over her that she thought must be like the -faintness of coming death. "Murder will be done. To whom? To Mr.--to -Lieutenant Ritherdon?" - -"Yes," Zara answered, standing there before the other, and feeling -ashamed as she did so of the appearance she must present to her rival, -as she deemed her. "Yes, murder. The murder of Lieutenant Ritherdon. -But, if you have courage, if you have any power, it may be prevented. -And--and--you love him! I know it. There must be no crime. You love -him!" she repeated fiercely. - -Astonished that the girl should know her secret, unable to understand -how she could have learned it, unless for some reason, Lieutenant -Ritherdon might have hinted that he hoped such was the case; abashed -at the secret being known, Beatrix could but stammer: "Yes--yes--I -love him." - -"I love him, too!" Zara exclaimed fiercely, hotly; she neither -stammering, nor appearing to be put to shame. "I love him too. There -must be no crime----" - -"You love him!" Beatrix repeated, startled. - -"With my whole heart and soul. Do you think our hot blood is not as -capable of love as the cold blood that runs in your veins?" - -But Beatrix could only whisper again, amazed, "You love him too!" - -"I have loved him all my life," Zara said. "I have always loved him. -And I will save him." - -Then Beatrix understood how they were at cross-purposes, and that this -half-savage girl was here, not to save Julian from being murdered so -much as to save Sebastian from becoming a murderer. - -"Tell me all," she said faintly, sinking into her chair, while she -motioned to Zara to seat herself in one of the others that stood close -by. "Tell me all that has happened. Then I shall know perhaps what I -am to do." - -And Zara, smothering in her heart the hatred that she felt against -this other girl so much more fair and attractive than she, she who was -but a peasant, almost a slave, while her rival had wealth and bright -surroundings--told her all she knew. - -She narrated how she had watched by day and night to see that no harm -was done to the stranger staying at Desolada: how, sometimes, she had -slept on the upper veranda and sometimes in the grounds and gardens, -being ever on the watch. And then she told the story of all that had -happened, of how Madame Carmaux had tried to shoot Julian in the copse -and had herself been struck in the arm by a bullet from Paz's rifle, -but to avoid suspicion had, on her return to the house, commenced -arranging flowers in a bowl with one hand, she keeping the other, -which Zara knew she had hastily bandaged up, out of sight. She told, -too, the whole story of the Amancay poison, and described the final -scene in the lower room which she had witnessed from the garden where -she stood hidden. - -"And now," she cried, "now they will kill him to-night, get rid of him -forever, if, before night comes, help does not reach him." - -"What will they do?" asked Beatrix, white to the lips, and trembling -all over as she had trembled from the first. "Poison him with that -hateful Amancay--or--or----" - -"I know not, but they will kill him. They will not keep him there. -Instead, perhaps, carry him to one of the lagoons where the alligators -are, or to the sea where the white sharks are, or----" - -"Come, come!" cried Beatrix, with a shriek of horror. "Come at once to -my father in the city. Oh! in mercy, come--there is not an hour, not a -moment, to be lost!" - -She had seen, almost directly after Zara had made her appearance, the -groom come out from the house, and understood that he was approaching -to tell her that the buggy was prepared, but by a motion of her hand -she had made the man understand that she was not ready. But, now, she -must go at once, and she must take this girl with her--that was all -important. For surely, when some of the legal authorities in Belize -had heard the tale which Zara could tell, they would instantly send -assistance to Julian. - -"Come!" she cried again. "Come! we must go to the city at once." - -"It will save--him?" Zara asked, her thoughts still upon the man who -must be prevented at all hazards from committing a horrible crime, and -supposing in her ignorance that it was also the desire to prevent that -man from committing this crime which made Beatrix so anxious. "It will -save--him?" - -"Yes," Beatrix answered. "Yes. It will save him." - - -The night had come, suddenly, swiftly, as it always does in Southern -lands. Half an hour earlier a band of twenty people had been riding as -swiftly as the heat would permit along the dusty white thread, which -was the road that led past All Pines on toward Desolada--now the same -band was progressing beneath the swift-appearing stars overhead. The -breeze, too, which, not long before, had burnt them with its fiery -sun-struck breath, came cool and fresh and grateful at this time, -since it was no longer laden with heat; while from all the wealth of -vegetation around, there were, distilled by the night dews, the -luscious scents and odours that the flowers of the region possess. - -A band of twenty people--of eighteen men and two women--who, now that -night had fallen, rode more swiftly than they had done before, the -trot of the horses being accompanied by the clang of scabbard against -boot and spur, of jangling bridle and bridle-chain. For among them was -a small troop of constabulary headed by an officer, as well as a -handful of the police. Also, Mr. Spranger formed one of the number. -The two women were Beatrix and Zara, the former having insisted on her -father allowing her to accompany the force. - -When Beatrix had caused Zara to go with her to Mr. Spranger's offices, -and then to tell him her tale--a tale supplemented by the former's -own account of the letter from Sebastian accompanied by Julian's -luggage--that gentleman had at once agreed that there was no time to -be lost if Julian was to be saved from any further designs against -him. Of course, he and all the Government officials were well -acquainted with each other, the Governor included, but it was to the -Chief Justice that he at once made his way, accompanied by Zara, who -had to tell her tale for a second time to that representative of -authority and law. - -Then the rest was easy--instructions were given to the Commandant of -Constabulary and the Superintendent of Police, and the force set out. -Meanwhile, the latter was provided with a warrant (although neither -Beatrix nor Zara was aware that such was the case) for the arrest of -both Sebastian Ritherdon and Madame Carmaux on a charge of attempted -murder. - -And now as the little band passed All Pines, Zara, who rode close by -Beatrix's side, whispered in the latter's ear that she was about to -quit them; she knew, she said, bypaths that she could thread which -the others could not do, or in doing, would only make very slow -progress. - -"But," she concluded, still in a whisper, and with her dark face as -close to the fair one of the English girl as she could place it--"I -shall be there when you all arrive. And by then I shall know what has -been done, or what is to be done. He must not kill him; we must stop -that. We love him too well for that." - -And, ere Beatrix could answer, the other had disappeared into the -denseness of the forest, it seeming as though she had power to impart -to the beast which she bestrode her own mysterious and subtle methods -of movement. - -At first, she was not missed by any of the others, Mr. Spranger being -the earliest to do so; but by the time he had observed that she was -gone, they had drawn so near to the object of their visit that, even -if her absence was noticed, very little remark was made. For now they -were, as most in the band knew, on the outskirts of the plantations -around Desolada; soon they would be within those plantations and -threading their way toward the house itself. What was noticed, -however, as now their horses trod on the soft luxurious grass beneath -their feet--so gently that the thud of their hoofs became entirely -deadened--was that a man, who had certainly not accompanied them from -Belize, was doing so at this moment, and that, as they wended their -way slowly, this man, who was on foot, walked side by side with them. - -"Who are you?" asked the officer in command of the constabulary, -bending down from his horse to look at the newcomer, and observing -that he was a half-caste. "Do you belong to this property?" - -"I did," that newcomer said, looking up at the other. "I did--but not -now. Now I belong to you. To the Government, the police." - -"So! You desire to give information. Is that it? - -"Yes. That is it." - -"What can you tell?" - -"That the Englishman not there--that he taken away already, I -think----" - -"It is not so," a voice whispered close to his ear, yet one -sufficiently loud to be heard by all. "It is not so." And, looking -round, every one saw the dark, starlike eyes of Zara gleaming through -the darkness at them. "He is there--but he will not be for long if -you do not make haste." - -From one of her hearers--from Beatrix--there came a gasp; from the -rest only a few muttered sentences that there was no time to be lost; -that they must attack the house at once, and call on the inhabitants -to come forth and give an account of themselves. Then, once more, the -order was issued for the cavalcade to advance. And silently they did -so, Beatrix being placed in the rear, so that if any violence should -be offered, or any resistance, she should not be exposed to it more -than was necessary. - -But there was little or no sign at present of the likelihood of such -resistance being made. Instead, Desolada presented now an appearance -worthy of its mournful name. For all was darkened in and around it; -the windows of the lower floor, especially the windows of the great -saloon, from which, or from its veranda, the light of the lamp had -streamed forth nightly, were all closed and shuttered; nowhere was a -glimmer to be seen. And also the door in the middle of the veranda was -closed--a circumstance that certainly during the summer, would have -been unusual in any abode in British Honduras. - -All were close to the steps of the veranda now, and the officer in -command of the constabulary, dismounting from his horse, strode up on -to the latter, while beating upon the door with his clenched fist, he -called out that he required to see Mr. Ritherdon at once. A summons to -which no answer was returned. - -"If," this person said, looking around on those behind him, and whose -forms he could but dimly see--"if no answer is returned, we shall be -forced to break the door down or blow the lock off. Into the house we -must get." - -"There is now," said Mr. Spranger, who had also dismounted and joined -him, "a figure on the balcony of the floor above. It has come out from -one of the windows. But I cannot see whether it is man or woman." - -"A figure!" cried the other, darting out at once on to the path -beneath, so that thus he could gaze up to the higher balcony. "A -figure!" and then, raising his eyes, he saw that Mr. Spranger had -spoken accurately. For, against the darkness of the night, and the -darkness of the house too, there was perceptible some other darker, -deeper blur which was undoubtedly the form of a person gazing down at -them. A form surmounted by something that was a little, though not -much, whiter than its surroundings; something that all who gazed upon -it knew to be a human face. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -BEYOND PASSION'S BOUND. - -A human face was gazing down on them from where the body beneath -crouched, as though kneeling against the rails of the veranda--a face -from which more than one in that band thought they could see the eyes -glistening. Yet, from it no sound issued, only--only--still the white -face grew more perceptible and stood out more clearly in the -blackness, as the others continued to stare at it, and the eyes seemed -to glitter with a greater intensity. - -"Come down," cried up the officer now, directing his voice toward -where it lurked, "come down and let us in. We have important business -with Mr. Ritherdon." - -But still no reply nor sound was heard. - -"Come down," the other said again, "and at once, or we shall force an -entrance; we shall lose no time." - -Then from that dark, indistinct mass there did come some whispered -words; words clear enough, however, to be heard by those below. - -"Who are you?" that voice demanded, "and what do you want?" - -"We want," the officer replied, "Mr. Ritherdon. And also, Madame -Carmaux, his housekeeper, and the Englishman who has been staying -here." - -"The Englishman has gone away, back to England, and Mr. Ritherdon is -at Belize----" - -"Liar!" all heard another voice murmur in their midst, while looking -around, they saw that Zara was still there, standing beside the horses -and gazing up toward the balcony. "Liar! Both are in the house." - -Then in a moment she had crept away, and stolen toward where Beatrix, -who had also left the saddle, stood, while, seizing her arm she -whispered, "Follow me. Now is the time." - -"To him?" - -"Yes," Zara said--"yes, to him. To him you love. You do love him, do -you not?" - -"Ah, yes! Ah, yes! Oh, save him! Save him!" - -"Come," said Zara--and Beatrix thought that as the other spoke now, -her voice had changed. As, indeed it had. For (still thinking that the -English girl could have but one man in her thoughts, and he the one -whom she herself loved and hated alternately--the latter passion being -testified by the manner in which she had, in a moment of impulse, -given him the physic-nut oil and the poisoned mullet) her blood had -coursed like wildfire through her veins at hearing Beatrix's avowal, -and her voice had become choked. For Beatrix had forgotten in the -excitement of the last few hours to undeceive the girl; had forgotten, -indeed, the cross-purposes at which they had been that morning in the -garden at "Floresta;" and thus Zara still deemed that they were -rivals--deemed, too, that this white-faced rival was the favoured one. - -"She loves him," she muttered to herself, her heart and brain racked -with torture and with passion; "she loves him. She loves him. And he -loves her! But--she shall never have him, nor he her. Come," she cried -again, savagely this time. "Come, then, and see him. And--love him. It -will not be for long," she added to herself. - -Whereupon she drew Beatrix away toward the back of the house, going -around by the farthest side of it, and on, until, at last, they stood -at the foot of the stairs outside that gave access to the floor above, -on that farthest side. Here, they were quite remote from the parley -that was going on between those who were in the front and the dark -shrouded figure on the veranda above; yet Beatrix noticed that, still, -they were not alone. For, as they approached those outside stairs she -saw three or four dark forms vanish away from them, and steal farther -into the obscurity of the night. - -"Who are those?" she asked timorously, nervously, as she watched their -retreating figures. - -"Men," said Zara, "who to-night will take the Englishman, tied and -bound, out to the sea in Sebastian's boat, and sink him." - -"Oh, my God!" wailed Beatrix, nearly fainting. "Oh! Oh!" - -"If we do not prevent it. If _I_ do not prevent it." - -Then, suddenly, before Beatrix could put her foot on the steps as Zara -had directed her to do, as well as ascend them, she felt her arm -grasped by the latter, and heard her whisper: - -"Stop! Before we mount to where he is--tell me--tell me truthfully, -has--has he told you he loves you?" - -"No----" - -"You lie!" - -"I do not lie," Beatrix replied, hotly, scornfully; "I never lie. But, -since you will have the truth--I cannot understand why, what affair it -is of yours--although he has not told me, I know it. Love can be made -known without words." - -Her own words struck like a dagger to the other's heart--nay, -they did worse than that. They communicated a spark to the heated, -maddening passions which until now, or almost until now, had lain -half-slumbering and dormant in that heart; they roused the bitterest, -most savage feelings that Zara's half-savage heart had nurtured. - -"She scorns me," she said to herself, "she despises me because she -knows she possesses his love, the love made known without words. -Because she is sure of him. Ay, and so she shall be--but not in life. -'What affair is it of mine?'" she brooded. "She shall see. She shall -see." - -Then, as once more she motioned Beatrix to follow her up those stairs, -she, unseen by the latter, dropped her right hand into the bosom of -her dress, and touched something that lay within it. - -"She shall see," she said again. "She shall see." - -Above, in that obscure, gloomy corridor to which they now entered--the -corridor which more than once had struck a chill even to the bold -heart of Julian Ritherdon, when he sojourned in the house--all was -silent and sombre, so that one might have thought that they stood upon -the first floor of some long-neglected mansion from which the -inhabitants had departed years before; while the darkness was intense. -And, whatever might have been the effect of the weirdness of the place -upon the nerves of Zara, strung up as those nerves now were to tragic -pitch, upon Beatrix, at least, it was intense. A great black bat, the -wind from whose passing wing fanned her cheek and caused her to utter -a startled exclamation, added some feeling of ghastly terror to the -surroundings, while, also, the company in which she was, the company -of a half-Indian savage girl charged with tempestuous passions, -contributed to her alarm. - -Yet, on the silence there broke now some sounds, they coming from the -front part of the house; the sound of voices, of a hurried -conversation, of sentences rapidly exchanged. - -"You hear," hissed Zara in the other's ear--"you hear--and understand? -'Tis she--Carmaux. And, as ever, she lies. As her life has always -been, so is her tongue now." - -Then Beatrix heard Madame Carmaux saying from the balcony: - -"He has returned. He is coming, I tell you. But just now he has ridden -to the stables behind. He will be with you at once. He will explain -all. Wait but a few moments more." - -"It must be but a very few then," the girl heard in reply, she -recognising the voice of the Commandant of the Constabulary. "Very -few. He must indeed explain all. Otherwise we force our entrance. Not -more than five minutes will be granted." - -"You understand?" whispered Zara, "you understand? She begs time so -that--so that--the Englishman shall be taken to his death. When he is -gone, Sebastian will show himself." Though, to her own heart she -added, "Never." - -"I can bear no more," gasped Beatrix; "I must see him. Go to him." - -"Nay," replied Zara, "he comes to you. Observe. Look behind you--the -way we came." - -And, looking behind her as the other bade, even while she trembled all -over in her fear and excitement, she saw that Sebastian had himself -mounted the stairs outside the house, and was preparing to pass along -the passage; to pass by them. - -Yet, ere he did so, she saw, too, that behind him were those misty -forms of the natives which she had observed to vanish at their -approach below; she heard him speak to them; heard, too, the words he -said. - -"When I whistle, come up and bear him away. You know the rest. To my -yawl, then a mile out to sea and--then--sink him. Now go, but be -ready." - -Whereon he turned to proceed along the passage, and, even in her -terror, Beatrix could see that he bore in his hand a little lantern -from which the smallest of rays was emitted. A lantern with which, -perhaps, he wished to observe if his victim still lived, since surely -he, who had dwelt in this house all his life, needed no light to -assist him in finding his way about it. - -"He will see us. He will see us," murmured Beatrix. - -"He will never see us again," answered Zara, and as she spoke, she -drew the other into the deep doorway of one of the bedrooms. "Never -again," while looking down at her from her greater height, Beatrix saw -that her right hand was at her breast, and that in it something -glistened. - -And, now, Sebastian was close to them, going on to the room at the end -of the passage. He was in front of them. He was passing them. - -"It is your last farewell," said Zara. And ere. Beatrix could shriek, -"No. No!" divining the girl's mistake; ere, too, she could make any -attempt to restrain her, Zara had sprung forth from the embrasure of -the doorway, the long dagger gleaming in her hand, as the sickly rays -of Sebastian's lamp shone on it, and had buried it in his back, he -springing around suddenly with a hoarse cry as she did so--his hands -clenched and thrust out before him--in his eyes an awful glare. Then -with a gasp he sank to the floor, the lamp becoming extinguished as he -did so. Whereby, Zara did not understand that, lying close by the man -whom she had slain, or attempted to slay, was Beatrix, who had swooned -from horror, and then fallen prostrate. - -Sebastian had carried his white drill jacket over his arm as he -advanced along the passage, he having taken it off as he mounted the -steps, perhaps with the view of being better able to assist the -Indians in the task of removing Julian when he should summon them. And -Zara, full of hate as she was; full, too, of rage and jealousy as she -had been at the moment before she stabbed him, as well as at the -moment when she did so, had observed such to be the case, when, -instantly, there came into her astute brain an idea that, through this -circumstance, might be wreaked a still more deadly vengeance on -Sebastian for his infidelity to her. - -"He would have sent that other to his death in the sea," she thought; -"now--false-hearted jaguar--that death shall be yours. If the knife -has not slain you, the water shall." Whereupon, quick as lightning, -she seized the jacket and disappeared with it down the corridor, -entering at the end of the latter a room in which Julian lay wounded -and bound upon a bed. A room in which there burnt a candle, by the -light of which she saw that he who was a prisoner there was asleep. - -Without pausing to awaken him, she took from off a nail in the room -the navy white jacket that Julian had worn--which like Sebastian's own -was stained somewhat with blood--and, seizing it in one hand and the -candle in the other, went back to where Sebastian lay. - -"I cannot put it on him," she muttered, "as he lies thus; still, it -will suffice. The Indians will think it is the other in this light, -since both are so alike." After which she crept down the passage to -the stairs, and, whistling softly, called up the men outside to her, -there being five of them. - -"He is here," she whispered as they approached Sebastian. "Here. Waste -no time; away with him," while they, with one glance at the prostrate -body, prepared to obey her, knowing how Sebastian confided many things -to her. - -But one of that five never took his eyes off the girl, and seeing that -from beneath the jacket there protruded a hand on which was a ring--a -ring well known by all around Desolada--he drew the jacket over that -hand, covering it up. Yet, as he did so, he contrived also to -disarrange the portion that lay over Sebastian's face--and--to see -that face. Whereupon, upon his own there came an awful look of -gloating, even as the Indians bent down and, lifting their burden, -departed with it. - -"At last," he whispered to Zara, "at last. You not endure longer?" - -"No," the girl replied. "No longer. He loved -that--that--other--and--and--I slew him. Now, Paz, go--and--sink him -beneath the sea forever." - -"Yes. Yes. I sink him. He knew not Paz was near, but Paz never forget. -I sink him deep. But, outside--I take ring away so that Indians not -know. Oh, yes, he sink very deep. Paz never forget." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -"THE MAN I LOVE." - - -Recovering her consciousness, Beatrix perceived that she was alone. -Yet, dimmed though her senses were by the swoon in which she had lain, -she was able to observe that some change had taken place in the -corridor since she fell prostrate. Sebastian Ritherdon's body was gone -now, but the little lamp which he had carried lay close to the spot -where she had seen him fall, while near to it, and standing on the -floor, was a candlestick. Within it was a candle, which showed to her -startled eyes something which almost caused her to faint again; -something that formed a small pool upon the shiny, polished floor. And -then as she saw the hateful thing, the recollection of all that had -happened returned to her, as well as the recollection of other things. - -"He was going to the end of the passage," she said to herself as, -rising, she drew her skirts closely about her so that they should not -come into contact with that shining, hideous pool at her feet; -"therefore, Julian must be there. Oh, to reach him, to help him to -escape from this horrid, awful house!" Whereon, snatching up the -candlestick from the floor, she proceeded swiftly to the end of the -corridor; while, seeing that, far down it, there was one door open, -she naturally directed her footsteps to that. - -Then, as she held the light above her head, she saw that on a bed -there lay a man asleep, or in a swoon--or dead! A man whose eyes were -closed and whose face was deadly white, yet who was beyond doubt -Julian Ritherdon. - -"Oh, Julian!" she gasped, yet with sufficient restraint upon herself -to prevent her voice from awaking him. "Oh, Julian! To find you at -last, but to find you thus," and she took a step forward toward where -the bed was, meaning to gaze down upon him and to discover if he was -in truth alive or not. - -Yet she was constrained to stop and was stayed in her first attempt to -cross the room, by the noise of swift footsteps behind her and by the -entrance of Zara, whose wild beauty appeared now to have assumed an -almost demoniacal expression. - -For the girl's eyes gleamed as the eyes of those in a raging fever -gleam; her features were working terribly, and her whole frame seemed -shaken with emotion. - -"It is done!" she cried exultingly--there being a tone of almost -maniacal derision in her voice. "It is done. In two hours he will be -dead. And I have kept my word to you. You loved him, and you desired -to see him. Well, you have seen him! Did you take," she almost -screamed in her frenzy, "a long, last farewell? I hope so, since you -will never take another," and in her fury of despair she thrust her -face forward and almost into the other's. - -But, now, hers was not the only wild excitement in the room. For -Beatrix, recognising to what an extreme the girl's jealousy had -wrought her, and what terrible deed she had been guilty of, herself -gave a slight scream as she heard the other's words, and then cried: - -"Madwoman! Fool! You are deceived. You have deceived yourself. I never -loved him. Nor thought of him. This man lying here, this man whom he -would have murdered, is the one I love with all my heart; this is the -man I came to save." - -Then as she spoke, Julian--who was now either awake or had emerged -from the torpor in which he had been lying--cried from out of the -darkness: "Beatrix, Beatrix, oh, my darling!" Whereon she, forgetting -that in her excitement she had proclaimed her love, forgetting all -else but that her lover was safe, rushed toward where he lay, uttering -words of thankfulness and delight at his safety. Yet, when a moment -later they looked toward the place where Zara had been, they saw that -she was gone. For, slight as was the glimmer from the candle, it -served to show that she was no longer there; that in none of the deep -shadows of the room was she lurking anywhere. - -She had, indeed, rushed from the room on hearing Beatrix's avowal, a -prey to fresh excitement now, and to fresh horrors. - -"I have slain him in my folly," she muttered wildly to herself. "I -have slain him. And--and, at last, I might have won him. God help me!" - -Then she directed her footsteps toward where she knew Madame Carmaux -was, toward where her ears told her that, below the balcony on which -the woman stood, they were making preparations to break into the -house. Already, she could hear the hammering and beating on the great -door from without; and, so hearing, thought they must be using some -tree or sapling wherewith to break it in. She recognised, too, the -Commandant's voice, as he gave orders to one of his men to blow the -lock off with his carbine. - -But without pause, without stopping for one instant, she rushed into -the room and out upon the balcony where, seizing Madame Carmaux by the -arm, she cried: - -"Let them come in. It matters not. Sebastian is dead, or will be dead -ere long. I deemed him false to me, as in truth he was. I have sent -him to his doom. The Indians have taken him away to drown him, -thinking he is that other." - -Then from a second woman in that house there arose that night a -piercing heartbroken cry, the cry of a woman who has heard the most -awful news that could come to her, a cry followed by the words--as, -throwing her hands up above her head, she sank slowly down on to the -floor of the veranda-- - -"You have slain him--you have sent him to his doom? Oh, Sebastian! Oh, -my son!" - -"Yes, your son," said Zara. "Your son." - -"It is impossible," they both heard a voice say behind them, the voice -of Julian, as now he entered the room with Beatrix. "You are mistaken. -Madame Carmaux never had a son, but instead a daughter." - -"No," said still another voice, and now it was Mr. Spranger who spoke, -all the party from outside having entered the house at last. "No. She -never had a daughter, though it suited her purpose well enough to -pretend that such was the case, and that that daughter was dead; the -birth of her son being thus disguised." - -"You hear this," the man in command of the police said, addressing the -crouching woman. "Is it true?" - -But Madame Carmaux, giving him but one glance from her upturned eyes, -uttered no word. - -"I have a warrant for your arrest and for this man called Sebastian -Ritherdon," the sergeant said. "If he is not dead we shall have him." - -"Then I pray God he is dead," Madame Carmaux cried, "for if you arrest -him you will arrest an innocent man." - -In answer to which the sergeant merely shrugged his shoulders, while -addressing one of his force he bade him keep close to her. - -"Was he in truth her son?" Julian asked, turning to where a moment -before Zara had been standing. But once more, as so often she had done -in the course of this narrative, the girl had vanished. Vanished, that -is, so far as Julian and one or two others observed now, yet being -seen by some of those who were standing near the door to creep out -hurriedly and then to rush madly down the corridor. - -"No," said Madame Carmaux, glaring at him with a glance which, had she -had the power, would have slain him where he stood. "Though I often -called him so. It is a lie." - -"Is it?" said Julian quietly. "It would hardly seem so. Here is a -paper which was written in England ere I set out for Honduras by the -man whom I thought to be my father, and in which he tells in writing -the whole story he told me by word of mouth. I looked for that paper -after his death--and--I have found it here--in the pocket of -Sebastian's jacket." - -Such was indeed the case. When Zara had run into the room where Julian -was, and had possessed herself of his jacket with the naval buttons on -it--she meaning by its use to more thoroughly deceive the Indians who -were to take Sebastian away in his stead--she had left behind her the -other jacket which the latter had carried over his arm. And that, in -the obscurity of a room lit only by the one candle, Julian should have -hastily donned another jacket so like his own, and which he found in -the place where he had lain for three nights, was not a surprising -thing. But he recognised the exchange directly when, happening to put -his hand into the pocket, he discovered the very missing papers which -Mr. Ritherdon said he was going to leave behind for Julian's guidance, -but which he must undoubtedly have forwarded to his brother, as an -explanation--an account--of his sin against him in years gone by. - -"Whoever's son he was," said Mr. Spranger, "he was undoubtedly not the -son of Charles Ritherdon and his wife, Isobel Leigh. There can be no -possibility of that. Who, therefore, can he have been--he who was so -like you?" while, even as he gazed into Julian's eyes, there was still -upon his face the look of incredulity which had always appeared there -whenever he discussed the latter's claim to be the heir of Desolada. - -"If she," said Beatrix now, with a glance toward where Madame Carmaux -sat, rigid as a statue and almost as lifeless, except for her -sparkling, glaring eyes--"if she never had a daughter, but did have a -son, why may he not be that son? Some imposture may have been -practised upon Mr. Ritherdon." - -"It is impossible," her father said. "He knew his own child was -lost--his brother's narrative tells that; she could not have palmed -off on him another child--her own child--in the place of his." - -"There is the likeness between us," whispered Julian in Mr. Spranger's -ear. "How can that be accounted for? Can it be--is it possible--that -in truth two children were born to him at the same time?" - -"No," said Mr. Spranger. "No. If such had been the case, your uncle, -the man you were brought up to believe in for years as your father, -must have known of it." - -"Then," said Julian, "the mystery is as much unsolved as ever, and is -likely to remain so. She," directing his own glance to Madame Carmaux, -"will never tell--and--well. Heaven help him! Sebastian is probably -dead by now." - -"In which case," said the other, always eminently practical, "you are -the owner of Desolada all the same. If Sebastian was the rightful -heir, and he is dead, you, as Mr. Ritherdon's nephew, come next." - -"Nevertheless," replied Julian, "I am not his nephew. I am his son. I -feel it; am sure of it." - -But, even as he spoke, he noticed--had noticed indeed, already--that -there was some stir in the direction where Madame Carmaux was. He had -seen that, as he uttered the words "Heaven help him! Sebastian is -probably dead by now," she had sprung to her feet, while uttering a -piteous cry as she did so, and had stood scowling at Julian as though -it was he who had sent the other to his doom. Then, too, he had seen -that, in spite of the sergeant of police and one or two of his men -having endeavoured to prevent her, she had brushed them on one side -and was crossing the room to where he, with Mr. Spranger and Beatrix, -stood. A moment later, she was before them; facing them. - -"You have said," she exclaimed, "that he is probably dead by now," and -they saw that her face was white and drawn; that it was, indeed, -ghastly. "But," she continued, "if he is not dead--if yet he should be -saved, if the scheme of that devil incarnate, Zara, should have -failed--will you--will you hold him harmless--if--if--I tell all? Will -you hold _him_ harmless! For myself I care not, you may do with me -what you will." - -"Yes," said Julian. "Yes--if you will----" - -"No," said the sergeant of police. "That is impossible. You cannot -give such a promise. He has to answer to the law." - -"What!" cried Madame Carmaux, turning on the man, her eyes -flashing--"what if I prove him innocent of everything--of everything -attempted against this one here," and she indicated Julian. - -"Do that," said the sergeant, "and he may escape." - -"Come, then," she said, addressing Mr. Spranger and Julian; "but not -you, you bloodhound," turning on the man. "Not you! Come, I will tell -you everything. I will save him." - -While, making her way through the others as though she still ruled -supreme in the house, and followed by the two men, she led the way to -a small parlour situated upon the same floor they were on. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -THE SHARK'S TOOTH REEF. - - -Meanwhile the night grew on, and with it there was that accompaniment -which is so common in the tropics: the wind rising, and from blowing -lightly soon sprang up into what the sailors call half a gale. - -Now and again, far away to the east, flashes of rusty red lightning -might be seen also, the almost sure heralds of a storm later. - -The wind blew, too, over the dense masses of orange groves and other -vegetation which go to form the tropical jungle that hereabout fringes -the seashore; compact masses that, to many endeavouring to arrive at -that shore, would offer an impenetrable, an impassable, barrier. -Though not so to those acquainted with the vicinity and used to -threading the jungle, nor to the Indians and half-castes whose huts -and cabins bordered on that jungle, since they knew every spot where -passage might be made, and the coast thereby reached at last. - -Zara knew also each of those passages well, and threaded them now with -the confidence born of familiarity; with, too, the stern determination -to arrive at the end she had sworn to attain, if such attainment were -possible. - -She had left the room where Madame Carmaux had been confronted, not -only by her but by all the others, in the manner described; had left -it suddenly, though mysteriously, even as to her maddened brain a -thought had sprung, dispelling for the moment all the agony and -passion with which that brain was racked. The thought that, as she had -sent the man she loved to his doom, so, also, it might not yet be too -late to avert that doom--to save him. - -The Indians who were bearing him to the old ramshackle sailing-boat he -possessed (a thing half yawl and half lugger--a thing, too, which she -supposed those men had been instructed to pierce and bore so that it -would begin to fill from the first, and should, thereby, sink by the -time it was in deep water) must necessarily go slowly, owing to the -burden they had to carry, while she--well! she could progress almost -as swiftly as the deer could themselves thread the thickets that -bordered the coast. - -Surely, surely, lithe, young, and active as she was she would overtake -those men with their burden ere they could reach the yawl; she would -be able to bid them stop, and could at once point out to them the -fatal mistake that had been made. She could give them proof, by -bidding them take one glance at the features of the senseless man they -were transporting, of the nature of that mistake. - -So she set out to overtake the Indians with their burden; set out, -staying for nothing, and allowing nothing to hinder her. For, swiftly -as she might go, every minute was still precious. - -And now--now--as the night wind arose still more and the rusty red of -the lightning turned to a more purple-violet hue--sure warning of the -nearness of the coming storm--she was almost close to the beach where -she knew Sebastian's crazy old craft was kept in common with one or -two others; namely, a punt with a deep tank for fish, a scow, and a -boat with oars. She was close to the beach, but with, at this time, -her heart like lead in her bosom because of the fear she had that she -was too late. - -"No sound," she muttered to herself. "No voices to be heard. They are -gone. They are gone. I _am_ too late!" - -Then, redoubling her exertions, she ran swiftly the remainder of the -distance to where she knew the boathouse--an erection of poles with -planks laid across them--stood. - -And in a moment she knew that she was, indeed, too late. Where the -yawl usually floated there was now an empty space; there was nothing -in the boathouse but the punt and the rowboat. - -"Oh! what to do," she cried, "what to do!" and she beat her breast as -she so cried. "They have carried him out to sea, even now the yawl is -sinking--has sunk--they will be on their way back. He is dead! he is -dead! he must be dead by now!" - -While, overcome by the horror and misery of her thoughts, she sank -down to the ground. But not for long, however, since at such a crisis -as this her strong--if often ungovernable--heart became filled with -greater courage and resource. To sink to the ground, she told herself, -to lie there wailing and moaning over the impending fate of him she -loved, was not the way to avert that fate. Instead, she must be prompt -and resolute. - -She sprang, therefore, once more to her feet and--dark as was all -around her, except for the light of a young crescent moon peeping up -over the sea's rim and forcing a glimmer now and again through the -banks of deep, leaden clouds which the wind was bringing up from that -sea--made her way into the boathouse, where, swiftly unloosing the -painter of the rowboat, she pushed the latter out into the tumbling -waves and began to scull it. - -"They must have gone straight out," she thought, "straight out. And -they would not go far. Only to where the water is deep enough for the -yawl to sink, or to encounter one of the many reefs--those jagged -crested reefs which would make a hole in her far worse than fifty awls -could do." - -Then still bending her supple frame over the oars, while her little -hands clenched them tightly, she rowed and rowed for dear life--as in -actual truth it was!--her breath coming faster and faster with her -exertions, her bosom heaving, but her courage indomitable. - -"I may not be too late," she whispered again and again; "the boat may -not yet have filled. I may not be too late." - -Suddenly she paused affrighted, startled; her heart seemed to cease to -beat, her hands were idle as they clutched the oars. Startled, and -despairing! - -For out here the water was calmer, there being on it only the long -Atlantic roll that is so common beneath the roughness of the winds; -except for the slapping and crashing of those waves against the bows -of the boat with each rise and fall it made, there was scarcely any -noise; certainly none such as those waves had made, and would make -against the boathouse and the long line of the shore. So little noise -that what she had heard before she heard again now, as she sat -listening and terrified in her place. She caught the beat of oars in -another boat, a boat that was drawing nearer to her with each fresh -stroke--that was, also, drawing nearer to the boathouse. - -The Indians were returning. Their work was done! - -"I am too late," she moaned. "I am too late. God help us both!" - -Then, too, she heard something else. - -Over the waters, over the rolling waves, there came to her ears the -clear sounds of a man singing in a high tenor--it was almost a high -treble--a man singing a song in Maya which she, who was of their race, -knew was one that, in bygone days the Caribs and natives had sung in -triumph over the downfall of their enemies. A song which, when it was -concluded, was followed by a little bleating laugh, one which she knew -well enough, a laugh which only one man in all that neighbourhood -could give. Then she heard words called out in a half-chuckling, -half-gloating tone, still in Maya. - -"'Sink him beneath the sea forever,' she say, 'forever beneath the -sea.' And Paz he never for get, oh, never, never! Now he sunk," and -again she heard the bleating laugh, and again the beginning of that -wild Carib song of triumph. - -Springing up, dropping the oars heedlessly--her heart almost -bursting--the girl rose from her seat, then shrieked aloud--sending -her voice in the direction where now there loomed before her eyes a -blur beneath the moon's glimmer which she knew to be a boat. "Paz," -she cried, "Paz, it is not true, say it is not true. Oh! Paz, where is -he?" - -"Where you wish. Where you tell me put him," the other called back, -while still beneath the brawny, muscular strokes of the Indians rowing -it, the boat swept on toward the shore. "Beneath the waves or soon -will be. Breaking to pieces on Shark's Tooth Reef. Paz never forget." - -"Beast! devil!" the girl cried in her agony, forgetting, or recalling -with redoubled horror, that what had been done was her own doing, was -perpetrated at her suggestion. "Return and help me to save him. Oh! -come back." - -But the boat was gone, was but a speck now beneath the moon, and she -was alone upon the sea, over which the wind howled as it lashed it to -fury at last. - -"The Shark's Tooth Reef," she murmured. "The Shark's Tooth Reef, The -worst of all around. Yet--yet--if caught on that, the yawl may not -sink. Oh! oh!" and she muttered to herself some wild unexpressed words -that were doubtless a prayer. Then she grasped the oars once more, -which, since they were fixed by loops on to thole pins instead of -being loose in rowlocks, had not drifted away as might otherwise have -been the case, and set the boat toward the spot where the Shark's -Tooth Reef was as nearly as she could guess. - -"If I can but reach it," she muttered to herself. "If I can but reach -it." - -But now her labours were more intense than before, her struggles more -terrible. For, coming straight toward the bow of the boat, the -Atlantic rollers beat it back with every stroke she took, while also -they deluged it with water, so that she knew ere long it must sink -beneath the waves. Already there were three or four inches in the -bottom--nay, more, for the stretchers were half-covered--another three -of four and it would go down like lead. And each fresh wave that broke -over the bows added a further quantity. - -"To see him once again; only to see him though if not to save," she -moaned--weeping at last; "to see him, to be able to tell him that -though I sent him to his doom I loved him," while roused by the -thought, she still struggled on, buffeted and beaten by the waves; -breathless, almost lifeless--but still unconquered and unconquerable. - -Suddenly she gave a gasp, a shriek. Close by her, rising up some -twenty feet from the sea, there was a cone-shaped rock, jagged and -serrated at its summit; black, too, and glistening as, in the rays of -the fast rising young moon, the water streaming from off it. It was -the Shark's Tooth Reef, so called because, from its long length of -some fifty yards (a length also serrated and jagged like the under jaw -of a dog), there rose that cone-shaped thing which resembled what it -was named from. - -And again she shrieked as, looking beyond the base of the cone, -peering through the hurtling waves and white filmy spume and spray, -she saw upon the further edge of the base of the reef a black, -indistinct mass being beaten to and fro. She heard, too, the grinding -of that mass against the reef, as well as its thumps as it was flung -on and dragged off it by the swirling of the sea; she heard, how each -time, the force of the impact became louder and more deadly. - -"To reach him at last," she cried, "to die with him! To die together." - -Then it seemed that into that quivering, nervous frame there came a -giant's strength; it seemed as though the cords and sinews of her arms -had become steel and iron, as though the little hands were vises in -the power of their grip. "To die together," she thought again, as, -with superhuman efforts, she forced her boat toward the battered, -broken yawl. - -Now, she was close to it--now!--then, with a crash her own boat was -dashed against the larger one, its bow crushed in, in a moment, its -stem lifted into the air. But, catlike, desperate, too, fighting fate -with the determination of despair, she had seized the top of the -yawl's side; had clung to it one moment while the sea thundered and -broke against her feet below, and had then drawn herself up onto the -deck over the side. - -And he was there, lying half-in, half-out the little forecastle cuddy, -bound and corded--insensible. - -"I have found you, Sebastian," she whispered, her lips to his cold -ones. "I have found you." - -With an awful lurch the yawl heeled over, the man's body rolling like -a log as it did so, and then Zara knew that the end had come. Even -though he lived, nothing could save him now; his arms were bound -tightly to his sides, the cords passing over his chest from left to -right. He was without sense or power. - -"Nothing can save him now--nor me," she said. "Nothing." - -Then she forced her own little hands beneath those cords so that, -thereby, she was bound to him; whereby if ever they were found, they -would be found locked together; she grasping tightly, too, the top -ply, so that neither wave, nor roll of sea, nor any force could tear -them apart again. And if they were never found--still--still, nothing -could part them more. - -"Together," she murmured, for the last time, her own strength ebbing -fast, "together forever. Together at the end. Always together now--in -death!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -MADAME CARMAUX TELLS ALL. - - -Calmly--almost contemptuously--as though she were in truth mistress of -Desolada and a woman who conferred honour upon those who followed her, -instead of one who was in actual fact their prisoner, Madame Carmaux -led the way to that parlour wherein she had promised to divulge all; -to reveal the secret of how another man had usurped for so long the -place and position which rightfully belonged to Julian Ritherdon. - -And they who followed her, observing how rigid, how masklike were the -handsome features; how the soft, dark eyes gleamed now with a hard, -determined look, knew that as she had said, so she would do; so she -would perform. They recognised that she would not falter in her task, -she deeming that what she divulged would tell in Sebastian's favour. - -Still firm and calm, therefore, and still as though she were the owner -of that house which she had ruled for so long with absolute sway, she -motioned to Julian and Mr. Spranger to be seated--while standing -before them enveloped in the long loose robe of soft black material in -which she had been clad, and with the lace hood thrown back from her -head and setting free the dark masses of hair which had always been -one of her greatest beauties--hair in which there was scarcely, even -now, a streak of white. - -"It is," she murmured, when the lights had been brought, "for -Sebastian's sake, if he still lives. And to prove to you that he is -innocent--was innocent until almost the day when he, that other, came -here," and her glance fell on Julian--"that I tell you all which I am -about to do. Also, that I tell you how I alone am the guilty one." - -Her eyes resting on those of Julian and Mr. Spranger, they both -signified by a look that they were prepared to hear all she might have -to narrate. Then, ere she began the recital she was about to make, she -said: - -"Yet, if you desire more witnesses, call them in. Let them hear, too. -I care neither for what they may think of me, nor what testimony they -may bear against me in the future. Call in whom you will." - -For a moment the two men before her looked into each other's faces; -then Mr. Spranger said: - -"Perhaps it would be as well to have another witness, especially as -Mr. Ritherdon is the most interested person. My daughter is outside, -if--if your story contains nothing she may not hear----" - -"It contains nothing," Madame Carmaux answered, there being a tone of -contempt in it which she did not endeavour to veil, "but the story of -a crime, a fraud, worked out by a deserted, heartbroken woman. Call -her in." - -Then, summoned by Julian, Beatrix entered the room, and, taking a seat -between her father and her lover, was an ear-witness to all that the -other woman had to tell. - -For a moment it seemed as if Madame Carmaux scarce knew how to -commence; for a few moments she stood before them, her eyes sometimes -cast down upon the floor, sometimes seeking theirs. Then, suddenly, -she said: - -"That narrative which George Ritherdon wrote in England when he was -dying, and sent to his brother Charles, who was himself close to his -end, was true." - -"It was true!" whispered Julian, repeating her words, "I knew it was! -I was sure of it! Yet how--how--was the deception accomplished?" - -"He loved me," madame exclaimed, she hardly, as it seemed, hearing or -heeding Julian's remark. "Charles loved me--till he saw her, Isobel -Leigh. And I--I--well, I had never loved any other man. I did not know -what love was till I saw him. Then--then--he--what need to seek for -easy words--he jilted me, and, in despair, I married Carmaux on the -day that he married her. It seemed to my distracted heart that by -doing so I might more effectually erase his memory from my mind -forever. And my son was born but a week or so before you, Julian -Ritherdon, were born." - -"Sebastian. Not a daughter?" Julian said. - -"Yes; Sebastian; not a daughter. Yet, later, when it was necessary -that my child should be registered, I recorded the birth as that of a -daughter, and at the same time I registered that daughter's death. -Later, you will understand why it was necessary that any child of mine -should disappear out of existence, and also why, above all things, it -must never be known that I had a son." - -Again Julian looked in Mr. Spranger's eyes, and Mr. Spranger into his, -their glances telling each other plainly that, even now, they thought -they began to understand. - -"I heard," Madame Carmaux went on, "that she too had borne a son, and -in some strange, heartbroken excitement that took possession of me, I -determined to go and see Charles Ritherdon, to show him my child, to -prove to him--as I thought it would do--that if he who had forgotten -me was happy in marriage, so, too, was I. Happy! oh, my God! However, -no matter for my happiness--I went. - -"I arrived here late at night, and I found him almost distracted. His -wife was dying: she could not live, they said; how was the child to -live without her? Then I promised that, if he would let me stay on at -Desolada, I would be as much a mother to that child as to my own, that -I would forget his cruelty to me, that I would forgive. - -"'Come,' he said to me, on hearing this, 'come and see them--come.' -And I went with him to the room where she was, where you were," and -she looked at Julian. - -"I went to that room," she continued, "with every honest feeling in my -heart that a woman who had sworn to condone a man's past faithlessness -could have; before Heaven I swear that I went to that room resolved to -be what I had said, a second mother to you. I went with pity in my -heart for the poor dying woman--the woman who had never really loved -her husband, but, instead, had loved his brother. For, as you know -well enough, she had been forced to jilt George Ritherdon even as -Charles had jilted me. I went to that room and then--then we learned -that she was dead. But, also, we learned something else. There was no -child by her side. It was gone. Its place was empty." - -"I begin to understand," murmured Julian, while Beatrix and her father -showed by their expression that to them also a glimmering of light was -coming. - -"Yet," said Madame Carmaux, "scarcely can you understand--scarcely -dream of--the temptation that fell in my way. In a moment, at the -instant that Charles Ritherdon saw that his child was missing, he -cried, 'This is my brothers doing! It is he who has stolen it. To -murder it, to be avenged on me for having won his future wife from -him. I know it.' And, distractedly, he raved again and again that it -was his brother's doing. In vain I tried to pacify him, saying that -his brother was far away in the States. To my astonishment he told me -that, on the contrary, he was here, close at hand, if not even now -lurking in the plantation of Desolada, or at Belize. - -"'I saw him there yesterday,' he cried, 'I saw him with my own -eyes. Now I understand what took him there. It was to steal my -child--to murder it. Great God! to thereby become my heir.' - -"As he spoke there came a footfall in the passage; some one was -coming. Perhaps the nurse returning; perhaps, also, if George -Ritherdon had only been there a short time before us, she did not know -that the child had been kidnapped. 'And if she does not know, then no -one else can know,' he cried. 'While,' he said, 'if that unutterable -villain, George, thinks to profit by this theft, I will thwart him. He -may rob me of my child, he may murder the poor innocent babe--but he -at least shall never be my heir,' and as he spoke his eyes fell on -_my_ child in my arms. 'Cover it up,' he whispered, 'show its face -only, otherwise the clothes it wears will betray it. Cover it up.'" - -"If this is true, the crime was his," whispered Julian. - -"_That_ crime was his," said Madame Carmaux, "the rest was mine. -But--let me continue. As Charles spoke, the nurse was at the door--a -negro woman who died six months afterward--a moment later she was in -the room. Yet not before I had had time to whisper a word in his ear, -to say, 'If I do this, it is forever? If your child is never found, is -mine to remain in its place?'--and with a glance he seemed to answer, -'Yes.' - -"None ever knew of that substitution, no living soul ever knew that -the child growing up as his, its birth registered by him at Belize as -his, was, in truth, mine. Not one living soul. Nor were you ever heard -of again. We agreed to believe that you had been made away with. Yet, -as time went on, Charles Ritherdon seemed to repent of what he had -done; he came to think that, after all, his brother might not have -been the thief, or, being so, that he had not slain the child; to also -think that perhaps some of the half-castes or Indians, on whom he was -occasionally hard, might have stolen it out of revenge. And it -required all my tears and supplications, all my prayers to him to -remember that, had he not been cruelly false to me, it would in truth -have been our child which was the rightful heir, which was here--his -child and mine! At last he consented--provided that the other--the -real child--you--were never heard of again. My son should remain in -his son's place, if you never appeared to claim that place. - -"Sebastian grew up in utter ignorance of all; he grew up also to -resemble strangely the man who was supposed to be his father--perhaps -because from the moment I married Monsieur Carmaux it was not his -image but that of Charles Ritherdon which was ever in my mind. - -"But when George Ritherdon's statement came, and with it the -information that you were in existence, Charles determined to tell -Sebastian everything. He would have done so, too, but that the illness -he was suffering from took a fatal termination almost directly -afterward--doubtless from the shock of learning what he did. Yet it -made no difference, for the day after his death Sebastian found the -paper and so discovered all." - -"He knew then," said Julian--though as he spoke his voice was not -harsh, he recognising how cruel had been this woman's lot from the -first, and how doubly cruel must have been the blow which fell on her -when, after twenty-five years of possession, the son whom she had -loved so, and had schemed so for, was about to be dispossessed--"he -knew then who I was when we first met, and--and--God forgive -him!--from that moment commenced to plot my death." - -"No!" cried Madame Carmaux. "No! Have I not said that he was innocent? -It was I--I--who plotted--alas! he was my son. Will not a mother do -all for her only child? It was I who changed the horses in their -stalls, putting his, which none but he could ride in safety, in place -of the sure-footed one he had destined for you; it was I--God help and -pardon me! who put the coral snake in your bed--I--I--who did the rest -you know of." - -"And did you, too, procure the Indians who were to take me out to sea -and drown me?" asked Julian with a doubtful glance at her. "Surely -not. There was a man's hand in that. And it was Sebastian who was -advancing along the passage when Zara's knife struck him down." - -"By instigation I did it," Madame Carmaux cried, determined to the -last to shield the son she still hoped to meet again in this -world--"the suggestion, the plot was mine alone. While because he was -weak, because from the first he has ever yielded to me, he yielded -now. Spare him!" she cried, and flung herself upon her knees before -that listening trio, her calmness, her contemptuousness, vanished now. -"Spare him, and do with me what you will." - -So the story was told, so the discovery of all was made at last. -Julian knew now upon how simple a thing--the fact of Madame Carmaux -having taken that strange determination to go and see the man who had -cast her off and jilted her, carrying her child in her arms--the whole -mystery had rested. But what he never knew was that, had Zara lived, -she could have also told him all. For in the savage girl's love for -the man, who in his turn had treated her badly, and in her -determination to be ever watching over him, she had long since -overheard scraps of conversation which had revealed the secret to her -in the same way as they had done to Paz. - -And it was to her, and her determination to prevent Sebastian from -committing any crime by which his life or his liberty might become -imperilled, that Julian owed the fact that he had not long since died -by the hand of Madame Carmaux--if not by that of Sebastian. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -CONTENTMENT. - - - "And on her lover's arm she leaned, - And 'round her waist she felt it fold." - - -Some two or three months of Julian's leave remained to expire at the -time when the foregoing explanation had taken place, and perhaps -nothing which had occurred since the day when he first set foot in -British Honduras had caused him more perplexity than his present -deliberations as to how to make the best of that period. - -For now he knew that he had done with the colony for ever; he had -achieved that for which he had come to it; he had proved the truth of -George Ritherdon's statement up to the hilt, and--in so far as -obtaining the possession of that which was undoubtedly his--well! the -law would soon take steps to enable him to do so. - -Only, when he told himself that he had done with the colony, when he -reflected that henceforth his foot would never tread on its earth -more, he had also to tell himself that he could alone consent to sever -his connection with it by also taking away with him the most precious -thing it contained in his eyes--Beatrix Spranger. - -"For," he said to that young lady, as once more they sat in the garden -at "Floresta," with about and around them all the surroundings that he -had learned to know so well and to recall during many of the gloomy -nights and days he had spent at Desolada--the great shade palms, the -gorgeous flamboyants and delicate oleander blossoms, as well as the -despairing looking and lugubrious monkey--"for, darling, I cannot go -without you. If I were to do so, Heaven alone knows when I could -return to claim you; and, also, I cannot wait. Sweetheart, you too -must sail for England with me, and it must be as Mrs. Ritherdon." - -He said the same thing often. Indeed at night, which is--as those -acquainted with such matters tell us--the period when young ladies -pass in review the principal events that have happened to them during -the day, Beatrix used to consider, or rather to calculate, that he -made the same remark about twenty times daily. While, since, loving -and gentle as she was, she was also possessed of a considerable amount -of feminine perspicacity, she supposed that he reiterated the phrase -upon the principle that the constant drop of water which falls upon a -stone will at last wear it away. - -"Though," the girl would say to herself in those soft hours of maiden -meditation, "he need not fear. He cannot but think that his longing is -also shared by me." - -Aloud, however, when once more he repeated what had become almost a -set phrase, she said: - -"You know that you have taken an unfair advantage of me. Indeed, -though it was only by chance, you have put me to terrible -mortification. You overheard my avowal to that unhappy girl, my avowal -that--that--I loved you." And Beatrix blushed most beautifully as she -softly uttered the words. "Think what an avowal it was. To be made by -a woman for a man who had never asked for her love." - -"Had he not," Julian said, "had he not, Beatrix? Never asked for that -love on one happy day spent alone by that woman's side, when he -confided everything to her that bore upon his presence here; and she, -full of soft and gentle sympathy, told him all her fears and anxiety -for the risks he might run. And, did he not ask for that love on the -night which followed that day, as they rode back to Belize beneath the -stars?" - -And now his eyes were gazing into hers with a look of love which no -woman could doubt, even though no other man had ever looked at her so -before; while since loverlike, they were sitting close together, his -arm stole round her waist. - -To the inexperienced--the present narrator included--it may be -permitted to wonder how lovers learn to do these things as well as how -they discover, too, the efficacy of such subtle tenderness; yet one is -told that they are done, and that the success thereof is indisputable. - -Nor, with Beatrix, did either the look of love or the soft environment -of his arm fail in their effort, as may be judged from her answer to -his whispered question, "It shall be, shall it not, darling?" - -"Yes," she murmured, blushing again and more deeply. "Yes. If father -permits." - -And so Julian's love grew toward a triumphant termination; yet still -there were other matters to be seen to and arranged ere he, with his -wife by his side, should quit the colony forever. One thing, however, -it transpired, would require little trouble in arranging; namely, the -property of Desolada, when the law should put him in possession of it, -since, on investigation being made after the disappearance of -Sebastian, it was found to be so heavily mortgaged that to pay off the -loans upon it would leave Julian without any capital whatever; while, -at the same time, he would be saddled with a possession in a country -with which he had nothing in common. Of what had become of the money -left by Charles Ritherdon at his death (and it had been a substantial -sum) or of what had become of the other sums borrowed on Desolada, -there was no one to inform them. - -Sebastian had disappeared, was undoubtedly gone forever--and of his -fate there could be little doubt. Certainly there could be no doubt in -the minds of either Beatrix or Julian or of Mr. Spranger, who had of -course been made acquainted with the substitution of Sebastian for -Julian. Zara also had disappeared, and Madame Carmaux had--escaped. - -How she had done it no one ever knew, but in the morning which -followed that eventful night when she made her confession, she was -missing from her room, at the door of which one of the constabulary -had been set as a guard. That she should be able so to evade those who -were passing the night at Desolada was easily to be comprehended when, -the next day, her room was examined; they understood how she might -have passed on to the balcony outside that room, have traversed it for -some distance, and then have made her way into some other apartment, -and so from that have descended the great stairs in the darkness, and -stolen away into the plantations. At any rate, whether these surmises -were correct or not, she was gone, and she has never since been seen -in British Honduras. - -Yet one planter, who makes frequent journeys to New Orleans in -connection with his imports and exports, declares that only a few -months ago he saw her in Lafayette Square in that city. It was at the -time when the terrible scourge of Louisiana, the yellow fever, is most -dreaded, and even as the planter entered the Square he saw a man lying -prostrate on the ground, while afar off from him, because of fear of -the infection, yet regarding him with a gaping curiosity, was a crowd -of negroes and whites. Then, still watching the scene, this gentleman -saw a woman clad in the garb of a Nun of Calvary, who approached the -prostrate man, and, while calling on those near to assist him, -ministered to his wants in so far as she could. And, her veil falling -aside, the planter declared that he saw plainly the face of the woman -who, in British Honduras, had been known for a quarter of a century as -Miriam Carmaux. He also recognized her voice. - -If such were the case, if, at last, that tempestuous soul--the soul of -a woman who, in her earlier days, had had meted out to her a more -cruel fate than falls to the lot of most women--if at last the erring -woman who had been driven to fraud and crime by the love she bore her -child--had found calm, if not peace, beneath that holy garb, perhaps -those who have heard her story may be disposed to think of her without -harshness. Such was the case with Julian Ritherdon, who, as she made -her confession, forgave her for all that she had attempted against -him--since she was scarcely a greater sinner than his own father, who -had countenanced the fraud she perpetrated, or his uncle, whose early -vindictiveness led to that fraud. Such, also, was the case with -Beatrix, from whose gentle eyes fell tears as she listened to the -narrative told by the unhappy woman while she was yet uncertain of the -doom of the son for whom she had so long schemed and plotted. And so -let it be with others. If she had erred, so also she had suffered. -And, by suffering, is atonement made. - - -You could not have witnessed, perhaps, a brighter scene than that -which took place on a clear October morning in the handsome Gothic -church of Belize, when Julian Ritherdon and Beatrix Spranger became -man and wife. - -Space has not permitted for the introduction of the reader to several -other sweet young English maidens whose parents' affairs have led to -their residences in the colony; yet such maidens there are in -Honduras--as the inquiring traveller may see for himself, if he -chooses--and of these fair exiles some were, this morning, -bridesmaids. They, you may be sure, lent brightness and brilliancy to -the scene, and so did the uniforms of several young officers of her -Majesty's navy, these gentlemen having been impressed into the -ceremony For, as luck would have it, not a week before, H.M.S. -Cerberus (twin-screw cruiser, first-class, armoured) had anchored, off -Belize, and, as those acquainted with the Royal navy are aware, no -officer of that noble service can come into contact with any ship -belonging to it (as Julian Ritherdon soon did) without finding therein -old friends and comrades. Be very sure also, therefore, that George -Hope, George Potter, John Hamilton, that most illustrious of naval -doctors, "Jock" Lyons, and many others dear to friends both in and -out of the service, all came ashore in the bravery of their full -dress--epaulettes, cocked hats, and so forth--while the _Padré_ "stood -by" to lend a hand to the local clergyman in performing the ceremony. -While, too, the path from the churchyard gates to the church door was -lined by bluejackets who, of course, were here clad in their "whites" -and straw hats. - -But, because rumour ever runneth swift of foot, even in so small a -colony as this--where, naturally, its feet have not so much ground to -cover--and in so small a capital as Belize, with its six thousand -inhabitants, the church was also filled with many others drawn from -the various races, mixed and pure, who dwell therein. For, by now, -there was scarcely a person in either the colony or capital to whose -ears there had not come the news that the handsome young officer who -was in a few moments to become the husband of Miss Spranger, was, in -truth, the rightful owner of Desolada. Likewise, all knew that -Sebastian had never been that owner, but that he was the son of -Carmaux, who had perished by the fangs of the tommy-goff, and of the -dark, mysterious beauty who had come among them as Miriam Gardelle and -had married him. And they knew, too, that this marriage was to be the -reward and crown of dangers run by Julian, of more than one attempt -upon his life, as well as that it was the outcome of a deep fraud -perpetrated and kept dark for many years. - -Paz was there, too, his eyes glistening with rapture at the sound of -the Wedding March, his weird soul being ever stirred by music; so, -also, was Monsieur Lemaire, grave, dignified, and calm as became a -French gentleman in exile, and with, about him as ever, that flavour -of one who ought by right to have walked in the gardens of Versailles -two hundred years ago, and have basked in the smiles of the Great -Monarch. - -And so they were married, nor can it be doubted that they will live -happy ever afterward--to use the sweet, old-time expression of the -storybooks of our infancy. Married--she given away by her father; he -supported by his oldest friend in the Cerberus--and both passing -happy! Married, and going forth along the path of life, he most -probably to distinction in his calling, she to the duties of an honest -English wife. Married and happy. What more was needed? - -"I come," he said to her that afternoon, when already the steamer was -leaving Honduras far astern, and they were travelling by the new route -toward Kingstown on their road to England--"I came to Honduras to find -perhaps a father, perhaps an inheritance. Neither was to be granted to -me, but, instead, something five thousand times more precious--a wife -five thousand times more dear than any parent or any possession." - -"And," she asked, her pure, earnest eyes gazing into his, "you are -contented? You are sure that that will make you happy?" - -To which he replied--as--well! as, perhaps--if a man--you would have -replied yourself. - - - -THE END. - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Bitter Heritage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BITTER HERITAGE *** - -***** This file should be named 52956-8.txt or 52956-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/5/52956/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the -Web Archive (New York Public Library) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Appleton and Company"> -<meta name="Date" content="1899"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} -.center {margin: auto; text-align:center; margin-top:24pt; margin-bottom:24pt} - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:10%;} - -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - - -</style> - -</head> - -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Bitter Heritage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Bitter Heritage - A Modern Story of Love and Adventure - -Author: John Bloundelle-Burton - -Release Date: September 2, 2016 [EBook #52956] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BITTER HERITAGE *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the -Web Archive (New York Public Library) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> - 1. Page scan source:<br> - https://archive.org/details/abitterheritage00blougoog<br> - (New York Public Library)</p> - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:50%"> -<h4>Appletons'<br> -Town and Country<br> -Library<br> -No. 272</h4> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A BITTER HERITAGE</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>By J. BLOUNDELLE-BURTON.</h4> - -<hr class="W50"> - -<h4>Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.</h4> - -<hr class="W50"> - -<p class="continue"><b>A Bitter Heritage</b>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Bloundelle-Burton is one of the most successful of the -purveyors of historical romance who have started up in the wake of Stanley -Weyman and Conan Doyle. He has a keen eye for the picturesque, a happy instinct -for a dramatic (or more generally a melodramatic) situation, and he is apt and -careful in his historic paraphernalia. He usually succeeds, therefore, in -producing an effective story."--<i>Charleston News and Courier</i>.</p> - -<p class="continue"><b>Fortune's my Foe</b>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The story moves briskly, and there is plenty of dramatic -action."--<i>Philadelphia Telegraph</i>.</p> - -<p class="continue"><b>The Clash of Arms</b>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well written, and the interest is sustained from the -beginning to the end of the tale."--<i>Brooklyn Eagle</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Vividness of detail and rare descriptive power give the story -life and excitement."--<i>Boston Herald</i>.</p> - -<p class="continue"><b>Denounced</b>.</p> -<p class="normal">"A story of the critical times of the vagrant and ambitious -Charles I, it is so replete with incident and realistic happenings that one -seems translated to the very scenes and days of that troublous era in English -history."--<i>Boston Courier</i>.</p> - -<p class="continue"><b>The Scourge of God</b>.</p> -<p class="normal">"The story is one of the best in style, construction, -information, and graphic power, that have been written in recent years."--<i>Dial, -Chicago</i>.</p> - -<p class="continue"><b>In the Day of Adversity</b>.</p> -<p class="normal">"Mr. Burton's creative skill is of the kind which must -fascinate those who revel in the narratives of Stevenson, Rider Haggard, and -Stanley Weyman. Even the author of 'A Gentleman of France' has not surpassed the -writer of 'In the Day of Adversity' in the moving interest of his tale."--<i>St. -James's Gazette</i>.</p> - -<hr class="W50"> -<h4>D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A BITTER HERITAGE</h3> - -<h4><i>A MODERN STORY OF LOVE AND ADVENTURE</i></h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>JOHN BLOUNDELLE-BURTON</h4> -<h5>AUTHOR OF THE SEAFARERS, FORTUNE'S MY FOE,<br> -THE CLASH OF ARMS, IN THE DAY OF ADVERSITY,<br> -DENOUNCED, THE SCOURGE OF GOD, ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>NEW YORK<br> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br> -1899</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5><span class="sc">Copyright</span>, 1899,<br> -<span class="sc">By</span> D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.</h5> - -<h5><i>All rights reserved</i>.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br><h4>CONTENTS.</h4> -<div style="margin-left:20%"> -<p class="continue">CHAPTER</p> - -<p><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I</a>.--<span class="sc">"You will -forgive?</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II</a>.--<span class="sc">The story of a -crime.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III</a>.--<span class="sc">"The land of the -golden sun.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV</a>.--<span class="sc">An encounter.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V</a>.--<span class="sc">"A -half-breed--named Zara.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI</a>.--<span class="sc">"Knowledge is not -always proof.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII</a>.--<span class="sc">Madame Carmaux -takes a nap.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII</a>.--<span class="sc">A midnight -visitor.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX</a>.--<span class="sc">Beatrix.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X</a>.--<span class="sc">Mr. Spranger -obtains information.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI</a>.--<span class="sc">A visit of -condolence.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII</a>.--<span class="sc">The -reminiscences of a French gentleman.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII</a>.--<span class="sc">A change of -apartments.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV</a>.--<span class="sc">"This land is -full of snakes.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV</a>.--<span class="sc">Recollections of -Sebastian's birth.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI</a>.--<span class="sc">A drop of blood.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII</a>.--<span class="sc">"She hates him -because she loves him.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII</a>.--<span class="sc">Sebastian is -disturbed.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX</a>.--<span class="sc">A pleasant -meeting.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX</a>.--<span class="sc">Love's blossom.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI</a>.--<span class="sc">Julian feels -strange.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII</a>.--<span class="sc">In the dark.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII</a>.--<span class="sc">Warned.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV</a>.--<span class="sc">Julian's eyes -are opened.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV</a>.--<span class="sc">A dénouement.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI</a>.--<span class="sc">"You have -killed him!</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">XXVII</a>.--<span class="sc">"I will save -you.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">XXVIII</a>.--<span class="sc">"I live--to -kill him.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">XXIX</a>.--<span class="sc">The watching -figure.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">XXX</a>.--<span class="sc">Beyond passion's -bound.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">XXXI</a>.--<span class="sc">"The man I -love.</span>"<br> - -<a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">XXXII</a>.--<span class="sc">The Shark's -Tooth Reef.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33">XXXIII</a>.--<span class="sc">Madame -Carmaux tells all.</span><br> - -<a name="div1Ref_34" href="#div1_34">XXXIV</a>.--<span class="sc">Contentment.</span></p> -</div> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A BITTER HERITAGE.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> - -<h5>"YOU WILL FORGIVE?"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A young man, good-looking, with well-cut features, and -possessing a pair of clear blue-grey eyes, sat in a first-class smoking -compartment of a train standing in Waterloo Station--a train that, because there -was one of those weekly race-meetings going on farther down the line, which take -place all through the year, gave no sign of ever setting forth upon its journey. -Perhaps it was natural that it should not do so, since, as the dwellers on the -southern banks of the Thames are well aware, the special trains for the -frequenters of race-courses take precedence of all other travellers; yet, -notwithstanding that such is the case, this young man seemed a good deal annoyed -at the delay. One knows how such annoyance is testified by those subjected to -that which causes it; how the watch is frequently drawn forth and consulted, the -station clock glanced at both angrily and often, the officials interrogated, the -cigarette flung impatiently out of the window, and so forth; wherefore no -further description of the symptoms is needed.</p> - -<p class="normal">All things, however, come to an end at last, and this young -man's impatience was finally appeased by the fact of the train in which he sat -moving forward heavily, after another ten minutes' delay; and also by the fact -that, after many delays and stoppages, it eventually passed through Vauxhall and -gradually, at a break-neck speed of about ten miles an hour, forced its way on -towards the country.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Julian Ritherdon, "thank goodness! -At last there is a chance that I may see the dear old governor before night -falls. Yet, what on earth is it that I am to be told when I do see him--what on -earth does his mysterious letter mean?" And, as he had done half a dozen times -since the waiter had brought the "mysterious letter" to the room in the huge -caravansary where he had slept overnight, he put his hand in the breast pocket -of his coat and, drawing it forth, began another perusal of the document.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet his face clouded--as it had done each time he read the -letter, as it was bound to cloud on doing so!--at the first worst words it -contained; words which told the reader how soon--very soon now, unless the -writer was mistaken--he would no longer form one of the living human units of -existence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor old governor, poor old dad!" Lieutenant Ritherdon -muttered as he read those opening lines. "Poor old dad! The best father any man -ever had--the very best. And now to be doomed; now--and he scarcely fifty! It is -rough. By Jove, it is!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then again he read the letter, while by this time the train, -by marvellous exertions, was making its way swiftly through all the beauty that -the springtide had brought to the country lying beyond the suburban belt. Yet, -just now, he saw nothing of that beauty, and failed indeed to appreciate the -warmth of the May day, or to observe the fresh young green of the leaves or the -brighter green of the growing corn--he saw and enjoyed nothing of all this. How -should he do so, when the letter from his father appeared like a knell of doom -that was being swiftly tolled with, for conclusion, hints--nay! not hints, but -statements--that some strange secrets which had long lain hidden in the past -must now be instantly revealed, or remain still hidden--forever?</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not a long letter; yet it told enough, was pregnant -with matter.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," the writer said, after the usual form of address, "your -ship, the Caractacus, does not get back with the rest of the Squadron ere long, -I am very much afraid we have seen the last of each other; that--and Heaven -alone knows how hard it is to have to write such words!--we shall never meet -again in this world. And this, Julian, would make my death more terrible than I -can bear to contemplate. My boy, I pray nightly, hourly, that you may soon come -home. I saw the specialist again yesterday and he said----Well! no matter what -he said. Only, only--time is precious now; there is very little more of it in -this world for me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Julian Ritherdon gazed out of the open window as he came to -these words, still seeing nothing that his eyes rested on, observing neither -swift flowering pink nor white may, nor budding chestnut, nor laburnum bursting -into bloom, nor hearing the larks singing high up above the cornfields--thinking -only again and again: "It is hard. Hard! Hard! To die now--and he not fifty!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I have so much to tell you," he read on, "so much to--let -me say it at once--confess. Oh! Julian, in my earlier days I committed a -monstrous iniquity--a sin that, if it were not for our love for each -other--thank God, there has always been that between us!--nothing can deprive -the past of that!--would make my ending even worse than it must be. Now it must -be told to you. It must. Already, because I begin to fear that your ship may be -detained, I have commenced to write down the error, the crime of my -life--yet--yet--I would sooner tell it to you face to face, with you sitting -before me. Because I do not think, I cannot think that, when you recall how I -have always loved you, done my best for you, you will judge me hardly, nor----"</p> - -<p class="normal">The perusal of this letter came, perforce, to an end now, for -the train, after running through a plantation of fir and pine trees, had pulled -up at a little wayside station; a little stopping-place built to accommodate the -various dwellers in the villa residences scattered all around it, as well as -upon the slope of the hill that rose a few hundred yards off from it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here Julian Ritherdon was among home surroundings, since, even -before the days when he had gone as a cadet into the Britannia and long before -he had become a lieutenant in the Royal Navy, his father had owned one of those -villas. Now, therefore, the station-master and the one porter (who slept -peacefully through the greater part of the day, since but few trains stopped -here) came forward to greet him and to answer his first question as to how his -father was.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor, happily, were their answers calculated to add anything -further to his anxiety, since the station-master had not "heerd" that Mr. -Ritherdon was any "wus" than usual, and the porter had "seed" him in his garden -yesterday. Only, the latter added gruesomely, "he was that white that he looked -like--well, he dursn't say what he looked like."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Ritherdon kept no vehicle or trap of any sort, and no cab -was ever to be seen at this station unless ordered by an intending arrival or -departing traveller on the previous day, from the village a mile or so off; -wherefore Julian started at once to walk up to the house, bidding the porter -follow him with his portmanteau. And since the villa, which stood on the little -pine-wooded eminence, was no more than a quarter of a mile away, it was not long -ere he was at the garden gate and, a moment later, at the front door. Yet, from -the time he had left the precincts of the station and had commenced the ascent -of the hill, he had seen the white face of his father at the open window and the -white hand frequently waved to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor old governor," he thought to himself, "he has been -watching for the coming of the train long before it had passed Wimbleton, I'll -be sworn."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, in another moment, he was with his father and, their -greeting over, was observing the look upon his face, which told as plainly as -though written words had been stamped upon it of the doom that was about to -fall.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" he said a little later, almost in an awestruck -manner. Awestruck because, when we stand in the presence of those whose sentence -we know to be pronounced beyond appeal there falls upon us a solemnity almost as -great as that which we experience when we gaze upon the dead. "What is it, -father?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The heart," Mr. Ritherdon answered. "Valvular disease. Sir -Josias Smith says. However, do not let us talk about it. There is so much else -to be discussed. Tell me of the cruise in the Squadron, where you went to, what -you saw----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But--your letter! Your hopes that I should soon be back. You -have not forgotten? The--the--something--you have to tell me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Mr. Ritherdon answered. "I have not forgotten. Heaven -help me! it has to be told. Yet--yet not now. Let us enjoy the first few hours -together pleasantly. Do not ask to hear it now."</p> - -<p class="normal">And Julian, looking at him, saw those signs which, when -another's heart is no longer in its normal state, most of us have observed: the -lips whitening for a moment, the left hand raised as though about to be pressed -to the side, the dead white of the complexion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," he said, "it pains you to tell me anything of the past, -why--why--tell it at all? Is it worth while? Your life can contain little that -must necessarily be revealed and--even though it should do so--why reveal it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must," his father answered, "I must tell you. Oh!" he -exclaimed, "oh! if at the last it should turn you against me--make -you--despise--hate--"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No! No! never think that," Julian replied quickly, "never -think that. What! Turn against you! A difference between you and me! It is -impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he was standing by his father's side, the latter -being seated in his armchair, and Julian's hand was on the elder man's shoulder. -Then, as he patted that shoulder--once, too, as he touched softly the almost -prematurely grey hair--he said, his voice deep and low and full of emotion:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whatever you may tell me can make no difference in my love -and respect for you. How can you think so? Recall what we have been to each -other since I was a child. Always together till I went to sea--not father and -son, but something almost closer, comrades----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, Julian!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you think I can ever forget that, or forget your -sacrifices for me; all that you have done to fit me for the one career I could -have been happy in? Why, if you told me that you--oh! I don't know what to say! -how to make you understand me!--but, if you told me you were a murderer, a -convict, a forger, I should still love you; love you as you say you loved the -mother I never knew----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't! Don't! For Heaven's sake don't speak like that--don't -speak of her! Your mother! I--I--have to speak to you of her later. But -now--now--I cannot bear it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment Julian looked at his father, his eyes full of -amazement; around his heart a pang that seemed to grip at it. They had not often -spoken of his mother in the past, the subject always seeming one that was too -painful to Mr. Ritherdon to be discussed, and, beyond the knowledge that she had -died in giving birth to him, Julian knew nothing further. Yet now, his father's -agitation--such as he had never seen before--his strange excitement, appalled, -almost staggered him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why?" he exclaimed, unable to refrain from dwelling upon her. -"Why not speak of her? Was she----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She was an angel. Ah," he continued, "I was right--this story -of my past must be told--of my crime. Remember that, Julian, remember that. My -crime! If you listen to me, if you will hear me, as you must--then remember it -is the story of a crime that you will learn. And," he wailed almost, "there is -no help for it. You must be told!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell it, then," Julian said, still speaking very gently, -though even as he did so it seemed as if he were the elder man, as if he were -the father and the other the son. "Tell it, let us have done with vagueness. -There has never been anything hidden between us till now. Let there be nothing -whatever henceforth."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And you will not hate me? You will--forgive, whatever I may -have to tell?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What have I said?" Julian replied. And even as he did so, he -again smoothed his father's hair while he stood beside him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE STORY OF A CRIME</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The disclosure was made, not among, perhaps, -surroundings befitting the story that was told; not with darkness outside and in -the house--with, in truth, no lurid environments whatever. Instead, the elderly -man and the young one, the father and son, sat facing each other in the bright -sunny room into which there streamed all the warmth and brilliancy of the late -springtide, and into which, now and again, a humble-bee came droning or a -butterfly fluttered. Also, between them was a table white with napery, sparkling -with glass and silver, gay with fresh-cut flowers from the garden. It is amid -such surroundings that, nowadays, we often enough listen to stories brimful with -fate--stories baneful either to ourselves or others--hear of trouble that has -fallen like a blight upon those we love, or learn that something has happened -which is to change forever the whole current of our own lives.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was thus that Julian Ritherdon listened to the narrative -his father now commenced to unfold; thus amid such environment, and with a -freshly-lit cigarette between his lips.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not object to this?" he asked, pointing to the latter; -"it will not disturb you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I object to nothing that you do," Mr. Ritherdon replied. "In -my day, I have, as you know, been a considerable smoker myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, in the days, your days, that I know of. But--forgive me -for asking--only--is it to tell me of your earlier years, those with which I am -not acquainted, that you summoned me here and bade me lose no time in coming to -you?--those earlier days of which you have spoken so little in the past?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"For that," replied the other slowly, "and other reasons. To -hear things that will startle and disconcert you. Yet--yet--they have their -bright side. You are the heir to a great----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"My dear father!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Your 'dear father'! Ay! Your 'dear father'!" Once more, nay, -twice more, he repeated those words--while all the time the younger man was -looking at him intently. "Your 'dear father.'" Then, suddenly, he exclaimed: -"Come, let us make a beginning. Are you prepared to hear a strange story?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am prepared to hear anything you may have to tell me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So be it. Pay attention. You have but this moment called me -your 'dear father.' Well, I am not your father! Though I should have been had -all happened as I once--so long ago--so--so long ago--hoped would be the case."</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Not--my--father!</i>" and the younger man stared with a -startled look at the other. "Not--my--father. You, who have loved me, fostered -me, anticipated every thought, every wish of mine since the first moment I can -recollect--not my father! Oh!" and even as he spoke he laid his hand, brown but -shapely, on the white, sickly looking one of the other. "Don't say that! Don't -say that!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must say it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God! who, then, are you? What are you to me? -And--and--who--am--<i>I</i>? It cannot be that we are of strange blood."</p> - -<p class="normal">And the faltering words of the younger man, the blanched look -that had come upon his face beneath his bronze--also the slight tremor of the -cigarette between his fingers would have told Mr. Ritherdon, even though he had -not already known well enough that such was the case, how deep a shock his words -had produced.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," he answered slowly, and on his face, too, there was, if -possible, a denser, more deadly white than had been there an hour ago--while his -lips had become even a deeper leaden hue than before. "No. Heaven at least be -praised for that! I am your father's brother, therefore, your uncle."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Thank Heaven we are so near of kin," and again the hand of -the young man pressed that of the elder one. "Now," he continued, though his -voice was solemn--hoarse as he spoke, "go on. Tell me all. Blow as this -is--yet--tell me all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"First," replied the other, "first let me show you something. -It came to me by accident, otherwise perhaps I should not have summoned you so -hurriedly to this meeting; should have restrained my impatience to see you. -Yet--yet--in my state of health, it is best to tell you by word of mouth--better -than to let you find out when--I--am--dead, through the account I have written -and should have left behind me. But, to begin with, read this," and he took from -his breast pocket a neatly bound notebook, and, opening it, removed from between -the pages a piece of paper--a cutting from a newspaper.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still agitated--as he would be for hours, for days hence!--at -all that he had already listened to, still sorrowful at hearing that the man -whom he loved so much, who had been so devoted to him from his infancy, was not -his father, Julian Ritherdon took the scrap and read it. Read it hastily, while -in his ear he heard the other man saying--murmuring: "It is from a paper I buy -sometimes in London at a foreign newspaper shop, because in it there is often -news of a--of Honduras, where, you know, some of my earlier life was passed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Nodding his head gravely to signify that he heard and -understood, Julian devoured the cutting, which was from the well-known New -Orleans paper, the Picayune. It was short enough to be devoured at a glance. It -ran:</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Our correspondent at Belize informs us by the last mail, amongst other pieces of -intelligence from the colony, that Mr. Ritherdon (of Desolada), one of the -richest, if not the richest, exporters of logwood and mahogany, is seriously ill -and not expected to recover. Mr. Ritherdon came to the colony nearly thirty -years ago, and from almost the first became extremely prosperous.</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Well!" exclaimed Julian, laying down the slip. "Well! It means, I -suppose--that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is your father? Yes. That is what it does mean. He is your -father, and the wealth of which that writer speaks is yours if he is now dead; -will be yours, if he is still alive--when he dies."</p> - -<p class="normal">Because, when our emotion, when any sudden emotion, is too -great for us, we generally have recourse to silence, so now Julian said nothing; -he sitting there musing, astonished at what he had just heard. Then, suddenly, -knowing, reflecting that he must hear more, hear all, that he must be made -acquainted now with everything that had occurred in the far-off past, he said, -very gently: "Yes? Well, father--for it is you whom I shall always regard in -that light--tell me everything. You said just now we had better make a -beginning. Let us do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment Mr. Ritherdon hesitated, it seeming as if he -still dreaded to make his avowal, to commence to unfold the strange -circumstances which had caused him to pass his life under the guise of father to -the young man who was, in truth, his nephew. Then, suddenly, nerving himself, as -it seemed to Julian, he began:</p> - -<p class="normal">"My brother and I went to British Honduras, twenty-eight years -ago, three years before you were born; at a time when money was to be made there -by those who had capital. And <i>he</i> had some--a few thousand pounds, which -he had inherited from an aunt who died between his birth and mine. I had -nothing. Therefore I went as his companion--his assistant, if you like to call -it so. Yet--for I must do him justice--I was actually his partner. He shared -everything with me until I left him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the other said. "Yes. Until you left him! Yet, in such -circumstances, why----?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Leave him, you would say. Why? Can you not guess? Not -understand? What separates men from each other more than all else, what divides -brother from brother, what----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"A woman's love, perhaps?" Julian said softly. "Was that it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. A woman's love," Mr. Ritherdon exclaimed, and now his -voice was louder than before, almost, indeed, harsh. "A woman's love. The love -of a woman who loved me in return. That was his fault--that for which, Heaven -forgive me!--I punished him, made him suffer. She was my love--she loved -me--that was certain, beyond all doubt!--and--she married him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on," Julian said--and now his voice was low, though clear, -"go on."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her name was Isobel Leigh, and she was the daughter of an -English settler who had fallen on evil days, who had gone out from England with -her mother and with her--a baby. But now he had become a man who was ruined if -he could not pay certain obligations by a given time. They said, in whispers, -quietly, that he had used other people's names to make those obligations -valuable. And--and--I was away in New Orleans on business. You can understand -what happened!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I can understand. A cruel ruse was practised upon you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So cruel that, while I was away in the United States, -thinking always about her by day and night, I learnt that she had become his -wife. Then I swore that it should be ruse against ruse. That is the word! He had -made me suffer, he had broken, cursed my life. Well, henceforth, I would break, -curse him! This is how I did it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Ritherdon paused a moment--his face white and drawn -perhaps from the emotion caused by his recollection, perhaps from the disease -that was hurrying him to his end. Then, a moment later, he continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"There were those with whom I could communicate in Honduras, -those who would keep me well informed of all that was taking place in the -locality: people I could rely upon. And from them there came to New Orleans, -where I still remained, partly on business and partly because it was more than I -could endure to go back and see her his wife, the news that she was about to -become a mother. That maddened me, drove me to desperation, forced me to commit -the crime that I now conceived, and dwelt upon during every hour of the day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I begin to understand," Julian said, as Mr. Ritherdon paused. -"I begin to understand." Then, from that time he interrupted the other no -more--instead, both the narrative and his own feelings held him breathless. The -narrative of how he, a newborn infant, the heir to a considerable property, had -been spirited away from Honduras to England.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I found my way to the neighbourhood of Desolada, stopping at -Belize when once I was back in the colony, and then going on foot by night -through the forest towards where my brother's house was--since I was forced to -avoid the public road--forests that none but those who knew their way could have -threaded in the dense blackness of the tropical night. Yet I almost faltered, -once I turned back, meaning to return to the United States and abandon my plan. -For I had met an Indian, a half-caste, who told me that she, my loved, my lost -Isobel was dying, that--that--she could not survive. And then--then--I made a -compact with myself. I swore that it she lived I would not tear her child away -from her, but that, if--if she died, then he who had made me wifeless should -himself be not only wifeless but childless too. He had tricked me; now he should -be tricked by me. Only--if she should live--I could not break her heart as well.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But again I returned upon my road: I reached a copse outside -Desolada, outside the house itself. I was near enough to see that the windows -were ablaze with lights, sometimes even I saw people passing behind the blinds -of those windows--once I saw my brother's figure and that excited me again to -madness. If she were dead I swore that then, too, he should become childless. -Her child should become mine, not his. I would have that satisfaction at least.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Still I drew nearer to the house, so near that I could hear -people calling to each other. Once I thought--for now I was quite close--that I -could hear the wailing of the negro women-servants--I saw a half-breed dash past -me on a mustang, riding as for dear life, and I knew, I divined as surely as if -I had been told, that he was gone for the doctor, that she was dying--or was -dead. Your father's chance was past."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven help him!" said Julian Ritherdon. "Heaven help him. It -was an awful revenge, taken at an awful moment. Well! You succeeded?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I succeeded. She <i>was</i> dead--I saw that when, an -hour later, I crept into the room, and when I took you from out of the arms of -the sleeping negro nurse--when, God forgive me, <i>I stole you!</i>"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> - -<h5>"THE LAND OF THE GOLDEN SUN."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The mustang halted on a little knoll up -which the patient beast had been toiling for some quarter of an hour, because -upon that knoll there grew a clump of <i>gros-gros</i> and moriche palms which -threw a grateful shade over the white, glaring, and dusty track, and Julian -Ritherdon, dropping the reins on its drenched and sweltering neck, drew out his -cigar-case and struck a light. Also, the negro "boy"--a man thirty years -old--who had been toiling along by its side, flung himself down, crushing -crimson poinsettias and purple dracćna beneath his body, and grunted with -satisfaction at the pause.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, Snowball," Julian said to this descendant of African -kings, "this ends your journey, eh? I am in the right road now and we have got -to say 'Good-bye.' I suppose you don't happen to be thirsty, do you, Pompey?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoop! Hoop!" grunted the negro, showing a set of ivories that -a London belle would have been proud to possess, "always thirsty. Always hungry. -Always want tobaccy. Money, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you!" exclaimed Julian. "By Jove! you'd make a living as a -London johnny. That's what they always want. Pity you don't live in London, -Hannibal. Well, let's see."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon he threw his leg over the great saddle, reached the -ground, and began opening a haversack, from which he took a bottle, a packet, -and a horn cup.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Luncheon time," he said. "Sun's over the foremast! Come on, -Julius Cćsar, we'll begin."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which he opened the packet, in which was a considerable -quantity of rather thickly cut sandwiches, divided it equally, and then filled -the horn cup with the liquid from the bottle, which, after draining, he refilled -and handed to his companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm sorry it isn't iced, my lily-white friend," he said; "it -does seem rather warm from continual contact with the mustang's back, but I -daresay you can manage it. Eh?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Manage anything," the negro replied firmly, his mouth full of -sandwich, "anything. Always----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I know. 'Thirsty, hungry, want tobacco and money.' I -tell you, old chap, you're lost in this place. London's the spot for you. You're -fitted for a more advanced state of civilization than this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoop. Hoop," again grunted the negro, and again giving the -huge smile--"want----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is getting monotonous, Sambo," Julian exclaimed. "Come, -let's settle up;" whereon he again replenished the guide's cup, and then drew -forth from his pocket two American dollars, which are by now the standard coin -of the colony. "One dollar was the sum arranged for," Julian said, "but because -you are a merry soul, and also because a dollar extra isn't ruinous, you shall -have two. And in years to come, my daisy, you can bless the name of Mr. -Ritherdon as that of a man both just and generous. Remember those words, 'just -and generous.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">The negro of many sobriquets--at each of which he had laughed -like a child, as in absolute fact the negro is when not (which is extremely -rare!) a vicious brute--seemed, however, to be struck more forcibly by some -other words than those approving ones suggested by Julian as suitable for -recollection, and, after shaking his woolly head a good deal, muttered: -"Ritherdon, Ritherdon," adding afterwards, "Desolada." Then he continued: "Hard -man, Massa Ritherdon. Hard man, Massa Ritherdon. Hard man. Cruel man. Beat -Blacky. Beat Whity, too, sometimes. Hard man. Cruel man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sambo," said Julian, feeling (even as he spoke still -jocularly to the creature--a pleasant way being the only one in which to -converse with the African) that he would sooner not have heard these remarks in -connection with his father, "Sambo, you should not say these things to people -about their relatives. <i>That</i> would not do for London;" while at the same -time he reflected that it would be little use telling his guide of the old Latin -proverb suggesting that one should say nothing but good of the dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You relative of Massa Ritherdon!" the other grunted now, -though still with the unfailing display of ivories. "You relative. Oh! I know -not that. Now," he said, thinking perhaps it was time he departed, and before -existing amicable arrangements should be disturbed, "now, I go. Back to Belize. -Good afternoon to you, sir. Good-bye. I hope you like Desolada. Fifteen miles -further on;" and making a kind of shambling bow, he departed back upon the road -they had come. Yet not without turning at every other three or four steps he -took, and waving his hand gracefully as well as cordially to his late employer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A simple creature is the honest black!" especially when no -longer a dweller in his original equatorial savagery.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Like it," murmured Julian to himself, "Yes, I hope so. Since -it is undoubtedly my chief inheritance, I hope I shall!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He had left Belize that morning, by following a route which -the negro knew of, had arrived in the neighbourhood of a place called Commerce -Bight--a spot given up to the cultivation of the cocoanut-tree. And having -proceeded thus far, he knew that by nightfall he would be at Desolada--the -dreary <i>hacienda</i> from which, twenty-six years before, his uncle had -ruthlessly kidnapped him from his father--the father who, he had learnt since he -arrived in the colony, had been dead three months. Also he knew that this -property called Desolada lay some dozen miles or so beyond a village named All -Pines, and on the other side of a river termed the Sittee, and, as he still sat -beneath the palm-trees on the knoll where they had halted for the midday meal, -he wondered what he would find when he arrived there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is strange," he mused to himself now, as from out of that -cool, refreshing shade he gazed across groves upon groves of mangroves at his -feet, to where, sparkling in the brilliant cobalt-coloured Caribbean Sea, -countless little reefs and islets--as well as one large reef--dotted the surface -of the ocean, "strange that, at Belize, I could gather no information of my late -father. No! not even when I told the man who kept the inn that I was come on a -visit to Desolada. Why, I wonder, why was it so? My appearance seemed to freeze -them into silence, almost to startle them. Why? Why--this reticence on their -part? Can it be that he was so hated all about here that none will mention him? -Is that it? Remembering what the negro said of him, of his brutality to black -and white, can that be it? Yet my uncle hinted at nothing of the kind."</p> - -<p class="normal">Still thinking of this, still musing on what lay before him, -he adjusted the saddle (which he had previously loosened to ease the mustang) -once more upon the animal's back. Then, as his foot was in the stirrup there -came, swift as a flash of lightning, an idea into his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must be like him," he almost whispered to himself, "so like -him, must bear such a resemblance to him, that they are thunderstruck. And, if -any who saw me can recollect that, twenty-six years ago, his newborn child was -stolen from him on the night his wife died, it is no wonder that they were -thunderstruck. That is, if I do resemble him so much."</p> - -<p class="normal">But here his meditations ceased, he understanding that his -name, which he had inscribed in the visitor's book lying on the marble table of -the hotel, would be sufficient to cause all who learnt it to refrain from -speaking about the recently dead man--his namesake.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet all the same," he muttered to himself, as now the mule -bore him along a more or less good road which traversed copses of oleanders and -henna plants, allamandas and Cuban Royal palms--the latter of which formed -occasionally a grateful shade from the glare of the sun--"all the same, I wish -that darkey had not spoken about my father's cruelty. I should have preferred -never to learn that he bore such a character. He must have been very different -from my uncle, who, in spite of the one error of his life, was the gentlest soul -that ever lived."</p> - -<p class="normal">All the way out from England to New Orleans, and thence to -Belize by a different steamer, his thoughts had been with that dear uncle--who -survived the disclosure he had made but eight days--he being found dead in his -bed on the morning of the ninth day--and those thoughts were with him now. -Gentle memories, too, and kindly, with in them never a strain of reproach for -what had been done by him in his hour of madness and desire for revenge; and -with no other current of ideas running through his reflections but one of pity -and regret for the unhappiness his real father must have experienced at finding -himself bereft at once of both wife and child. Regret and sorrow, too, for the -years which that father must have spent in mourning for him, perhaps in praying -that, as month followed month, his son might in some way be restored to him. And -now he--that son--was in the colony; here, in the very locality where the -bereaved man must have passed so many sad and melancholy years! Here, but too -late!</p> - -<p class="normal">Ere he died, George Ritherdon had bidden his nephew make his -way to British Honduras and proclaim himself as what he was; also he had -provided him with that very written statement which he had spoken of as being in -preparation for Julian's own information in case he should die suddenly, ere the -latter returned home.</p> - -<p class="normal">"With that in your possession," he had said, two days before -his death actually occurred, "what's there that can stand in the way of your -being acknowledged as his son? He cannot have forgotten my handwriting; and even -if he has, the proofs of what I say are contained in the intimate knowledge that -I testify in this paper of all our surroundings and habits out there. That paper -is a certificate of who you are."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Suppose he is dead when I get there, or that he should have -married again. What then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He may be dead, but he has not married again. Remember what I -told you last night. I know my brother has remained a widower."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wonder the paper did not also say that his son was stolen -from him many years ago, or that there was no heir to his property, or something -to that effect."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is strange perhaps that such a state of things is not -mentioned. Yet, the Picayune's correspondent may have forgotten it, or not known -it, or not have thought it worth mention--or have had other news which required -to be published. Half a hundred things might have occurred to prevent mention of -that one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," said Julian, "presuming I do go out to British Honduras -if I can get leave from the Admiralty, on 'urgent private affairs'----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You <i>must</i> go out. It is a fortune for you. Your father -cannot be worth less than forty thousand pounds. You <i>must</i> go out, even -though you have to leave the navy to do so."</p> - -<p class="normal">Julian vowed inwardly that in no circumstances should the -latter happen, while, at the same time, he thought it by no means unlikely that -the necessary leave would be granted. He had already fifty days' leave standing -to his credit, and he knew that not only his captain, but all his superiors in -the service, thought well of him. The "urgent private affairs," when properly -explained to their lordships, would make that matter easy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When I go to British Honduras, then," said Julian, putting -now the question which he had been about to ask in a slightly different form, -but asking it nevertheless, "what am I to do supposing he is dead? I may have -many obstacles to encounter--to overcome."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There can be none--few at least, and none that will be -insurmountable. I had you baptised at New Orleans as his son, and, with my -papers, you will find the certificate of that baptism, while the papers -themselves will explain all. Meanwhile, make your preparations for setting out. -You need not wait for my death----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't talk of that!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must talk of it. At best it cannot be far off. Let us face -the inevitable. Be ready to go as soon as possible. If I am alive when you set -out, I will give you the necessary documents; if I die before you start, they -are here," and as he spoke he touched lightly the desk at which he always wrote.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> - -<h5>AN ENCOUNTER</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">And now Julian Ritherdon was here, in -British Honduras, within ten or fifteen miles of the estate known as Desolada--a -name which had been given to the place by some original Spanish settlers years -before his father and uncle had ever gone out to the colony. He was here, and -that father and uncle were dead; here, and on the way to what was undoubtedly -his own property; a property to which no one could dispute his right, since -George Ritherdon, his uncle, had been the only other heir his father had ever -had.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, even as the animal which bore him continued to pace along -amid all the rich tropical vegetation around them; even, too, as the -yellow-headed parrots and the curassows chattered above his head and the monkeys -leapt from branch to branch, he mused as to whether he was doing a wise thing in -progressing towards Desolada--the place where he was born, as he reflected with -a strange feeling of incredulity in his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For suppose," he thought to himself, "that when I get to it I -find it shut up or in the occupation of some other settler--what am I to do -then? How explain my appearance on the scene? I cannot very well ride up to the -house on this animal and summon the garrison to surrender, like some -knight-errant of old, and I can't stand parleying on the steps explaining who I -am. I believe I have gone the wrong way to work after all! I ought to have gone -and seen the Governor or the Chief Justice, or taken some advice, after stating -who I was. Or Mr. Spranger! Confound it, why did I not present that letter of -introduction to him before starting off here?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The latter gentleman was a well-known planter and merchant -living on the south side of Belize, to whom Julian had been furnished with a -letter of introduction by a retired post-captain whom he had run against in -London prior to his departure, and with whom he had dined at a Service Club. And -this officer had given him so flattering an account of Mr. Spranger's -hospitality, as well as the prominent position which that personage held in the -little capital, that he now regretted considerably that he had not availed -himself of the chance which had come in his way. More especially he regretted -it, too, when there happened to come into his recollection the fact that the -gallant sailor had stated with much enthusiasm--after dinner--that Beatrix -Spranger, the planter's daughter, was without doubt the prettiest as well as the -nicest girl in the whole colony.</p> - -<p class="normal">However, he comforted himself with the reflection that the -journey which he was now taking might easily serve as one of inspection simply, -and that, as there was no particular hurry, he could return to Belize and then, -before making any absolute claim upon his father's estate, take the advice of -the most important people in the town.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All of which," he said to himself, "I ought to have thought -of before and decided upon. However, it doesn't matter! A week hence will do -just as well as now, and, meanwhile, I shall have had a look at the place which -must undoubtedly belong to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he arrived at this conclusion, the mustang emerged from the -forest-like copse they had been passing through, and ahead of him he saw, upon -the flat plain, a little settlement or village.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which," thought Julian, "must be All Pines. Especially as -over there are the queer-shaped mountains called the 'Cockscomb,' of which the -negro told me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he began to consider the advisability of finding -accommodation at this place for a day or so while he made that inspection of the -estate and residence of Desolada which he had on his ride decided upon.</p> - -<p class="normal">All Pines, to which he now drew very near, presented but a -bare and straggling appearance, and that not a particularly flourishing one -either. A factory fallen quite into disuse was passed by Julian as he approached -the village; while although his eyes were able to see that, on its outskirts, -there was more than one large sugar estate, the place itself was a poor one. Yet -there was here that which the traveller finds everywhere, no matter to what part -of the world he directs his footsteps and no matter how small the place he -arrives at may be--an inn. An inn, outside which there were standing four or -five saddled mules and mustangs, and one fairly good-looking horse in excellent -condition. A horse, however, that a person used to such animals might consider -as showing rather more of the hinder white of its eye than was desirable, and -which twitched its small, delicate ears in a manner equally suspicious.</p> - -<p class="normal">There seemed very little sign of life about this inn in spite -of these animals, however, as Julian made his way into it, after tying up his -own mustang to a nail in a tree--since a dog asleep outside in the sun and a -negro asleep inside in what might be, and probably was, termed the entrance -hall, scarcely furnished such signs. All the same, he heard voices, and pretty -loud ones too, in some room close at hand, as well as something else, also--a -sound which seemed familiar enough to his ears; a sound that he--who had been -all over the world more than once as a sailor--had heard in diverse places. In -Port Said to wit, in Shanghai, San Francisco, Lisbon, and Monte Carlo. The hum -of a wheel, the click and rattle of a ball against brass, and then a soft -voice--surely it was a woman's!--murmuring a number, a colour, a chance!</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so!" said Julian to himself, "Madame la Roulette, and -here, too. Ah! well, madame is everywhere; why shouldn't she favour this place -as well as all others that she can force her way into?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he pushed open a swing door to his right, a door covered -with cocoanut matting nailed on to it, perhaps to keep the place cool, perhaps -to deaden sound--the sound of Madame la Roulette's clicking jaws--though surely -this was scarcely necessary in such an out-of-the-way spot, and entered the room -whence the noise proceeded.</p> - -<p class="normal">The place was darkened by matting and Persians; again, -perhaps, to exclude the heat or deaden <i>sound</i>; and was, indeed, so dark -that, until his eyes became accustomed to the dull gloom of the room--vast and -sparsely furnished--he could scarcely discern what was in it. He was, however, -able to perceive the forms of four or five men seated round a table, to see -coins glittering on it; and a girl at the head of the table (so dark that, -doubtless, she was of usual mixed Spanish and Indian blood common to the colony) -who was acting as croupier--a girl in whose hair was an oleander flower that -gleamed like a star in the general duskiness of her surroundings. While, as he -gazed, she twirled the wheel, murmuring softly: "Plank it down before it is too -late," as well as, "Make your game," and spun the ball; while, a moment later, -she flung out pieces of gold and silver to right and left of her and raked in -similar pieces, also from right and left of her.</p> - -<p class="normal">But the sordid, dusty room, across which the motes glanced in -the single ray of sunshine that stole in and streamed across the table, was -not--it need scarcely be said--a prototype of the gilded palace that smiles over -the blue waters of the Mediterranean, nor of the great gambling chambers in the -ancient streets behind the Cathedral in Lisbon, nor of the white and airy -saloons of San Francisco--instead, it was mean, dusty, and dirty, while over it -there was the fœtid, sickly, tropical atmosphere that pervades places to -which neither light nor constant air is often admitted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Himself unseen for the moment--since, as he entered the room, -a wrangle had suddenly sprung up among all at the table over the disputed -ownership of a certain stake--he stared in amazement into the gloomy den. Yet -that amazement was not occasioned by the place itself (he had seen worse, or at -least as bad, in other lands), but by the face of a man who was seated behind -the half-caste girl acting as croupier, evidently under his directions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Where had he seen that face, or one like it, before? That was -what he was asking himself now; that was what was causing his amazement!</p> - -<p class="normal">Where? Where? For the features were known to him--the face was -familiar, some trick or turn in it was not strange.</p> - -<p class="normal">Where had he done so, and what did it mean?</p> - -<p class="normal">Almost he was appalled, dismayed, at the sight of that face. -The nose straight, the eyes full and clear, the chin clear cut; nothing in it -unfamiliar to him except a certain cruel, determined look that he did not -recognise.</p> - -<p class="normal">The dispute waxed stronger between the gamblers; the -half-caste girl laughed and chattered like one of the monkeys outside in the -woods, and beat the table more than once with her lithe, sinuous hand and -summoned them to put down fresh stakes, to recommence the game; the men -squabbled and wrangled between themselves, and one pointed significantly to his -blouse--open at the breast; so significantly, indeed, that none who saw the -action could doubt what there was inside that blouse, lying ready to his right -hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">That action of the man--a little wizened fellow, himself half -Spaniard, half Indian, with perhaps a drop or two of the tar-bucket also in his -veins--brought things to an end, to a climax.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the other man whose face was puzzling Julian Ritherdon's -brain, and puzzling him with a bewilderment that was almost weird and uncanny, -suddenly sprang up from beside, or rather behind, the girl croupier and cried--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop it! Cease, I say. It is you, Jaime, you who always makes -these disputes. Come! I'll have no more of it. And keep your hand from the -pistol or----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But his threat was ended by his action, which was to seize the -man he had addressed by the scruff of his neck, after which he commenced to haul -him towards the door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he--then all of them--saw the intruder, Julian Ritherdon, -standing there by that door, looking at them calmly and unruffled--calm and -unruffled, that is to say, except for his bewilderment at the sight of the other -man's face.</p> - -<p class="normal">They all saw him in a moment as they turned, and in a moment a -fresh uproar, a new disturbance, arose; a disturbance that seemed to bode -ominously for Julian. For, now, in each man's hands there was a revolver, drawn -like lightning from the breast of each shirt or blouse.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you? What are you?" all cried together, except the -girl, who was busily sweeping up the gold and silver on the table into her -pockets. "Who? One of the constabulary from Belize? A spy! Shoot him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," exclaimed the man who bore the features that so amazed -Julian Ritherdon, "no, this is not one of the constabulary;" while, as he spoke, -his eyes roved over the tropical naval clothes, or "whites," in which the former -was clad for coolness. "Neither do I believe he is a spy. Yet," he continued, -"what are you doing here? Who are you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Neither their pistols nor their cries had any power to alarm -Julian, who, young as he was, had already won the Egyptian medal and the Albert -medal for saving life; wherefore, looking his interrogator calmly in the face, -he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am on a visit to the colony, and my name is Julian -Ritherdon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Julian Ritherdon!" the other exclaimed, "Julian Ritherdon!" -and as he spoke the owner of that name could see the astonishment on all their -faces. "Julian Ritherdon," he repeated again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is it. Doubtless you know it hereabouts. May I be so -bold as to ask what yours is?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The man gave a hard, dry laugh--a strange laugh it was, too; -then he replied, "Certainly you may. Especially as mine is by chance much the -same as your own. My name is Sebastian Leigh Ritherdon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What! Your name is Ritherdon? You a Ritherdon? Who in -Heaven's name are you, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I happen to be the owner of a property near here called -Desolada. The owner, because I am the son of the late Mr. Ritherdon and of his -wife, Isobel Leigh, who died after giving me birth!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> - -<h5>"A HALF-BREED NAMED ZARA."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">To describe Julian as being -startled--amazed--would not convey the actual state of mind into which the -answer given by the man who said that his name was Sebastian Leigh Ritherdon, -plunged him.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was indeed something more than that; something more -resembling a shock of consternation which now took possession of him.</p> - -<p class="normal">What did it mean?--he asked himself, even as he stood face to -face with that other bearer of the name of Ritherdon. What? And to this question -he could find but one answer: his uncle in England must, for some reason--the -reason being in all probability that his hatred for the deceit practised on him -years ago had never really become extinguished--have invented the whole story. -Yet, of what use such an invention! How could he hope that he, Julian, should -profit by such a fabrication, by such a falsehood; why should he have bidden him -go forth to a distant country there to assert a claim which could never be -substantiated?</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, even in that moment, while still he stood astounded -before the other Ritherdon, there flashed into his mind a second thought, -another supposition; the thought that George Ritherdon had been a madman. That -was--must be--the solution. None but a madman would have conceived such a story. -If it were untrue!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, now, he could not pursue this train of thought; he must -postpone reflection for the time being; he had to act, to speak, to give some -account of himself. As to who he was, who, bearing the name of Ritherdon, had -suddenly appeared in the very spot where Ritherdon was such a well-known and, -probably, such an influential name.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I never knew," the man who had announced himself as being the -heir of the late Mr. Ritherdon was saying now, "that there were any other -Ritherdons in existence except my late father and myself; except myself now -since his death. And," he continued, "it is a little strange, perhaps, that I -should learn such to be the case here in Honduras. Is it not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke to Julian, both his tone and manner were such as -would not have produced an unfavourable impression upon any one who was witness -to them. At the gaming-table, when seated behind the half-caste girl, his -appearance would have probably been considered by some as sinister, while, when -he had fallen upon the disputatious gambler, and had commenced--very roughly to -hustle him towards the door, he had presented the appearance of a hectoring -bully. Also, his first address to Julian on discovering him in the room had been -by no means one that promised well for the probable events of the next few -moments. But now--now--his manner and whole bearing were in no way aggressive, -even though his words expressed that a certain doubt in his mind accompanied -them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely," he continued, "we must be connections of some sort. -The presence of a Ritherdon in Honduras, within an hour's ride of my property, -must be owing to something more than coincidence."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is owing to something more than coincidence," Julian -replied, scorning to take refuge in an absolute falsehood, though acknowledging -to himself that, in the position in which he now found himself--and until he -could think matters out more clearly, as well as obtain some light on the -strange circumstances in which he was suddenly involved--diplomacy if not -evasion--a hateful word!--was necessary.</p> - -<p class="normal">"More than coincidence. You may have heard of George -Ritherdon, your uncle, who once lived here in the colony with your father."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Sebastian Ritherdon answered, his eyes still on the -other. "Yes, I have heard my father speak of him. Yet, that was years ago. -Nearly thirty, I think. Is he here, too? In the colony?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No; he is dead. But I am his son. And, being on leave from my -profession, which is that of an officer in her Majesty's navy, it has suited me -to pay a visit to a place of which he had spoken so often."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he gave this answer, Julian was able to console himself -with the reflection that, although there was evasion in it, at least there was -no falsehood. For had he not always believed himself to be George Ritherdon's -son until a month or so ago; had he not been brought up and entered for the navy -as his son? Also, was he sure now that he was -<i>not</i> his son? He had listened to a story from the dying man telling how -he, Julian, had been kidnapped from his father's house, and how the latter had -been left childless and desolate; yet now, when he was almost at the threshold -of that house, he found himself face to face with a man, evidently well known in -all the district, who proclaimed himself to be the actual son--a man who also -gave, with some distinctness in his tone, the name of Isobel Leigh as that of -his mother. She Sebastian Ritherdon's mother! the woman who was, he had been -told, his own mother: the woman who, dying in giving birth to her first son, -could consequently have never been the mother of a second. Was it not well, -therefore, that, as he had always been, so he should continue to be, certainly -for the present, the son of George Ritherdon, and not of Charles? For, to -proclaim himself here, in Honduras, as the offspring of the latter would be to -bring down upon him, almost of a surety, the charge of being an impostor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I knew," exclaimed Sebastian, while in his look and manner -there was expressed considerable cordiality; "I knew we must be akin. I was -certain of it. Even as you stood in that doorway, and as the ray of sunlight -streamed across the room, I felt sure of it before you mentioned your name."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why?" asked Julian surprised; perhaps, too, a little -agitated.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why! Can you not understand? Not recognise why--at once? Man -alive! -<i>We are alike!</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">Alike! Alike! The words fell on Julian with startling force. -Alike! Yes, so they were! They were alike. And in an instant it seemed as if -some veil, some web had fallen away from his mental vision; as if he understood -what had hitherto puzzled him. He understood his bewilderment as to where he had -seen that face and those features before! For now he knew. He had seen them in -the looking-glass!</p> - -<p class="normal">"No doubt about the likeness!" exclaimed one of the gamblers -who had remained in the room, a listener to the conference; while the half-breed -stared from first one face to the other with her large eyes wide open. "No doubt -about that. As much like brothers as cousins, I should say."</p> - -<p class="normal">And the girl who (since Julian's intrusion, and since, also, -she had discovered that it was not the constabulary from Belize who had suddenly -raided their gambling den), had preserved a stolid silence--glancing ever and -anon with dusky eyes at each, muttered also that none who saw those two men -together could doubt that they were kinsmen, or, as she termed it, <i>parienti</i>.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Julian answered bewildered, almost stunned, as one -thing after another seemed--with crushing force--to be sweeping away for ever -all possibility of George Ritherdon's story having had any foundation in fact, -any likelihood of being aught else but the chimera of a distraught brain; "yes, -I can perceive it. I--I--wondered where I had seen your face before, when I -first entered the room. Now I know."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," Sebastian exclaimed, slapping his newly found kinsmen -somewhat boisterously on the back, "and we are cousins. So much the better! For -my part I am heartily glad to meet a relation. Now--come--let us be off to -Desolada. You were on your way there, no doubt. Well! you shall have a cordial -welcome. The best I can offer. You know that the Spaniards always call their -house 'their guests' house.' And my house shall be yours. For as long as you -like to make it so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are very good," Julian said haltingly, feeling, too, that -he was no longer master of himself, no longer possessed of all that ease which -he had, until to-day, imagined himself to be in full possession of. "Very good -indeed. And what you say is the case. I was on my way--I--had a desire to see -the place in which your and my father lived."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You shall see it, you shall be most welcome. And," Sebastian -continued, "you will find it big enough. It is a vast rambling place, half wood, -half brick, constructed originally by Spanish settlers, so that it is over a -hundred years old. The name is a mournful one, yet it has always been retained. -And once it was appropriate enough. There was scarcely another dwelling near it -for miles--as a matter of fact, there are hardly any now. The nearest, which is -a place called 'La Superba,' is five miles farther on."</p> - -<p class="normal">They went out together now to the front of the inn--Julian -observing that still the negro slept on in the entrance-hall and still the dog -slept on in the sun outside--and here Sebastian, finding the good-looking horse, -began to untether it, while Julian did the same for his mustang. They were the -only two animals now left standing in the shade thrown by the house, since all -the men--including he who had stayed last and listened to their -conversation--were gone. The girl, however, still remained, and to her Sebastian -spoke, bidding her make her way through the bypaths of the forest to Desolada -and state that he and his guest were coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is she?" asked Julian, feeling that it was incumbent on -him to evince some interest in this new-found "cousin's" affairs; while, as was -not surprising, he really felt too dazed to heed much that was passing around -him. The astonishment, the bewilderment that had fallen on him owing to the -events of the last half-hour, the startling information he had received, all of -which tended, if it did anything, to disprove every word that George Ritherdon -had uttered prior to his death--were enough to daze a man of even cooler -instincts than he possessed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She," said Sebastian, with a half laugh, a laugh in which -contempt was strangely discernible, "she, oh! she's a half-breed--Spanish and -native mixed--named Zara. She was born on our place and turns her hand to -anything required, from milking the goats to superintending the negroes."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She seems to know how to turn her hand to a roulette wheel -also," Julian remarked, still endeavouring to frame some sentences which should -pass muster for the ordinary courteous attention expected from a newly found -relation, who had also, now, assumed the character of guest.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Sebastian answered. "Yes, she can do that too. I -suppose you were surprised at finding all the implements of a gambling room -here! Yet, if you lived in the colony it would not seem so strange. We planters, -especially in the wild parts, must have some amusement, even though it's -illegal. Therefore, we meet three times a week at the inn, and the man who is -willing to put down the most money takes the bank. It happened to me to-day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And, as in the case of most hot countries," said Julian, -forcing himself to be interested, "a servant is used for that portion of the -game which necessitates exertion. I understand! In some tropical countries I -have known, men bring their servants to deal for them at whist and mark their -game."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have seen a great deal of the world as a sailor?" the -other asked, while they now wended their way through a thick mangrove wood in -which the monkeys and parrots kept up such an incessant chattering that they -could scarcely hear themselves talk.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have been round it three times," Julian replied; "though, -of course, sailor-like, I know the coast portions of different countries much -better than I do any of the interiors."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I have never been farther away than New Orleans. My -mother ca--my mother always wanted to go there and see it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was she--your mother from New Orleans?" Julian asked, on the -alert at this moment, he hardly knew why.</p> - -<p class="normal">"My mother. Oh! no. She was the daughter of Mr. Leigh, an -English merchant at Belize. But, as you will discover, New Orleans means the -world to us--we all want to go there sometimes."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> - -<h5>"KNOWLEDGE IS NOT ALWAYS PROOF."</h5> - -<p class="normal">If there was one desire more paramount than another in -Julian's mind--as now they threaded a campeachy wood dotted here and there with -clumps of cabbage palms while, all around, in the underbrush and pools, the -Caribbean lily grew in thick and luxurious profusion--that desire was to be -alone. To be able to reflect and to think uninterruptedly, and without being -obliged at every moment to listen to his companion's flow of conversation--which -was so unceasing that it seemed forced--as well as obliged to answer questions -and to display an interest in all that was being said.</p> - -<p class="normal">Julian felt, perhaps, this desire the more strongly because, -by now, he was gradually becoming able to collect himself, to adjust his -thoughts and reflections and, thereby, to bring a more calm and clear insight to -bear upon the discovery--so amazing and surprising--which had come to his -knowledge but an hour or so ago. If he were alone now, he told himself, if he -could only get half-an-hour's entire and uninterrupted freedom for thought, he -could, he felt sure, review the matter with coolness and judgment. Also, he -could ponder over one or two things which, at this moment, struck him with a -force they had not done at the time when they had fallen with stunning--because -unexpected--force upon his brain. Things--namely words and statements--that -might go far towards explaining, if not towards unravelling, much that had -hitherto seemed inexplicable.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, all the same, he was obliged to confess to himself that -one thing seemed absolutely incapable of explanation. That was, how this man -could be the child of Charles Ritherdon, the late owner of the vast property -through which they were now riding, if his brother George had been neither -demented nor a liar. And that Sebastian should have invented his statement was -obviously incredible for the plain and simple reasons that he had made it before -several witnesses, and that he was in full possession, as recognised heir, of -all that the dead planter had left behind.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was impossible, however, that he could meditate--and, -certainly, he could not follow any train of thought--amid the unfailing flow of -conversation in which his companion indulged. That flow gave him the impression, -as it must have given any other person who might by chance have overheard it, -that it was conversation made for conversation's sake, or, in other words, made -with a determination to preclude all reflection on Julian's part. From one thing -to another this man, called Sebastian Ritherdon, wandered--from the trade of the -colony to its products and vegetation, to the climate, the melancholy and -loneliness of life in the whole district, the absence of news and of excitement, -the stagnation of everything except the power of making money by exportation. -Then, when all these topics appeared to be thoroughly beaten out and exhausted, -Sebastian Ritherdon recurred to a remark made during the earlier part of their -ride, and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"So you have a letter of introduction to the Sprangers? Well! -you should present it. Old Spranger is a pleasant, agreeable man, while as for -Beatrix, his daughter, she is a beautiful girl. Wasted here, though."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is she?" said Julian. "Are there, then, no eligible men in -British Honduras who could prevent a beautiful girl from failing in what every -beautiful girl hopes to accomplish--namely getting well settled?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes!" the other answered, and now it seemed to Julian as -though in his tone there was something which spoke of disappointment, if not of -regret, personal to the man himself. "Oh, yes! There are such men among us. Men -well-to-do, large owners of remunerative estates, capitalists employing a good -deal of labour, and so forth. Only--only----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only what?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well--oh! I don't know; perhaps we are not quite her class, -her style. In England the Sprangers are somebody, I believe, and Beatrix is -consequently rather difficult to please. At any rate I know she has rejected -more than one good offer. She will never marry any colonist."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as Julian turned his eyes on Sebastian Ritherdon, he -felt as sure as if the man had told him so himself that he was one of the -rejected.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I intend to present that letter of introduction, you know," -he said a moment later. "In fact I intended to do so from the first. Now, your -description of Miss Spranger makes me the more eager."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You may suit her," the other replied. "I mean, of course, as -a friend, a companion. You are a naval officer, consequently a gentleman in -manners, a man of the world and of society. As for us, well, we may be -gentlemen, too, only we don't, of course, know much about society manners."</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused a moment--it was indeed the longest pause he had -made for some time; then he said, "When do you propose to go to see them?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I rather thought I would go back to Belize to-morrow," Julian -answered.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-morrow!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. I--I--feel I ought not to be in the country and not -present that letter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-morrow!" Sebastian Ritherdon said again. "To-morrow! That -won't give me much of your society. And I'm your cousin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" said Julian, forcing a smile, "you will have plenty of -that--of my society--I'm afraid. I have a long leave, and if you will have me, I -will promise to weary you sufficiently before I finally depart. You will be -tired enough of me ere then."</p> - -<p class="normal">To his surprise--since nothing that the other said (and not -even the fact that the man was undoubtedly regarded by all who knew him as the -son and heir of Mr. Ritherdon and was in absolute fact in full possession of the -rights of such an heir) could make Julian believe that his presence was a -welcome one--to his surprise, Sebastian Ritherdon greeted his remark with -effusion. None who saw his smile, and the manner in which his face lit up, could -have doubted that the other's promise to stay as his guest for a considerable -time gave him the greatest pleasure.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, suddenly, while he was telling Julian so, they emerged -from one more glade, leaving behind them all the chattering members of the -animal and feathered world, and came out into a small open plain which was in a -full state of cultivation, while Julian observed a house, large, spacious and -low before them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is Desolada--the House of Desolation as my poor father -used to call it, for some reason of his own--there is my property, to which you -will always be welcome."</p> - -<p class="normal">His property! Julian thought, even as he gazed upon the -mansion (for such it was); his property! And he had left England, had travelled -thousands of miles to reach it, thinking that, instead, it was <i>his</i>. That -he would find it awaiting an owner--perhaps in charge of some Government -official, but still awaiting an owner--himself. Yet, now, how different all was -from what he had imagined--how different! In England, on the voyage, the journey -from New York to New Orleans, nay! until four hours ago, he thought that he -would have but to tell his story after taking a hasty view of Desolada and its -surroundings to prove that he was the son who had suddenly disappeared a day or -so after his birth: to show that he was the missing, kidnapped child. He would -have but to proclaim himself and be acknowledged.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, lo! how changed all appeared now. There was no missing, -kidnapped heir--there could not be if the man by his side had spoken the -truth--and how could he have spoken untruthfully here, in this country, in this -district, where a falsehood such as that statement would have been (if not -capable of immediate and universal corroboration), was open to instant denial? -There must be hundreds of people in the colony who had known Sebastian Ritherdon -from his infancy; every one in the colony would have been acquainted with such a -fact as the kidnapping of the wealthy Mr. Ritherdon's heir if it had ever taken -place, and, in such circumstances, there could have been no Sebastian. Yet here -he was by Julian's side escorting him to his own house, proclaiming himself the -owner of that house and property. Surely it was impossible that the statement -could be untrue!</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, if true, who was he himself? What! What could he be but a -man who had been used by his dying father as one who, by an imposture, might be -made the instrument of a long-conceived desire for vengeance--a vengeance to be -worked out by fraud? A man who would at once have been branded as an impostor -had he but made the claim he had quitted England with the intention of making.</p> - -<p class="normal">Under the palms--which grew in groves and were used as -shade-trees--beneath the umbrageous figs, through a garden in which the -oleanders flowered luxuriously, and the plants and mignonette-trees perfumed -deliciously the evening air, while flamboyants--bearing masses of scarlet, -bloodlike flowers--allamandas, and temple-plants gave a brilliant colouring to -the scene, they rode up to the steps of the house, around the whole of which -there was a wooden balcony. Standing upon that balcony, which was made to -traverse the vast mansion so that, no matter where the sun happened to be, it -could be avoided, was a woman, smiling and waving her hand to Sebastian, -although it seemed that, in the salutation, the newcomer was included. A woman -who, in the shadow which enveloped her, since now the sun had sunk away to the -back, appeared so dark of complexion as to suggest that in her veins there ran -the dark blood of Africa.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, a moment later, as Sebastian Ritherdon presented Julian -to her, terming him "a new-found cousin," the latter was able to perceive that -the shadows of the coming tropical night had played tricks with him. In this -woman's veins there ran no drop of black blood; instead, she was only a dark, -handsome Creole--one who, in her day, must have been even more than -handsome--must have possessed superb beauty.</p> - -<p class="normal">But that day had passed now, she evidently being near her -fiftieth year, though the clear ivory complexion, the black curling hair, in -which scarcely a grey streak was visible, the soft rounded features and the dark -eyes, still full of lustre, proclaimed distinctly what her beauty must have been -in long past days. Also, Julian noticed, as she held out a white slim hand and -murmured some words of cordial welcome to him, that her figure, lithe and -sinuous, was one that might have become a woman young enough to have been her -daughter. Only--he thought--it was almost too lithe and sinuous: it reminded him -too much of a tiger he had once stalked in India, and of how he had seen the -striped body creeping in and out of the jungle.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This is Madame Carmaux," Sebastian said to Julian, as the -latter bowed before her, "a relation of my late mother. She has been here many -years--even before that mother died. And--she has been one to me as well as -fulfilling all the duties of the lady of the house both for my father and, now, -for myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after Julian had muttered some suitable words and had -once more received a gracious smile from the owner of those dark eyes, Sebastian -said, "Now, you would like to make some kind of toilette, I suppose, before the -evening meal. Come, I will show you your room." And he led the way up the vast -campeachy-wood staircase to the floor above.</p> - -<p class="normal">Tropical nights fall swiftly directly the sun has disappeared, -as it had now done behind the still gilded crests of the Cockscomb range, and -Julian, standing on his balcony after the other had left him and gazing out on -all around, wondered what was to be the outcome of this visit to Honduras. He -pondered, too, as he had pondered before, whether George Ritherdon had in truth -been a madman or one who had plotted a strange scheme of revenge against his -brother; a scheme which now could never be perfected. Or--for he mused on this -also--had George Ritherdon spoken the truth, had Sebastian----</p> - -<p class="normal">The current of his thoughts was broken, even as he arrived at -this point, by hearing beneath him on the under balcony the voice of Sebastian -speaking in tones low but clear and distinct--by hearing that voice say, as -though in answer to another's question:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Know--of course he must know! But knowledge is not always -proof."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> - -<h5>MADAME CARMAUX TAKES A NAP</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">On that night when Sebastian Ritherdon -escorted Julian once more up the great campeachy-wood staircase to the room -allotted to him, he had extorted a promise from his guest that he would stay at -least one day before breaking his visit by another to Sprangers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he had said before, down in the vast dining-room--which -would almost have served for a modern Continental hotel--and now said again ere -he bid his cousin "good-night," "for what does one day matter? And, you know, -you can return to Belize twice as fast as you came here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How so?" asked Julian, while, as he spoke, his eyes were -roaming round the great desolate corridors of the first floor, and he was, -almost unknowingly to himself, peering down those corridors amid the shadows -which the lamp that Sebastian carried scarcely served to illuminate. "How so?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, first, you know your road now. Then, next, I can mount -you on a good swift trotting horse that will do the journey in a third of the -time that mustang took to get you along. How ever did you become possessed of -such a creature? We rarely see them here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hired it from the man who kept the hotel. He said it was -the proper thing to do the journey with."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Proper thing, indeed! More proper to assist the bullocks and -mules in transporting the mahogany and campeachy, or the fruits, from the -interior to the coast. However, you shall have a good trotting Spanish horse to -take you into Belize, and I'll send your creature back later."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after wishing each other good-night, Julian entered the -room, Sebastian handing him the lamp he had carried upstairs to light the way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can find my own way down again in the dark very well," the -latter said. "I ought to be able to do so in the house I was born in and have -lived in all my life. Good-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">At last Julian was alone. Alone with some hours before him in -which he could reflect and meditate on the occurrences of this eventful day.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did now that which perhaps, every man, no matter how -courageous he might have been, would have done in similar circumstances. He made -a careful inspection of the room, looking into a large wardrobe which stood in -the corner, and, it must be admitted, under the bed also; which, as is the case -in most tropical climates, stood in the middle of the room, so that the -mosquitoes that harboured in the whitewashed walls should have less opportunity -of forcing their way through the gauze nets which protected the bed. Then, -having completed this survey to his satisfaction, he put his hand into his -breast and drew from a pocket inside his waistcoat that which, it may well be -surmised, he was not very likely to be without here. This was an express -revolver.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's all right," he said as, after a glance at the -chambers, he laid it on the table by his side. "You have been of use before, my -friend, in other parts of the world and, although you are not likely to be -wanted here, you don't take up much room."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," he went on to himself, "for a good long think, as the -paymaster of the Mongoose always used to say before he fell asleep in the -wardroom and drove everybody else out of it with his snores. Only, first there -are one or two other little things to be done."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon he walked out on to the balcony--the windows of course -being open--and gave a long and searching glance around, above, and below him. -Below, to where was the veranda of the lower or ground floor, with, standing -about, two or three Singapore chairs covered with chintz, a small table and, -upon it, a bottle of spirits and some glasses as well as a large carafe of -water. All these things were perfectly visible because, from the room beneath -him, there streamed out a strong light from the oil lamp which stood on the -table within that room, while, even though such had not been the case, Julian -was perfectly well aware that they were there.</p> - -<p class="normal">He and Sebastian had sat in those chairs for more than an hour -talking after the evening meal, while Madame Carmaux, whose other name he learnt -was Miriam, had sat in another, perusing by the light of the lamp the Belize -Advertiser. Yet, now and again, it had seemed to Julian as though, while those -dark eyes had been fixed on the sheet, their owner's attention had been -otherwise occupied, or else that she read very slowly. For once, when he had -been giving a very guarded description of George Ritherdon's life in England -during the last few years, he had seen them rest momentarily upon his face, and -then be quickly withdrawn. Also, he had observed, the newspaper had never been -turned once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," he said again to himself, "now, let us think it all out -and come to some decision as to what it all means. Let us see. Let me go over -everything that has happened since I pulled up outside that inn--or gambling -house!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He was, perhaps, a little more methodical than most young men; -the habit being doubtless born of many examinations at Greenwich, of a long -course in H.M.S. Excellent, and, possibly, of the fact that he had done what -sailors call a lot of "logging" in his time, both as watchkeeper and when in -command of a destroyer. Therefore, he drew from his pocket a rather large, but -somewhat unbusinesslike-looking pocketbook--since it was bound in crushed -morocco and had its leaves gilt-edged--and, ruthlessly tearing out a sheet of -paper, he withdrew the pencil from its place and prepared to make notes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No orders as to 'lights out,'" he muttered to himself before -beginning. "I suppose I may sit up as long as I like."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after a few moments' reflection, he jotted down:</p> - -<p class="normal">"S. didn't seem astonished to see me. (Qy?) Ought to have done -so, if I came as a surprise to him. Can't ever have heard of me before. -Consequently it was a surprise. Said who he was, and was particularly careful to -say who his mother was, viz. I. S. R. (Qy?) Isn't that odd? Known many people -who tell you who their father was. Never knew 'em lug in their mother's name, -though, except when very swagger. Says Madame Carmaux relative of his mother, -yet Isobel Leigh was daughter of English planter. C's not a full-bred -Englishwoman, and her name's French. That's nothing, though. Perhaps married a -Frenchman."</p> - -<p class="normal">These little notes--which filled the detached sheet of the -ornamental pocketbook--being written down, Julian, before taking another, sat -back in his chair to ponder; yet his musings were not satisfactory, and, indeed, -did not tend to enlighten him very much, which, as a matter of fact, they were -not very likely to do.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He must be the <i>right</i> man, after all, and I must be the -wrong one," he said to himself. "It is impossible the thing can be otherwise. A -child kidnapped would make such a sensation in a place like this that the affair -would furnish gossip for the next fifty years. Also, if a child was kidnapped, -how on earth has this man grown up here and now inherited the property? If I was -actually the child I certainly didn't grow up here, and if he was the child and -did grow up here then there was no kidnapping."</p> - -<p class="normal">Indeed, by the time that Julian had arrived at this rather -complicated result, he began to feel that his brain was getting into a whirl, -and he came to a hasty resolution. That resolution was that he would abandon -this business altogether; that, on the next day but one, he would go to Belize -and pay his visit to the Sprangers, while, when that visit was concluded, he -would, instead of returning to Desolada, set out on his return journey to -England.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Even though my uncle--if he was my uncle and not my -father--spoke the truth and told everything exactly as it occurred, how is it to -be proved? How can any legal power on earth dispossess a man who has been -brought up here from his infancy, in favour of one who comes without any -evidence in his favour, since that certificate of my baptism in New Orleans, -although it states me to be the son of the late owner of this place, cannot be -substantiated? Any man might have taken any child and had such an entry as that -made. And if he--he my uncle, or my father--could conceive such a scheme as he -revealed to me--or <i>such a scheme as he did not reveal to me</i>--then, the -entry at New Orleans would not present much difficulty to one like him. It is -proof--proof that it be----" He stopped in his meditations--stopped, wondering -where he had heard something said about "proof" before on this evening.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, in a moment, he recalled the almost whispered words; the -words that in absolute fact were whispered from the balcony below, before he -went down to take his seat at the supper table; the utterance of Sebastian:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Know--of course he must know. But knowledge is not always -proof."</p> - -<p class="normal">How strange it was, he thought, that, while he had been -indulging in his musings, jotting down his little facts on the sheet of paper, -he should have forgotten those words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Knowledge is not always proof." What knowledge? Whose? Whose -could it be but his! Whose knowledge that was not proof had Sebastian referred -to? Then again, in a moment--again suddenly--he came to another determination, -another resolve. He did possess some knowledge that this man, Sebastian could -not dispute--for it would have been folly to imagine he had been speaking of any -one else but him--though he had no proof. So be it, only, now, he would -endeavour to discover a proof that should justify such knowledge. He would not -slink away from the colony until he had exhausted every attempt to discover that -proof. If it was to be found he would find it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps, after all, his uncle was his uncle, perhaps that -uncle had undoubtedly uttered the truth.</p> - -<p class="normal">He rose now, preparing to go to bed, and as he did so a slight -breeze rattled the slats of the green persianas, or, as they are called in -England, Venetian blinds--a breeze that in tropical land often rises as the -night goes on. It was a cooling pleasant one, and he remembered that he had -heard it rustling the slats before, when he was engaged in making his notes.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, now, regarding those green strips of wood, he felt a -little astonished at what he saw. He had carefully let the blinds of both -windows down and turned the laths so that neither bats nor moths, nor any of the -flying insect world which are the curse of the tropics at night, should force -their way in, attracted by the flame of the lamp; but now, one of those laths -was turned--turned, so that, instead of being downwards and forming with the -others a compact screen from the outside, it was in a flat or horizontal -position, leaving an open space of an inch between it and the one above and the -next below. A slat that was above five feet from the bottom of the blind.</p> - -<p class="normal">He stood there regarding it for a moment; then, dropping the -revolver into his pocket, he went towards the window and with his finger and -thumb put back the lath into the position he had originally placed it, feeling -as he did so that it did not move smoothly, but, instead, a little stiffly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There has been no wind coming up from the sea that would do -that," he reflected, "and, if it had come, then it would have turned more than -one. I wonder whether," and now he felt a slight sensation of creepiness coming -over him, "if I had raised my eyes as I sat writing, I should have met another -pair of eyes looking in on me. Very likely. The turning of that one lath made a -peep-hole."</p> - -<p class="normal">He pulled the blind up now without any attempt at concealing -the noise it caused--that well-known clatter made by such blinds as they are -hastily drawn up--and walked out on to the long balcony and peered over on to -the one beneath, seeing that Madame Carmaux was asleep in the wicker chair which -she had sat in during the evening, and that the newspaper lay in her lap. He -saw, too, that Sebastian Ritherdon was also sitting in his chair, but that, -aroused by the noise of the blind, he had bent his body backwards over the -veranda rail and, with upturned face, was regarding the spot at which Julian -might be expected to appear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not gone to bed, yet, old fellow," he called out now, on -seeing the other lean over the balcony rail; while Julian observed that Madame -Carmaux opened her eyes with a dazzled look--the look which those have on their -faces who are suddenly startled out of a light nap.</p> - -<p class="normal">And for some reason--since he was growing suspicious--he -believed that look to have been assumed as well as the slumber which had -apparently preceded it.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>A MIDNIGHT VISITOR</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," Julian called down in answer to -the other's remark, "though I am going directly. Only it is so hot. I hope I am -not disturbing the house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not at all. Do what you like. We often sit here till long -after midnight, since it is the only cool time of the twenty-four hours. Will -you come down again and join us?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, if you'll excuse me. I'll take a turn or two here and -then go to bed."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon as he spoke, he began to walk up and down the balcony.</p> - -<p class="normal">It ran (as has been said of the lower one on which Sebastian -and Madame Carmaux were seated) round the whole of the house, so that, had -Julian desired to do so, he could have commenced a tour of the building which, -by being continued, would eventually have brought him back to the spot where he -now was. He contented himself, however, with commencing to walk towards the -right-hand corner of the great rambling mansion, proceeding as far upon it as -led to where the balcony turned at the angle, then, after a glance down its--at -that place--darkened length, he retraced his steps, meaning to proceed to the -opposite or left-hand corner.</p> - -<p class="normal">Doing so, however, and coming thus in front of his bedroom -window, from which, since the blind was up, the light of his lamp streamed out -on to the broad wooden floor of the balcony, he saw lying at his feet a small -object which formed a patch of colour on the dark boards. A patch which was of a -pale roseate hue, the thing being, indeed, a little spray, now dry and faded, of -the oleander flower. And he knew, felt sure, where he had seen that spray -before.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know now," he said to himself, "who turned the slat--who -stood outside my window looking in on me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Picking up the withered thing, he, nevertheless, continued his -stroll along the balcony until he arrived at the left angle of the house, when -he was able to glance down the whole of that side of it, this being as much in -the dark and unrelieved by any light from within as the corresponding right side -had been. Unrelieved, that is, by any light except the gleam of the great stars -which here glisten with an incandescent whiteness; and in that gleam he saw -sitting on the floor of the balcony--her back against the wall, her arms over -her knees and her head sunk on those arms--the half-caste girl, Zara, the -croupier of the gambling-table to which Sebastian had supplied the "bank" that -morning at All Pines.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have dropped this flower from your hair," he said, -tossing it lightly down to her, while she turned up her dark, dusky eyes at him -and, picking up the withered spray, tossed it in her turn contemptuously over -the balcony. But she said nothing and, a moment later, let her head droop once -more towards her arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you pass the night here?" he said now. "Surely it is not -wholesome to keep out in open air like this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I sit here often," she replied, "before going to bed in my -room behind. The rooms are too warm. I disturb no one."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment he felt disposed to say that it would disturb him -if she should again take it into her head to turn his blinds, but, on second -considerations, he held his peace. To know a thing and not to divulge one's -knowledge is, he reflected, sometimes to possess a secret--a clue--a warning -worth having; to possess, indeed, something that may be of use to us in the -future if not now, while, for the rest--well! the returning of the spray to her -had, doubtless, informed the girl sufficiently that he was acquainted with the -fact of how she had been outside his window, and that it was she who had opened -his blind wide enough to allow her to peer in on him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-night," he said, turning away. "Good-night," and without -waiting to hear whether she returned the greeting or not, he went back to the -bedroom. Yet, before he entered it, he bent over the balcony and called down -another "good-night" to Sebastian, who, he noticed, had now been deserted by -Madame Carmaux.</p> - -<p class="normal">For some considerable time after this he walked about his -room; long enough, indeed, to give Sebastian the idea that he was preparing for -bed, then, although he had removed none of his clothing except his boots, he put -out the lamp.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If the young lady is desirous of observing me again," he -reflected, "she can do so. Yet if she does, it will not be without my knowing -it. And if she should pay me another visit--why, we shall see."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, all the same, and because he thought it not at all -unlikely that some other visitor than the girl might make her way, not only to -the blind itself but even to the room, he laid his right arm along the table so -that his fingers were touching the revolver that he had now placed on that -table.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I haven't taken countless middle watches for nothing in my -time," he said to himself; "another won't hurt me. If I do drop asleep, I -imagine I shall wake up pretty easily."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was on the alert now, and not only on the alert as to any -one who might be disposed to pay him a nocturnal visit, but, also, mentally wary -as to what might be the truth concerning Sebastian Ritherdon and himself. For, -strange to say, there was a singular revulsion of feeling going on in his mind -at this time; strange because, at present, scarcely anything of considerable -importance, scarcely anything sufficiently tangible, had occurred to produce -this new conviction that Sebastian's story was untrue, and that the other story -told by his uncle before his death was the right one.</p> - -<p class="normal">All the same, the conviction was growing in his mind; growing -steadily, although perhaps without any just reason or cause for its growth. -Meanwhile, his ears now told him that, although Madame Carmaux was absent when -he glanced over the balcony to wish Sebastian that last greeting, she -undoubtedly had not gone to bed. From below, in the intense stillness of the -tropic night--a stillness broken only occasionally by the cry of some bird from -the plantation beyond the cultivated gardens, he heard the soft luscious tones -of the woman herself--and those who are familiar with the tones of southern -women will recall how luscious the murmur can be; he heard, too, the deeper -notes of the man. Yet what they said to each other in subdued whispers was -unintelligible to him; beyond a word here and there nothing reached his ears.</p> - -<p class="normal">With the feeling of conviction growing stronger and stronger -in his mind that there was some deception about the whole affair--that, -plausible as Sebastian's possession of all which the dead man had left behind -appeared; plausible, too, as was his undoubted position here and had been from -his very earliest days, Julian would have given much now to overhear their -conversation--a conversation which, he felt certain, in spite of it taking place -thirty feet below where he was supposed to be by now asleep, related to his -appearance on the scene.</p> - -<p class="normal">Would it be possible? Could he in any way manage to thus -overhear it? If he were nearer to the persianas, his ear close to the slats, his -head placed down low, close to the boards of the room and of the balcony as -well--what might not be overheard?</p> - -<p class="normal">Thinking thus, he resolved to make the attempt, even while he -told himself that in no other circumstances would he--a gentleman, a man of -honour--resort to such a scheme of prying interference. But--for still the -certainty increased in his mind that there was some deceit, some fraud in -connection with Sebastian Ritherdon's possession of Desolada and all that -Desolada represented in value--he did not hesitate now. As once he, with some of -his bluejackets, had tracked slavers from the sea for miles inland and into the -coast swamps and fever-haunted interior of the great Black Continent, so now he -would track this man's devious and doubtful existence, as, remembering George -Ritherdon's story, it seemed to him to be. If he had wronged Sebastian, if he -had formed a false estimate of his possession of this place and of his right to -the name he bore, no harm would be done. For then he would go away from Honduras -for ever, leaving the man in peaceable possession of all that was rightly his. -But, if his suspicions were not wrong----</p> - -<p class="normal">He let himself down to the floor from the chair on which he -had been sitting in the dark for now nearly an hour, and, quietly, noiselessly, -he progressed along that solid floor--one so well laid in the past that no board -either creaked or made any noise--and thus he reached the balcony, there -interposing nothing now between him and it but the lowered blind.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then when he had arrived there, he heard their voices plainly; -heard every word that fell from their lips--the soft murmur of the woman's -tones, the deeper, more guttural notes of the man.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only--he might as well have been a mile away from where they -sat, he might as well have been stone deaf as able to thus easily overhear those -words.</p> - -<p class="normal">For Sebastian and his companion were speaking in a tongue that -was unknown to him; a tongue that, in spite of the Spanish surroundings and -influences which still linger in all places forming parts of Central America, -was not Spanish. Of this language he, like most sailors, knew something; -therefore he was aware that it was not that, as well as he was aware that it was -not French. Perhaps 'twas Maya, which he had been told in Belize was the native -jargon, or Carib, which was spoken along the coast.</p> - -<p class="normal">And almost, as he recognised how he was baffled, could he have -laughed bitterly at himself. "What a fool I must have been," he thought, "to -suppose that if they had any confidences to make to each other, any secrets to -talk over in which I was concerned they would discuss them in a language I -should be likely to understand."</p> - -<p class="normal">But there are some words, especially those which express -names, which cannot be translated into a foreign tongue. Among such, Ritherdon -would be one. Julian, too, is another, with only the addition of the letter "o" -at the end in Spanish (and perhaps also in Maya or Carib), and George, which, -though spelt Jorge, has, in speaking, nearly the same pronunciation. And these -names met his ear as did others: Inglaterra--the name of the woman Isobel Leigh, -whom Julian believed to have been his mother, but whom Sebastian asserted to -have been his; also the name of that fair American city lying to the north of -them--New Orleans--it being referred to, of course, in the Spanish tongue.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he thought to himself, "it is of me they are talking. Of -me--which would not, perhaps, be strange, since a guest so suddenly received -into the house and having the name of Ritherdon might well furnish food for -conversation. But, when coupled with George Ritherdon, with New Orleans, above -all with the name of Isobel Leigh----"</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as that name was in his mind, he heard it again mentioned -below by the woman--Madame Carmaux. Mentioned, too, in conjunction with and -followed by a light, subdued laugh; a laugh in which his acuteness could hear an -undercurrent of bitterness--perhaps of derision.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And she was this woman's relative," he thought, "her -relative! Yet now she is jeered at, spoken scornfully of by----"</p> - -<p class="normal">In amazement he paused, even while his reflections arrived at -this stage.</p> - -<p class="normal">In front of where his eyes were, low down to the floor of the -balcony, something dark and sombre passed, then returned and stopped before him, -blotting from his eyes all that lay in front of them--the tops of the palms, the -woods beyond the garden, the dark sea beyond that. Like a pall it rested before -his vision, obscuring, blurring everything. And, a moment later, he recognised -that it was a woman's dress which thus impeded his view, while, as he did so, he -heard some five feet above him a light click made by one of the slats.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, with an upward glance of his eyes, that glance being -aided by a noiseless turn of his head, he saw that a finger was holding back the -lath, and knew--felt sure--that into the darkness of the room two other eyes -were gazing.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> - -<h5>BEATRIX</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Thirty-six hours later Julian Ritherdon sat -among very different surroundings from those of Desolada; certainly very -different ones from those of his first night in the gloomy, mysterious house -owned by that other man who bore his name.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was seated now in a wicker chair placed beneath the cool -shadow cast by a vast clump of "shade-trees," as the royal palm, the thatch -palm, and, indeed, almost every kind and species of that form of vegetation are -denominated. These shade-trees grew in the pretty and luxuriant garden of Mr. -Spranger's house on the southern outskirts of Belize, a garden in which, for -some years now, Beatrix Spranger had passed the greater part of her days, and -sometimes when the hot simoon was on, as it was now, and the temperature -scarcely ever fell below 85°, a good deal of the early part of her nights.</p> - -<p class="normal">She, too, was seated in that garden now, talking to Julian, -while between them there lay two or three books and London magazines (three or -four months old), a copy of the Times of the same ancient date, and another of -the Belize Advertiser fresh from the local press. Yet neither the news from -London which had long since been published, nor that of the immediate -neighbourhood, which was quite new but not particularly exciting, seemed to have -been able to secure much of their attention. And this for a reason which was a -simple one and easily to be understood. All their attention was at the present -moment concentrated on each other.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You cannot think," Beatrix Spranger was saying now, "what a -welcome event the arrival of a stranger is to us here, who regard ourselves more -or less as exiles for the time being. Moreover," she continued, without any of -that false shame which a young lady at home in England might have thought -necessary to assume, even though she did not actually feel it, "it seems to me -that you are a very interesting person, Lieutenant Ritherdon. You have dropped -down into a place where your name happens to be extremely well known, yet in -which no one ever imagined that there was any other Ritherdon in existence -anywhere, except the late and the present owners of Desolada."</p> - -<p class="normal">"People, even exiles, have relatives sometimes in other parts -of the world," Julian murmured rather languidly--the effect of the heat and the -perfume of the flowers in the garden being upon him--"and you know----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! yes," the girl said, with an answering smile. "I do know -all that. Only I happen to know something else, too. You see we--that is, father -and I--are acquainted with your cousin, and we knew his father before him. And -it is a rather singular thing that they have always given us to understand that, -so far as they were aware, they hadn't a relation in the world."</p> - -<p class="normal">"They had, though, you see, all the same. Indeed, they had two -until a short time ago; namely, when my father, Mr. George Ritherdon, was -alive."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mr. Ritherdon, Sebastian's father, hadn't seen him for many -years, had he? He didn't often speak of him, and always gave people the idea -that his brother was dead. I suppose they had not parted the best of friends?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Julian answered quietly, "I don't think they had. As a -matter of fact, my--George Ritherdon--was almost, indeed quite, as reticent -about his brother Charles as Charles seems to have been about him." Then, -suddenly changing the subject, he said: "Is Sebastian popular hereabouts. Is he -liked?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the girl replied, rather more frankly than Julian had -expected, while, as she did so, she lifted a pair of beautiful blue eyes to his -face. "No, I don't think he is, since you ask me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why not? You may tell me candidly, Miss Spranger, especially -as you know that to-night I am going to have a rather serious interview with -your father, and shall ask him for his advice and assistance on a matter in -which I require his counsel."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! I don't know quite," the girl said now. -"Only--only--well! you know--because you have told us that you saw him doing -it--he--he--is too fond of play, of gambling. People say--different things. Some -that he is ruining his brother planters, and others that he is ruining himself. -Then he has the reputation of being very hard and cruel to some of his servants. -You know, we have coolies and negroes and Caribs and natives here, and a good -many of them are bound to the employers for a term of years--and--and--well--if -one feels inclined to be cruel--they can be."</p> - -<p class="normal">As she spoke of this, Julian recognised how he had been within -an ace of discovering, some time before he reached the inn at All Pines, that -the late Mr. Ritherdon had not died without leaving an heir, apparent or -presumptive, as he had supposed when he landed at Belize. The negro guide on -whom he had bestowed so many good-humoured sobriquets had spoken of Mr. -Ritherdon as being a hard and cruel man, both to blacks and whites. But--in his -ignorance, which was natural enough--he had supposed that the statement could -only have applied to the one owner of Desolada of whom he had ever heard--the -man lately dead.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, he reflected, he wished he had really understood to whom -that negro referred. It might have made a difference in his plans, he thought; -might have prevented him from going on farther on the road to All Pines and -Desolada; from meeting this unexpected, unknown of, possessor of what he -believed to be his, until those plans had become more matured. Until, too, he -had had time to decide in what form, if any, he should present himself before -the man who was called Sebastian Ritherdon.</p> - -<p class="normal">However, it was done. He had presented himself and, if he knew -anything of human nature, if he could read a character at all, his appearance -had caused considerable excitement in the minds of both Sebastian Ritherdon and -Madame Carmaux.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do <i>you</i> like Sebastian?" he asked now, and he could -scarcely have explained why he was anxious to hear a denial of any liking for -that person on the part of Beatrix Spranger. It may have been, he thought, -because this girl, with her soft English beauty, which the climate of British -Honduras during some years of residence had--certainly, as yet--had no power to -impair, seemed to him far too precious a thing to be wasted on a man such as -Sebastian was--rough, a gambler, and possessing cruel instincts.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do you think I should like him?" she asked in her turn, and -again the eyes which he thought were so beautiful glanced at him from beneath -their thick lashes, "after what I have told you of the character he bears? What -I have told you, perhaps, far too candidly, saying more than I ought to have -done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do not think that," he made haste to exclaim. "To-night I am -going to be even more frank with Mr. Spranger. I am going to tell him one or two -things in connection with my 'cousin,' when I ask him for his assistance and -advice, which will make your father at least imagine that I have not formed a -very favourable impression of my new-found relative."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And mayn't I be told, too--now?" she asked, thoroughly -womanlike.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not yet," he answered, with a smile. "Not yet. -Later--perhaps."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" she exclaimed, with something that might almost be -described as a pout. "Oh! Not even after my candour about your cousin! You <i> -are</i> a man of mystery, Lieutenant Ritherdon. Why! you won't even tell us how -it happens that you arrived here from Desolada with that round your arm," and as -she spoke she directed her blue eyes to a sling around his neck in which his arm -reposed. "Nor that," she added, nodding now towards his forehead, where, on the -left side, were affixed two or three pieces of sticking-plaster.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he said, "I will tell you that. I feel, indeed, that I -ought to do so, if only as an apology for presenting myself before you in such a -guise. You see, it is so easy to explain this, that it is not worth making any -mystery about it. It all comes from the fact that I am a sailor, and sailors are -proverbial for being very bad riders," and as he spoke he accompanied his words -with another smile.</p> - -<p class="normal">But Beatrix did not smile in return. Instead, she said, half -gravely, perhaps almost half severely: "Go on. Lieutenant Ritherdon, if you -please. I wish to hear how the accident happened," while she added impressively, -"on your journey from Desolada to Belize."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm a bad rider," he said again, but once more meeting her -glance, he altered his mode of speech and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you see, Miss Spranger, it happened this way. I set out -on my journey of inspection, on my road to Desolada, on a rather ancient mustang -which the worthy landlord of the hotel with a queer Spanish name recommended to -me as the proper thing to do the journey easily on. Later, when I had made -Sebastian's acquaintance, he rather ridiculed my good Rosinante."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he!" Beatrix interjected calmly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did, indeed. In fact he said such creatures were scarcely -ever used in the colony except for draught purposes. Then he said he would mount -me on a good horse of Spanish breed, such as I believe you use a great deal -here; so that when I was returning to Belize yesterday to present myself before -you and Mr. Spranger, I should be able to make the journey rapidly and -comfortably."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That was very kind of him," Beatrix exclaimed. "Though, as -you did not arrive until nine o'clock at night, you hardly seem to have made it -very rapidly, and those things," with again a glance at the sling and the -plasters, "are not usually adjuncts to comfort."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you see, I'm a sailor and not a good ri----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go on, please."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, certainly. I started under favourable circumstances at -six in the morning, receiving, I believe, a kind of blessing or benediction from -Sebastian and Madame Carmaux, as well as strong injunctions to return as soon as -possible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"People are hospitable in this country," Beatrix again -interrupted.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We got along very well, anyhow, for a time; at a gentle trot, -of course, because already it was getting hot, and as we neared All Pines I was -just thinking of slowing down to a walk when----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The creature bolted? Was that it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"As a matter of fact it was. By the way, you seem to know the -manners and customs of the animals in this country, Miss Spranger."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know that many lives are lost in this country," the girl -said gravely now, "owing to unbroken horses being ridden too young horses, too, -that are sometimes full of vice. The landlord of the hotel here did you a better -service than your cousin."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps this was one of those horses," Julian remarked. "But, -anyhow, it bolted. Then, a little later, it did something else. It stopped dead -in a gallop and, after nearly shooting me over its head, it reared upright and -did absolutely throw me off it backwards. Fortunately, I fell at the side of the -road onto a sort of undergrowth full of ferns and interspersed with lovely -flowering shrubs; so I got off with what you see. The horse, however, had killed -itself. It fell over on its back with a tremendous sort of backward bound and, -when I got up and looked at it, it was just dying. Later, I came on from All -Pines in a kind of cart--that is, when I had been bandaged up. Perhaps, however, -it wouldn't have happened if I had not been such a bad rider and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It would have happened," Beatrix said, decisively, "if you -had been a circus rider or a cowboy. That is, unless you had been well -acquainted with the horse, and, even then, it would probably have happened just -the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">After this they were silent for a little while, Julian -availing himself of Beatrix's permission to smoke, and she sitting meditatively -behind her huge fan. And, although he did not tell her so, Julian agreed with -her that the accident would probably have happened even though he had been a -circus rider or a cowboy, as she had said.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> - -<h5>MR. SPRANGER OBTAINS INFORMATION</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Spranger was at home later in the -afternoon, his business for the day being done, and in the evening they all sat -down to dinner in the now almost cool and airy dining-room of his house. And, at -this meal, Julian thought that Beatrix looked even prettier than she had done in -the blue-and-white striped dress worn by her during the day. She had on now one -of those dinner jackets which young ladies occasionally assume when not desirous -of donning the fullest of evening gowns, and, as he sat there observing the -healthy sunburn of her cheeks (which was owing to her living so much in the open -air) that contrasted markedly with the whiteness of her throat, he thought she -was one of the most lovely girls he had ever seen. Which from him, who had met -so much beauty in different parts of the world, was a very considerable -compliment--if she had but known it. Also, if the truth must be told, her -piquant shrewdness and vivacity--which she had manifested very considerably -during Julian's description of the vagaries of the animal lent to him by his -cousin--appealed very much to him, so that he could not help reflecting how, -should this girl eventually be made acquainted with all the doubts and -difficulties which now perplexed him as to his birthright, she might possibly -become a very valuable counsellor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She has ideas about my worthy cousin for some reason," he -thought to himself more than once during dinner, "and most certainly she -suspects him of--well of not having been very careful about the mount he placed -at my disposal. So do I, as a matter of fact--only perhaps it is as well not to -say so just at present."</p> - -<p class="normal">Moreover, now was not the time to take her into his -confidence; the evening was required for something else, namely, the counsel and -advice of her father. He had made Mr. Spranger's acquaintance overnight on his -arrival, and, in the morning of the present day, before that gentleman had -departed to his counting house in Belize, he had asked if he would, in the -evening, allow him to have his counsel on some important reasons connected with -his appearance in British Honduras. Whereon, Mr. Spranger having told him very -courteously that any advice or assistance which he could give should be at his -service, Julian knew that the time had arrived for him to take that gentleman -into his confidence. Arrived, because now, Beatrix, rising from the table, made -her way out to the lawn, where, already, a negro servant had placed a lamp on -the rustic table by which she always sat; she saying that when they had done -their conference they would find her there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, my boy," said Mr. Spranger, who was a hale, jovial -Englishman, on whom neither climate nor exile had any depressing influence, and -who, besides, was delighted to have as his guest a young man who, as well as -being a gentleman, could furnish him with some news of that far-off world from -which he expected to be separated for still some years. "Now, help yourself to -some more claret--it is quite sound and wholesome--and let me see what I can do -for you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will take some time in the telling," Julian said. "It is a -long story and a strange one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may take till midnight, if you choose," the other -answered. "We sit up late in this country, so as to profit by the coolest hours -of the day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But--Miss Spranger. Will she not think me very rude to detain -you so long?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," he replied. "If we do not join her soon, she will -understand that our conversation is of importance."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It was nearly midnight when Julian had concluded the whole of his narrative, he -telling Mr. Spranger everything that had occurred from the time when George -Ritherdon had unfolded that strange story in his Surrey home, until the hour -when he himself had arrived at the house in which he now was, with his arm -bandaged up and his head dressed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Of course there had been interruptions to the flow of the -narrative. Once they had gone out onto the lawn to bid Beatrix good-night and to -chat with her for a few moments during which Julian had been amply apologetic -for preventing her father from joining her, as well as for not doing so -himself--and, naturally, Mr. Spranger had himself interrupted the course of the -recital by exclamations of astonishment and with many questions.</p> - -<p class="normal">But that recital was finished now, and still the elder man's -bewilderment was extreme.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is the most extraordinary story I ever heard in my life! A -romance. And it seems such a tangled web! How, in Heaven's name, can your -father's, or uncle's, account be the right one?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You do not believe his story?" Julian asked; "you believe -Sebastian is, in absolute fact, Charles Ritherdon's son?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What am I to believe? Just think! That young man has been -brought up here ever since he was a baby; there must be hundreds upon hundreds -of people who can recollect his birth, twenty-six years ago, his christening, -his baptism. And Charles Ritherdon--whom I knew very well indeed--recognised -him, treated him in every way, as his son. He died leaving him his heir. What -can stand against that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Doubtless it is a mystery. Yet--yet--in spite of all, I -cannot believe that George Ritherdon would have invented such a falsehood. -Remember, Mr. Spranger, I had known him all my life and knew every side and -shade of his character. And--he was dying when he told it all to me. Would a man -go to his grave fabricating, uttering such a lie as that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment Mr. Spranger did not reply, but sat with his eyes -turned up towards the ceiling of the room--and with, upon his face, that look -which all have seen upon the faces of those who are thinking deeply. Then at -last he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, let us understand each other. You have asked my advice, -my opinion, as the only man you can consult freely. Now, are we to talk -frankly--am I to talk without giving offence?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is what I want," Julian said, "what I desire. I must get -to the bottom of this mystery. Heaven knows I don't wish to claim another man's -property--I have no need for it--there is my profession and some little money -left by George Ritherdon. On the other hand, I don't desire to think of him as -dying with such a deception in his heart. I want to justify him in my eyes."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, because Mr. Spranger still kept silence, he said again: -"Pray, pray tell me what you do think. Pray be frank. No matter what you say."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Mr. Spranger said now. "No. Not yet at least. First let -us look at facts. I was not in the colony twenty-six years ago, but of course, I -am acquainted with scores of people who were. And those people knew old -Ritherdon as well as they know me; also they have known Sebastian all his life. -And, you must remember, there are such things as registers of births, registers -kept of baptism, and so forth. What would you say if you saw the register of -Sebastian's birth, as well as the register of your--of Mrs. Ritherdon's death?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What could I say in such circumstances? Only--why, then, the -attempt to make me break my neck on that horse? Why the half-caste girl watching -me through the night, and why the conversation which I overheard, the -contemptuous laugh of Madame Carmaux at my mother's--at Isobel Leigh's name? Why -all that, coupled with the name of George Ritherdon, of myself, of New -Orleans--where he said he had me baptized when he fled there after kidnapping -me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">As Julian spoke, as he mentioned the name of New Orleans, he -saw a light upon Mr. Spranger's face--that look which comes upon all our faces -when something strikes us and, itself, throws a light upon our minds; also he -saw a slight start given by the elder man.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" Julian asked, observing both these things. -"What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"New Orleans," Mr. Spranger said now, musingly, -contemplatively, with, about him, the manner of one endeavouring to force -recollection to come to his aid. "New Orleans--and Madame Carmaux. Why do those -names--the names of that city--of that woman--connect themselves together in my -mind. Why?" Then suddenly he exclaimed, "I know! I have it! Madame Carmaux is a -New Orleans woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A New Orleans woman!" Julian repeated. "A New Orleans woman! -Yet he, Sebastian, said when we met--that--that--she was a connection of Isobel -Leigh; 'a relative of my late mother,' were his words. How could she have been a -relative of hers, if Mr. Leigh came out from England to this place bringing with -him his English wife and the child that was Isobel Leigh, as George Ritherdon -told me he did? Also----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also what?" Mr. Spranger asked now. "Also what? Though take -time--exert your memory to the utmost. There is something strange in the -discrepancy between George Ritherdon's statement made in England and Sebastian's -made here. What else is it that has struck you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"This. As we rode towards Desolada he was telling me that he -had never been farther away from Honduras than New Orleans. Then he began to -say--I am sure he did--that his mother came from there, but he broke off to -modify the statement for another to the effect that she had always desired to -visit that city. And when I asked him if his mother came from New Orleans, he -said: 'Oh, no! She was the daughter of Mr. Leigh, an English merchant at -Belize.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You must have misunderstood him," Mr. Spranger said; "have -misunderstood the first part of his remark at any rate."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," Julian said quietly, "perhaps." But, nevertheless, -he felt perfectly sure that he had not done so. Then suddenly he said--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You knew Mr. Ritherdon of Desolada. Tell me, do I bear any -resemblance to him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Mr. Spranger answered gravely, very gravely. "So much -of a resemblance that you might well be his son. As great a resemblance to him -as you do in a striking manner to Sebastian. You and he might absolutely be -brothers.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only," said Julian, "such a thing is impossible. Mrs. -Ritherdon did not become the mother of twins, and she died within a day or so of -giving her first child birth. She could never have borne another."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," Spranger acquiesced, "is beyond doubt."</p> - -<p class="normal">They prepared to separate now for the night, yet before they -did so, his host said a word to Julian. "To-morrow," he told him, "when I am in -the city, I will speak to one or two people who have known all about the -Desolada household ever since the place became the property of Mr. Ritherdon. -And, as perhaps you do not know, twenty-five years ago all births along the -coast, and far beyond Desolada, were registered in Belize. Now, they are thus -registered at All Pines--but it is only in later days that such has been the -case."</p> - -<p class="normal">And next morning, when Mr. Spranger had been gone from his -home some two or three hours, and Julian happened to be sitting alone in -Beatrix's favourite spot in the garden--she being occupied at the moment with -her household duties--a half-caste messenger from the city brought him a letter -from Mr. Spranger, or, rather, a piece of paper, on which was written--</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Miriam Carmaux's maiden name was Gardelle and she came from New Orleans. She -married Carmaux in despair, after, it is said, being jilted by Charles Ritherdon -(who had once been in love with her). Her marriage took place about the same -time as Mr. Ritherdon's with Miss Leigh, but her husband was killed by a snake -bite a few months afterwards. Sebastian's birth was registered here by Mr. -Ritherdon, of Desolada, as taking place on the 4th of September, 1871, he being -described as the child of 'Charles Ritherdon, of Desolada, and Isobel his wife, -now dead.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"Her death is also registered as taking place on the 7th of -September, 1871."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"Sebastian's birth registered as taking place on the 4th of September, 1871!" -Julian exclaimed, as the paper fell from his hand. "The 4th of September, 1871! -The very day that has always been kept in England as my birthday. The very day -on which I am entered in the Admiralty books as being born in Honduras!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> - -<h5>A VISIT OF CONDOLENCE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The remainder of that day was passed by -Julian in the society of Beatrix--since Mr. Spranger never came back to his -establishment--which was called "Floresta"--until he returned for good in the -evening; the summer noontide heat causing a drive to and from Belize for lunch -to be a journey too full of discomfort to be worth undertaking. Therefore, this -young man and woman were drawn into a companionship so close that, ere long, it -seemed to each of them that they had been acquainted for a considerable time, -while to Beatrix it began to appear that when once Lieutenant Ritherdon should -have taken his departure, the cool shady garden of her abode would prove a -vastly more desolate place than it had ever done before.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, while these somewhat dreary meditations occupied her -thoughts, Julian was himself revolving in his own mind a determination to which -he had almost, if not quite, arrived at as yet--a determination that she should -be made a confidante of what engrossed now the greater part of his reflections, -i.e., the mystery which surrounded both his own birth and that of Sebastian -Ritherdon. The greater part, but not the whole of these reflections! because he -soon observed that one other form--a form far different from the handsome but -somewhat rough and saturnine figure and personality of his cousin Sebastian--was -ever present in his mind and, if not absolutely present before his actual eyes, -was never absent from his thoughts.</p> - -<p class="normal">That form was the tall, graceful figure of Beatrix, surmounted -by the shapely head and beautiful features of the girl; the head crowned by -masses of fair curling hair, from beneath which those calm and clear blue eyes -gazed out through the thick and somewhat darker lashes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must do it," he was musing to himself now, as they sat in -the shade when the light luncheon was over, and while around them were all the -languorous accompaniments of a tropic summer day, with, also, the cloying, balmy -odours of the tropic summer atmosphere; "I must do it, must take her into my -confidence, obtain her opinion as well as her father's. She can see as far as -any one, as she showed plainly enough by her manner when I told her about my -ride on that confounded horse. She might in this case perhaps, see something, -divine something of that which at present is hidden from her father and from -me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, although he had by now arrived at the determination to -impart to her all that now so agitated him, he also resolved that he would not -do so until he had taken her father's opinion on the subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will not refuse, I imagine," he thought to himself. "Why -should he? Especially when I represent to him that, by excluding her from the -various confidences which he and I must exchange on the matter--since he has -evidently thrown himself heart and soul into unravelling the mystery--we shall -also be dooming her to a great many hours of dulness and lack of companionship."</p> - -<p class="normal">But this, perhaps, savoured a little of sophistry--although -probably imperceptibly so to himself--since it must be undoubted that he also -recognised how great a lack of her companionship he was likewise dooming himself -to if she was not allowed to participate in their conversation on the all -important subject.</p> - -<p class="normal">Young people are, however, sometimes more or less of sophists, -especially those who, independently of all other concerns of importance, are -experiencing a certain attractiveness that is being exercised by members of the -other sex into whose companionship they are much thrown by chance.</p> - -<p class="normal">The day drew on; above them the heat--that subtle tropical -heat which has been justly compared with the atmosphere of a Turkish bath or the -engine room of a steamer--was exerting its full and irresistible power on all -and everything that was subject to its influence. Even the yellow-headed parrots -had now ceased their chattering and clacking; while Beatrix's pet monkey, whose -home was on the lower branches of a huge thatch-palm, presented a mournful -appearance of senile exhaustion, as it sat with its head bowed on its breast and -its now drawn-down, wizened features a picture of absolute but resigned despair. -And even those two human beings, each ordinarily so full of life and youth and -vigour, appeared as if--despite all laws of good breeding to the effect that -friends and acquaintances should not go to sleep in each other's presence--they -were about to yield to the atmospheric influence. Julian knew that he was -nodding, even while, as he glanced to where Beatrix's great fan had now ceased -to sway, he was still wide awake enough to suspect that his were not the only -eyes that were struggling to keep open.</p> - -<p class="normal">As thus all things human and animal succumbed, or almost -succumbed, to the dead, unruffled atmosphere, and while, too, the scarlet -flowers of the flamboyants and the lilac-coloured blossoms of the oleanders -drooped, across the lawn so carefully sown, with English grass seeds every -spring and mowed and watered regularly, there fell a heavy footstep on the ears -of Beatrix and Julian--footsteps proclaimed clearly by the jingle of spurs, if -in no other way. And, a moment later, a sonorous voice was heard, expressing -regret for thus disturbing so grateful a siesta and for intruding at all.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good afternoon, Mr. Ritherdon," Julian said, somewhat coldly, -as now Sebastian came close to them; while Beatrix--her face as calm as though -no drowsiness had come near her since the past night--greeted him with a -civility that might almost have been termed glacial, and was, undoubtedly, -distant. "I suppose you have heard of my little adventure on the horse you so -kindly exchanged for my mustang?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is for that that I am here," the other answered, dropping -into a basket-chair towards which Beatrix coldly waved her hand. "I cannot tell -you what my feelings, my remorse, were on hearing what had befallen you. Good -Heavens! think--just think--how I should have felt if any real, any serious -accident had befallen you! Yet, it was not my fault."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No?" asked Julian. "No? Did you not know the animal's -peculiarities, then?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course. Naturally. But, owing to the carelessness of one -of the stable hands, you were given the wrong one. I can tell you that that -fellow has had the best welting he ever had in his life and has been sent off -the estate. You won't see him there when you return to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," thought Beatrix to herself, "he won't. And what's more -he never would have seen him, unless he has the power of creating imaginary -people out of those who have no actual existence." While, although her lips did -not move, there was in her eyes a look--conveyed by a hasty glance towards -Julian, which told him as plainly as words could have done, what her thoughts -were.</p> - -<p class="normal">"We had bought a new draft of horses," Sebastian went on, "and -by a mistake this one--the one on which you rode--got into the wrong stall, the -stall properly belonging to the animal you ought to have had. Heavens!" he -exclaimed again, "when I heard that it had been found lying dead near All Pines -and that you had been attended to there--your injuries being exaggerated, I am -thankful to see--I thought I should have gone mad. You, my guest, my cousin, to -be treated thus."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It doesn't matter. Only, when I come to see you, I hope your -stableman will be more careful."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke of returning to Desolada once more, the other -man's face lit up with a look of pleasure in the same manner that it had done on -a previous occasion. Any one regarding him now would have said that there was a -generous, hospitable host, to whom no greater satisfaction could be afforded -than to hear that his invitations were sought after and acceptable.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not deceive either of his listeners, however; not -Julian, who now had reason to suspect many things in connection with this man's -existence and possession of Desolada; nor Beatrix who, without knowing what -Julian knew, had always disliked Sebastian and, since the affair of the horse, -had formed the most unfavourable opinions concerning his good faith.</p> - -<p class="normal">Probably, however, Sebastian, who also had good reasons for -doubting whether either of them was likely to believe his explanations, scarcely -expected that they should be deceived. He expressed, nevertheless, the greatest, -indeed the most vivid, satisfaction at Julian's words, and exclaimed, "Ah! when -next you come to see me? That is it--what I desire. You shall be well treated, I -can assure you--the honoured relative, and all that kind of thing. Now fix the -date, Mr. Rither--cousin Julian."</p> - -<p class="normal">The poets and balladmongers (also the lady novelists) have -told us so frequently that there is no possibility of our ever forgetting it, -that there exists, such a thing as the language of the eyes, while, to confirm -their statements, we most of us have our own special knowledge on the subject. -And that language was now being used with considerable vehemence by Beatrix as a -means of conveying her thoughts to Julian, her sweet blue eyes signalling -clearly to him a message which she took care should be unseen by Sebastian. A -message that, if put into words, would have said: "Don't go! Don't go!" or, -"Don't fix a date."</p> - -<p class="normal">But--although Julian understood perfectly that language--it -was not his cue to act upon it at the present moment. Beatrix did not know all -yet, though he was determined she should do so that very night; and, also, he -had already resolved that he would once more become an inmate of Desolada. -There, if anywhere, he believed that some proof might be found, some -circumstances discovered to throw a light upon what he believed to be a strange -reversal of the proper state of things that ought to actually exist; in short, -he was determined to accept Sebastian's invitation.</p> - -<p class="normal">Purposely avoiding Beatrix's glance, therefore, while meaning -to explain his reason for doing so later on, when they should be alone, he said -now to his cousin--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You are very good, and, of course, I shall be delighted to -come back and stay with you. As to the date, well! Mr. and Miss Spranger are so -kind and hospitable that you must let me avail myself of their welcome for a -little longer. I suppose a day need not be actually fixed just now?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why, no, my dear fellow," Sebastian exclaimed, with that -almost boisterous cordiality which he had unfailingly evinced since they had -first met, and which might be either real or assumed. "Why, no, of course not. -Indeed, there is no need to fix any date at all. There is the house and -everything in it, and there am I. Come when you like and you will find a -welcome, rough as it must needs be in this country, but at any rate sincere."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which there was nothing more for Julian to do than to -mutter courteous thanks for such proffered hospitality and to promise that, ere -long, he would again become a guest at Desolada.</p> - -<p class="normal">They walked with Sebastian now to the stable, where his horse -was awaiting him, Beatrix proffering refreshment--to omit which courtesy to a -visitor would have been contrary to all the established, though unwritten, laws -of Honduras, as well as, one may say, of most colonies--but Sebastian, refusing -this, rode off to Belize, where he said he had business. And Julian could not -help wondering to himself if that business could possibly have any connection -with the same affairs which had brought him out from England.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You either didn't see my signals, or misunderstood them," -Beatrix said, as now they returned once more to the coolness of the garden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Pardon me," Julian replied, "I did. Only, it is -necessary--absolutely necessary, I think--that I should pay another visit to my -cousin's house. To-night your father and I are going to invite your opinion on a -matter between Sebastian and me. Then I think you will also agree that it is -necessary for me to return to Desolada."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may do so," Beatrix said, "but all the same I don't like -the idea of your being an inhabitant of that place--of your being under his roof -again."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE REMINISCENCES OF A FRENCH GENTLEMAN</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A week later Julian was once more on his way -towards Desolada, and upon a journey which he was fully determined should either -result in satisfying him that Sebastian did not properly occupy the position -which he now held openly in the eyes of the whole colony, or should be his last -one.</p> - -<p class="normal">He did not 'come to this decision without much anxious -consideration being given to the subject by himself, by Mr. Spranger, and by -Beatrix--who had been taken into the confidence of the others on the evening -following Sebastian's visit to "Floresta." Nor had he arrived at the decision to -again become his cousin's guest without taking their opinions on that subject as -well.</p> - -<p class="normal">And the result was--when briefly stated--that he was on his -road once more.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, as he rode along a second time on the mule (which had -been returned to its owner by a servant from Desolada), because it was at least -a safe and trusty animal although not speedy--such a qualification being, -indeed, unnecessary, in a country where few people ride swiftly because of the -heat--he was musing deeply on all that the past weeks had brought forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"First," he reflected, "it has done one thing which was not to -be expected, and may or may not have a bearing on what I am in this place for. -It has caused me to fall over head and ears in love. Some people would say, -'That's good.' Others that it is bad, since it might distract my attention from -more serious matters. So it would be bad, for me, if she doesn't feel the same -way. I suppose I shall have courage to tell her all about it some day, but at -present I'm sure I couldn't do it. And, anyhow, we will first of all see who and -what I am. As the owner of Desolada I should be a more suitable match than as a -lieutenant of five years' seniority with a few thousand pounds in various -colonial securities."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereupon, since the animal had by now reached the knoll where -he had halted with his guide for luncheon upon the occasion of his former -journey along the same road, he dismounted and, drawing out of his haversack a -packet of sandwiches prepared for him by Beatrix's cook, commenced, while eating -them to reconsider all that had taken place during the past week.</p> - -<p class="normal">What had taken place needs, indeed, to be set down here, since -the passage of the last few days had brought to light more than one discrepancy -in connection not only with Sebastian's first statements to Julian, but also -with his possession of all that the late Mr. Ritherdon had left him the sole -possessor of.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mr. Spranger had brought home with him to dinner, on the night -following that when Beatrix had been informed of the strange variance between -the statement made by George Ritherdon in England, and the recognised position -held by Sebastian in British Honduras, an elderly gentleman who filled a -position in one of the principal schools established by the Government and in -receipt of Government aid, in the city; while, before doing so, he had suggested -to Julian that he should keep his ears open but say as little as possible. To -his daughter he had also made the same suggestion, which was, as a matter of -fact, unnecessary, since that young lady had now thrown herself heart and soul -into the unravelling of a mystery which she said was more interesting than the -plot of any novel she had read for many a long day. Also, it need scarcely be -said to which side her opinions inclined, or in which quarter her sympathies -were enlisted. Julian had wondered later, as he ate his lunch on the knoll, -whether the affection which had sprung up in his heart for this girl was ever -likely to be returned; but, had he been able to peer closely into that mystical -receptacle of conglomerate feelings--a woman's heart--his wonderment might, -perhaps, have ceased to exist.</p> - -<p class="normal">With considerable skill, Mr. Spranger led the conversation at -dinner to the old residents in the colony and, at last, by more or less devious -ways, to the various personages who at one time or another had been inhabitants -of Desolada. Then, when he and his guest were, to use a hunting metaphor, in -full cry over a fine open country, he casually remarked that, among others, -Madame Carmaux had herself held a considerable place of trust in the -establishment for a great many years.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes," said the old gentleman, who was himself a -French-American from Florida, "yes, a long time. Miriam Carmaux! Ha! Miriam -Carmaux--Miriam Gardelle as she was when she arrived here from New Orleans and -sought a place as governess. A beautiful girl then; oh! my faith, she was -beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did she get a place as governess?" Mr. Spranger asked, -filling Monsieur Lemaire's glass.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, you see, she did and she did not. She got lessons in -families, but no posts, no. No posts. Then, of course, she married poor Carmaux. -Oh! these snakes--ah! <i>mon Dieu</i>, that coral-snake, and the -tommy-goff--there are dreadful creatures for you! It was a tommy-goff that -killed poor Jules Carmaux."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was it, though? And what was poor Carmaux?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah!" said Monsieur Lemaire, shaking his head most mournfully, -"he was not a solid man, not steady. Oh! no, not at all steady. Carmaux loved -pleasure too much: all kinds of pleasure. He loved cards, and--and--excuse me, -Miss Spranger--but he loved this also," while as he spoke the old gentleman -shook his head reprovingly at the claret jugs. "Also he loved sport--shooting -the curassow, hunting the raccoon and the jaguar--ah! he did not love work. Oh, -no! Work and he were never the best of friends. Then the tommy-goff killed him -in the woods."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," remarked Beatrix with one of her bright smiles, "as -a punishment for his not loving work."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," said Mr. Spranger, "he must have been a poor husband -for that young lady, Mademoiselle Gardelle, as she was then. If he would not -work, how did he support a wife?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah!" said Monsieur Lemaire with a very emphatic shake of his -head now, so that Beatrix wondered he did not get quite warm over the exertion, -"Ah! they did say that he thought she might earn the money to support him." And -still he wagged his head.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wonder," exclaimed Julian, who had been listening to all -this with considerable interest, "that she should have married him. He seems to -have been a useless sort of man."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! Ah! There were reasons, very sad reasons. You see, she -had been in love with another man. Ah! <i>mon Dieu</i>, these love affairs. -Another man, Mr. Ritherdon, was supposed to have been the object of her -affections."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Dear! dear," said Mr. Spranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Only--" and now Monsieur Lemaire made a sort of -apologetic, old-court-life-in-France style of bow to Beatrix, as though -beseeching pardon for the errors of his own sex--sinking his voice, too, to a -kind of pleading one, as well as one reprobating the late Mr. Ritherdon's -conduct--"only he jilted her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good gracious!" exclaimed the girl, feeling it necessary to -say something in return for the old Frenchman's politeness, while, as a matter -of fact, she had heard the story from her father only a night or so before. -"Good gracious!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! yes. Ah! yes," Lemaire continued. "It was so indeed. -Indeed it was. Then, they do say----" And now he sank his voice so much that he -might have been reciting the history of some most awful and soul-stirring Greek -tragedy, "they do say that in her rage and despair she flung herself away on -Carmaux. But the tommy-goff killed him after he trod on it in the woods--and, -so, she was free." Then his voice rose crescendo, as though the mention of the -tragedy being concluded, a lighter tone was permissible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take some more claret," said Mr. Spranger; "help yourself." -While as the old gentleman did so, he continued--</p> - -<p class="normal">"But how in such circumstances did she become a resident in -Mr. Ritherdon's house? One would have thought that was the last place she would -be found in next."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah!" said Monsieur Lemaire, "then the woman's heart, the -heart of all good women"--and he bowed solemnly now to Beatrix--"exerted its -sway. She was bereft, even the little girl, the poor little daughter that had -been born to her after Carmaux's death--when the tommy-goff killed him--was dead -and buried----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So she had had a daughter?" said Mr. Spranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Poor woman, yes. But what--what was I saying. The good -woman's heart prompted her, and, smothering her own griefs, forgetting her own -wrongs, knowing the stupendous misery which had fallen on the man who had jilted -her through the loss of his wife, she went to him and offered to look after the -poor little motherless Sebastian; to be a guide and nurse to it. Ah! a noble -woman was Miriam Carmaux, a woman who buried her own griefs in assuaging those -of others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She went to Desolada," Julian said, "after Mrs. Ritherdon's -death? She did that? After Mrs. Ritherdon's death?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Si</i>. After her death. Soon. Very soon. As soon as her -own sorrows, her own loss, were more or less softened."</p> - -<p class="normal">That night, when Monsieur Lemaire had been driven back into -the city in Mr. Spranger's buggy, the latter gentleman, his daughter and Julian, -sat out on the lawn, inhaling the cool breeze which comes up from the sea at -sunset as well as watching the fireflies dancing. All were quite silent now, for -all were occupied with their own thoughts: Julian in reflecting on what Monsieur -Lemaire had said; Beatrix in wondering whether George Ritherdon's dying -disclosures could possibly have been true; Mr. Spranger in feeling positive that -they were false. Everything, he told himself, or almost everything, pointed to -such being the case. The registration of Sebastian's birth by the late Mr. -Ritherdon; the acknowledgment of the young man during all the dead man's -remaining years as his heir: the knowledge which countless people possessed in -the colony of Sebastian's whole life having been passed at Desolada! And against -this, what set-off was there?</p> - -<p class="normal">Only the falsehood--for such it must have been--told by -Sebastian to the effect that Miriam Carmaux was his mother's relative, which, -since she was a French creole, was impossible. Nothing much more than that; -nothing tangible.</p> - -<p class="normal">As for the slip made by him to Julian, the words, "My mother -ca--I mean my mother always wanted to go there and see it," (New Orleans being -the place referred to) well, there was nothing in that. It was a slip any one -might easily have made. And no living soul in British Honduras had ever heard a -whisper of any stolen child. Surely that was enough to settle all doubt.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, breaking in upon the silence around, he and his daughter -heard Julian saying: "If Monsieur Lemaire's facts are accurate, Sebastian made -another misstatement to me. He said that Madame Carmaux had been at Desolada for -many years, <i>even before his mother died</i>. That could not have been so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," said Beatrix, emerging now from the silence which she -had preserved so long, "it was perhaps with reference to that subject that he -had uttered the words which you overheard, to the effect that you must know -something, but that knowledge was not always proof."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the same," said Mr. Spranger now, "it is a blank wall, a -wall against which you will push in vain, I fear. Honestly, I see no outlet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nor I," answered Julian, "yet all the same I mean to try and -find one. At present I am groping in the dark; perhaps the light will come some -day."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot believe it," Mr. Spranger said, "much as I might -like to do so. If--if Charles Ritherdon's child had been stolen from its -father's house how could it be that, in so small a place as this, the thing -would never have been heard of? And if it was stolen, if you were stolen, how -could another, a substitute, take your place?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Heaven only knows," Julian replied. "It is to find out this -that I am going back to Desolada," while as he spoke, he saw again on Beatrix's -face the look of dissent to that proposed journey which, a day or two before, -she had signalled to him through her eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">So--determinate, resolved to fathom the mystery, if mystery -there were; refusing, too, to believe that George Ritherdon's story could have -been one huge fabrication, one hideous falsehood from beginning to end, and that -a fabrication, a falsehood, which must ere long be disproved, directly it was -challenged--he did set out and was by now drawing near the end of his journey.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Only," said Beatrix to him on the morning of his departure, -"I do so wish you would let me persuade you not to go. I dread----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" she said, raising her hands to her hair with a -bewildered movement--a movement that perhaps expressed regret as to the -destination for which he was about to depart. "I do not know. Yet--still--I -fear. Sebastian Ritherdon is cruel;--fierce--if--if--he thought you were about -to cross his path--if--he knows anything that you do not know, then I dread what -the end may be. And, I shall think always of that half-caste girl--peering -in--glaring into your room, with perhaps, if she is a creature, a tool of his, -murder in her heart."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fear nothing, I beseech you," he said deeply moved at her -sympathy. "I can be very firm--very resolute--when occasion needs. Fear -nothing."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>A CHANGE OF APARTMENTS</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A boisterous welcome from Sebastian, a -cordial grasp of the hand, accompanied by a smile from the dark eyes of Madame -Carmaux (which latter would have appeared more sincere to Julian had the corners -of the mouth been less drawn down and the eyelids closed a little less, while -the eyes behind those lids glittering with a light that seemed to him -unnatural), did not, to use a metaphor, throw any dust in his own eyes.</p> - -<p class="normal">For long reflection on everything that had occurred since -first George Ritherdon had made his statement in the Surrey home until now, when -Julian stood once more in the house in which he believed himself to have been -born, had only served to produce in his mind one conviction--the firm conviction -that George Ritherdon was his uncle and had spoken the truth; that Sebastian -was--in spite of all evidence seeming to point in a totally different -direction--occupying a position which was not rightly his. A belief that, before -long, he was resolved at all hazards to himself to justify and disprove once and -for all.</p> - -<p class="normal">The hilarious welcome on the part of Sebastian did not deceive -him, therefore; the greeting of Madame Carmaux was, he felt, insincere. And -feeling thus he knew that in the latter was one against whom he would have to be -doubly on his guard.</p> - -<p class="normal">And on his guard, against both the man and the woman, he -commenced to be from the moment when he once more entered the precincts of -Desolada.</p> - -<p class="normal">That night at dinner, which was here called supper, but which -only varied from the former meal in name, he observed a most palpable desire on -the part of both his hosts to extract from him all that he had done while -staying with the Sprangers--as well as an even stronger desire to discover into -what society he might have been introduced, or what acquaintances he might -happen to have made.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I made one acquaintance," he replied to Madame Carmaux, who -was by far the most pertinacious in her inquiries, "the hearing about whom may -interest you considerably. A gentleman who knew you long ago."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Indeed!" she said, "and who might that be?"</p> - -<p class="normal">She asked the question lightly, almost indifferently, -yet--unless the flicker of the lamp in the middle of the table was playing -tricks with his vision--there came suddenly a look of nervousness, of -apprehension, upon her face. A look controlled yet not altogether to be subdued.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was Monsieur Lemaire," he replied, "the professor of -modern languages at the Victoria College. He said he knew you very well once, -before your marriage."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she replied, "he did," and now he saw that, whatever -nervousness she might be experiencing, she was exerting a strong power of -suppression of any visible outward sign of her feelings. "Monsieur Lemaire was -very good to me. He enabled me to find employment as a teacher in various -houses. What did he tell you besides?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He mentioned the sad ending to your marriage. Also the death -of your little---- Excuse me," he broke off, "but you have upset your glass. -Allow me," and from where he sat he bent forward, and with his napkin sopped up -the spilt water which had been in that glass.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was very clumsy," she muttered. "My loose sleeves are -always knocking things over. Thank you. But what was it you said he mentioned? -The death of my----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Little daughter," Julian replied softly, feeling sorry--and -indeed, annoyed with himself--at what he now considered a lack of delicacy and -consideration. A lack of feeling, because he thought it very possible that, even -after a long lapse of time, this poor widowed woman might still lament bitterly -the death of her little child.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! yes," she said, though why now her face should brighten -considerably he did not understand. "Ah! yes. Poor little thing, it did not live -long, only a very little while. Poor little baby!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Looking still under the lamp and feeling still a little -disconcerted at the reflection that he had quite unintentionally recalled -unhappy recollections to Madame Carmaux, he saw that Sebastian was also -regarding her with a strange, almost bewildered look in his eyes. What that look -meant, Julian was not sufficiently a judge of expression to fathom; yet, had he -been compelled there and then to describe what feeling that glance most -suggested to him, he would probably have termed it one of surprise.</p> - -<p class="normal">Surprise, perhaps, that Madame Carmaux should have been so -emotional as to exhibit such tenderness at the recollection being brought to her -mind of her little infant daughter, dead twenty-five years ago and almost at the -hour of its birth.</p> - -<p class="normal">No more was said, however, on the subject and an adjournment -was made directly the meal was over to the veranda, that place on which in -British Honduras almost all people pass the hours of the evening; none staying -indoors more than is absolutely necessary. And here their conversation became of -the most ordinary kind for some time, its commonplace nature only being varied -occasionally by divers questions put to Julian by both Sebastian and Madame -Carmaux as to what George Ritherdon's existence had been since he quitted -Honduras to return to England.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was a quiet enough one," replied Julian, carefully -weighing every word he uttered and forcing himself to be on his guard over every -sentence. "Quiet enough. He took to England some capital from this part of the -world, as I have always understood, and he was enabled to make a sufficient -living by the use of it to provide for us both. He was never rich, yet since his -desires were not inordinate, we did well enough. At any rate, he was able to -place me in the only calling I was particularly desirous of following, without -depriving himself of anything."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And he left money behind?" Madame Carmaux asked, while, even -as she did so, Julian could not but observe that her manner was listless and -absent, as well as to perceive that she only threw in a remark now and again -with a view of appearing to be interested in the conversation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," he replied, "he left money behind him. Not much; some -few thousand pounds fairly well invested. Enough, anyhow, for a sailor who, at -the worst, can live on his pay."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the same," Sebastian said, "a few thousand pounds is a -mighty good thing to have handy. I wish I had a few."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You!" exclaimed Julian, looking at him in surprise. "Why! I -should have thought you had any amount. This is a big property, even for the -colonies, and Mr. Ritherdon--your father--has left the reputation behind him in -Belize of being one of the richest planters in the place."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ay," said Sebastian, "rich in produce, stores, cattle, and so -forth, but no money. No ready money. Not sufficient to work a large place like -this. Why, look here, Julian, as a matter of fact, you and I are each other's -heirs, yet I expect I'd sooner come in for your few thousands than you would for -Desolada. One can do a lot with a few thousands. I wish I had some."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Didn't your father leave any ready money, then?" Julian -asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, yes! He did. But it's all sunk in the place already."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such a conversation as this would, in ordinary circumstances, -have been one of no importance and certainly not worth recording, had it -not--short as it was--furnished Julian with some further food for reflections. -And among other shapes which those reflections took, one was that he did not -believe that all the money which Mr. Ritherdon was stated to have died possessed -of had been sunk in the estate. He, the late Mr. Ritherdon, had been able to put -by money out of the products of that estate--it scarcely stood to reason, -therefore, that his successor would have instantly invested all that money in -it. Wherefore Julian at once came to the conclusion that if it was really -gone--vanished--it had done so in Sebastian's gambling transactions.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as to their being each other's heirs! Well, that view -had never occurred to him--certainly it had never occurred to him that by any -chance Sebastian could be his heir. Yet, if Sebastian was in truth Charles -Ritherdon's son and he, Julian, was absolutely George Ritherdon's son, such was -the case. And, if anything should happen to him while staying here at Desolada, -where he had announced himself plainly as the son of George Ritherdon, he could -scarcely doubt that Sebastian would put in a claim as that heir. If anything -should happen to him!</p> - -<p class="normal">Well! it might! One could never tell. It might! Especially as, -when Sebastian had uttered those words, he had seen a flash from Madame -Carmaux's eyes and had observed a light spring into them which told plainly -enough that she had never regarded matters in that aspect before; that this new -view of the state of things had startled her.</p> - -<p class="normal">If anything should happen to him! Well, to prevent anything -doing so he must be doubly careful of himself. That was all.</p> - -<p class="normal">The evening--like most evenings spent in the tropics and away -from the garish amusements and gaieties of tropical towns--was passed more or -less monotonously, it being got through by scraps of conversation, by two or -three cooling drinks being partaken of by Julian and Sebastian, and by Madame -Carmaux in falling asleep in her chair. Though, Julian thought, her slumbers -could neither have been very sound nor refreshing, seeing that, whenever he -chanced to turn his eyes towards her, he observed how hers were open and fixed -on him, though shut immediately that she perceived he had noticed that they were -unclosed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," exclaimed Sebastian now, springing from out of his -chair with as much alacrity as is ever testified in the tropics, while as he did -so Madame Carmaux became wide-awake in the most perfect manner. "Come, this -won't do. Early to bed you know--and all the rest of it. We practise that good -old motto here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought you practised stopping up rather late when I was -here last," Julian remarked quietly. "As I told you, I heard your voices and saw -you sitting in the balcony long after I had turned in."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But to-night we must be off to bed early," Sebastian replied. -"I have to start for Belize to-morrow in good time, as I remarked to you at -supper, and you are going to take a gun and try for some shooting in the -Cockscomb mountains. Early to bed, my boy, early, and, also, an early -breakfast."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which Julian and Madame Carmaux made their adieux to -each other for the night, while Sebastian, as he had done before, escorted his -cousin up the vast stairs to his room. This room was, however, a different one -from that occupied previously by Julian, it being on the other side of the house -and looking towards those Cockscomb mountains which, gun in hand, he was to -explore on the morrow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a better room," said Sebastian, "than the other, as you -see; although not so large. And the sun will not bother you here in the morning, -nor will our chatter on the balcony beneath or inside the room do so either. -Good night, sleep well. To-morrow, breakfast at six."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Good-night," replied Julian as he entered the room, and, -after Sebastian was out of earshot (as he calculated), turned the key in the -lock. Then, as he sat himself down in his chair, after again producing his -revolver and placing it by his side, he thought to himself:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes! he spoke truly. Their conversation below will not -disturb me, nor will there be any chance of my overhearing it. All right, -Sebastian, you understand the old proverb about one for me and two for yourself. -But you have for gotten a little fact, namely, that a sailor can move about -almost as lightly as a cat when he chooses, and, if I think you and your -respected housekeeper have anything to say that it will be worth my while to -hear--why, I shall be a cat for the time being."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV.</a></h4> - -<h5>"THIS LAND IS FULL OF SNAKES."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The truth was, as the reader is by now very -well aware, that Julian no more believed in either Sebastian's lawful possession -of Desolada or in his being the son of Charles Ritherdon, than he believed that -George Ritherdon had concocted the whole of that story which he narrated ere his -death. "For," said the young man to himself, "if it were true, his manner and -her manner--that of the superb Madame Carmaux--would not be what they are. -'Think it out,' our old naval instructor in the Brit, used to say, 'analyze, -compare, exercise the few brains Heaven has mercifully given you.' Well, I -will--or, rather, I have."</p> - -<p class="normal">And he had done so. He had thought it all over and over -again--Sebastian's manner, Madame Carmaux's manner, Sebastian's slight -inaccuracies of statement, Madame Carmaux's pretence of being asleep when she -was awake, and her strange side-glances at him when she thought he was not -observing her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I played <i>Hamlet</i> once at an amateur show in the -Leviathan," he mused. "It was an awful performance, and, if it had been for more -than one act, I should undoubtedly have been hissed out of the ship. All the -same it taught me something. What was it the poor chap said? 'I'll take the -ghost's word for a thousand pounds.' Well, I'll take my uncle's word--for uncle -he was and he was telling the truth--for a thousand pounds, too. Only, how to -prove it? That is the question--which, by-the-bye, Hamlet also remarked."</p> - -<p class="normal">That was indeed the question. How to prove it!</p> - -<p class="normal">"That fellow is no more Charles Ritherdon's son than I'm a -soldier," he went on, "and I <i>am</i> the son. That I'm sure of! Everything, -every fresh look on their faces, every word they say, convinces me only the more -certainly. Even this shifting of the room I am to occupy: why, Lord bless me! -does he think I'm a fool? Yet, all the same, I don't see how it is to be proved. -Confound them! Some one played a trick on Charles Ritherdon after George had -stolen me--for steal me he did--some trick or other. And she, this Madame -Carmaux was in it. Only why--why--<i>why?</i>"</p> - -<p class="normal">He clenched his hands in front of his forehead, as he recalled now Mr. -Spranger's words: "It is a blank wall against which you will push in vain." -Almost, indeed, he began to fear that such was the case; that never would he -throw down that wall which rose an adamantine object between him and his belief. -Yet, even as he did so, he recollected that he was an Englishman and a sailor; -that, consequently, he must be resolved not to be beaten. Only, how was it to be -accomplished; how was the defeat to be avoided?</p> - -<p class="normal">As he arrived at this determination he heard, outside on the -veranda, a sound which he had heard more than once on his first visit, and when -he slept on the other side of the mansion. A sound, light, stealthy--such a one -as if some soft-footed creature, a cat, perhaps, was creeping gently in the -night along the balcony. Creeping nearer to his window in front of which, as had -been the case before, the Venetian blind was lowered.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he resolved that, this time, his strange visitant should -know that he had discovered the spying to which he was again to be subjected.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment he feigned sleep as he sat by the table on which -stood the lamp--casting out a considerable volume of light--while, as he did so, -he let his outstretched hands and fingers cover the revolver.</p> - -<p class="normal">And still the weird, soft scraping of those catlike feet came -nearer; he knew that his ghost-like visitor was close to the open window. He -heard also, though it was the faintest click in the world, the slat or lath -turning the least little bit, he knew that now those eyes that had gleamed into -the other and darkened room were gleaming in at him in this one.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, suddenly, he opened his own eyes as wide as he could, -while with his outstretched hand he now raised the revolver and pointed it at -the little dusky figure that he could see was holding the slat back, while he -said in a voice, low but perfectly clear in the silence of the night:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't move. Stop where you are--there--outside that blind -till I come to you. If you do move I will scatter your brains on the floor of -the veranda!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And as he rose and went towards the persianas he could see -that his instructions were--through fear--obeyed. The eyes, now white, horrible, -almost chalky in their glare of fright, instead of being dusky as he had once -seen them, stared with a hideous expression of terror into the room. Also, the -brown finger which was crooked over the blind-slat trembled.</p> - -<p class="normal">He pulled the persianas up with his left hand, still keeping -his right hand extended with the revolver in it (of course only with the -intention of frightening the girl into making no attempt to fly); then, when he -had fastened the pulley he took her unceremoniously by the upper part of the arm -and led her into the room.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, Mademoiselle Zara, as I understand your name to be, -kindly give me an explanation of why, whenever I am in my room in this house, -you honour me with these attentions. My manly beauty can be observed at any time -in the daylight much better than at night, and----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't tell him," the girl whispered, and he felt as he still -held her arm that she was trembling, while, also, he saw that she was deathly -pale, her usual coffee-and-milk complexion being more of the latter than the -former now. "Oh, don't tell him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Don't tell whom?" he asked astonished. Astonished at first, -since he had deemed her an emissary of his host, sent to pry in on him for some -reason best known to both of them. Then, he reflected, this was only some ruse -hatched in her scheming, half-Indian brain, whereby to escape from his clutches; -upon which he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now, look here. No lies. What do you come peeping and prying -in on me for in the middle of the night. Perhaps you're not aware that I saw you -do so the last time I was here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I came to see," she said inconsequently, "if you were -comfortable; I am a servant----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But now Julian laughed so loudly at this ridiculous statement -that the girl in hasty terror--and if it was assumed, she must be a good -actress, he thought--put up her hand as though she intended to clap it over his -mouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" she whispered, "don't! Don't! He will hear you--or <i> -she</i> -will----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, what if they do! I suppose they know you are here just -as much as I do. Come," he continued, "come, don't look so frightened, I'm not -going to shoot you or harm you in any way. Though, mind you, my dark beauty, you -might have got shot if you had timed your visit at a later hour and startled me -out of a heavy slumber, or if I had seen those eyes looking in on me in the dead -of night However, out with the explanation. Quick."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the girl paused as though thinking deeply, then -she looked up at him with all the deep tropical glow once more in her sombre -eyes, and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"I won't tell you. No. But----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"But what?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I--will you believe what I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps. That depends. I might, if it sounded likely."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Listen, then. I don't come here to do you any harm. My visits -won't hurt you. Only--only--this is a dangerous house in more ways than one. It -is a very old one--strange things happen sometimes in it. How," she said, and -now her voice which had been sunk to a whisper became even lower, "how would you -like to die in it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Perhaps the slow mysterious tones of that voice--the something -weird and wizard in the elf-like appearance of this dusky girl who was, in -truth, beautiful with that beauty often found in the half-caste Indian--was what -caused Julian to feel a sort of creepiness to come over him in spite of the -warm, bath-like temperature of the night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Neither in this house nor elsewhere, just at present," he -remarked, steadying his nerves. "But," he continued, "I don't suppose there is -much likelihood of that. Who is going to cause me to die?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer the girl cast those marvellous orbs of hers all -around the room, taking, meanwhile, as she did so, the mosquito curtains in her -hands and shaking them with a swish away from the floor on which they drooped in -festoons; she looking also behind the bedposts and in other places.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No one--to-night," she said, "but--but--if I may not come -here again, if you will not let me, then do this always. And--perhaps--some -night you will know."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which she moved off towards the window, her lithe, -graceful figure seeming to glide without the assistance of any movement from her -feet towards the open space; and made as though she meant to retire. Yet, as she -stood within the framework of that window, she turned and looked back at him, -her finger slightly raised as though impressing silence.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then she stepped outside on to the boards of the veranda and -peered over the front of it down towards the garden from which, now, there rose -the countless perfumes exhaled by the Caribbean wealth of flowers. Also, she -crept along to either side of the window, glancing to right and left of her -until, at that moment, borne on the soft night breeze, there came from the front -of the house, a harsh, strident, and contemptuous laugh--the laugh of Sebastian -Ritherdon. When, seemingly reassured by this, she returned again towards the -open window and said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You go to-morrow to the Cockscomb mountains shooting. Yet, -when there, be careful. Danger is there, too. This land is full of snakes, the -coral snake--which kills instantly, even like the <i>fer de lance</i> -of the islands, the rattlesnake, the tamagusa, or, as you English say, the -'tommy-goff.' One killed him--her husband," and she pointed down to where Madame -Carmaux might be supposed to be sitting at this moment, while as she did so he -saw in her eyes a look so startling--since they blazed with fire--that he stared -amazed. Was she, this half-savage girl, gloating over the horrid death of a man -which must have taken place ere she was born? Or--or--what?</p> - -<p class="normal">"In all the land," she went on, "there are snakes. Those I -tell you of--and--others. You understand? And others."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I almost understand," Julian muttered hoarsely--though he -knew not why. "<i>And others</i>. Is that--? ah! yes--I do understand. Yet tell -me further, tell----"</p> - -<p class="normal">But she was gone; the window frame was empty of the dark -shadowy figure it had enshrouded. Gone, as he saw when he stepped out on to the -balcony and observed a sombre form stealing along betwixt the bright gleams of -the low-lying stars and himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why does she warn me thus," he muttered to himself as now he -began to undress slowly, "why? She is that man's servant--almost, as servants go -here, his slave. Why warn me--she whom I deemed his creature--she who does his -dirty work as croupier at a gambling hell? And she gloated over Carmaux's death -in days of long ago--why that also? Does she hate this woman who governs here as -mistress of the house?"</p> - -<p class="normal">With some degree of horror on him now, with some sort of -mystic terror creeping over him at unknown and spectrelike dangers that might be -surrounding his existence, he turned down the light serape stretched over the -bed for coverlet, and threw back the upper sheet Then he started away with a -hoarse exclamation at what he saw.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, lying coiled up in the middle of the bed, yet with a -hideous flat head raised and vibrating, while from out that head gleamed a pair -of threatening and scintillating emerald eyes, was a small, red coral-coloured -snake--a snake that next unwound itself slowly with horribly lithe and sinuous -movements which caused Julian to turn cold, warm as the night was.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he whispered to himself, as now he seized a rifle that -he had brought out from England with him, and, after beating the reptile on to -the floor, used the stock as a bat and sent the thing flying out of the window; -"this is what she was looking for, what she expected to find. But where are the -others? The other snakes she hinted at? I think I can guess."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV.</a></h4> - -<h5>RECOLLECTIONS OF SEBASTIAN'S BIRTH</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">It is forty miles inland to where the -Cockscomb mountains rear their appropriately named crests, but not half that -distance to where obliquely from north to south there run spurs and ridges -which, though they do not rise to the four thousand feet that is attained by the -highest peak or summit of the range, are still lofty mountains. Here, amidst -these spurs and ridges, which dominate and break up what is otherwise a country, -or lowland, almost as flat as Holland (and which until a few years ago was -marked on the maps as "unexplored country"), Nature presents a different aspect -from elsewhere in the colony. The country becomes wild and rugged; the copses of -mangroves are superseded by woods and forests of prickly bamboos and umbrageous -figs; vast clumps of palms of all denominations cluster together, forming in -their turn other little woods, while rivers, whose sources are drawn from the -great lagoons inland, roll swiftly towards the sea.</p> - -<p class="normal">Here, upon the bank of one of those lagoons, Julian sat next -day beneath the shadow of a clump of locust-trees, in which were intermingled -other trees of salm-wood, braziletto, and turtle-bone, as well as many others -almost unknown of and unheard of by Europeans, with at his feet a fowling-piece, -while held across his knees was a safety repeating rifle. This was the rifle -with which he had overnight beaten out on to the veranda (where this morning he -had left it dead and crushed) the coral snake, and which he had provided himself -with ere he left England in case opportunities for sport should arise. The gun, -an old-fashioned thing lent him by Sebastian, he had not used against any of the -feathered inhabitants of the woods, although many opportunities had arisen of -shooting partridges, wild pigeons, whistling ducks, quails, and others. Had not -used it because, remembering one or two other incidents, such as that of the -horse and that of the coral-snake (which might have crept into his bed for extra -warmth, as such reptiles will do even in the hottest climates, but on the other -hand might have reached that spot by different means), and because since also he -was now full of undefined suspicion, he thought it very likely that if used it -would burst in his hands.</p> - -<p class="normal">He was not alone, as by his side, there sat now a man whose -features, as well as his spare, supple frame, bespoke him one of that tribe of -half-breeds, namely, Spanish and Carib Indian, which furnishes so large a -proportion of the labourers to the whole of Central America. He was an elderly -man, this--a man nearer sixty than fifty, with snow-white hair; yet any one who -should have regarded him from behind, or watched his easy strides from a -distance, or his method of mounting an incline, might well have been excused for -considering him to be about thirty-five.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What did Mr. Ritherdon strike you for this morning?" Julian -asked now, while, as he spoke he raised his rifle off his knee, and, with it -ready to be brought to the shoulder, sat watching a number of ripples which -appeared a hundred and fifty yards away in the lagoon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because he is a cruel man," his companion, who was at the -present time his guide, replied; "because, too, everything makes him angry -now--even so small a thing as my having buckled his saddle-girth too loose. A -cruel man and getting worse. Always angry now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why?" asked Julian, raising the rifle and aiming it at this -moment towards a conical grey-looking object that appeared above the ripples on -the lagoon--an object that was, in absolute fact, the snout of an alligator.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because--don't fire yet, senor; he's coming nearer--because, -oh! because things go very bad with him, they say. He lose much money -and--and--pretty Missy Sprangy don't love him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Does he love her?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"They say. Say, too, Massa Sprangy much money. Seabastiano -wants money as well as pretty missy. Never get it, though. Perhaps, too, he not -live get much more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you mean?" asked Julian, lowering the rifle as the -huge reptile in the lagoon now drew its head under water; while he looked also -at the man with stern, inquiring eyes. "What do you mean?" Though inwardly he -said to himself: "This is a new phase in these mysterious surroundings. My life -doesn't seem just now one that the insurance companies would be very glad to get -hold of, while also my beloved cousin's doesn't appear to be a very good one. -Lively place, this!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He very much hated," the half-breed answered. "Very cruel. -Some day tommy-goffy give him a nice bite, or half-breed gentleman put a knife -in his liver."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The snakes don't hate him, do they? He can't be cruel to -them."</p> - -<p class="normal">The other gave a laugh at this; it was indeed a laugh which -was something between the bleating of a sheep and the (so-called) terrible -war-whoop of a North-American Indian; then he replied: "Easy enough make -tommy-goffy hate him. Take tommy into room where a man sleeps, wrapped up in a -serape with his head out, then put him mouth to man's arm. Tommy do the rest. -Gentleman want no breakfast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"This <i>is</i> a nice country!" Julian thought. "I'm blessed -if some of these chaps couldn't give the natives in India, or the dear old -Chinese, a tip or two."</p> - -<p class="normal">While as he so reflected, he also thought: "Easy enough, too, -to put tommy-goff into a man's bed. Then that man wouldn't want any breakfast -either. It's rather a good job that I found myself with an appetite this -morning."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Here he comes," the man, whose name was Paz, exclaimed, now -suddenly referring to the alligator. "Hit him in the eye if you can, seńor, or -mouth. If he gets on shore we shall have to run." While, as he spoke, from out -of the lagoon there rose the head of an enormous alligator, which seemed to have -touched bottom since it was waddling ashore.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall never hit him in the eye," Julian said, taking -deliberate aim, however. "Gather up the traps, Paz, and get further away. I'll -have a shot at him; and, then if he comes on land, I'll have another. Here -goes."</p> - -<p class="normal">But now, even as he prepared to fire, the beast gave him a -chance, since, either from wishing to draw breath or from excitement at seeing a -probable meal, it suddenly began opening and shutting its vast jaws as it came -along, so that the hideous rows of yellow teeth, and the whity-pink roof of its -mouth were plainly visible. And, at that moment, from the repeating rifle rang -out a report, while, after the smoke had drifted away, it was easy to perceive -that the monster had received a deadly wound. It was now spread-eagled out upon -the rim of the lagoon's bank, its short, squat legs endeavouring to grip the -sand, its eyes rolled up in its head and a stream of blood pouring from its open -mouth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though," said Julian, as now he approached close to the -creature, and, taking steady aim, delivered another bullet into its eye which -instantly gave it the <i>coup de grace</i>; "though I don't know why I should -have killed the poor beast either. It couldn't have done me any harm." Then he -thought, "I might as well have reserved the fire for something that threatened -danger to me."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had had enough sport for the day by now, having done that -which every visitor to Central America is told he ought to do, namely, kill a -jaguar and an alligator; wherefore, bidding Paz go on with the skinning of the -former (which the man had already began earlier) since the spotted coat of this -creature is worth preserving, he took a last look at the dead reptile lying half -in and half out of the lagoon, and then made preparations for their return to -Desolada. These preparations consisted of readjusting the saddle on the mustang, -which he was still the temporary proprietor of, and in also saddling Paz's mule -for him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, when the operation of skinning was finished, they took -their way back towards the coast.</p> - -<p class="normal">Among other questions which Julian had asked this man during -the morning with reference to the owner of the above abode, was one as to how -long he had been present on the estate--a question which had remained unanswered -owing to the killing of the jaguar having occurred ere it could be answered. But -now--now that they were riding easily forward, the skin of the creature hanging -like a horse-cloth over the tail of the half-breed's mule, he returned to it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"How long did you say you had known Mr. Ritherdon and his -household?" he asked, referring of course to the late owner of the property to -the borders of which they were now approaching.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Didn't say anything," Paz replied, "because then we killed -him," and he touched the fast drying skin of the dead animal. "But I know -Desolada for over thirty years. Before Massa Ritherdon come."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then you've known the present Mr. Ritherdon all his -life--since the day he was born."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. Since that day. Always remember that. Same -day my poor old mother die. She Carib from Tortola."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did you know his--mother--too; the lady who had been Miss -Leigh?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Yes. Oh, yes. I know her. I remember she beautiful young -girl--English missy. With the blue eye and the skin like the peach and the hair -like the wheat. Oh, yes. I remember her. Very beautiful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Blue eyes, skin like a peach, hair like the wheat," thought -Julian to himself; "his supposed mother, my own mother as before Heaven I -believe. Yet he, Sebastian, speaks of this woman Carmaux, this woman of French -origin hailing from New Orleans, as a near relative of hers. Bah! it is -impossible."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Also I remember," Paz went on, "when--when--his brother--the -man who Sebastian tell us the other day was your father--love her too. And she -love him. Only old man Leigh he say that no good. Old man ruin very much. They -say constabulary and old man English Chief Justice very likely to arrest him. -Then Missy Leigh save her father and marry Massa Ritherdon when Massa George's -back turned."</p> - -<p class="normal">Julian nodded as he heard all this--nodded as though -confirming Paz's story. Though, in fact, it was Paz's story which confirmed that -which the dead man in England had told him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You knew her and her father, Mr. Leigh?" he asked now.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Know him! Know him! I worked for him at the Essex -hacienda----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Essex hacienda!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, he gave it that name because he love it. 'All my family, -Paz,' he say to me one day when I was painting the name on waggon--'all my -family come from Essex many, many long years. All born there--grandmother, -father, mother, myself, and daughter Isobel, Paz. All; every one. Oh! Paz,' he -say to me, 'England always been good enough for us till my turn come. Then I -very bad young man--very dis--dis--dis--something he say. Now, he say, I have to -be the first exile of family, I and poor little Isobel. No Leigh ever have to -live abroad before!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he say all that, Paz? Is this the truth?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Truff, sir! Sir, my father Spanish gentleman, my mother Carib -lady. Very fine lady."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All right. I beg your pardon. Never mind, I did not mean -that. And so you remember when this Mr. Ritherdon was born, eh? Did the old -gentleman seem pleased?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He very pleased about the son--very sad about the poor wife. -He weep much, oh! many weeps. But he give us all money to drink Sebastian's -health, and he tell us that as his poor wife dead. Mam Carmaux come keep the -house and bring up little boy."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he?" said Julian, and then lapsed into silence as they -rode along. Yet, to himself he said continually: "What is this mystery? What is -the root of it all? What is at the bottom? Somehow I feel as certain as that I -am alive that I was this son--yet--yet--he was pleased--gave money--oh! shall I -ever unravel it all?"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI.</a></h4> - -<h5>A DROP OF BLOOD</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">They were drawing near the coast now as the -sun sank slowly away over the crest of the Cockscomb mountains towards -Guatemala; and already there were signs that the night--the swift night that -comes to all spots which lie betwixt Capricorn and Cancer--was drawing near.</p> - -<p class="normal">The sun, although now hidden behind the topmost ridge of the -Cockscombs, was still an hour above the blue horizon, yet nevertheless the signs -were apparent that he would soon be gone altogether. The parrots and the monkeys -were becoming still and quiet in the branches--that is to say, as still and -quiet as these screeching and chattering creatures ever do become in their -native state--in dark and shade places where now the evening glow scarce -penetrated, the fireflies gleamed little sparks and specks of molten gold; -while, above all, there rose now from the earth that true tropical sign of -coming night, the incense exuded by countless flowers and shrubs, as well as the -cool damp of the earth when refreshed by the absence of the burning sun. -Sometimes, too, across their path, an unmade one, or only made by the tracks of -wild deer or the mountain cow, two or three of the former would glide swiftly -and gracefully, seeking their lair, or the iguana would scuttle before their -animals into the nearest copse, while the quash and gibonet were often visible.</p> - -<p class="normal">They rode slowly, not only because of the heat, but also -because none could progress at a swift rate through those tangled copses, the -trees of which were often hung with masses of wild vines whose tendrils met and -interlaced with each other, so that sometimes almost a wall of network was -encountered. Also they rode slowly, because Desolada was but a mile or so off -now, and they would be within its precincts ere the sun was quite gone for the -day. And as they did so in silence, Julian was acknowledging to himself that, -with every fresh person he encountered and every fresh question he asked, his -bewilderment was increased.</p> - -<p class="normal">For now, by his side, rode this man, half Spaniard, half -Indian, named Ignacio Paz, who not only had been present at the birth of Mr. -Ritherdon's son, but also had known that son's mother before she was married. -And, Julian asked himself, how did the knowledge now proclaimed by this -man--this man who, if he possessed any feelings towards Sebastian possessed only -those of hatred--this man who had prophesied for him a violent death as the -reward of his brutality and cruelty--how did that knowledge make for or against -the story told by George Ritherdon? Let him see.</p> - -<p class="normal">It served above all to corroborate, to establish, Sebastian's -position as the true son and inheritor of Charles Ritherdon. So truly an -acknowledged son and inheritor that, undoubtedly no contrary proof could ever be -brought of sufficiently powerful nature to overwhelm all that the evidence of -the last twenty-five or twenty-six years affirmed. Had not this man, Paz, been -one of those who had received money from Mr. Ritherdon to drink Sebastian's -health? Surely--surely, therefore, the old man was satisfied that this was his -son. And if he, Sebastian, was his son, who then was he, Julian?</p> - -<p class="normal">On the other hand, the half-breed proved by old Mr. Leigh's -conversation that there was some inaccuracy--perhaps an intentional -inaccuracy--in Sebastian's statement that Miriam Carmaux, or Gardelle, was a -relative of Isobel Leigh. That was undoubted! There was an inaccuracy. Old Leigh -had definitely said that he was the first of his family who had ever been forced -to earn a living in exile--yet she, this woman, with a French maiden, as well as -married, name, was a native of New Orleans, was a Frenchwoman. Was it not -enormous odds, therefore, against her being any connection of the English girl -with the fair, wheat-coloured hair, the peachlike complexion, and the blue eyes -who had been brought as an infant from Essex to Honduras?</p> - -<p class="normal">Also, was it not immeasurably unlikely that, even if then the -women were connected by blood, such coincidences should have occurred that both -should have come to the colony at almost an identical time; that Mr. Ritherdon's -wandering heart should have chanced to be captivated by each of those women; -that he should have jilted the one for the other, and that eventually one, the -jilted woman, should have dropped into the place of mistress of the household -which death had caused the other to resign? What would the doctrine of chances -say in connection with these facts, he would like to know?</p> - -<p class="normal">"One other thing perplexes me, too," he thought to himself, as -now they reached an open glade across which the swift departing sun streamed -horizontally, "perplexes me marvellously. Does Sebastian know, does he dream, -that against his position and standing such a story has been told as that -narrated to me in England by my uncle--as still I believe him to be. And if--if -there is some chicanery, some dark secret in connection with his and my birth, -does he know of it--or is he inno----"</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused, startled now at an incident that had happened, an -incident that drove all reflection from his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">Across that glade there had come trotting easily, and -evidently without any fear on its part, one of the red deer common enough in -British Honduras. Only this deer was not as those are which sportsmen and -hunters penetrate into the forests and the mountains to shoot and destroy; -instead, it was one which Julian had himself seen roaming about the parklike -grounds and surroundings of Desolada, the territory of which began on the other -side of the open glade.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet this was not the incident, nor the portion of the incident -which startled both him and Paz. Not that, but something else more serious than -a tame deer crossing an open grassland a few hundred yards in diameter each way. -There was nothing to startle in that--though much to do so in what followed.</p> - -<p class="normal">What followed being that as the deer, still slowly trotting -over the broad-leaved grass, which here forms so luxurious a pasture for all -kinds of cattle, came into line with Julian and Paz riding almost side by side, -though with the latter somewhat ahead of the former--there came from out of the -mangrove trees on the other side of the little opening, a spit of flame, a puff -of smoke, and the sharp crack of a rifle, while, a second later, from off the -side of a logwood tree close by them there fell a strip of bark to the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By Jove!" exclaimed Julian, his accustomed coolness not -deserting him even at this agitating moment, "the gallant sportsman is a -reckless kind of gentleman. One would think we were the game he is after and not -the deer which, by-the-bye, has departed like a streak of greased lightning. I -say, Paz, that bullet passed about three inches behind your head and not many -more in front of my nose. People don't go out shooting human beings here as they -do partridges at home, do they?" and he turned his eyes on his companion.</p> - -<p class="normal">If, as an extra excitement to add to the incident, he had -desired to observe now a specimen of native-born ferocity, he would have been -gratified as he thus regarded Paz. For the man in whose veins ran the hot blood -of a Spaniard, mixed with the still more hot and tempestuous blood of the -Indian, seemed almost beside himself now with rage and fury. His dark -coffee-hued skin had turned livid, his eyes glared like those of a maddened -wolf, and his hands, which were now unstrapping the rifle that he too carried -slung to his saddle, resembled masses of vibrating cords. Yet they became calm -enough as, the antique long-barrelled weapon being released, he raised that -rifle quickly, brought it to the shoulder and fired towards the exact spot -whence they had observed the flame and smoke of the previous rifle to come.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you mad?" exclaimed Julian, horrified at the act. "Great -Heavens! Do you want to commit a murder? If the person who let drive at that -deer has not moved away yet, you have very likely taken a human life."</p> - -<p class="normal">But Paz, who seemed now to have recovered his equanimity and -to have relieved his feelings entirely by that savage idea of retaliation, which -had been not only sprung into his mind, but had also been instantly put into -practice, only shrugged his shoulders indifferently while he restrapped his -rifle. Then he pointed a long lean finger at the spot across the glade where the -first discharge had taken place, directing the digit next to the spot where the -deer had been, after which he pointed next to their heads and then to the tree, -in which they could see the hole where the bullet was buried two or three -inches. Having done all which, he muttered:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Fired at the deer. At the deer! The deer was -there--there--there," and he directed his eyes to a spot five yards off the line -which would be drawn between the other side of the glade whence the fire had -come and the deer, "and we are here. Tree here, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you suspect?" Julian asked, white to the lips now -himself--appalled at some hitherto unsuspected horror. "What? Whom?" And as he -spoke his lips seemed to take the form of a name which, still, he hesitated to -give utterance to.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the half-caste said in reply, his quick intelligence -grasping without the aid of any speech the identity of the man to whom Julian's -expression pointed. "No. He is in Belize by now. He must be there. He has -money--much money--to pay to lawyer this morning. Not him. Not him." After which -the mysterious creature laughed in a manner that set Julian's mind reflecting on -how he had heard the Indians of old laughed at the tortures endured by their -victims.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he said now, feeling suddenly cold and chilled, as he -had felt once or twice before in Desolada and its surroundings. "Come, let us go -ho----back to the house," and he started the mustang forward on the route they -had been following.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Paz exclaimed, "however, not that way now. Other way. -Quite as near. Also," and his dark eyes glistened strangely as he fastened them -on Julian, "lead to hacienda. To Desolada. Come. We go through wood--over glade. -Very nice wood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you expect to do there?" Julian asked, divining all -the same.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! oh!" Paz said, his face alight with a demoniacal gleam. -"Oh! oh! Perhaps find a body. Who knows? Gunny he shoot very straight. Perhaps a -wounded man. Who knows?"</p> - -<p class="normal">So they crossed the glade, making straight for the spot whence -the murderous belch of flame had sprung forth, and, pushing aside flowering -cacti and oleanders as well as other lightly knitted together shrubs and bushes, -looked all around them. But, except that there were signs of footmarks on the -bruised leaves of some of the greater shrubs and also that the undergrowth was a -little trodden down, they saw nothing. Certainly nobody lay there, struck to -death by Paz's bullet.</p> - -<p class="normal">The keen eyes of the half-caste--glinting here and there and -everywhere--and looking like dark topazes as the rays of the evening sun danced -in them--seemed, however, to penetrate each inch of the surrounding shrubbery. -And, at last, Julian heard him give a little gasp--it was almost a bleat--and -saw him point with his finger at something about three feet from the ground.</p> - -<p class="normal">At a leaf--a leaf of the wild oleander--on which was a speck -that looked like a ladybird. Only--it was not that! But, instead, a drop of -blood. A drop that glistened, as his eyes had glistened in the sun; a drop that -a step or two further onward had a fellow. Then--nothing further.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hit him," Paz said, "somewhere. Only--did not kill." While, -instantly he wheeled round and gazed full into Julian's eyes--his face -expressing a very storm of demoniacal hate against the late owner of that drop.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," he almost hissed, "will keep. For a later day. When I -know him."</p> - -<p class="normal">They went now toward the house, each intent on his own -meditations and with hardly a word spoken between them; or, at least, but a few -words: Julian requesting Paz to say nothing of the incident, and the latter -replying that by listening and not talking was the way to discover a secret.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha! the gentle lady," said the half-breed now, as they -observed Madame Carmaux seated on the veranda arranging some huge lilies in a -glass bowl, while the form of Zara was observed disappearing into the house. -"Ha! the gracious ruler and mistress." Then, as they drew near and stepped on to -the veranda, Paz began bowing and scraping before the former with extraordinary -deference. Yet, all the same, Julian observed that his eyes were roving -everywhere around, and all over the boards near where Madame Carmaux sat, so -that he wondered what it was for which the half-breed sought!</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"SHE HATES HIM BECAUSE SHE LOVES HIM."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"It would be folly," said Julian to himself -that night, "not to recognise at once that each moment I spend in this house, -or, indeed in this locality, is full of danger to me. Therefore, from this -moment I commence to take every precaution that is possible. Now let us think -out how to do it."</p> - -<p class="normal">On this occasion he was the sole occupant of the lower -veranda, in spite of its being quite early in the evening, and owing to the fact -that Sebastian was passing the night in Belize, while Madame Carmaux, having -announced that she had a severe headache, had taken herself off to her own room -before supper, he had partaken of that meal alone. So that he sat there quite by -himself now, smoking; and, as a matter of fact, he was not at all sorry to do -so.</p> - -<p class="normal">He recognised that any attempt at conversation with the -"gentle lady" as Paz had termed her--in an undoubtedly ironical and subacid -manner--was the veriest make-believe; while, as to Sebastian, when he was at -home--well, his conversation was absolutely uninteresting. He never talked of -anything but gambling and the shortness of ready money, diversified occasionally -by a torrent of questions as to what George Ritherdon had done and what he had -said during the whole time of his life in England. While, as Julian reflected, -or, indeed, now felt perfectly sure, that even this wearisome talk was but -assumed as a mask or cloak to the other's real thoughts, it was not likely that -Sebastian's absence to-night could be a cause of much regret.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let me think out how to do it," he said again, continuing his -meditations; "let me regard the whole thing from its proper aspect. I am in -danger. But of what at the worst? Well, at the worst--death. There is, it is -very evident, a strong determination on the part of some people in this place to -relieve the colony of my interesting presence. First, Sebastian tries to break -my neck with an untrained horse; next, some one probably places a coral snake in -my bed; while, thirdly, some creature of his endeavours to shoot me. Paz--who -seems to have imbibed many ancient ideas from his Spanish and savage -ancestors--appears, however, if I understand him, to imagine he was the person -shot at, his wild and barbaric notions about the sacredness of the guest making -him suppose, apparently that my life could not be the one aimed at. Well, let -him think so. At any rate, his feelings of revenge and hatred are kept at -boiling-pitch against some unknown enemy.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," he went on, with still that light and airy manner of -looking at difficulties (even difficulties that at this time seemed to be -assuming a horrible, not to say, hideous, aspect) which had long since endeared -him to countless comrades in the wardroom and elsewhere. "Now, I will take a -little walk in the cool of the evening. Dear Madame Carmaux's headache has -deprived her of the pearls of my conversation, wherefore I will, as her -countrymen say, 'go and take the air.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon which he rose from his seat, and, pushing aside the -wicker table on which stood a bottle of Bourbon whisky, a syphon, and also a pen -and ink with some writing-paper, he took from off it a letter directed and -stamped, and dropped it into the pocket of his white jacket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The creole negro--as they call those chaps here--passes the -foot of the garden in five minutes' time," he said to himself, looking at a fine -gold watch which he had gained as a prize at Greenwich, "and he will convey this -to Spranger's hands. Afterwards, from to-night, I will make it my business to -send one off from All Pines every day. I should like Spranger and Beat--I mean -Miss Spranger--to receive a daily bulletin of my health henceforth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sebastian," he continued to reflect, as now he made his way -beneath the palms towards where the road ran, far down at the foot of the -garden, "has meditations about being my heir--well, so have I about being his. -Yet I think, I do really think, I would rather be Sebastian's if it's all the -same to him. Nevertheless, in case anything uncomfortable should happen to me, I -should like Spranger and Beat--Miss Spranger, to be acquainted with the fact. It -might make the succession easier to--Sebastian."</p> - -<p class="normal">He heard the "creole negro's" cart coming along, even as he -reached the road; he heard also the chuckles and whoops with which the conveyer -of her Majesty's mails urged on the flea-bitten, raw-boned creature that carried -them; and then, the cart drew into sight and was pulled up suddenly as Julian -emerged into the road.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoop! Massa Sebastian, you give me drefful fright," the sable -driver began, "thought it was your ghost, as I see you in Belize this berry -morning----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So it would have been his ghost," remarked Julian, as he came -close to the cart with the letter in his hand, "if you had happened to see him -now. Meanwhile, kindly take this letter and put it in your mail-bag."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Huah! huah!" grunted the negro, while he held out his great -black hand for the missive and, opening the mouth of the bag which was in the -cart behind him, thrust it in on the top of all the others he had collected on -his route along the coast; "he get there all right about two o'clock this -morning. But, massa, you berry like Massa Sebastian. In um white jacket you -passy well for um ghost or brudder."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So they tell me," Julian answered lightly. "But, you see, we -happen to be cousins, and, sometimes, cousins are as much alike as brothers. My -friend," he said, changing the subject, "are you a teetotaller?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hoop! Huah! Teetotallum. Huah! Teetotallum! Yes, massa, when -I've no money. Then berry good teetotallum. Berry good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, now see, here is some money," and he gave the man a -small piece of silver. "Take a drink at All Pines as you go by; it will keep -this limekiln sort of air out of your throat--or wash it down. Off with you, -only take two drinks. Have the second when you get to Belize."</p> - -<p class="normal">Profuse in thanks, the darkey drove off, wishing Julian -good-night, while the latter's cheery, "Good-night, fair nymph," seemed to him -so exquisite a piece of humour that, for some paces along the road, the former -could hear him chuckling and murmuring in his musical bass: "Fair nymph. Hoah! -Fair nymph. Hoah! Fair nymph. That's me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," Julian said to himself as he strolled along the road, -"we shall see if Spranger comes to meet me as he said he would if I wanted his -assistance. If he doesn't, then bang goes this one into the All Pines post-box -to-morrow;" the "this one" being an exact duplicate of the letter which the -negro postman had at that moment in his mail-bag.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm getting incredibly cunning," Julian murmured to himself, -"shockingly so. Yet, what is one to do? One must meet ruse with ruse and cunning -with cunning, and I do believe Sebastian is as artful as a waggon-load of -monkeys. However, if things go wrong with me, if I should get ill--Sebastian -says the climate is bad and lays a good deal of stress on the fact, although -other people say it's first-rate---or disappear, or furnish a subject for a -first-class funeral, there is one consolation. Spranger, on not hearing from me, -will soon begin to make inquiries and, as the novelists say, 'I shall not die -unavenged.' That's something."</p> - -<p class="normal">It is permissible for those who record veracious chronicles -such as this present one, to do many things that in ordinary polite society -would not be tolerated. Thus, we have accompanied Julian to his bedchamber on -more than one occasion, and now we will look over his shoulder as, an hour -before this period, he indited the letter to Mr. Spranger (which at the present -moment is in the Belize post-cart), and afterwards made a copy of it for posting -the next day at All Pines.</p> - -<p class="normal">It was not a lengthy document--since the naval officer -generally writes briefly, succinctly and to the purpose--and simply served to -relate the various startling "incidents" which had occurred after he had -returned to Desolada. And he told Mr. Spranger that, henceforth, a letter would -be posted for him at All Pines every day, which, so long as it conveyed no -tidings of ill news, required no answer; but that, if such letter should fail to -come, then Spranger might imagine that he stood in need of succour. It concluded -by saying that if this gentleman had a few hours to spare next day and could -meet him half-way betwixt Belize and Desolada--say, opposite a spot called -Commerce Bight--he would take it as a favour--would meet him, say, in the early -morning, about ten o'clock, before the heat was too great.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sebastian," the letter ended, "seems to harp more, now, on -the fact that he's my heir than on anything else. He evidently imagines that I -have more to leave than I have. But, however that may be, I don't want him to -inherit yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was thinking about this letter, and its duplicate which was -to follow to-morrow, if the first one did not bring his friend from Belize, when -he heard voices near him--voices that were pitched low and coming closer with -every step he took, and then, suddenly, he came upon the girl, Zara, and the -man, Ignacio Paz, walking along the road side by side.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, my Queen of Night," he said to the former, "and how are -you? You heard that I found the snake after all, I suppose?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, I heard," the girl said, her dark slumbrous eyes -gleaming at him in the light of the stars. "I heard. Better always look. This is -a dangerous land. Very dangerous to white men."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So Sebastian tells me. Thank you, Zara. Henceforth I will be -sure to look. I am going to take a great deal of care of my precious health -while I am in this neighbourhood."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is well," the girl said; then, having noticed his -bantering manner, she added, "you may laugh--make joke, but it is no joke. Take -care," and a moment later she was gone swiftly up to the house, leaving him and -his companion of the morning standing together in the dusty road.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wonder why Zara is such a good friend of mine?" Julian -asked meditatively now, looking into the eyes of Paz, which themselves gleamed -brightly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You wonder?" the half-caste said, with that bleating little -laugh which always sounded so strangely in Julian's ears. "<i>Do</i> you wonder? -Can't you guess? Do you wonder, too, why I'm a friend of yours?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You, Paz! Why we've only known each other about fifteen -hours. Though I'm glad to hear it, all the same."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Friends long enough to nearly get killed together to-day," -the man replied. "That's one reason."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And the other--Zara's reasons? What are they?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Again the man's eyes glistened in the starlight; then he put -out his long lithe finger, which, Indianlike, he used to emphasize most of his -remarks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She hates him. So do I."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You I can understand. He beat you this morning. But--Zara! I -thought she was his faithful adherent."</p> - -<p class="normal">"She hates him because," the man replied laconically, "she -loves him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Loves him. And he? Well--what?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not love her. He love 'nother. English missy. You know her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do," Julian answered emphatically. "I do. Now, I'll add my -share to this little love story. She, the English missy, does not love him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Zara think she do. Thinks he with her now. Go Belize, see -her."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah! Bosh! The English missy wouldn't--why, Paz," he broke -off suddenly, "what's this in your hand? Haven't you had enough sport to-day--or -are you going out shooting the owls to-night for a change?" while as he spoke he -pointed to a small rifle the half-caste held in his hand. "Though," he added, -"one doesn't shoot birds with rifles."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the other replied, with again the bleat, and with, now, -his eyes blazing--"no. Shoot men with him. Nearly shoot one to-day. I find him -near where I find drop of blood this afternoon. Hid away under ferns. I take a -little walk this evening in the cool. Then I find him."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>SEBASTIAN IS DISTURBED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">"This knoll is becoming historic," Julian -said to himself the next morning, as he halted the mustang where twice he had -halted it before, when he had been journeying the other way from that which he -had now come. "When, some day, the life and adventures of Admiral Ritherdon, -K.C.B., and so forth, are given to an admiring world, it must figure in them. -Make a pretty frontispiece, too, with its big shady palms and the blue sea -beyond the mangroves down below."</p> - -<p class="normal">In spite, however, of his bright and buoyant nature, which -refused to be depressed or subdued by the atmosphere of doubt or suspicion--to -give that atmosphere no more important name--he recognised very clearly that -matters were serious with him. He knew, too, that the calamities which had -approached, without absolutely overwhelming him--so far--were something more -than coincidences; natural enough as each by itself might have been in a country -which, even now, can scarcely be called anything else than a wild and unsettled -one.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was once flung off a horse, a buckjumper," he reflected, -"in Western Australia when I was a 'sub'; I found a snake in my bed in Burmah; -and a chap shot at me once in Vera Cruz--but--but," and he nodded his head -meditatively over his recollections, "the whole lot did not happen together in -Australia or Burmah or Vera Cruz. If they had done so, it would have appeared -rather pointed. And--well--they -<i>have</i> all happened together here. That looks rather pointed, too."</p> - -<p class="normal">"All the same," Julian went on reflectively, as now he -tethered the mustang to a bush where it could stand in the shade, and also drew -himself well under the spreading branches of the palms--"all the same, I can't -and won't believe that Sebastian sees danger to his very firmly-established -rights by my presence here. He said on that first night to Madame Carmaux, -'Knowledge is not proof,' and what proof have I against him? This copy of my -baptism at New Orleans which I possess can't outweigh that entry of his birth -which Spranger has seen in Belize. And there is nothing else. Nothing! Except -George Ritherdon's statement to me, which nobody would believe. My own opinion -is," he concluded, "that Sebastian, who at the best is a rough, untutored -specimen of the remote colonist, with very little knowledge of the world beyond, -thinks that if anything happened to me he would only have to put in a claim to -whatever I have in England, prove his cousinship, and be put in possession of my -few thousands. What a sublime confidence he must have in the simplicity of the -English laws!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Even, however, as he thought all this, there came to him a -recollection, a revived memory, of something that had struck him after George -Ritherdon's death--something that, in the passage of so many other stirring -events, had of late vanished from his mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He said," Julian murmured to himself--"my uncle said in the -letter I received when we got back to Portsmouth, that he had commenced to write -down the error, the crime of his life, in case he did not live to see me. -And--and--later--after he had told me all, on the next day, he remarked that the -whole account was written down; that when--poor old fellow! he was gone I should -find it in his desk; that it would serve to refresh my memory. But--I never did -find it, and, I suppose, he thought it was best destroyed. I wish, however, he -hadn't done it; even his handwriting would have been some corroboration of the -statement. At least it would have shown, if I ever do make the statement public, -that I had not invented it."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he had been indulging in these meditations he had kept -his eyes fixed on the long, white, dusty road that stretched from where the -knoll was on which he sat toward Belize; a road which, through this flat -country, could be traced for two or three miles, it looking like a white thread -lying on a dark green carpet the colour of which had been withered by the sun.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now, as he looked, he saw upon the farthest end of that -thread a speck, even whiter than itself--a speck, that is to say, white above -and black beneath--which was gradually travelling along the road, coming nearer -and growing bigger each moment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It may be Mr. Spranger," he thought to himself, still -watching the oncoming party-coloured patch as it continued to loom larger; -"probably is. Yet for a man of his time of life, and in such a baker's oven as -that road is, he is a bold rider. I hope he won't get a sunstroke or a touch of -heat apoplexy in his efforts to come and meet me."</p> - -<p class="normal">At last, however, the person, whoever it was, drew so near -that the rider's white tropical jacket stood out quite distinct from the black -coat of the animal he bestrode; while, also, the great white sombrero on the -man's head was distinctly visible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That's not Spranger," Julian said to himself, "but a much -younger man. By Jove!" he exclaimed, "it's Sebastian. And I might have expected -it to be him. Of course. It is about the time he would be returning to -Desolada."</p> - -<p class="normal">His recognition of his cousin was scarcely accomplished beyond -all doubt, when Sebastian's horse began to slow down in its stride, owing to -having commenced the ascent of the incline that led up to the knoll where Julian -sat, and in a very few more moments the animal, emitting great gusts from its -nostrils, had brought its rider close to where he was. While, true to his -determination to exhibit no outward sign of anything he might suspect concerning -Sebastian's designs toward him, as well as to resolve to assume a light and -cheerful manner, and also a friendly one, Julian called out pleasantly:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halloa, Sebastian! How are you this fine morning? Rather a -hot ride from Belize, isn't it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">If, however, he had expected an equally cordial greeting in -return, or, to put it in other and more appropriate words, a similar piece of -acting on Sebastian's part, he was very considerably mistaken. For, instead of -his cousin returning his cheerful salutation in a corresponding manner, his -reception of it betokened something that might very well have been considered to -be dismay. Indeed, he reined his horse up so suddenly as almost to throw the -panting creature on its haunches, in spite of the ascent it was making; while -his face, sunbrowned and burned as it was, seemed to grow nearly livid behind -the bronze. His eyes also had in them the startled expression which might -possibly be observed in those of a man who had suddenly been confronted by a -spectre.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why!" he said, a moment later, after peering about and around -and into all the rich luxuriant vegetation which grew on the knoll, as though he -might have expected to see some other person sitting among the wild allamandas -or ixoras--"why, what on earth are you doing here, Julian? I--I thought you were -at Desolada, or--or perhaps out shooting again. By the way, I had left Desolada -before you were up yesterday morning; what sort of a day did you have of it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Most exciting," Julian replied, himself as cool as ice. -"Quite a field-day." And then he went on to give his cousin, who had by now -dismounted and was sitting near him, a <i>résumé</i> of the whole day's -adventures--not forgetting to tell him also of the interesting discovery of the -coral snake in his bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," he thought to himself, "he wants to see how little he -can frighten one of her Majesty's sailors, he shall see it now."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had, however, some slight hesitation in narrating the -retaliation of Paz upon the unknown, would-be assassin--for such the person must -have been who had fired at where the deer was not--he being in some doubt as to -how this fact would be received.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first it was listened to in silence, Sebastian only -testifying how much he was impressed at the recountal by the manner in which he -kept his eyes fixed on Julian--and also by the whiteness of his lips, to which -the circulation seemed unable to find its way. Also, it seemed as though, when -he heard of the drop of blood upon the leaf, once more the blood in his own -veins was impeded--and as if his heart was standing still. Then, when the -recital was concluded, he said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Paz did right. It was a cowardly affair. I wish he had killed -the villain. I suppose it was some enemies of his. Some fellow half-caste. Paz -has enemies," he added.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Probably," said Julian quietly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," went on Sebastian now in a voice of considerable -equanimity, though still his bronze and sunburn were not what they usually were; -"and how did you leave Madame Carmaux? Was she not horrified at such a dastardly -outrage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did not have much time with her. Not time enough indeed to -tell her. She went to bed directly I got back----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Went to bed! Why?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"She was not well. Said she had a headache, or rather sent -word to that effect. Nor did she come down to breakfast. Rather slow, you know, -all alone by myself, so I thought I'd come on here for a ride. Must do something -with one's time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course! Of course! I told you Desolada was Liberty Hall. -Went to bed, eh? I hope she is not really ill. I don't know what I should do -without her," and as he spoke Julian observed that, if anything, he was whiter -than before. Evidently he was very much distressed at Madame Carmaux's suffering -from even so trifling an ailment as a headache.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I think I'll get on now," Sebastian said, rising from where -he was sitting. "If she is laid up I shall have a good deal of extra work to do, -I suppose it really is a headache."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I suppose it is," Julian said, "it is not likely to be much -else. She was arranging flowers in a vase when Paz and I returned."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was she!" Sebastian exclaimed, almost gleefully; "was she! -Oh, well! then there can't be much the matter with her, can there? I am glad to -hear that. But, anyhow, I'll go on now. You'll be back by sundown, I suppose. -You know it's bad to be out just at sunset. The climate is a tricky one."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I have heard you say. Never mind, I'll be back in the -evening, or before. Meanwhile I may wander into the woods and shoot a monkey or -so."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shoot! Why! you haven't got a gun with you," Sebastian -exclaimed, looking on the ground and at the mustang's back where, probably, such -a thing would have been strapped.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I haven't. But I've always got this," and he showed the -handle of his revolver in an inside pocket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You're a wise man. Though, if you knew the colony better, -you'd understand there isn't much danger to human life here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was yesterday. And Paz has taught me a trick or two. If -any one fired at me now I should do just what he did, and, perhaps, I too might -find a leaf with a drop of blood on it afterwards."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You're a cool fish!" exclaimed Sebastian after bursting out -into a loud laugh which, somehow, didn't seem to have much of the ring of mirth -in it. "Upon my word you are. Well, so long! Don't go committing murder, that's -all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, I won't. Bye-bye. I'll be back to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">After which exchange of greetings, Sebastian got on his horse -and prepared to continue his journey to Desolada.</p> - -<p class="normal">"By the way," he said, however, before doing so, "about that -snake! How could it have got into your bed?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>I</i> don't know," Julian replied with a half laugh. "How -should I? The coral snake is a new acquaintance, though I've known other -specimens in my time. It got there somehow, didn't it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course! They love warmth, you know. Perhaps it climbed up -the legs of the bed and crept in where it would be covered up."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was rather rude to do such a thing in a visitor's bed -though, wasn't it? It isn't as though I was one of the residents. And it must -have been a clever chap, too, because it got in without disarranging the -mosquito curtains the least little bit. That <i>was</i> clever, when you come to -think of it!"</p> - -<p class="normal">At which Sebastian gave a rather raucous kind of laugh, and -then set his horse in motion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>Au revoir!</i>" said Julian. "I hope you'll find Madame -Carmaux much better when you get back."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX.</a></h4> - -<h5>A PLEASANT MEETING</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The morning was drawing on and it was -getting late--that is, for the tropics--namely, it was near nine o'clock, and -soon the sun would be high in the heavens, so that it was not likely along the -dusty white road from Belize any sign of human life would make it appearance -until sunset was close at hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If Mr. Spranger doesn't come pretty soon," Julian said -consequently to himself, "he won't come at all, and has, probably, important -business to attend to in the city. Wherefore I shall have to pass to-day alone -here, or have a sunstroke before I can get as far back as All Pines for a meal. -I ought to have brought some lunch with me."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Halloa, my friend," he remarked a moment later to the -mustang, which had commenced to utter little whinnies, and seemed to be -regarding him with rather a piteous sort of look, "what's the matter with you? -You don't want to start back and get a sunstroke, do you? Oh! I know. Of -course!" and he rose from his seat and, going further into the bushes behind the -knoll, began to use both his eyes and his ears. For it had not taken him a -moment to divine--he who had been round the world three times! that the creature -required that which in all tropical lands is wanted by man and animal more than -anything else--namely, the wherewithal to quench their thirst.</p> - -<p class="normal">Presently, he heard the grateful sound of trickling water, -which in British Honduras is bountifully supplied by Providence, and discovered -a swift-flowing rivulet on its way to the sea below--it being, in fact, a little -tributary of Mullin's River--when, going back for the creature, he led it to -where the water was, while, tying its bridle to some reeds, he left it there to -quench its thirst. After which he returned to the summit of the knoll to -continue his lookout along the road from Belize.</p> - -<p class="normal">But now he saw that, during his slight absence, some signs of -other riders had appeared, there being at this present moment two -black-and-white blurs upon the white dusty thread. Two that progressed side by -side, and presented a duplicate, party-coloured imitation of that which, -earlier, Sebastian Ritherdon and his steed had offered to his view.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If that's Mr. Spranger," Julian thought to himself, "he has -brought a companion with him, or has picked up a fellow traveller. By Jove -though! one's a darkey and, well! I declare, the other's a woman. Oh!" he -exclaimed suddenly, joyfully too; "it's Miss Spranger. Here's luck!" and with -that, regardless of the sun's rays and all the calamities that those rays can -bring in such a land, he jumped into the road and began waving his handkerchief -violently.</p> - -<p class="normal">The signal, he saw, was returned at once; from beneath the -huge green umbrella held over the young lady's head--and his own--by the negro -accompanying her, he observed an answering handkerchief waved, and then the mass -of white material which formed a veil thrown back, as though she was desirous -that he who was regarding her should not be in any doubt as to who was -approaching. Yet, she need not have been thus desirous. There is generally one -form (as the writer has been told by those who know) which, when we are young, -or sometimes even, no longer boys and girls, we recognise easily enough, no -matter how much it may be disguised by veils or dust-coats or other similar -impediments to our sight.</p> - -<p class="normal">Naturally, Beatrix and her sable companion rode slowly--to -ride fast here on such a morning means death, or something like it--but they -reached the knoll at last, and then, after mutual greetings had been exchanged -and Julian had lifted Miss Spranger off her horse--one may suppose how -tenderly!--she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Father was sorry, but he could not come. So I came instead. I -hope you don't mind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mind!" he said, while all the time he was thinking how pretty -she looked in her white dress, and how fascinating the line which marked the -distinction between the sunburn of her face and the whiteness of her throat made -her appear--"mind!" Then, words seeming somehow to fail him (who rarely was at a -loss for such things, either for the purpose of jest or earnest) at this moment, -he contented himself with a glance only, and in preparing for her a suitable -seat in the shade. Yet, all the same, he was impelled directly afterwards to -tell her again and again how much he felt her goodness in coming at all.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Jupiter," she said to the negro now, "bring the horses in -under the shade and unsaddle and unbridle them. And, find some 'water for them. -I am going to stay quite a time, you know," she went on, addressing Julian. "I -can't go back till sunset, or near sunset, so you will have to put up with my -company for a whole day. I suppose you didn't happen to think of bringing any -lunch or other provisions?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"The mere man is forgetful," he replied contritely, finding -his tongue once more, "so----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"So I am aware. Therefore, I have brought some myself. Oh! -yes, quite enough for two, Mr. Ritherdon; therefore you need not begin to say -you are not hungry or anything of that sort. Later, Jupiter shall unpack it. -Meanwhile, we have other things to think and talk about. Now, please, go on with -that," and she pointed to the pipe in his hand which he had let go out in her -presence, "and tell me everything. Everything from the time you left us."</p> - -<p class="normal">Obedient to her orders and subject to no evesdropping by the -discreet Jupiter--who, having been told by Julian where the rivulet was, had -conducted the two fresh horses there and was now seated on the bank crooning a -mournful ditty which, the former thought, might have been sung by some African -sorcerer to his barbaric ancestors--he did tell her everything. He omitted -nothing, from the finding of the coral-snake in his bed to his last meeting with -Sebastian half an hour ago.</p> - -<p class="normal">While the girl sitting there by his side, her pure clear eyes -sometimes fixed on the narrator's face and sometimes gazing meditatively on the -sapphire Caribbean sparkling a mile off in front of them, listened to and drank -in and weighed every word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lieutenant Ritherdon," she said, when he had concluded, and -placing her hand boldly, and without any absurd false shame, upon his sleeve, -"you must give me a promise--a solemn promise--that you will never go back to -that place again."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But!" he exclaimed startled, "I must go back. I cannot leave -and give up my quest like that. And," he added, a little gravely, "remember I am -a sailor, an officer. I cannot allow myself to be frightened away from my search -in such a manner."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not for----" she began interrupting.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not for what?" he asked eagerly, feeling that if she said, -"not for my sake?" he must comply.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not for your life? Its safety? Not for that?" she concluded, -almost to his disappointment. "May you not retreat to preserve your life?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," he answered a moment later. "No, not even for that. For -my own self-respect, my own self-esteem I must not do so. Miss Spranger," he -continued, speaking almost rapidly now, "I know well enough that I shall do no -good there; I have come to understand at last that I shall never discover the -truth of the matter. Yet I do believe all the same that George Ritherdon was my -uncle, that Charles Ritherdon was my father, that Sebastian Ritherdon is -a--well, that there is some tricking, some knavery in it all. But," he continued -bitterly, "the trickery has been well played, marvellously well managed, and I -shall never unearth the method by which it has been done."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, thinking this, you will not retreat! You will jeopardize -your life?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have begun," he said, "and I cannot retreat, short of -absolute, decisive failure. Of certain failure! And, oh! you must see why, you -must understand why, I can not--it is because my life is in jeopardy that I -cannot do so. I embarked on this quest expecting to find no difficulties, no -obstacles in my way; I came to this country and, at once, I learned that my -appearance here, at Desolada, meant deadly peril to me. And, because of that -deadly peril, I must, I will, go on. I will not draw back; nor be frightened by -any danger. If I did I should hate myself forever afterwards; I should know -myself unworthy to ever wear her Majesty's uniform again. I will never draw -back," he repeated emphatically, "while the danger continues to exist."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he had spoken, Julian Ritherdon--the bright, cheery -Englishman, full of joke and quip, had disappeared: in his place had come -another Julian--the Englishman of stern determination, of iron nerve; the man -who, because peril stared him in the face and environed his every footstep, was -resolute to never retreat before that danger.</p> - -<p class="normal">While she, the girl sitting by his side, her eyes beaming with -admiration (although he did not see them), knew that, as he had said, so he -would do. This man--fair, young, good-looking, and -<i>insouciant</i>--was, beneath all that his intercourse with the world and -society had shaped him into being, as firm as steel, as solid as a rock.</p> - -<p class="normal">What could she answer in return?</p> - -<p class="normal">"If you are so determined," she said now, controlling her -voice for fear that, through it, she should betray her admiration for his -strength and courage, "you will, at least take every measure for your -self-preservation. Write every day, as you have said you will in your letter to -my father, be ever on your guard--by night and day. Oh!" she went on, thrusting -her hands through the beautiful hair from which she had removed her large Panama -hat for coolness while in the shade, "I sicken with apprehension when I think of -you alone in that mournful, mysterious house."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You need not," he said, and now he too ventured to touch her -sleeve as she had previously touched his--"you need not do so. Remember, it is -man to man at the worst; Sebastian Ritherdon--if he is Sebastian -Ritherdon--against Julian. And I, at least, am used to facing risks and dangers. -It is my trade."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she answered, almost with a shudder, while her lustrous -eyes expressed something that was very nearly, if not quite, horror--"no! it is -not. It is a man and a woman--and that a crafty, scheming woman--against a man. -Against you. Lieutenant Ritherdon," she cried, "can you doubt who--who----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Hush," he said, "hush. Not yet. Let us judge no one yet. -Though I--believe me--<i>I</i> doubt nothing. <i>I</i>, too, can understand. -But," he went on a little more lightly now, "remember, Sebastian is not the only -one possessed of a female auxiliary, of female support. Remember, I have Zara."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Zara," she repeated meditatively, "Zara. The girl with whom -he amused himself by making believe that he loved her; made her believe that, -when this precious Madame Carmaux should be removed, she might reign over his -house as his wife."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Did he do that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He did. If all accounts are true he led her to believe he -loved her until he thought another woman--a woman who would not have let him -serve her as a groom--might look favourably on his pretensions."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Therefore," said Julian, ignoring the latter part of her -remark, though understanding not only it, but the deep contempt of her tone, -"therefore, now she hates him. May she not be a powerful ally of mine, in -consequence. That is, if she does hate him, as my other ally--Paz--says."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, yes," Beatrix said, still musing, still reflectively. -"Yet, if so, why those mysterious visits to your bedroom window, why that -haunting the neighbourhood of your room at midnight?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I understand those visits now, I think I understand them, -since the episode of the coral snake. I believe she was constituting herself a -watch, a guard over me. That she knows much--that--that she suspects more. That -she will at the worst, if it comes, help me to--to thwart him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah! if it were so. If I could believe it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And Paz, too. Sebastian told me to-day that Paz has enemies. -Well! doubtless he has--only, I would rather be Paz than one of those enemies. -You would think so yourself if you had seen the blaze of the man's eyes, the -look upon his face, when that shot was fired, and, later, when he showed me the -rifle which he had found close by the spot. No; I should not like to be one of -Paz's enemies nor--a false lover of Zara's."</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I could feel as confident as you!" Beatrix exclaimed. "Oh! -if I could. Then--then--" but she could find no ending for her sentence.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX.</a></h4> - -<h5>LOVE'S BLOSSOM</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A fortnight had elapsed since that meeting -on the palm-clad knoll, and Julian was still an inmate of Desolada. But each day -as it came and went--while it only served to intensify his certainty that some -strange trickery had been practised at the time when he was gone and when George -Ritherdon had stolen him from his dying, or dead, mother's side--served also to -convince him that he would never find out the manner in which the deceit had -been practised, nor unravel the clue to that deceit. He had, too, almost decided -to take his farewell of Desolada and its inmates, to shake the dust of the place -off his shoes, and to abandon any idea of endeavouring to obtain further -corroboration of his uncle's statement.</p> - -<p class="normal">For he had come to believe, to fear, that no corroboration was -to be found. Every one in British Honduras regarded Sebastian as the undoubted -child and absolute heir of the late Charles Ritherdon, while, in addition, there -were still scores of persons alive, black and white and half-caste, who -remembered the birth of the boy, though not one individual could be discovered -who had heard even a whisper of any kidnapping having ever taken place. Once, -Julian had thought that a journey to New Orleans and a verification of the copy -of his baptismal certificate with the original might be of some use, but on -reflection he had decided that this, as against the certificate of Sebastian's -baptism in Belize, would be of no help whatever.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is indeed a dead wall, a solid rock, against which I am -pushing, as Mr. Spranger said," he muttered to himself again and again. "And it -is too firm for me. I shall have to retreat--not because I fear my foe, but -because that foe has no tangible shape against which to contend."</p> - -<p class="normal">He had not returned to Desolada on the night that followed his -meeting with, first, Sebastian on the knoll and then with Beatrix; he making his -appearance at that place about dawn on the following morning. The reason whereof -was, that, after passing the whole day with Miss Spranger on that spot (the -lunch she had brought with her being amply sufficient to provide an afternoon, -or evening, meal), he had insisted on escorting her back to her father's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first she protested against his doing this, she declaring -that Jupiter was quite sufficient cavalier for her, but he would take no denial -and was firm in his resolve to do so. He did not tell her, though (as perhaps, -there was no necessity for him to do, since, if all accounts are true, young -ladies are very apt at discovering the inward workings of those whom they like -and by whom they are liked), that he regarded this opportunity as a most -fortuitous one, and, as such, not to be missed. Who is there amongst us all who, -given youth and strength and the near presence of a woman whom we are fast -beginning to love with our whole heart, would not sacrifice a night's rest to -ride a score of miles by her side? Not one who is worthy to win that woman's -love!</p> - -<p class="normal">So through the tropical night--where high above them blazed -the constellations of the Southern Crown, the Peacock, and the Archer, with -their incandescentlike glow--those two rode side by side; the negro on ahead and -casting many a glance of caution around at bush and shrub and clump of palm and -mangrove. Of love they did not speak, for a sufficient reason; each knew that it -was growing and blossoming in the other's heart--that it was there! The man's -love there--in his heart, not only because of the girl's winsome beauty; but -born and created also by the knowledge that she went hand in hand with him in -all that he was endeavouring to accomplish; the woman's love engendered by her -recognition of his bravery and strength of character. If she had not come to -love him before, she did so when he exclaimed that, because the danger was near -to and threatening him, he would never desist from the task on which he had -embarked.</p> - -<p class="normal">But love often testifies its existence otherwise than in -words, and it did so now--not only in the subdued tones of their voices as they -fell on the luscious sultry air of the night, but also in the understanding -which they came to as to how they should be in constant communication with each -other in the future, so that, if aught of evil befell Julian at Desolada, -Beatrix might not be long unaware of the evil.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps," Julian said, as now they were drawing near -Belize--"perhaps it will not be necessary that I should apprise you each day of -my safety, of the fact that everything is all right with me. Therefore----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must know frequently! hear often," Beatrix said, turning -her eyes on him. "I must. Oh! Mr. Ritherdon, forty-eight hours will appear an -eternity to me, knowing, as I shall know, that you are in that dreadful house. -Alone, too, and with none to help you. What may they not attempt against you -next!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whatever they attempt," he replied, "will, I believe, be -thwarted. I take Paz and Zara--especially Zara, now that you tell me she is a -jilted woman--against Sebastian and Madame Carmaux. But, to return to my -communications with you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she said, with an inward catching of her breath--"yes, -your communications with me.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let it be this way. If you do not hear from me at the end of -every forty-eight hours, then begin to think that things may be going wrong with -me; while if, at the end of a second forty-eight hours, you have still heard -nothing from me, well! consider that they have gone very wrong indeed. Shall it -be like that?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" the girl exclaimed with almost a gasp, "I am appalled. -Appalled even at the thought that such an arrangement, such precautions, should -have to be made."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Of course, they may not be necessary," he said; "after all, -we may be misjudging Sebastian."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We are not," she answered emphatically. "I feel it; I know -it. I mistrust that man--I have always disliked him. I feel as sure as it is -possible to be that he meditates harm to you. And--and--" she almost sobbed, -"what is to be done if the second forty-eight hours have passed, and still I -have heard nothing from or of you."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then," he said with a light laugh--"then I think I should -warn some of those gentry whom we have seen loafing about Belize in a light and -tasteful uniform--the constabulary, aren't they?--that a little visit to -Desolada might be useful."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" Beatrix cried again now, "don't make a joke of it, Mr. -Ritherdon! Don't, pray don't. You cannot understand how I feel, nor what my -fears are. If four days went by and I heard no tidings of you, I should begin to -think that--that----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," he said, interrupting her. "No. Don't think that! -Whatever Sebastian may suspect me of knowing, he would not do what you imagine. -He would not----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Kill you, you would say! Why, then, should he mount you on -that horse? And--and was--there no intention of killing you when the coral snake -was found in your bed--a deadly, venomous reptile, whose bite is always fatal -within the hour--nor when that shot was fired at you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is there not a chance," Julian said now, asking a question -instead of answering one, "that, after all, we are entirely on a wrong tack, -granting even that Sebastian is in a false position--a position that by right is -mine?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"What can you mean? How can we be on a false tack?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In this way. Even should it be as I suggest, namely, that he -is--well, the wrong man, how is it possible that he should be aware of it; above -all, how is it possible that he should know that I am aware of it? He has been -at Desolada, and held the position of heir to--to--to my father ever since he -was a boy, a baby. If wrong has been done, he was not and could not be the doer -of it. Therefore, why should he suspect me of being the right man, and -consequently wish to injure me?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Surely the answer is clear enough," Beatrix replied. "However -innocent he may once have been of all knowledge of a wrong having been done, he -possesses that knowledge now--in some way. And," the girl went on, turning her -face towards him as she spoke, so that he could see her features plainly in the -starlight, "he knows that it is to you it has been done. Would not that suffice -to make him meditate harm to you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, granting this, how--how can it be? How can he have -discovered the wrongdoing. A wrongdoing that his father--his supposed -father--died without suspecting."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, that is it; that is what puzzles me more than all else," -Beatrix exclaimed, "that Mr. Ritherdon should have died without suspecting.' -That is it. It is indeed marvellous that he could have been imposed upon from -first to last."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then for a time they rode on in silence, each deep in their -own thoughts: a silence broken at last by Beatrix saying--</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whatever the secret is, I am convinced that one other person -knows it besides himself."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madame Carmaux?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, Madame Carmaux. If we could find out what her influence -over him is, or rather what makes her so strong an ally of his, then I feel sure -that all would be as clear as day."</p> - -<p class="normal">These conversations caused Julian ample food for meditation as -he rode back towards Desolada in the coolness of the dawn--a roseate and -primrose hued dawn--after having left Beatrix Spranger at her father's house.</p> - -<p class="normal">What was Madame Carmaux's influence over Sebastian? Why was -she so strong an ally of his? And for answer to his self-communings, he could -find only one. The answer that this woman, who had been bereft in one short year -of the husband she had hurriedly espoused in her bitterness of desolation as -well as of the little infant daughter who had come as a solace to her misery, -had transferred all the affection left in her heart to the boy she found at -Desolada; no matter whom that boy might be.</p> - -<p class="normal">An affection that year following year had caused to ripen -until, at last, her very existence had become bound up in his. This, combined -with the fact that Desolada had been her home, and that home a comfortable one, -over which she had ruled as mistress for so many years, was the only answer he -could find.</p> - -<p class="normal">All was very still as he rode into the back part of the -mansion where the stables were--for it was now but little after four o'clock, -and consequently there was hardly daylight yet--when, unsaddling the mustang -himself, he closed the stable door again and prepared to make his way into the -house. This was easy enough to do, since, in such a climate, windows were never -closed at night, and, beyond the persianas, which could easily be lifted aside, -there was no bar to any one's entrance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet early as it was or, as it should be said, perhaps, far -advanced as the night was, Sebastian had not yet sought his bed. Instead, he -seemed to have decided on taking whatever rest he might require in the great -saloon in which he seemed to pass the principal part of his time when at home. -He was asleep now in the large Singapore chair he always sat in--it being inside -the room at this time instead of outside on the veranda--possibly for fear of -any night dews that--even in this climate--will sometimes arise; he being near -the table on which was the never-failing bottle of Bourbon whisky. "The young -man's companion," as Sebastian had more than once hilariously termed it.</p> - -<p class="normal">But that was not the only bottle, the only liquid, on the -table by his side.</p> - -<p class="normal">For there stood also by Sebastian's hand a stumpy, neckless -bottle which looked as if it might once have been part of the stock-in-trade of -some chemist's shop--a bottle which was half full of a liquid of the faintest -amber or hay-colour. And, to his astonishment, he likewise saw standing on the -table a small retort, a thing he had never supposed was likely to be known to -Sebastian.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well!" he thought to himself as he moved slowly along the -balcony to the open door, not being desirous of waking the sleeping man, "you -are indeed a strange man, if 'strange' is the word to apply to you. I wonder -what you are dabbling in chemistry for now? Probably no good!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI.</a></h4> - -<h5>JULIAN FEELS STRANGE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">A fortnight had elapsed, it has been -written, since the meeting between Beatrix and Julian on the palm-clad knoll, -and during that time the latter had found himself left very much to his own -resources by Sebastian. Indeed, Julian was never quite able to make out what -became of his "relative" during the day, although at night, when they sat as -usual on the veranda, Sebastian generally explained matters by saying that he -had been absent at one place or another on business, the "business" consisting -of trafficking with other settlers for the sale or purchase of the productions -of the various estates. As, however, few people ever came to Desolada, and none -as "visitors" in the ordinary sense of the word, Julian had no opportunity of -discovering by outside conversation whether the other's statements were accurate -or not. Still, as he said to himself, Sebastian's pursuits were no concern -whatever of his, and at any rate the latter's absence left him free to do -whatever he chose with his own time. To shoot curassows, wild turkeys, and -sometimes monkeys, or, at least, to appear to go out shooting them; though, as -often as not, the expedition ended at All Pines, to which place Julian made his -way every other day to post a letter to Beatrix.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, after a fortnight had been spent in this manner, during -the whole of which period he had not set his eyes on Madame Carmaux, who still -kept her room and was reported to be suffering from a bilious fever, the two men -sat upon the veranda of the lower floor after the evening meal had been -concluded, both of them having their pipes in their mouths. While, close to -Sebastian's hand, was a large tumbler which contained a very good modicum of -Bourbon whisky, slightly dashed with water.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You don't drink at all now," that gentleman said to his -cousin, as he always called him. "Don't you like the stuff, or what? If that's -what it is, I can get something else, you know, from Belize."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Julian replied, "that is not what it is. But of late, -for a week or so now, I have not been feeling well, and perhaps abstinence from -that is the best thing," and he nodded his head towards where the Bourbon whisky -bottle stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I told you so," Sebastian exclaimed; "only you wouldn't -believe me. You were sure to feel seedy sooner or later. Every one does at -first, when they come to this precious colony."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I ought to be pretty well climate-hardened all the same," -Julian remarked, "after the places I've been in. Burmah isn't considered quite -the sweetest thing in the way of health resorts, yet I got through that all -right."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I hope you are not going to have a fever or anything wrong -with your liver. Those are the things people suffer from here, intermittent and -remittent fevers especially. I must give you some medicine."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No, thanks," Julian replied; "I think I can do very well -without it at present. Besides, the time has come for me to bring my visit to a -close, you know. You have been very kind and hospitable, but there is such a -thing as overstaying one's welcome."</p> - -<p class="normal">To his momentary astonishment, since he quite expected that -Sebastian was looking forward to his departure with considerable eagerness and -was extremely desirous of seeing the last of him, this announcement was not -received at all as he expected. In actual truth, Julian had imagined that his -decision would be accepted with the faintest of protests which a host could -make, while, instead, he perceived that Sebastian was absolutely overcome with -something that, if not dismay, was very like it. His face fell, as the light of -the lamp (round which countless moths buzzed and circled in the sickly night -air) testified plainly, and he uttered an exclamation that was one of unfeigned -disappointment, if not regret.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" he said, "but I can't allow that. I can't, indeed. Going -away because you feel queer. Nonsense, man! You'll be all right in a day or so. -And to go away after a visit of two or three weeks only! Why! when people come -such a journey as you have done from England to here, we expect them to stop six -months."</p> - -<p class="normal">"That in any case would be impossible. My leave of absence -only covers that space of time, and cannot be exceeded. But," Julian continued, -"don't think, all the same, that I am afraid of fever or anything of that sort. -That wouldn't frighten me away."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can't see what you came for, then. What the deuce," he -said, speaking roughly now as though his temper was rising, "could have brought -you to Honduras if you weren't going to stay above a month in the place?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I wanted to see the place where my father lived," the other -replied, and as he did so he watched Sebastian's features carefully. For -although, of course, he was supposed to be the son of George Ritherdon who had -lived at Desolada once, he thought it most probable that this remark might cause -his cousin some disturbance.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether it did so or not, he could, however, scarcely tell, -since, as he made it, Sebastian, who was relighting his pipe with a match, let -the latter fall, and instantly leant forward to pick it up again.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh!" he exclaimed, when he had done so, "of course, if you -only wanted to do that, two or three weeks are long enough. Yet, I must say, I -think it is an uncommon short stay. However, I suppose even now you don't mean -to go off in a wonderful hurry?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"To-day," said Julian, "is Wednesday. Suppose, as you are so -kind, that we fix next Monday for my departure."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Next Monday. Next Monday," and by the movement of Sebastian's -lips, the other could see that he was making some kind of calculation. "Next -Monday. Four clear days. Ah!" and his face brightened very much as he spoke. -"Well! that's something, isn't it? Four clear days."</p> - -<p class="normal">Upstairs, when Julian had reached his room, he found himself -meditating upon why Sebastian should have seemed so undoubtedly pleased at the -knowledge that he was going to stay for another "four clear days."</p> - -<p class="normal">"We haven't seen such a wonderful lot of each other," he -reflected, "except for an hour or so after supper; and as I have spent my time -uselessly in mooning about this place and the neighbourhood, he can't suppose -that it's very lively for me. Especially as--as there have been risks."</p> - -<p class="normal">"As--as--as there have been--risks," he repeated a few moments -afterwards. Then, while still he sat on in his chair, gazing, as he recognised, -vaguely out of the window, he noticed that his mind seemed to have got into a -dull, sodden state--that it was not active.</p> - -<p class="normal">"As--there--have--been risks," he repeated once more. And now -he pushed his chair on one side as he rose from it, exclaiming:</p> - -<p class="normal">"This won't do. There's something wrong with me. -As--there--have--no!--no! I don't want to keep on repeating this phrase over and -over again. What is the matter with me? <i>Have</i> I got a fever?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Thinking this, though as he did so he recognised that his head -was by no means clear and that he felt dull and heavy, as a man might do who had -not slept for some nights, he thought, too, that it would be best for him to go -to bed. Doubtless his liver was affected by the climate; doubtless, also, he -would be well enough in the morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is," he said to himself, "a chemist's in the village of -All Pines--I will let him to give me a draught in the morning. I wonder if Zara -ever takes a draught--I--I--mean Beatrix. What rot I am talking!" he murmured to -himself, "and now, to add to other things the lamp is going out."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon he made a step towards where the lamp stood on the -table, and turning up the wicks gently saw that, in a moment, the flames were -leaping up the glass chimney and blackening it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I thought it was going out," he said to himself, turning the -wicks down again rapidly; "I seem to be getting blind too. There is no doubt -that I have got a fever. Let me see."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he spoke he put his hand into his trousers pocket to draw -out his keys, it being his intention to open his Gladstone bag and get out a -little medicine casket he always carried with him when out of England, and -especially when in tropical places; and, in doing so, he leant his head a little -to the side that the pocket was on, his chin drooping somewhat towards the lapel -of his white jacket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I suppose," he muttered, "that my sense of smell's affected -too, now. Or else--jacket's getting--some beastly old--old--old tropical smell -that clings to everything--in--in such countries. Never mind. Here's keys."</p> - -<p class="normal">He drew them forth, regarding the bunch with a stare as though -it was something he was unacquainted with, and then, instead of putting into the -lock of the bag the long slim key which is usual, he endeavoured to insert a -large one that really belonged to a trunk he had left behind at the shipping -office in Belize as not being wanted.</p> - -<p class="normal">Reflection served, however, to call to his mind that this key -was not very likely to open the bag, and at last, after giving an inane smile at -the mistake, he succeeded in his endeavour and was able to get out the contents, -and to withdraw the little medicine casket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Quinine," he said, spelling the word letter by letter as he -held the phial under the lamp. "Quinine. That's it. Don't let's make a mistake. -Q-u-i-n-i-n-e. That's all right. Can't go wrong now."</p> - -<p class="normal">By the aid of the contents of the water-bottle and his glass -he was enabled to swallow two quinine pills of two grains each, and then he -resolved--in a hazy, uncertain kind of way--to go to bed. Whereon, slowly he -divested himself of his clothes and, in a mechanical manner, threw back the -mosquito curtains. But, whatever might be the matter with him, and however -clouded his intellect might be, he was not yet so dense as to forget the strange -occupant of that bed which he had once before discovered there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beatrix said," he muttered, "that coral snake kills in an -hour. I don't want to die in an hour. Let's see if we've got another guest here -to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, as he had done every night since he had returned to -Desolada, he thoroughly explored the bed, doing so, however, on this occasion in -a lethargic, heavy manner which caused him to be some considerable time about -it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Turn to the left to unscrew," he said to himself, recalling -some old schoolboy phrase as he stood now by the lamp ready to extinguish it, -"to the right to screw. Same, I suppose, to turn up and down. Oh! the revolver. -Where's that? May as well have it handy." Whereupon he went over to where he had -hung up his jacket and removed the weapon from the inside pocket.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A nasty smell these tropical places have," he muttered as he -did so. "There's the smell of India--no one ever forgets that--and also the -smell of Africa. Well! strikes me Honduras can go one better than either of -them."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he got into bed.</p> - -<p class="normal">Dizzy, stupefied as he felt, however, it did not seem as if -his stupefaction or semi-delirium, or whatever it was which had overcome him, -was likely to plunge him into a heavy, dull sleep. Instead, he found himself -lying there with his eyes wide open, and, although his brain felt like a lump of -lead, while there was a weight at his forehead as if something were pressing on -it, he was conscious that one of his senses was very acute--namely, the sense of -smell. Either that, or else some very peculiar phase in the fever which he was -experiencing, was causing a strange sense of disgust in his nostrils.</p> - -<p class="normal">"This bed smells just like a temple I went into in Burmah -once," he thought to himself. "What the deuce is the matter with me--or it? -Anyhow, I can't stand it." And, determined not to endure the unpleasantness any -longer, he got up from the bed, while wrapping himself in the dark coverlet he -went over to an old rickety sofa that ran along the opposite side of the room -and lay down upon it.</p> - -<p class="normal">And here, at least, the odour was not apparent. The old -horsehair bolster and pillow did emit, it is true, the peculiar stuffy flavour -which such things will do even in temperate climates; but beyond that nothing -else. The acrid, loathsome odour which he had smelt for the first time when he -leant his head slightly as he felt for his keys, and which he had perceived in a -far more intensified form when he lay down in the bed, was not at all apparent -now. It seemed as if he was, at last, likely to fall asleep.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII.</a></h4> - -<h5>IN THE DARK</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Julian supposed when he was awakened later -on, and felt that he was drenched with a warm perspiration which caused his -light tropical clothes to stick to him with a hot clammy feeling, that he must -have slept for two hours. For now, as he lay on the sofa facing the window, he -could see through the slats of the persianas, which he had forgotten to turn -down, that, peeping round the window-frame there came an edge of the moon, which -he seemed to recollect--dimly, hazily, and indistinctly--had risen late last -night.</p> - -<p class="normal">And that moon--which stole more and more into his view as he -regarded it--was casting now a long ray into the bedroom, so that there came -across the floor a streak of light of about the breadth of nine inches.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet--once his bemused brain had grasped the fact that this ray -was there, while, at the same time, that brain was still clear enough to -comprehend that every moment the flood of light was becoming larger, so that -soon the apartment would be filled with it--he paid no further attention to the -matter, nor to the distant rumbling of thunder far away--thunder that told of a -tropical storm taking place at a distance. Instead, he was endeavouring to argue -silently with himself as to the actual state in which his mind was; as to -whether he was in a dreamy kind of delirium, or whether, in spite of any fever -that might be upon him, he was still able to distinctly understand his -surroundings.</p> - -<p class="normal">If, as he hoped earnestly, the latter was the case; if he was -not delirious, but only numbed by some ailment that had insidiously taken -possession of him--then--why then--surely! he was in deadly peril of some -immediate attack upon him--upon his life perhaps.</p> - -<p class="normal">For, outside those persianas there was another light, two -other lights glittering in upon him that were not cast by the moon, but that -(because now and again her rays were thrown upon them) he discovered to be a -pair of eyes. And not the eyes of an animal either, since they glisten in the -dark, but, instead, human eyes that glared horribly as now and again the -moonbeams caught them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only! was it the truth that they were real tangible eyes, or -were they but a fantasy of a mind unhinged by fever?</p> - -<p class="normal">He must know that! And he could only do so by lying perfectly -still; by watching.</p> - -<p class="normal">Those eyes which stared in at him now were low down to the -floor of the balcony, even as he seemed to recollect Zara's eyes had been on one -occasion during her nocturnal visits to him when he first arrived at Desolada; -yet now he knew, felt sure, that they were not Zara's. Why he felt so sure he -could not tell, nor in the feverish languor that was upon him, could he even -reason with himself as why he did feel so sure. But, at the same time, he told -himself, they were not hers. Of that he was certain.</p> - -<p class="normal">How did they come there, low down--not a foot above the floor -of the veranda? Could they indeed be the eyes of an animal in spite of the white -eyeballs on which the rays shone with such a sickly gleam; did they belong to -some household dog which had chosen this spot for its night's repose? -Yet--yet--if such was the case, why did it not sleep curled up or stretched out, -instead of peering through the latticework with its eyes close to the slats, as -though determined to see all that was in the room and all that was going on in -it. No! it could not be that, while, also it was not what he had deemed it might -be a few minutes ago--the eyes of a snake. It was impossible, since the eyes of -a snake would have been much closer together.</p> - -<p class="normal">They were--there could be no doubt about it! the eyes of a -human being, man or woman. And they were not Zara's. He was sure of that.</p> - -<p class="normal">But still they glared into the room, glared through the dusky -sombreness of the lower part of it, of that part of the floor which, even now, -the moonlight was not illuminating. And then to his astonishment he saw, as the -light flooded the apartment more and more, that those eyes were staring not at -him but towards another portion of the room; towards where the bed stood -enveloped in the long hanging folds of the mosquito curtains, which, to his -distempered mind, seemed in the weird light of the tropical night to look like -the hangings that enshroud a catafalque--a funeral canopy.</p> - -<p class="normal">His hand, shaky though he knew it was from whatever ailed him, -was on his revolver; for a moment or so he lay there asking himself if he should -fire at that wizard thing, that creepy mystery outside his room; if he should -aim fair between those glistening eyeballs and trust to fortune to kill or -disable the mysterious watcher? But still, however, he refrained; for, if his -senses were still in his own possession, if his mind was still able to -understand anything, it understood that near the bed in which he should have -been sleeping had it not been for the evil odours exhaled from it to-night, -there was something that might be a more fitting object of his discharge than -the creature outside.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," he thought to himself, "I am neither mad nor delirious -nor drenched with fever, those eyes are watching something in this room, and -that something is not myself."</p> - -<p class="normal">Should he turn his head; could he turn it towards that dark -patch behind the mosquito curtains which was not illuminated with the moon's -rays? Could he do it as a man turns in his sleep--restlessly--so that in the -action there might be nothing which should alarm whatever lurked in the darkness -over there; the thing that, having got into his room in the night full of evil -intentions towards him, was now itself being watched, suspected, perhaps -trapped. Could he do it?</p> - -<p class="normal">As he meditated thus, feeling sure now that his stupor, his -density of mind, was not what it had been--recognising with a feeling of devout -thankfulness that, whatever his state might hitherto have been, his mind was now -becoming clear and his intellect collected, he prepared to put this -determination into practise. He would roll over on to his right side, as he had -seen sleepy sailors roll over on to theirs in the watch below; he would roll -over too, with his hand securely on the butt of his revolver. And then--if--if, -as he felt certain was the case, there was some dark skulking thing hiding -behind his bedhead, if he should see another pair of eyes gleaming out in the -rays of the moon--why, then, woe befall it! He had had enough of these midnight -hauntings from one visitant or another in this house of mystery; he would fire -straight at that figure, he would kill it dead, if so it must be, even if it -were Sebastian himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he turned, imitating a sleeper's restlessness, as well as -he was able, there came two interruptions--interruptions that stayed his hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">From near the bed--he was right! those eyes outside had been -watching something that was inside there!--close to him, across the room, he -heard a sound. A sound that was half a one, half an inward catching of the -breath, a gasp. Yet so low, so quickly suppressed, that none who had not -suspected, none who had not been on the watch for the slightest sign, would have -heard or noticed it. But he had heard it!</p> - -<p class="normal">The other was a noisier, a more palpable interruption. -Sebastian, below in the great saloon on the front was singing to himself, loudly -and boisterously, and then, equally boisterously, was wishing Madame Carmaux -"Good-night." Answering evidently, too, some question, which Julian could not -hear put to him by her, and expressing also the hope that she would feel better -soon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," thought Julian, "she cannot quit her room. It is -strange. Strange, too, that she should be up so late. It must be two o'clock, at -least."</p> - -<p class="normal">With a glance from his eye towards the lower part of the -window, which still he could see from the position in which he lay, he observed -that the mysterious watcher outside was gone. Those eyes, at least, no longer -gleamed from low down by the floor; through the slats of the blind he perceived -that the spot where they had lately been was now a void. The watcher was gone! -But what of the one who had been watched, of the lurking creature that was near -his bed, and that had gasped with fear even as he turned over on the sofa? What -of that? Well, it was still there. He was alone with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">His thumb drew back the trigger of the revolver, the -well-known click was heard--the click which can never be disguised or silenced. -A click that many a man has listened to with mortal agony and terror of soul, -knowing that it sounds his knell. Then again on his ears there fell that gasp, -that indrawn catching of the breath, which told of a terrified object close by -his side.</p> - -<p class="normal">And it could not be Sebastian who had uttered it; Sebastian, -the one person alone who had reason to meditate the worst towards him that one -human being can desire for another. It could not be he. For was he not still -singing boisterously below in the front of the house? It could not be he. And, -Julian reflected, he was about to take a life, the life of some one whom he -himself did not know, of some one whose presence in his room even at night, at -such an hour of the night, might yet be capable of explanation; that might not, -in absolute fact, bode evil to him. Suppose, that after all, it should be Zara, -and that again she was there for some purpose of serving his interest as he had -told Beatrix he believed she had been more than once before. Suppose that, and -that now he should fire and kill her! How would he feel then! What would his -remorse be?</p> - -<p class="normal">No! He would not do it.</p> - -<p class="normal">Instead, therefore, he whispered the words, "Zara, what is -it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as he did so, even as he spoke, he noticed that a change -had come over the room. It was quite dark now; the moon's rays no longer gleamed -in; the moon itself was gone, obscured. What had happened? In a moment the -question was answered.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon the balcony outside there came a rattle as though a -deluge of small stones had been hurled down upon it, and he, who knew well what -the violence of tropical storms is, recognized that one had broken over -Desolada, and that the rain, if not hail, was descending in a deluge. A moment -later there came, too, a flash of purple, gleaming lightning which was gone -before he could turn his eyes into the quarter of the room where lurked the -thing that he suspected, felt sure was there. Then, over all, there burst the -roar of the thunder from above, reverberating, pealing all around, rumbling, and -reechoing a moment later in the Cockscomb Mountains.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Zara!" he called louder now, so as to make himself heard -above the din of the storm--"Zara, why do you not answer me? I mean you no -harm."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, if amid this tumult any answer was given, he did not hear -it. For now the crash of the thunder, the downpour of the rain, the screaming of -the parrots, and the demoniacal howlings of the baboons farther away, served to -create such a turmoil that scarcely could the cry of a human voice be heard -above it all.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am determined," Julian exclaimed, "to know who and what it -is that cowers there!" Wherewith he sprang from off the sofa on which he had -previously raised himself to a sitting position, and, with a leap, rushed -towards the mosquito curtains hanging by the bedhead. "I will see who and what -you are!" he cried, feeling certain that in this spot was still lurking some -strange, secret visitant.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet to his astonishment the spot was empty when he reached it. -Neither human being nor animal, nor anything whatever, was there.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am indeed struck with fever and delirious," he muttered to -himself, "or if not that, am mad. Yet I could have sworn it was as I thought."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then again, as he stood there holding in his hand the gauzy -curtains which he had brushed aside, the storm burst afresh over the house with -renewed violence; again the sheets of rain poured down; once more the purple -tropical lightning flashed and the thunder roared. And as the tempest beat down -on all beneath its violence, and while a moment of intense darkness was followed -by an instant of brilliant light, Julian heard a stronger rattle of the Venetian -blinds than the wind had made, and saw, as again there came a flash of -lightning, a dark, hooded figure creep out swiftly past them on to the -balcony--a figure shrouded to the eyes, yet in the dark eyes of which, as the -lightning played on them, there seemed to be a look of awful fear.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>WARNED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Blue as the deepest gleam within the -sapphire's depth were the heavens; bright as molten gold were the sun's rays the -next morning when the storm was past--leaving, however, in its track some marks -of its passage. For the flowers in the gardens round the house were beaten down -now with the weight of water that had fallen on them; beneath the oleanders and -the flamboyants, the allamandas and ixoras, the blossoms strewed the pampas -grass in masses; while many crabs--which wander up from the seacoast in search -of succulent plants whereon to feed--lay dead near the roots of the bushes and -shrubs.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet a day's scorching sun, to be followed perhaps by an entire -absence of further rain for a month, would soon cause fresh masses of bloom to -take the place of those which were destroyed, especially as now they had -received the moisture so necessary to their existence. And Julian, standing on -his balcony and wondering who that strange nocturnal visitor was who had fled on -to this very balcony a few hours before, thought that during his stay in this -mysterious place he had never seen its surroundings look so fair.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether it was that he had received considerable benefit from -the quinine which he had taken overnight, or whether it was from the total -change of clothing which he had now assumed in place of the garments he had worn -up to now, or perhaps from his not having lain through the night upon the bed -which, particularly of late, had seemed so malodorous, he felt very much better -this morning. His brain no longer appeared numbed nor his mind hazy, nor had he -any headache.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which," he said to himself, "is a mighty good thing. For now -I want all my wits about me. This affair has got to be brought to a conclusion -somehow, and Julian Ritherdon is the man to do it. Only," he said, with now a -smile on his face--"only, no more of the simple trusting individual you have -been, my friend--if you ever have been such! Instead of suspecting Master -Sebastian of being in the wrong box you have got to prove him so, and instead of -suspecting him to be a--well! say a gentleman who hasn't got much regard for -you, you have got to get to windward of him. Now go full speed ahead, my son."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon, to commence the process of getting to windward of -Sebastian and also of carrying out the movement known in his profession as going -"full speed ahead," he informed the nigger who brought him his shaving-water -that he felt very poorly indeed, and would, with Sebastian's permission, remain -in his room that day.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Because," he said to himself, "I think it would be as well if -I kept a kind of watch upon this tastefully furnished apartment. Like all the -rest of this house, it is becoming what the conjurers call 'a home of mystery,' -and is consequently getting more and more interesting. And there are only the -'four clear days' left wherein the mystery can be solved--if ever."</p> - -<p class="normal">A few moments after he had made these reflections he heard a -tap at his bedroom door, and on bidding the person who was outside to come in, -Sebastian made his appearance, there being on his face a look of regret at the -information which he said the negro had just conveyed to him.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I say, old fellow, this is bad news. It won't do at all. Not -at all. What is the matter with you?" he exclaimed in his usual bluff, hearty -way.</p> - -<p class="normal">"A touch of fever, I'm afraid," Julian replied. "Not much, I -fancy, but still worth being careful about. I'll keep my room to-day if you -don't mind."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Mind!" Sebastian exclaimed. "Mind; why, my dear Julian, -that's the very best thing you can do, the very thing you ought to do. And I'll -send you something appetizing by Zara. Let me see. They have brought in this -morning some of that mountain mullet you liked so much; that will do first-rate -for breakfast with some Guava jelly. How will that suit?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing could be better. Those mountain mullet are superb. -You are very good."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! that's nothing. And, look here, I have brought you a -little phial of our physic-nut oil, which the natives say will cure anything, -and almost bring a dead man back to life. Take three or four drops of that, my -boy, in your coffee, and you'll feel a new man," whereon he drew a little phial -from his pocket and stood it on the table. Then, after a few more sympathetic -remarks he prepared to depart, saying he would have the breakfast prepared and -sent up by Zara at once.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was glad," Julian said casually, as Sebastian approached -the door, "to hear you wishing Madame Carmaux good-night, last night. I didn't -know she was well enough to get downstairs yet."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! yes," the other replied in a more or less careless tone, -"she came down to supper last night and sat up late with me. I was glad of her -company, you know. So you heard us, eh? Did you hear us singing, too? We got -quite inspirited over her return to health. If you'd only been down, my boy, we -would have had a rollicking time of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Never mind," said Julian, "better luck next time. You wait -till I do come down and we'll have a regular chorus. When I give you some of my -wardroom songs, you'll be surprised."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Right," said Sebastian, with a laugh; "the sooner the -better," whereon he took himself off.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I didn't hear the silvery tones of Madame Carmaux, all the -same," Julian thought to himself after the other was gone, "neither do I -remember that I heard her return his 'good-night.' However, Sebastian's own -tones are somewhat stentorian when he lets himself go, or as our Irish doctor -used to say of the bo'sun's, 'enough to split a pitcher,' so I suppose that -isn't very strange."</p> - -<p class="normal">He took down his jacket now, and indeed the whole of his white -drill suit which he had discarded for an exactly similar one that he had in his -large Gladstone bag, and began to roll it up preparatory to packing it away. -Though, as he did so, he again perceived the horrible fœtid odour which it -had emitted overnight--the same odour that had also been so perceptible when he -had laid his head upon the pillow. The revolting smell that had driven him from -the bed to seek repose on that sofa.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Faugh!" he exclaimed, "it is loathsome. Even now, with the -room full of the fresh morning air, I feel as if I were getting giddy and -bemused again." Whereon, and while uttering some remarks that were by no means -complimentary to Honduras and some of its perfumes, he began rolling the clothes -up as quickly as he could. Yet while he did so, being now engaged with the -jacket, his eye was attracted by the lapel of the collar, the white surface of -which was discoloured--though only in the faintest degree discoloured--a -yellowish, grey colour. Each lapel, down to where the topmost button was! Then, -after a close inspection of the jacket all over, he perceived that nowhere else -was it similarly stained.</p> - -<p class="normal">His curiosity becoming excited by this, since in no way could -he account for such a thing (he distinctly remembered that there had been no -stain, however faint, on the lapel before), he regarded the waistcoat next; and -there, on the small lapel of that--both left and right--were the same marks.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange," he muttered, "strange. Very strange. One might say -that the washerwoman had spilt something on coat and waistcoat--purposely. -Something, too, that smells uncommonly nasty."</p> - -<p class="normal">For, by inspection, or rather test with his nostrils, he was -easily able to perceive that no other part of his discarded clothing emitted any -such disagreeable odour. While, too, as he applied his nose again and again to -the faint stains, he also perceived that in his brain there came once more the -giddiness and haziness from which he had suffered so much last night--as well as -the feeling of stupid density amounting almost to dreaminess or delirium.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If that stuff was under my nose all day long yesterday, and -perhaps for a week or so before," he reflected, "I don't wonder that at last I -became almost wandering in my mind, as well as stupefied." Then, a thought -striking him, he went over to the pillow on the bed and gazed down on it. And -there, upon it, on either side, was the same stain--faint, yellow, and emitting -the same acrid, loathsome odour.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So, so," he said to himself, "I begin to understand. I begin -to understand very well, and to comprehend Sebastian's chemical experiments. The -woman who washed my jacket and waistcoat in England is not the same woman who -washed that pillow-case in British Honduras. Yet the same stain and the same -odour are on both. All right! A good deal may happen in the next four days."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as he thus meditated, he opened the little phial of -physic-nut oil, which Sebastian had thoughtfully brought him and left behind -with injunctions that he should take three or four drops of it in his coffee, -and smelt it. After which he said, "Certainly, I won't fail to do so. All right, -Sebastian, it's full speed ahead now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">A little later, Zara arrived bearing in her hands a large tray -on which were all the necessaries for a breakfast that would have satisfied a -hungry man, let alone an "invalid." There were, of course, innumerable other -servants about this vast house, but Zara always seemed to perform the principal -duties of waiting upon those who constituted the superiors, and in many cases to -issue orders to the others, in much such a way as a butler in England issues -orders to his underlings.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, having deposited the tray upon the table, which she -cleared for the purpose, she uncovered the largest dish and submitted to -Julian's gaze a good-sized trout reposing in it and looking extremely -appetizing.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," said Julian, as he regarded the fish, "that isn't what -Sebastian promised me. He said he would send one of those delicious mountain -mullet we had the other night."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the half-caste girl's lustrous eyes dwelt almost -meditatively, as it seemed, on him; then she said, "There are none. The men have -not caught any for a long time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"But Mr. Ritherdon said there were. That the men----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was wrong," she interrupted, her eyes roaming all round -the room, while it seemed almost to Julian as though, particularly, they sought -the spot where the pillow was. "He was wrong. You eat that," looking at the -dish. "That will do you no--will do you good."</p> - -<p class="normal">And it appeared to Julian, now thoroughly on the <i>qui vive</i> -as to everything that went on around him as well as to every word that was -uttered, as though she emphasized the word "that."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I'm glad to hear Madame Carmaux is so much better," he said, -conversationally, as she finished arranging the breakfast before him and poured -out his coffee. "They were pretty gay below last night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Below last night," she repeated, her eyes full on him. "Below -last night. Were they? Did you hear her below last night?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Didn't you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I was not there," she answered; "I was nursing a sick woman -in the plantation."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! You didn't pass your evening on the balcony, then, as you -have sometimes done?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she said, and still her eyes gazed so intently into his -that he wondered what was going on in her mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No." Then, suddenly, she asked, "When are you going away?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is not polite, Zara. One never asks a guest----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Why," she interrupted, speaking almost savagely and showing -her small white teeth, as though with an access of sudden temper--"why do you -turn everything into a--a--<i>chanza</i>--a joke. Are you a fo--a madman?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Really, Zara!" Then, seeing that the girl was contending with -some inward turbulence of spirit which seemed almost likely to end in an -outbreak, Julian said quietly, seriously, "No, Zara, I am neither a fool nor a -madman. Look here, I believe you are a good, honest, straightforward girl. -Therefore, I will be plain with you. I have told Mr. Ritherdon that I am going -on Monday. In four days----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go at once!" she interrupted again. "At once. Get news from -Belize, somehow, that calls you away. Leave Desolada. Begone!" she continued in -her quaint, stilted English, which she spoke well enough except when obliged to -use either a Spanish or Carib word. "Begone!" And as she said this it seemed -almost to Julian that, with those dark gleaming eyes of hers, she was -endeavouring to convey some intelligence to him which she would not put into -words.</p> - -<p class="normal">"That," he said, referring to her last sentence, "is what I am -thinking about doing. Only, even then, I shall not have done with Desolada and -its inhabitants. There is more for me to do yet, Zara."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></h4> - -<h5>JULIAN'S EYES ARE OPENED</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Julian's slumbers of the past night having -been more or less disturbed by the various incidents of, first, his drowsy -delirium, then of those figures of the watcher and the watched, as well as by -the storm and the sight of the departing form of the latter individual, he -decided that, during the course of the present day, he would endeavour to obtain -some sleep. Especially he determined thus because, now, he knew that there must -be no more sleeping at night for him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whether he remained in Desolada for the next four nights as he -had consented to do, or whether he decided to follow Zara's suggestion and find -some excuse for departing at once, he understood plainly that to sleep again -when night was over all the house might be fraught with deadly risk to him. What -that risk was, what the tangible shape which it would be likely later on to -assume, he was not yet able to conclude--but that it existed he had no doubt. -Bright and <i>insouciant</i> -as he was, with also in his composition a total absence of fear, he was still -sufficiently cool, as well as sufficiently intelligent to understand that here, -in Desolada, he was not only regarded as an inconvenient interloper, but one who -must be got rid of somehow.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Which proves, if it proves anything," he thought, "that -Sebastian knows all about why I am in this country; and also that, secure as his -position seems, there is some flaw in it which, if brought to light, will -destroy that position. I know it, too, now, am certain that George Ritherdon's -story is true--and, somehow, I am going to prove it so. I have muddled the time -away too long; now I am going to be a man of action. When I get back to Belize -that action begins. Mr. Spranger said I ought to confide in a lawyer, and in a -lawyer I will confide. Henceforth, we'll thresh this thing out thoroughly."</p> - -<p class="normal">Zara had come in again and removed the remnants of the -breakfast, and as he had told her that he meant to sleep as long as ever it was -possible, she had promised him that he should not be disturbed. Wherefore, he -now proceeded to darken the room in every way that he could, without thoroughly -excluding the air; namely, by letting down the curtains of the windows as well -as by closing the persianas.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I suppose," he thought to himself, "there is no likelihood of -my visitor coming in, in the broad daylight, yet, all the same, I will endeavour -to make sure." Upon which he proceeded to put in practise an old trick which in -his gunroom days he had often played upon his brother middies (and had had -played upon himself); while remembering, as he did so, the merry shouts which -had run along the gangway of the lower deck on dark nights over its successful -accomplishment. He took a piece of stout cord and tied it across from one side -of the window to the other at about a foot and a half from the floor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," he said, "If any one tries to come in here -to-day--well! if they don't break their legs they'll make such a din as will -lead to their falling into my hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">It was almost midday when he laid himself down on the sofa to -obtain his much needed rest--midday, and with the sun streaming down vertically -and making the apartment, in spite of its being darkened, more like the engine -room of a steamer than anything else; yet, soon, he was in a deep refreshing -sleep in spite of this disadvantage. A slumber so calm and refreshing that he -slept on and on, until, at last, the room grew cool; partly by aid of a gentle -breeze which was now blowing down from the summits of the Cockscomb Mountains -and partly by the coming of the swift tropical darkness.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then he awoke, not knowing where he was nor being able to -recall that fact even for a moment or so after he was awake, nor to understand -why he lay there in the dark. Yet, as gradually he returned to his every-day -senses, he became aware that he did not alone owe his awakening to the fact that -he had exhausted his desire for slumber, but also to a sound which fell upon his -ears. The sound of a slight tapping on his bedroom door.</p> - -<p class="normal">Astonished at the darkness, which now enveloped the room, more -than at anything else--for the tapping he attributed to Zara having brought him -his evening meal--he went to the door and turned the key, he having been careful -to lock the former securely before going to sleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, to his surprise, when he had opened the door and peered -into the passage, which was also now enveloped in the shadow of night, he saw a -figure standing there which was not that of Zara, but, instead, of the -half-caste Paz.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" he asked, staring at the man and wondering what -he wanted. "What! Is anything the matter?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing very much," the half-caste answered, his eyes having -a strange glitter in them as they rested on Julian's face. "Only, think you like -to see funny sight. You like see Seńor Sebastian look very funny. You come with -me. Quietly."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What do you mean, Paz?" Julian asked, wondering if this was -some ruse whereby to beguile him into danger. "What is it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I show you Massa Sebastian very funny. He very strange. Don't -think he find mountain mullet very good for him; don't think he like drink very -much with physic-nut oil in it," and he gave that little bleating laugh which -Julian had heard before and marvelled at.</p> - -<p class="normal">Mountain mullet! Physic-nut oil! The very things that -Sebastian had suggested to Julian that morning, yet of which Julian had not -partaken. The mullet, although Zara had said the men had not caught any for a -long time. The phial which he had brought to the room, but the oil of which he -had not touched!</p> - -<p class="normal">"There was no mountain mullet caught--" he began, but Paz -interrupted him with that bleating laugh once more, though subdued as befitted -the circumstances.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ho!" he said. "Nice mountain mullet in Desolada this morning. -He order it cook for you. Only--Zara good girl. She love Sebastian, so she give -it him and give you trout. Very good girl. But--it make him funny. So, too, -physic-nut oil. But that wrong name. Physic-nut oil very much. Not good if mixed -with drop of Amancay."</p> - -<p class="normal">Amancay! Where had Julian heard that name before! Then, swift -as lightning, he remembered. He recalled a conversation he had had with Mr. -Spranger one evening over the various plants and herbs of the colony, and also -how he had listened to stories of the deadly powers of many of them--of the -Manzanillo, or Manchineel, of the Florispondio and the Cojon del gato--above -all, of the Amancay, a plant whose juice caused first delirium; then, if taken -continually, raving madness, and then--death. A plant, too, whose juice could -work its deadly destruction not only by being taken inwardly, but by being -inhaled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Indians," Mr. Spranger had said, "content themselves with -that. If they can only get the opportunity of sprinkling it on the earth where -their enemy lies, or of smearing his tent canvas with it, or his clothes, the -trick is done. And that enemy's only chance is that he, too, should know of its -properties. Then he is safe. For the odour it emits is such that none who have -ever smelt it once can fail to recognise its presence. But on those who are -unacquainted with those properties--well! God help them!"</p> - -<p class="normal">He wondered as he recalled those words if he had turned white, -so white that, even in the dusk of the corridor, the man standing by his side -could perceive it; he wondered, too, if his features had assumed a stern, set -expression in keeping with the determination that now was dominant in his mind. -The determination to descend to where Sebastian Ritherdon was, to stand face to -face with him, to ask him whether it was he who had sprinkled his jacket and his -waistcoat, as well as the pillow on which he nightly slept, with the accursed, -infernal juice of the deadly Amancay. Ask! Bah! what use to ask, only to receive -a lie in return! What need at all to ask? <i>He knew!</i></p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he said to Paz, even as he went back into the room for -his revolver. "Come, take me to where this fellow is. Yet," he said pausing, -"you say I shall see a funny sight. What is it? Is he mad--or dying?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He funny. He eat mountain mullet, he drink physic-nut oil in -wine. Zara love him dearly, he----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," Julian again said, speaking sternly. "Come."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then they both went along the corridor and down the great -staircase.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let us go out garden, to veranda," Paz whispered. "Then we -look in over veranda through open window. See funny things. Hear funny words." -Whereupon accompanied by Julian, he went out by a side door of the long hall, -and so came around into the garden in front of the great saloon in which -Sebastian always sat in the evening.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sheltering themselves behind a vast bush of flamboyants which -grew close up to where the veranda ran, they were both able to see into the -room, when in truth the sight of Sebastian was enough to make the beholders deem -him mad.</p> - -<p class="normal">His coat was off, flung across the back of the chair, but in -his hand he had a large white pocket handkerchief with which he incessantly -wiped his face, down which the perspiration was pouring. Yet, even as he did so, -it was plain to observe that he was seeking eagerly for something which he could -not find. A large campeachy-wood cabinet stood up against the wall exactly -facing the spot where the window was, and the doors of this were now set open, -showing all the drawers dragged out of their places and the contents turned out -pell-mell. While the man, lurching unsteadily all the time and with a stumbling, -heavy motion in his feet which seemed familiar enough to Julian (since only last -night he had stumbled and lurched in the same way), was seizing little bottles -and phials and holding them up to the light, and wrenching the corks out of them -to sniff at the contents, and then hurling them away from him with an action of -despair and rage.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He look for counter-poison," Paz said, using the Spanish -expression, which Julian understood well enough. "Maybe, he not find it. Then he -die," and the bleating laugh sounded now very much like a gloating chuckle. -"Then he die," he repeated.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is there, then, an antidote?" Julian asked.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Yes," Paz whispered. "Yes, antidoty, if he find it. If -he has not taken too much."</p> - -<p class="normal">"How can he have taken too much? Why take any?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer Paz said nothing, but instead, looked at Julian. -And, in the light that now streamed out across the veranda to where they stood, -dimmed and shaded as it might be by the thick foliage and flower of the -flamboyant bush, the latter could see that the half-caste's eyes glittered -demoniacally and that his fingers were twitching, and judged that it was only by -great constraint that the latter suppressed the laugh he indulged in so often.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, while no word was spoken between them, Julian felt the -long slim fingers of Paz touch his and push something into his hand, something -that he at once recognised to be the phial of physic-nut oil; or, rather, the -phial that had once contained the physic-nut oil, diluted with the juice of the -murderous Amancay.</p> - -<p class="normal">"All love Sebastian here," the semi-savage hissed, his -remaining white teeth shining horribly in the flickering gleam through the -flamboyant. "Love him, oh! so dear."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He find it. He find it," he muttered excitedly an instant -afterwards. "Look! Look! Look!"</p> - -<p class="normal">And Julian did look; fascinated by Sebastian's manner.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the other held now a small bottle in his hand which he had -unearthed from some drawer in the interior of the great cabinet, and was holding -it between his eyes and the globe of the lamp, gazing as steadily as he could at -the mixture which it doubtless contained. As steadily as he could, because he -still swayed about a good deal while he stood there; perhaps because, too, his -hands trembled. Then, with a look of exultation on his features and in his -bloodshot eyes, plainly to be observed from where the two men stood outside, he -tore the stopper out with his teeth, smelt the contents, and instantly seizing a -tumbler emptied them into that, drenched it with water, and drank the draught -down.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, a moment later, Sebastian performed another action -equally extraordinary--he seeming to remember--as they judged by the look of -dawning recollection on his face--something he had forgotten! He came, still -lurching, a little nearer to the open window, and then in a loud voice--a voice -that was evidently intended to be heard at some distance--said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Well, good-night, Miriam. Good-night, I am so thankful to -think that you are better! Good night."</p> - -<p class="normal">And as he uttered those words, Julian understood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I see his ruse, his trick," he muttered. "He thinks that I am -still upstairs, that he is deceiving me, making me believe she is down here. -But, though I am not up there, she is! And perhaps in my room again. Quick, Paz! -Come. Follow me!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV.</a></h4> - -<h5>A DÉNOUEMENT</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">By the same way that they had descended they -now mounted to the floor above. Only, it was not Julian's intention to re-enter -his room in the same manner he had left it; namely, by the door opening out of -the corridor. To do that would be useless, unavailing. If the woman whom he -suspected was in that room now, the first sound of his footstep outside, be it -never so light, would serve to put her on the alert, to cause her to flee out on -to the balcony and away round the whole length of it, and, thereby, with her -knowledge of all the entrances and exits of the house, to evade him.</p> - -<p class="normal">That, he reflected, would not do. If she escaped him now, then -the determination he had arrived at, to this night bring matters to a climax, -would be thwarted. Some other way must be found.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take me on to the veranda," he whispered to Paz; "to where I -shall be outside the room I occupy. This time I will be the watcher gazing in, -not the person who is watched."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I take you," Paz said. "I show you. Same way I get there last -night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Last night! So! That was you outside, lying low down? It was -you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Paz only gave him now that look which he had given before, -while he seemed at the same time to be struggling with that bleating laugh of -his--the laugh which would surely have betrayed his presence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," he said, "I put you in big room of all. Old man -Ritherdon call it guest room. Sebastian born there."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was he?" Julian asked in a whisper, "was he? Was he born -there?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He born there. Come."</p> - -<p class="normal">So, doubtless, the half-caste believed--since who in all -Honduras disputed it! Who--except Julian himself, and, perhaps, the woman he -loved; perhaps, too, her father.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, the information that he was now being led to the room in -which he felt sure that it was he who had been born and not the other, filled -him with a kind of mystic, weird feeling as they crept along side by side -towards it. For the first time since he had come to Desolada, he was about to -visit the spot in which he had been given birth--the spot in which his mother -had died; the spot wherein he had been stolen from that dying mother's side by -his uncle.</p> - -<p class="normal">Thinking thus, as they approached the door, he wondered, too, -if by his presence in that room any inspiration would come to him as to how this -other man had been made to supersede him, to appear as himself in the eyes of -the little world in which he moved and lived. A man received as being what he -was not, without question and with his claim undisputed.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go in," Paz whispered now, as he turned the handle. "Go in. -From the window you see all that pass--if anything pass. Or you easy get on -balcony. Your room there to right, hers there to left. If she go from one to -other--then--you surely see."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You will not accompany me?" Julian asked, wondering for the -moment if there was treachery lurking in the man's determination to leave him at -so critical a time; wondering, too, if, after all, he was about to warn the -woman whom he, Julian, now sought to entrap in some nefarious midnight -proceeding, of her danger. Yet, he argued with himself, that must be impossible. -If he intended to do that, would he have divulged how Zara had changed one dish -of food for another, so that he who set the trap had himself been caught in it; -would he have given him so real a sign as to what use the phial had been put to -as by placing it, empty, in his hands?</p> - -<p class="normal">And, even though now Paz should meditate treachery--as, in -truth, he did not believe he meditated it--still he cared nothing. What he had -resolved to do he would do. What he had begun he would go on with. Now--at -once--this very night!</p> - -<p class="normal">"No. No," Paz said, in answer to his question. "No. I come not -with you. I live not here but in plantation mile away. If I found -here--he--he--try kill me. But you he will not kill. You big, strong, brave. -And," the man continued in a whisper that was in truth a hiss, "it is you who -must kill. Kill! Kill! Remember the snake in bed, the shot in wood, the mountain -mullet, the Amancay. Now, I go. This is the room."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then almost imperceptibly he was gone, his form disappearing -like a black blur on the still darker, denser blackness of the corridor.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without hesitation, Julian softly turned the handle and -entered the room that gave egress to the balcony which he wished to gain. And -although it was as dark as night itself, there was a something, a feeling of -space, quite perceptible to his highly-strung senses, which told him that it was -a vast chamber--a room suitable for the birth of the son and heir of the great -house and its belongings.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Strange," he thought to himself, "that thus I should revisit -the place in which I first saw the light--that I, who in the darkness was -spirited away, should, in the darkness, return to it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, black, impenetrable as all around was, there was an -inferior density of darkness at the other end of the great room, away where the -window was; and towards that he directed his footsteps, knowing that there, -between the laths of the persianas which it possessed in common with every other -room in the house, would be his opportunity. There was the coign of vantage -through which he could keep watch and make observations.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he thought, "if I see her going from her room to mine I -shall know enough, as also I shall do if I see her returning from mine to hers. -While, if she does neither, then it will be easy enough to discover whether she -has been to that room or is in it still."</p> - -<p class="normal">He was close by the window now, having felt his way carefully -to it; he proceeded slowly so as to stumble against no obstacle nor make any -noise; and then he knew that, should any form, however shrouded, pass before -this window he could not fail to observe it. It was not so dark outside as to -prevent that; also the gleam of the stars was considerable. And as Paz had done -outside on the balcony last night, so he did now inside the room. He lowered -himself noiselessly to the floor, kneeling on the soft carpet which this, the -principal bedchamber possessed, while through a slat a foot from the ground, -which he turned gently with his finger, he gazed out.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first nothing occurred. All was as still, as silent as -death; save for sometimes the bark of a distant dog, the chatter of an aroused -bird in the palms near by, and the occasional midnight howl of a baboon farther -away.</p> - -<p class="normal">Wonderfully still it was; so undisturbed, indeed, except for -those sounds, that almost a breath of air might have been heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, after half an hour, he heard a noise. The noise being a -gentle one, but still perceptible, of the rattle of the persianas belonging to -some window a little distance off. And to the left of him. Surely to the left of -him!</p> - -<p class="normal">"She is coming," he thought, holding his breath. "Coming. On -her way to my room. To do what? What?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But now the silence was again intense. Upon the boards of the -veranda he could hear no footfall--Nothing. Not even the creak of one of the -planks. Nothing! What had she done? What was she doing? Almost he thought that -he could guess. Could divine how she--this woman of mystery, this midnight -visitor who had crouched near his bed some twenty-four hours ago, who had stolen -forth from his room into the storm as a thwarted murderess might have -stolen--having now reached the veranda, was pausing to make sure that all was -safe; to make sure that there was nothing to thwart her; to disturb her in the -doing of that--whatever it might be--which she meditated.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then there did fall a sound upon his ears, yet one which he -only heard because it was close to him; because also all was so still. The sound -of an indrawn breath, gentle as the sigh given in its sleep by a little child, -yet issuing from a breast that had long been a stranger to the innocence of -childhood. An indrawn breath, that was in truth--that must be--the effect of a -supreme nervousness, of fear.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who is she?" he wondered to himself, while still--his own -breath held--he watched and listened. "What is she to him? She is twice his age. -Surely this is not the love of the hot, passionate Southern woman! What can she -be to him that thus she jeopardizes her life? In my place many men would shoot -her dead who caught her as--as--I--shall catch her--ere long."</p> - -<p class="normal">For he knew now (as he could not doubt!) that no step was to -be omitted which should remove him from Desolada, from existence.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sebastian and she both know that he fills my place. -Well--to-night we come to an understanding. To-night I tell them that I know it -too."</p> - -<p class="normal">While he thus meditated, from far down at the front of the -house there once more arose the trolling of a song in Sebastian's deep bass -tones. A noisy song; a drinking, carousing song; one that should have had for -its accompaniment the banging of drums and the braying of trombones.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bah!" muttered Julian to himself, "you are too late, -vagabond! Shout and bellow as much as you choose--hoping thereby to drown all -other sounds, such as those of stealthy feet and rattling window blinds, or to -throw dust in my eyes. Shout as much as you like. She is here on her evil -errand--a moment later she will be in my hands."</p> - -<p class="normal">In truth it seemed to be so. Past where his eyes were, there -went now, as that boisterous song uprose, a black substance which obscured the -great gleaming stars from them--the lower part of a woman's gown. Amid the -turmoil that proceeded from below, she was creeping on towards her goal.</p> - -<p class="normal">Julian could scarcely restrain himself now--now that she had -passed onward: almost was he constrained to thrust aside the blinds of this -great window and spring out upon the woman. But he knew it was not yet the time, -though it was at hand. She must be outside the window of his own room by now. -The time was near.</p> - -<p class="normal">Therefore, taking care that neither should his knees crack nor -any other sound whatever be made by him, he rose to his feet. Then, he put his -hand to the side of the laths to be ready to thrust them aside and follow her. -But, perhaps, because that hand was not as steady as it should have been, those -laths rattled the slightest. Had she heard? No! He knew that could not be, since -now he heard the rattling of others--of those belonging to his own room. Those -would drown the lesser noise that he had made--those----</p> - -<p class="normal">He paused in his reflections, amazed. Down where his room was -to the right he heard a sound greater than any which could be caused by the -gentle pushing aside of a Venetian blind--he heard a smothered cry, and also -something that resembled a person stumbling forward, falling!</p> - -<p class="normal">Then in a moment he recollected. He knew what had happened. He -had forgotten to remove the cord he had stretched across the window at midday -ere he slept. He had left it there, and she had fallen forward over it.</p> - -<p class="normal">In a moment he was, himself, on the veranda and outside the -window of his own darkened room. In another he was in that room, had struck a -match, and saw her--shrouded, hooded to the eyes--over by the door opening on to -the corridor and endeavouring to unfasten it. He noticed, too, that one arm, -above the wrist, was bandaged. But she was too late. He had caught her now.</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," he said, "I know who my visitor is at last, Madame -Carmaux. And I think I know your object here. Have you not dropped another phial -in your fall and broken it? The room is full of the hateful odour of the Amancay -poison."</p> - -<p class="normal">She made him no answer, so that he felt sure she was -determined not to let him hear her voice, but he felt that she was trembling all -over, even as she writhed in his grasp, endeavouring to avoid it. Then, knowing -that words were unnecessary, he opened the door into the corridor and bade her -go forth.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know this house well and can find your way easily in the -dark. Meanwhile, I am now going to descend to have an explanation with the -master of Desolada."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></h4> - -<h5>"YOU HAVE KILLED HIM!"</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Before however, Julian descended to confront -Sebastian he thought it was necessary to do two things; first, to light the lamp -to see how much of that accursed Amancay had been spilt by the broken phial, and -next--which was the more important--to recharge and look to his revolver. For he -thought it very likely that after he had said all he intended to say to -Sebastian, he might find the weapon useful.</p> - -<p class="normal">When he had obtained a light by the aid of the matches which -he was never without, he saw that his surmises were fully justified. Upon the -floor there lay, glistening, innumerable pieces of broken glass and the half of -a broken phial, while all around the <i>débris</i> was a small pool of liquid -shining on the polished wooden floor. And from it there arose an odour so -pungent and so fœtid, that he began almost at once to feel coming over him -the hazy, drowsy stupefaction that he had been conscious of last night. So -seizing his water-jug he unceremoniously sluiced the floor with its contents, -washing away and subduing the noisome exhalation; when taking his revolver from -his pocket and seeing carefully to its being charged, he dropped it into his -pocket again. He took with him, too, the remnants of the broken phial.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall only return here to pack my few things," he thought -to himself, "but, all the same it is as well to have destroyed that stuff. -Otherwise the room would have been poisoned with it."</p> - -<p class="normal">And now--taking no light with him, for his experience of the -last two hours had taught him, even had he not known it before, the way down to -the garden--he descended, going out by the way that Paz had led him and so -around to the lower veranda. A moment later he reached it, and mounting the -steps, entered the saloon in which he expected to find Sebastian.</p> - -<p class="normal">The man was there, he saw at once even before he stood close -by the open window. He was there, sitting at the great table where the meals -were partaken of; but looking dark and brooding now. Upon his face, as Julian -could easily perceive, there was a scowl, and in his eyes an ominous look that -might have warned a less bold man than the young sailor that he was in a -dangerous mood.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Has she been with him already," Julian wondered, "and -informed him that their precious schemes are at an end, are discovered?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ha!" exclaimed Sebastian, looking fixedly at him, as now -Julian advanced into the room, "so you are well enough to come downstairs -to-night. Yet--it is a little late. You have scarcely come to sing me those -wardroom songs you spoke of, I suppose!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Julian said, "it is not to sing songs that I am here. -But to talk about serious matters. Sebastian Ritherdon--if you are Sebastian -Ritherdon, which I think doubtful--you have got to give me an explanation -to-night, not only of who you really are, but also of the reason why, during the -time I have been in this locality, you have four times attempted my life, or -caused it to be attempted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Are you mad?" the other exclaimed, staring at him with still -that ominous look upon his face. "You must be to talk to me like this."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," Julian replied. "Instead, perfectly sane. I was, -perhaps, more or less demented last night when under the influence of the fumes -of the Amancay plant which had been sprinkled on my pillow, as well as on my -jacket and waistcoat; and you also were more or less demented to-night when you -had by an accident taken some of the poison into your system, owing to you -making a meal of the doctored mountain mullet you had prepared for me--your -guest. But--now--we are both recovered and--an explanation is needed."</p> - -<p class="normal">"My God!" exclaimed Sebastian, "you must be mad!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, in his own heart, he knew well enough that never was the -calm, determined-looking man before him--the man who, hitherto, had been so -bright and careless, but who now stood stern as Nemesis at the other end of the -table--further removed from madness than he was this night. He knew and felt -that it was not with a lunatic but an avenger that he had to deal.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am not mad," Julian replied calmly. "Meanwhile, take your -right hand out of that drawer by your side, and keep it out. Pistol shots will -disturb the whole house, and, if you do not do as I bid you I shall have to fire -first," and he tapped his breast significantly as he spoke, so that the other -could be in no doubt of his meaning.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," he continued, when Sebastian had obeyed him, he -laughing with a badly assumed air of contempt as he did so, all the same, laying -his large brown hand upon the table--"now," said Julian, "I will tell you all -that I believe to be the case in connection with you and with me, all that I -know to have been the case in connection with your various attempts to injure -me, and, also, all that I intend to do, to-morrow, when I reach Belize and have -taken the most eminent lawyer in the place into my confidence."</p> - -<p class="normal">As he mentioned the word "lawyer," Sebastian started visibly; -then, once more, he assumed the contemptuous expression he had previously -endeavoured to exhibit, but beyond saying roughly again that Julian was a -madman, he made no further remark for the moment, and sat staring, or rather -glaring, at the other man before him. Yet, had that other man been able to -thoroughly comprehend, or follow, that glance--which, owing to the lamp being -between them, he was not entirely able to do--he would have seen that, instead -of resting on his face, it was directed to beyond where he stood. That it went -past him to away down to the farther end of the room; to where the open window -was.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Charles Ritherdon," said Julian now, "had a son born in this -house twenty-six years ago, and that son was stolen within two or three days of -his birth by his uncle, George Ritherdon. You are not that son, and you know it. -Yet you know who is. You know that I am."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You lie," Sebastian said with an oath; "you are an impostor. -And even if what you say is true--who am I? I," he said, his voice rising now, -either with anger or excitement, "who have lived here all my life, who have been -known from a child by dozens of people still alive? Who am I, I say?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That at present I do not know. Perhaps the lawyer to whom I -confide my case will be able to discover."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Lawyer! Bah! A curse for your lawyers. What can you tell him, -what proof produce?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And still, as he spoke, he kept his eyes fixed, as Julian -thought, upon him, but in absolute fact upon that portion of the room which was -in shadow behind where the latter stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">Upon, too--although Julian knew it not, and did not, indeed, -for one moment suspect such to be the case--a white face, that, peeping round -the less white curtains which hung by the window, never moved the dark eyes that -shone out of it from off the back of the man who confronted Sebastian. Fixed -upon, too, the form to which that face belonged, which, even as Sebastian had -raised his voice, had drawn itself a few feet nearer to the other; finding -shelter now behind the curtains of the next or nearest window.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can at least produce the proofs," Julian replied, his eyes -still regarding the other, and knowing nothing of that creeping listener behind, -"that my presence in Honduras--at Desolada as your invited guest--caused you so -much consternation, so much dismay, that you hesitated at nothing which might -remove me from your path. What will the law believe, what will these people who -have known you from your infancy--as you say--think, when they learn that three -times at least, if not more, you have attempting my life?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Again I say it is a lie!" Sebastian muttered hoarsely.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And I can prove that it is the truth. I can prove that this -woman, this accomplice of yours--this woman whom my father--not <i>your</i> -father, but <i>my</i> father--jilted, threw away, so that he might marry Isobel -Leigh, my mother--fired at me with a rifle known to be hers and used by her on -small game. I can prove that she poisoned the meal that was to be partaken of by -me; that even so late as to-night she drenched the floor of my room--as she -meant again to drench the pillow on which I slept--with the deadly juice of the -Amancay--with this," and he held before Sebastian the broken phial he had found -above.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You can prove nothing," Sebastian muttered hoarsely, -raucously. "Nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Can I not? I have two witnesses."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Two witnesses!" the other whispered, and now indeed he looked -dismayed. "Two witnesses. Yet--what of that, of them! Even though they could -prove this--which they can not--what else can they prove? Even though I am not -Charles Ritherdon's son and you are--even though such were the case--which it is -not--how prove it?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That remains to be seen. But, though it should never be -proved; even though you and that murderous accomplice of yours, that discarded -sweetheart of my father's, that woman who I believe, as I believe there is a God -in Heaven, was the prime mover in this plot----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Silence!" cried Sebastian, springing to his feet now, yet -still with that look in his eyes which Julian did not follow; that look towards -where the white corpse-faced creature was by this time--namely, five feet nearer -still to Julian--"silence, I say. That woman is not, shall not, be defamed by -you. Neither here or elsewhere. She--she--is--ah! God, she has been my guardian -angel--has repaid evil for good. My father threw her off--discarded her--and she -came here, forgiving him at the last in his great sorrow. She helped to rear -me--his son--to----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Now," said Julian, still calmly, "it is you who lie, and the -lie is the worse because you know it. Some trick was played on him whom you -still dare to call your father, on him who was mine--never will I believe he was -a party to it!--and before Heaven I do believe that it was she who played it. -She never forgave him for his desertion of her; she, this would be -murderess--this poisoner--and--and--ah!"</p> - -<p class="normal">What had happened to him? What had occurred? As he uttered the -last words, accusing that woman of being a murderess in intention, if not in -fact--a poisoner--he felt a terrible concussion at the nape of his neck, a blow -that sent him reeling forward towards the other side of that table against which -Sebastian had sat, and at which he now stood confronting him. And, dazed, numbed -as this blow had caused him to become, so that now the features of the man -before him--those features that were so like his own!--were confused and -blurred, though with still a furious, almost demoniacal expression in them, he -scarcely understood as he gave that cry that in his nostrils was once more the -sickening overpowering odour of the Amancay--that it was suffocating, stifling -him.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then with another cry, which was not an exclamation this time, -but instead, a moan, he fell forward, clutching with his hands at the -tablecloth, and almost dragging the lamp from off the table. Fell forward thus, -then sank to his knees, and next rolled senseless, oblivious to everything, upon -the floor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have killed him!" muttered Sebastian hoarsely, and with -upon his face now a look of terror. "You have killed him! My God! if any others -should be outside, should have seen"--while, forgetting that what he was about -to do would be too late if those others might be outside of whom he had spoken, -he rushed to both the windows and hastily closed the great shutters, which, -except in the most violent tempests that at scarce intervals break over British -Honduras, were rarely used.</p> - -<p class="normal">And she, that woman standing there above her victim with her -face still white as is the corpse's in its shroud, her lips flecked with specks -of foam, her hands quivering, muttered in tones as hoarse as Sebastian's:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Killed him. Ay! I hope so. Curse him, there has been enough -of his prying, his seeking to discover the truth of our secret. And--and--if it -were not so--then, still, I would have done it. You heard--you heard--how he -sneered, gloated over my despair, my abandonment by Charles Ritherdon, so that -he might marry that child--that chit--Isobel Leigh. The woman who cursed, who -broke my life. Killed him, Sebastian! Killed him! Yes! That at least is what I -meant to do. Because, Heaven help me! you were not man enough to do it -yourself."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"I WILL SAVE YOU."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Beatrix Spranger sat alone in her garden at -"Floresta," and was the prey to disquieting, nay, to horrible, emotions and -doubts. For, by this time, not only had forty-eight hours passed since she had -heard from Julian--forty-eight hours, which were to mark the limit of the period -when, as had been arranged, she was to consider that all was still well with the -latter at Desolada! but also another twelve hours had gone by without any letter -coming from him. And then--then--while the girl had become almost maddened, -almost distraught with nervous agitation and forebodings as to some terrible -calamity having occurred to the man she had learned to love--still another -twelve hours had gone by, it being now three days since any news had reached -her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What shall I do?" she whispered to herself as, beneath the -shade of the great palms, she sat musing; "what! what! Oh! if father would only -counsel me; yet, instead, he reiterates his opinion that nothing can be intended -against him--that he must have gone on some sporting expedition inland, or is on -his way here. If I could only believe that! If I could think so! But I know it -is not the case. It cannot be. He vowed that nothing should prevent him from -writing every other day so long as he was alive or well enough to crawl to the -gate and intercept the mail driver; and he would keep his word. What, what," she -almost wailed, "can have happened to him? Can they have murdered him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">Even as the horrid word "murder" rose to her thoughts--a word -horrid, horrible, when uttered in the most civilized and well-protected spots on -earth, but one seeming still more terrible and ominous when thought of in -lawless places--there came an interruption to her direful forebodings. The -parrots roosting in the branches during the burning midday heat plumed -themselves, and opened their startled, staring eyes and clucked faintly, while -Beatrix's pet monkey--still, as ever, presenting an appearance of misery and -dark despair and woe--opened its own eyes and gazed mournfully across the -parched lawn.</p> - -<p class="normal">For these creatures had seen or heard that which the girl -sitting there had not perceived, and had become aware that the noontide -stillness was being broken by the advent of another person. Yet when Beatrix, -aroused, cast her own eyes across the yellow grass, she observed that the -newcomer was no more important person than a great negro, who carried in one -hand a long whip such as the teamsters of the locality use, and in the other a -letter held between his black finger and thumb.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has written!" she exclaimed to herself, "and has sent it -by this man. He is safe. Oh! thank God!" while, even as she spoke, she advanced -towards the black with outstretched hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet she was doomed to disappointment when, after many bows and -smirks and a removal of his Panama hat, so that he stood bareheaded in the -broiling sun (which is, however, not a condition of things harmful to negroes, -even in such tropical lands), the man had given her the letter, and she saw that -the superscription was not in the handwriting of Julian, but in that of his -supposed cousin, Sebastian.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What does it mean?" she murmured half aloud and half to -herself, while, as she did so, the hand holding the letter fell by her side. -"What does it mean?" Then, speaking more loudly and clearly to the negro, "have -you brought this straight from Desolada?"--the very mention of that place giving -her a weird and creepy sensation.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Bring him with the gentleman's luggage, missy," the man -replied, with the never-failing grin of his race. "Gentleman finish visit there, -then come on here pay little visit. Steamer go back New Orleans to-morrow, -missy, and gentleman go in it to get to England. Read letter, missy, perhaps -that tell you all."</p> - -<p class="normal">The advice was as good as the greatest wiseacre could have -given Beatrix, in spite of its proceeding from no more astute Solomon than this -poor black servant, yet the girl did not at first profit by it. For, indeed, she -was too stunned, almost it might be said, too paralyzed, to do that which, -besides the negro's suggestion, her own common sense would naturally prompt her -to do. Instead, she stood staring at the messenger, her hand still hanging idly -by her side, her face as white as the healthy tan upon it would permit it to -become.</p> - -<p class="normal">And though she did not utter her thoughts aloud, inwardly she -repeated again and again to herself, "His luggage! His luggage! And he is going -back to England to-morrow. Without one word to me in all these hours that have -passed, and after--after--oh! Without one word to me! How can he treat me so!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She had turned her face away from the negro as she thought -thus, not wishing that even this poor creature should be witness of the distress -she knew must be visible upon it, but now she turned towards him, saying:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Go to the house and tell the servants to give you some -refreshment, and wait till I come to you. I shall know what to do when I have -read this letter."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then she went back to her basket-chair and, sitting in the -shade, tore open Sebastian's note. Yet, even as she did so, she murmured to -herself, "It cannot be. It cannot be. He would not go and leave me like this. -Like this! After that day we spent together." But resolutely, now, she forced -herself to the perusal of the missive.</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Dear Miss Spranger (it ran): Doubtless, you have heard from Cousin Julian (who, -I understand, writes frequently to you) that he has been called back suddenly to -England to join his ship, and leaves Belize to-morrow, by the Carib Queen for -New Orleans.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, as you also know, he is an ardent sportsman, and said he -must have one or two days' excitement with the jaguars, so he left us yesterday -morning early, in company with a rather villainous servant of mine, named Paz, -and, as I promised him I would do, I now send on his luggage to your father's -house, where doubtless he will make his appearance in the course of the day.</p> - -<p class="normal">I wish, however, he could have been induced to stay a little -longer with us, and I also wish he had not taken Paz, who is a bad character, -and, I believe, does not like him. However, Ju is a big, powerful fellow, and -can, of course, take care of himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">With kind regards to Mr. Spranger and yourself,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:40%">I am, always yours sincerely,</p> - -<p style="text-indent:50%"><span class="sc">Sebastian Ritherdon.</span></p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Beatrix let the note fall into her lap and lie there for a moment, while in her -clear eyes there was a look of intense thought as they stared fixedly at the -thirsty, drooping flamboyants and almandas around her: then suddenly she started -to her feet, standing erect and determinate, the letter crushed in her hand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is a lie," she said to herself, "a lie from beginning to -end. Written to hoodwink me--to throw dust in my eyes--to--to--keep me quiet. -'Paz does not like him,' she went on, 'Paz does not like him.' No, Sebastian, it -is you whom he does not like, and to use Jul--Mr. Ritherdon's own quaint -expression--you have 'given yourself away.' Well! so be it. Only if you--you -treacherous snake! have not killed him with the help of that other snake, that -woman, your accomplice, we will outwit you yet." And she went forward swiftly -beneath the shade of the trees to the house.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is that man?" she asked of another servant, one of her -own and as ebony as he who had brought the luggage and the letter; "send him to -me at once." Then, when the messenger from Desolada stood before her, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell Mr. Ritherdon you have delivered his letter, and that I -have read and understand it. You remember those words?"</p> - -<p class="normal">The negro grinned and bowed and, perhaps to show his -marvellous intelligence and memory, repeated the words twice, whereon Beatrix -continued:</p> - -<p class="normal">"That is well. Be sure not to forget the message. Now, have -you brought in the luggage?"</p> - -<p class="normal">For answer the other glanced down the long, darkened, and -consequently more or less cool hall, and she, following that glance, saw -standing at the end of it a cabin trunk with, upon it, a Gladstone bag as well -as a rifle. Then, after asking the man if he had been provided with food and -drink, she bade him begone.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, recognising that if, as she feared, if indeed, as she -felt sure beyond the shadow of a doubt, Julian Ritherdon was in some mortal -peril (that he was dead she did not dare to, would not allow herself to, think -nor believe) no time must be wasted, she gave orders that the buggy should be -got ready at once to take her into the city to her father's offices.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He," she thought, "is the only person who can counsel me as -to what is best, to do. And surely, surely, he will not attempt to prevent me -from sending, nay, from taking assistance, to Julian. And if he does, -then--then--I must tell him that I love----" But, appalled even at the thought -of having to make use of such a revelation, she would not conclude the sentence, -though there were none to hear it. Instead, she walked back into the garden, -and, seating herself, resolved that she would think of nothing that might -unnerve her or cause her undue agitation before she saw her father; and so sat -waiting calmly until they should come to tell her that the carriage was ready.</p> - -<p class="normal">But she did not know, as of course it was impossible that she -should know, that drawing near to her was another woman who would bring her such -information of what had recently taken place at Desolada as would put all -surmises and speculations as to why Sebastian Ritherdon's letter had been -written--the lying letter, as she had accurately described it--into the shade. A -woman who would tell her that if murder had not yet been done in the remote and -melancholy house, it was intended to be done, was brewing; would be done ere -long, if Julian Ritherdon did not succumb to the injuries inflicted on him by -Madame Carmaux. One who would give her such information that she would be -justified in calling upon the authorities of Belize to instantly take steps to -proceed to Desolada, and (then and there) to render Sebastian and his accomplice -incapable of further crimes.</p> - -<p class="normal">A woman--Zara--who almost from daybreak had set out from the -lonely hacienda with the determination of reaching Belize somehow and of warning -Beatrix, the Englishman's friend, of the danger that threatened that Englishman; -above all, and this the principal reason, with the determination of saving -Sebastian from the commission of a crime which, once accomplished, could never -be undone. Yet, also, in her scheming, half-Indian brain, there had arisen other -thoughts, other hopes.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She loves him; this cold, pale-faced English girl loves -Sebastian," she thought, still cherishing that delusion as she made her way -sometimes along the dusty road, sometimes through copses and groves and -thickets, all the paths of which she knew. "She loves him. But," and as this -reflection rose in her mind her scarlet lips parted with a bitter smile, and her -little pearl-like teeth glistened, "when she knows, when I show her how cruel, -how wicked he has intended to be to that other man, so like him yet so -different, then--then--ah! then, she will hate him." And again she smiled, even as she pursued her way."She will hate him--these English can hate, though they know -not what real love means--and then when he finds he has lost her, he -will--perhaps--love me. Ah!" And at the thought of the love she longed so for, -her eyes gleamed more softly, more starlike, in the dim dawn of the forest -glade.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I shall save him--I shall save him from a -crime--then--he--will--love me." And still the look upon her face was ecstatic. -"Will marry me. My blood is Indian, not negro--'tis that alone with which these -English will not mix theirs; the negro women alone with whom they will never -wed. Ah! Sebastian," she murmured, "I must save you from a crime and--from her."</p> - -<p class="normal">And so she went on and on, seeing the daffodil light of the -coming day spreading itself all around; feeling the rays of the swift-rising sun -striking through the forests, and parching everything with their fierceness, but -heeding nothing of her surroundings. For she thought only of making the "cold, -pale-faced English girl" despise the man whom she hungered for herself, and of -one other thing--the means whereby to prevent him from doing that which might -deprive him of his liberty--of his life and--also, deprive her of him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>"I LIVE TO KILL HIM."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Still she went on, unhalting and resolute, -feeling neither fatigue nor heat, or, if she felt them, ignoring them. She was -resolved to reach Belize, or to fall dead upon the road or in the forests while -attempting to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">And thus she came at last to All Pines, seeing the white inn -gleaming in the first rays of the sun, it being now past six o'clock; while -although her thirst was great, she determined that she would not go near it. She -was known too well there as the girl, Zara, from Desolada, and also as she who -acted as croupier for all the dissipated young planters who assembled at the inn -to gamble, she doing so especially for Sebastian when he held the bank. She -would be recognized at once and her presence commented on.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet she must pass near it, go through the village street to -get forward on her way to Belize; she could only pray in her half-savage way -that there might be none about who would see her, while, even as she did so, she -knew that her chances of escaping observation were of the smallest. In such -broiling lands as those of which Honduras formed one, the earliest and the -latest hours of the day are the hours which are the most utilized because of -their comparative coolness and consequently few are asleep after sunrise.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, she told herself, perhaps after all it was not of extreme -importance whether she was recognised or not. By to-night, if all went well, and -if the pale-faced English girl and her father had any spirit in them, they would -have taken some steps to prevent that which was meditated at Desolada on this -very night. And, if they had not that spirit, then she herself would utter some -warning, would herself see the "old judge man," and tell him her story. Perhaps -he would listen to it and believe her even though she was but half-breed trash, -as those of her race were termed contemptuously as often as not.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, now, as she drew nearer to the village street, and to -where the inn stood, she started in dismay at what she saw outside the door. An -animal that she recognised distinctly, not only by itself but by the saddle on -its back and the long Mexican stirrups, and also by its colour and flowing mane.</p> - -<p class="normal">She recognised the favourite horse of Sebastian, the one he -always rode, standing at the inn door.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first a sickening suspicion came to her mind; a fear which -she gave utterance to in the muttered words:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has followed me. He knows that I have set out for Belize." -Then she dismissed the suspicion as impossible. For she remembered that -Sebastian had been absent from Desolada all the previous day, and had not -returned by the time when the others had gone to rest; she thought now (and felt -sure that she had guessed aright) that he had slept at the inn all night, and -was about to return to Desolada in the cool of the morning.</p> - -<p class="normal">Determined, however, to learn what the master of that -horse--and of her--was about to do, and above all, which direction he went off -in when he came outside, she crept on and on down the street until at last she -was nearly in front of the inn door. Then, lithe and agile as a cat, she stole -behind a great barn which stood facing the <i>plaza</i>, and so was enabled to -watch the opposite house without any possibility of being herself seen from it.</p> - -<p class="normal">That something of an exciting nature had been taking place -within the house (even as Zara had sought the shelter behind which she was now -ensconced) she had been made aware by the loud voices and cries she -heard--voices, too, that were familiar to her, as she thought. And about one of -those voices she had no doubt--could have no doubt--since it was that of the man -she loved, Sebastian.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, presently, even as she watched the inn through a crack -in the old and sun-baked barn-door, the turmoil increased; she heard a scuffling -in the passage, more cries and shouts, Sebastian's objurgations rising above -all, and, a moment later, the girl saw the latter dragging Paz out into the open -space in front of the inn. And he was shaking him as a mastiff might shake a rat -that had had the misfortune to find itself in his jaws.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hound!" he cried, even as he did so; "you will lurk about -Desolada, will you, at light; prying and peering everywhere, as though there -were something to find out. And because you are reproved, you endeavour to run -away to Belize. What for, you treacherous dog? What for? Answer me, I say," and -again he shook the half-caste with one hand, while with the other he rained down -blows upon his almost grey head.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, since the man was extremely lithe, in spite of his age, -many of the blows missed their mark; while taking advantage of the twists and -turns which he, eel-like, was making in his master's hands, he managed during -one of them to wrench himself free from Sebastian. And then, then--Zara had to -force her hands over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming out in terror. -And she had to exercise supreme control over herself also so that she should not -rush forth from her hiding-place and spring at Paz. For, freed from his tyrant's -clutches, he had darted back from him, and a second later, with a swift movement -of his hand to his back, had drawn forth a long knife that glistened in the -morning sun.</p> - -<p class="normal">What he said, what his wild words were, cannot be written -down, since most of them were uttered in the Maya dialect; yet amid them were -some that were well understood by Zara and Sebastian; perhaps also by the -landlord of the inn and the two or three half-caste servants huddled near him, -all of them giving signs of the most intense excitement and fear. And Zara, -hearing those words, threw up her hands and covered her face, while Sebastian, -his own face white as that of a corpse's in its shroud, staggered back trembling -and shuddering.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know," the latter whispered, "you know that! You know?" -And his hand stole into his open shirt. Yet he drew nothing forth; he did not -produce that which Zara dreaded each instant to see. In truth the man was -paralyzed, partly by Paz's words--yet, doubtless, even more so by the look upon -his face--and by his actions.</p> - -<p class="normal">For now Paz was creeping toward the other, even as the panther -creeps through the jungle toward the victim it is about to spring upon; the -knife clutched in his hand, upon his face a gleam of hate so hideous, a look in -his topaz eyes so horrible, that Sebastian stood rooted to the ground. While -from his white and foam-flecked lips, the man hissed:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Shoot. Shoot, curse you! but shoot straight. Into either my -heart or head--for if you miss me!--if you miss me--" and he sprang full on the -other, the knife raised aloft. Sprang at him as the wild cat springs at the -hunter who has tracked it to the tree it has taken refuge in, and when it -recognises that for it there is no further shelter--his face a very hell of -savage rage and spite; his scintillating, sparkling eyes the eyes of an -infuriated devil.</p> - -<p class="normal">And Sebastian, cowed--struck dumb with apprehension of such a -foe--a thing half-human and half a savage beast--forgot to draw his revolver -from his breast and seemed mad with dismay and terror. Yet he must do something, -he knew, or that long glittering blade would be through and through him, with -probably his throat cut from ear to ear the moment he was down. He must do -something to defend, to save himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Recognising this even in his mortal terror, he struck out -blindly--whirling, too, his arms around in a manner that would have caused an -English boxer to roar with derision, had he not also been paralyzed with the -horror of Paz's face and actions. He struck out blindly, therefore, not knowing -what he was doing, and dreading every instant that he would feel the hot bite of -the steel in his flesh, and--so--saved himself.</p> - -<p class="normal">For in one of those wild, uncalculated blows, his right fist -alighted on Paz's jaw, and, because of his strength, which received accession -from his maddened fury and fear, felled the half-caste to the earth, where he -lay stunned and moaning; the deadly knife beneath him in the dust.</p> - -<p class="normal">For an instant Sebastian paused, his trembling and bleeding -hand again seeking his breast, and his fury prompting him to pistol the man as -he lay there before him. But he paused only for a moment, while as he did so, he -reflected that if he slew the man who was at his mercy now it would be -murder--and that murder done before witnesses--then turned away to where his -horse stood, and, flinging himself into the saddle, rode off swiftly to -Desolada.</p> - -<p class="normal">As he disappeared, Zara came forth from behind the door where -she had been lurking, an observer of all that had taken place, and forgetting, -or perhaps heedless, of whether she was now seen or not, ran toward Paz and -lifted his head up in her arms.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Paz, Paz," she whispered in their own jargon. "Paz, has he -killed you? Answer."</p> - -<p class="normal">From beneath her the man looked up bewildered still, and -half-stunned by the blow; then, after a moment or so, he muttered, "No, no! I -live--to--to kill him yet." And Zara hearing those words shuddered, for since -they were both of the same half wild and savage blood, she knew that unless she -could persuade him to forego his revenge, he would do just as he had said, even -though he waited twenty years for its accomplishment.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," she said, "no. You must not. Not yet, at least, Paz, -promise me you will not. I--I--you know--I love him. For my sake--mine, Paz, -promise."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do worse," said Paz, "I ruin him--drive him away. Zara, I -know his secret--now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What secret?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who he is. Ah!--" for Zara had clapped her little brown hand -over his mouth, as though she feared he was going to shout out that secret -before the landlord of the inn and his servants, all of whom were still hovering -near. "Ah, I not tell it now. But to the other--the cousin--I tell it. Because -I--know it, Zara."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So," she whispered, "do I. But not now. Do not tell it now. -Paz, I go to Belize to fetch succour. He will kill <i>him</i> if it comes not -soon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will kill him to-night, perhaps. I, too, was going to -Belize."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where is he now?" the girl asked; "where is the handsome -cousin? Where have they put him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"In the room at end of corridor, with the steps outside to -garden. Easy bring him down them."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Will he die?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Not of wound," the man said, his eyes sparkling again, but -this time with intelligence, with suggestion. "Not of -wound--but--of--what--they--do--to-night."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I must go," Zara cried, springing to her feet. "I must go. -Every minute is gold, and--it is many miles."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Take the mule," Paz said. "It is there. There," and he -glanced towards the stables. "Take him. He go fast."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will take him," she replied, "but--but--promise me, Paz, -that you will do nothing until I return. Nothing--no harm to him. Else I will -not go."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I will promise," the man said, rising now to his feet, and -staggering a little from his giddiness. "I will promise--you. Yet, I look after -him--I take care he do very little more harm now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Keep him but from evil till to-night--till to-morrow, let him -not hurt Mr. Ritherdon, then all will be well." And accompanied by Paz, she went -toward the stable where his mule was.</p> - -<p class="normal">It took but little time for the girl to spring to its back, to -ride it out at a sharp trot from the open plaza, and, having again extorted a -promise from Paz, to be once more on her road toward Belize--she not heeding now -the fierceness of the rays of the sun, which was by this time mounting high in -the heavens.</p> - -<p class="normal">And so at last she drew near to "Floresta," which she knew -well enough was Mr. Spranger's abode; near to where the other girl was causing -preparations to be made for reaching her father and telling him what she had -learned through the arrival of the negro--she never dreaming of the further -revelations that were so soon to be made to her. Revelations by the side of -which the lying letter and the lying action of Sebastian in sending forward -Julian's luggage would sink into insignificance.</p> - -<p class="normal">She sat on in her garden, waiting now for the groom to come -and tell her that the buggy was ready--sat on amid all the drowsy noontide heat, -and then, when once more the parrots rustled their feathers, and the monkey -opened its mournful eyes, she heard behind her a footstep on the grass; a -footstep coming not from the house but behind her, from an entrance far down at -the end of the tropical garden. And, looking around, she saw close to her the -girl Zara, her face almost white now, and her clothes covered with dust.</p> - -<p class="normal">"What is it?" Beatrix cried, springing to her feet. "What -brings you here? I know you, you are Zara; you come from Desolada."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," the other answered, "I come from Desolada. From -Desolada, where to-night murder will be done--if it is not prevented."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE WATCHING FIGURE</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">With a gasp, Beatrix took a step toward the -other, while as she did so the latter almost uttered a moan herself; though her -agitation proceeded from a different cause--from, in truth, her appreciation of -how wide a gulf there was between them. Between them who both loved the same -man! Between this dainty English girl, who looked so fresh and fair, and was -dressed in so spotless and cool a garb, and her who was black and swarthy, her -who was clad almost in rags, and covered with the dust and grime of a long -journey made partly on foot and partly on the mule's back. What chance was there -for her, what hope, she asked herself, that Sebastian should ever love her -instead of this other?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Murder will be done!" Beatrix exclaimed, repeating Zara's -words, even while a faintness stole over her that she thought must be like the -faintness of coming death. "Murder will be done. To whom? To Mr.--to Lieutenant -Ritherdon?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Zara answered, standing there before the other, and -feeling ashamed as she did so of the appearance she must present to her rival, -as she deemed her. "Yes, murder. The murder of Lieutenant Ritherdon. But, if you -have courage, if you have any power, it may be prevented. And--and--you love -him! I know it. There must be no crime. You love him!" she repeated fiercely.</p> - -<p class="normal">Astonished that the girl should know her secret, unable to -understand how she could have learned it, unless for some reason, Lieutenant -Ritherdon might have hinted that he hoped such was the case; abashed at the -secret being known, Beatrix could but stammer: "Yes--yes--I love him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I love him, too!" Zara exclaimed fiercely, hotly; she neither -stammering, nor appearing to be put to shame. "I love him too. There must be no -crime----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You love him!" Beatrix repeated, startled.</p> - -<p class="normal">"With my whole heart and soul. Do you think our hot blood is -not as capable of love as the cold blood that runs in your veins?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Beatrix could only whisper again, amazed, "You love him -too!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have loved him all my life," Zara said. "I have always -loved him. And I will save him."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Beatrix understood how they were at cross-purposes, and -that this half-savage girl was here, not to save Julian from being murdered so -much as to save Sebastian from becoming a murderer.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Tell me all," she said faintly, sinking into her chair, while -she motioned to Zara to seat herself in one of the others that stood close by. -"Tell me all that has happened. Then I shall know perhaps what I am to do."</p> - -<p class="normal">And Zara, smothering in her heart the hatred that she felt -against this other girl so much more fair and attractive than she, she who was -but a peasant, almost a slave, while her rival had wealth and bright -surroundings--told her all she knew.</p> - -<p class="normal">She narrated how she had watched by day and night to see that -no harm was done to the stranger staying at Desolada: how, sometimes, she had -slept on the upper veranda and sometimes in the grounds and gardens, being ever -on the watch. And then she told the story of all that had happened, of how -Madame Carmaux had tried to shoot Julian in the copse and had herself been -struck in the arm by a bullet from Paz's rifle, but to avoid suspicion had, on -her return to the house, commenced arranging flowers in a bowl with one hand, -she keeping the other, which Zara knew she had hastily bandaged up, out of -sight. She told, too, the whole story of the Amancay poison, and described the -final scene in the lower room which she had witnessed from the garden where she -stood hidden.</p> - -<p class="normal">"And now," she cried, "now they will kill him to-night, get -rid of him forever, if, before night comes, help does not reach him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What will they do?" asked Beatrix, white to the lips, and -trembling all over as she had trembled from the first. "Poison him with that -hateful Amancay--or--or----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I know not, but they will kill him. They will not keep him -there. Instead, perhaps, carry him to one of the lagoons where the alligators -are, or to the sea where the white sharks are, or----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, come!" cried Beatrix, with a shriek of horror. "Come at -once to my father in the city. Oh! in mercy, come--there is not an hour, not a -moment, to be lost!"</p> - -<p class="normal">She had seen, almost directly after Zara had made her -appearance, the groom come out from the house, and understood that he was -approaching to tell her that the buggy was prepared, but by a motion of her hand -she had made the man understand that she was not ready. But, now, she must go at -once, and she must take this girl with her--that was all important. For surely, -when some of the legal authorities in Belize had heard the tale which Zara could -tell, they would instantly send assistance to Julian.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come!" she cried again. "Come! we must go to the city at -once."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It will save--him?" Zara asked, her thoughts still upon the -man who must be prevented at all hazards from committing a horrible crime, and -supposing in her ignorance that it was also the desire to prevent that man from -committing this crime which made Beatrix so anxious. "It will save--him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Beatrix answered. "Yes. It will save him."</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">The night had come, suddenly, swiftly, as it always does in Southern lands. Half -an hour earlier a band of twenty people had been riding as swiftly as the heat -would permit along the dusty white thread, which was the road that led past All -Pines on toward Desolada--now the same band was progressing beneath the -swift-appearing stars overhead. The breeze, too, which, not long before, had -burnt them with its fiery sun-struck breath, came cool and fresh and grateful at -this time, since it was no longer laden with heat; while from all the wealth of -vegetation around, there were, distilled by the night dews, the luscious scents -and odours that the flowers of the region possess.</p> - -<p class="normal">A band of twenty people--of eighteen men and two women--who, -now that night had fallen, rode more swiftly than they had done before, the trot -of the horses being accompanied by the clang of scabbard against boot and spur, -of jangling bridle and bridle-chain. For among them was a small troop of -constabulary headed by an officer, as well as a handful of the police. Also, Mr. -Spranger formed one of the number. The two women were Beatrix and Zara, the -former having insisted on her father allowing her to accompany the force.</p> - -<p class="normal">When Beatrix had caused Zara to go with her to Mr. Spranger's -offices, and then to tell him her tale--a tale supplemented by the former's own -account of the letter from Sebastian accompanied by Julian's luggage--that -gentleman had at once agreed that there was no time to be lost if Julian was to -be saved from any further designs against him. Of course, he and all the -Government officials were well acquainted with each other, the Governor -included, but it was to the Chief Justice that he at once made his way, -accompanied by Zara, who had to tell her tale for a second time to that -representative of authority and law.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then the rest was easy--instructions were given to the -Commandant of Constabulary and the Superintendent of Police, and the force set -out. Meanwhile, the latter was provided with a warrant (although neither Beatrix -nor Zara was aware that such was the case) for the arrest of both Sebastian -Ritherdon and Madame Carmaux on a charge of attempted murder.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now as the little band passed All Pines, Zara, who rode -close by Beatrix's side, whispered in the latter's ear that she was about to -quit them; she knew, she said, bypaths that she could thread which the others -could not do, or in doing, would only make very slow progress.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But," she concluded, still in a whisper, and with her dark -face as close to the fair one of the English girl as she could place it--"I -shall be there when you all arrive. And by then I shall know what has been done, -or what is to be done. He must not kill him; we must stop that. We love him too -well for that."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, ere Beatrix could answer, the other had disappeared into -the denseness of the forest, it seeming as though she had power to impart to the -beast which she bestrode her own mysterious and subtle methods of movement.</p> - -<p class="normal">At first, she was not missed by any of the others, Mr. -Spranger being the earliest to do so; but by the time he had observed that she -was gone, they had drawn so near to the object of their visit that, even if her -absence was noticed, very little remark was made. For now they were, as most in -the band knew, on the outskirts of the plantations around Desolada; soon they -would be within those plantations and threading their way toward the house -itself. What was noticed, however, as now their horses trod on the soft -luxurious grass beneath their feet--so gently that the thud of their hoofs -became entirely deadened--was that a man, who had certainly not accompanied them -from Belize, was doing so at this moment, and that, as they wended their way -slowly, this man, who was on foot, walked side by side with them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you?" asked the officer in command of the -constabulary, bending down from his horse to look at the newcomer, and observing -that he was a half-caste. "Do you belong to this property?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I did," that newcomer said, looking up at the other. "I -did--but not now. Now I belong to you. To the Government, the police."</p> - -<p class="normal">"So! You desire to give information. Is that it?</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. That is it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What can you tell?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"That the Englishman not there--that he taken away already, I -think----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is not so," a voice whispered close to his ear, yet one -sufficiently loud to be heard by all. "It is not so." And, looking round, every -one saw the dark, starlike eyes of Zara gleaming through the darkness at them. -"He is there--but he will not be for long if you do not make haste."</p> - -<p class="normal">From one of her hearers--from Beatrix--there came a gasp; from -the rest only a few muttered sentences that there was no time to be lost; that -they must attack the house at once, and call on the inhabitants to come forth -and give an account of themselves. Then, once more, the order was issued for the -cavalcade to advance. And silently they did so, Beatrix being placed in the -rear, so that if any violence should be offered, or any resistance, she should -not be exposed to it more than was necessary.</p> - -<p class="normal">But there was little or no sign at present of the likelihood -of such resistance being made. Instead, Desolada presented now an appearance -worthy of its mournful name. For all was darkened in and around it; the windows -of the lower floor, especially the windows of the great saloon, from which, or -from its veranda, the light of the lamp had streamed forth nightly, were all -closed and shuttered; nowhere was a glimmer to be seen. And also the door in the -middle of the veranda was closed--a circumstance that certainly during the -summer, would have been unusual in any abode in British Honduras.</p> - -<p class="normal">All were close to the steps of the veranda now, and the -officer in command of the constabulary, dismounting from his horse, strode up on -to the latter, while beating upon the door with his clenched fist, he called out -that he required to see Mr. Ritherdon at once. A summons to which no answer was -returned.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If," this person said, looking around on those behind him, -and whose forms he could but dimly see--"if no answer is returned, we shall be -forced to break the door down or blow the lock off. Into the house we must get."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is now," said Mr. Spranger, who had also dismounted and -joined him, "a figure on the balcony of the floor above. It has come out from -one of the windows. But I cannot see whether it is man or woman."</p> - -<p class="normal">"A figure!" cried the other, darting out at once on to the -path beneath, so that thus he could gaze up to the higher balcony. "A figure!" -and then, raising his eyes, he saw that Mr. Spranger had spoken accurately. For, -against the darkness of the night, and the darkness of the house too, there was -perceptible some other darker, deeper blur which was undoubtedly the form of a -person gazing down at them. A form surmounted by something that was a little, -though not much, whiter than its surroundings; something that all who gazed upon -it knew to be a human face.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">CHAPTER XXX.</a></h4> - -<h5>BEYOND PASSION'S BOUND.</h5> - -<p class="normal">A human face was gazing down on them from where the body -beneath crouched, as though kneeling against the rails of the veranda--a face -from which more than one in that band thought they could see the eyes -glistening. Yet, from it no sound issued, only--only--still the white face grew -more perceptible and stood out more clearly in the blackness, as the others -continued to stare at it, and the eyes seemed to glitter with a greater -intensity.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come down," cried up the officer now, directing his voice -toward where it lurked, "come down and let us in. We have important business -with Mr. Ritherdon."</p> - -<p class="normal">But still no reply nor sound was heard.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come down," the other said again, "and at once, or we shall -force an entrance; we shall lose no time."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then from that dark, indistinct mass there did come some -whispered words; words clear enough, however, to be heard by those below.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are you?" that voice demanded, "and what do you want?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"We want," the officer replied, "Mr. Ritherdon. And also, -Madame Carmaux, his housekeeper, and the Englishman who has been staying here."</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Englishman has gone away, back to England, and Mr. -Ritherdon is at Belize----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Liar!" all heard another voice murmur in their midst, while -looking around, they saw that Zara was still there, standing beside the horses -and gazing up toward the balcony. "Liar! Both are in the house."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then in a moment she had crept away, and stolen toward where -Beatrix, who had also left the saddle, stood, while, seizing her arm she -whispered, "Follow me. Now is the time."</p> - -<p class="normal">"To him?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," Zara said--"yes, to him. To him you love. You do love -him, do you not?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Ah, yes! Ah, yes! Oh, save him! Save him!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come," said Zara--and Beatrix thought that as the other spoke -now, her voice had changed. As, indeed it had. For (still thinking that the -English girl could have but one man in her thoughts, and he the one whom she -herself loved and hated alternately--the latter passion being testified by the -manner in which she had, in a moment of impulse, given him the physic-nut oil -and the poisoned mullet) her blood had coursed like wildfire through her veins -at hearing Beatrix's avowal, and her voice had become choked. For Beatrix had -forgotten in the excitement of the last few hours to undeceive the girl; had -forgotten, indeed, the cross-purposes at which they had been that morning in the -garden at "Floresta;" and thus Zara still deemed that they were rivals--deemed, -too, that this white-faced rival was the favoured one.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She loves him," she muttered to herself, her heart and brain -racked with torture and with passion; "she loves him. She loves him. And he -loves her! But--she shall never have him, nor he her. Come," she cried again, -savagely this time. "Come, then, and see him. And--love him. It will not be for -long," she added to herself.</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereupon she drew Beatrix away toward the back of the house, -going around by the farthest side of it, and on, until, at last, they stood at -the foot of the stairs outside that gave access to the floor above, on that -farthest side. Here, they were quite remote from the parley that was going on -between those who were in the front and the dark shrouded figure on the veranda -above; yet Beatrix noticed that, still, they were not alone. For, as they -approached those outside stairs she saw three or four dark forms vanish away -from them, and steal farther into the obscurity of the night.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Who are those?" she asked timorously, nervously, as she -watched their retreating figures.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Men," said Zara, "who to-night will take the Englishman, tied -and bound, out to the sea in Sebastian's boat, and sink him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, my God!" wailed Beatrix, nearly fainting. "Oh! Oh!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If we do not prevent it. If <i>I</i> do not prevent it."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, suddenly, before Beatrix could put her foot on the steps -as Zara had directed her to do, as well as ascend them, she felt her arm grasped -by the latter, and heard her whisper:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Stop! Before we mount to where he is--tell me--tell me -truthfully, has--has he told you he loves you?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"You lie!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"I do not lie," Beatrix replied, hotly, scornfully; "I never -lie. But, since you will have the truth--I cannot understand why, what affair it -is of yours--although he has not told me, I know it. Love can be made known -without words."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her own words struck like a dagger to the other's heart--nay, -they did worse than that. They communicated a spark to the heated, maddening -passions which until now, or almost until now, had lain half-slumbering and -dormant in that heart; they roused the bitterest, most savage feelings that -Zara's half-savage heart had nurtured.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She scorns me," she said to herself, "she despises me because -she knows she possesses his love, the love made known without words. Because she -is sure of him. Ay, and so she shall be--but not in life. 'What affair is it of -mine?'" she brooded. "She shall see. She shall see."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as once more she motioned Beatrix to follow her up those -stairs, she, unseen by the latter, dropped her right hand into the bosom of her -dress, and touched something that lay within it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"She shall see," she said again. "She shall see."</p> - -<p class="normal">Above, in that obscure, gloomy corridor to which they now -entered--the corridor which more than once had struck a chill even to the bold -heart of Julian Ritherdon, when he sojourned in the house--all was silent and -sombre, so that one might have thought that they stood upon the first floor of -some long-neglected mansion from which the inhabitants had departed years -before; while the darkness was intense. And, whatever might have been the effect -of the weirdness of the place upon the nerves of Zara, strung up as those nerves -now were to tragic pitch, upon Beatrix, at least, it was intense. A great black -bat, the wind from whose passing wing fanned her cheek and caused her to utter a -startled exclamation, added some feeling of ghastly terror to the surroundings, -while, also, the company in which she was, the company of a half-Indian savage -girl charged with tempestuous passions, contributed to her alarm.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, on the silence there broke now some sounds, they coming -from the front part of the house; the sound of voices, of a hurried -conversation, of sentences rapidly exchanged.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear," hissed Zara in the other's ear--"you hear--and -understand? 'Tis she--Carmaux. And, as ever, she lies. As her life has always -been, so is her tongue now."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then Beatrix heard Madame Carmaux saying from the balcony:</p> - -<p class="normal">"He has returned. He is coming, I tell you. But just now he -has ridden to the stables behind. He will be with you at once. He will explain -all. Wait but a few moments more."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It must be but a very few then," the girl heard in reply, she -recognising the voice of the Commandant of the Constabulary. "Very few. He must -indeed explain all. Otherwise we force our entrance. Not more than five minutes -will be granted."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You understand?" whispered Zara, "you understand? She begs -time so that--so that--the Englishman shall be taken to his death. When he is -gone, Sebastian will show himself." Though, to her own heart she added, "Never."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I can bear no more," gasped Beatrix; "I must see him. Go to -him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nay," replied Zara, "he comes to you. Observe. Look behind -you--the way we came."</p> - -<p class="normal">And, looking behind her as the other bade, even while she -trembled all over in her fear and excitement, she saw that Sebastian had himself -mounted the stairs outside the house, and was preparing to pass along the -passage; to pass by them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet, ere he did so, she saw, too, that behind him were those -misty forms of the natives which she had observed to vanish at their approach -below; she heard him speak to them; heard, too, the words he said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"When I whistle, come up and bear him away. You know the rest. -To my yawl, then a mile out to sea and--then--sink him. Now go, but be ready."</p> - -<p class="normal">Whereon he turned to proceed along the passage, and, even in -her terror, Beatrix could see that he bore in his hand a little lantern from -which the smallest of rays was emitted. A lantern with which, perhaps, he wished -to observe if his victim still lived, since surely he, who had dwelt in this -house all his life, needed no light to assist him in finding his way about it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will see us. He will see us," murmured Beatrix.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He will never see us again," answered Zara, and as she spoke, -she drew the other into the deep doorway of one of the bedrooms. "Never again," -while looking down at her from her greater height, Beatrix saw that her right -hand was at her breast, and that in it something glistened.</p> - -<p class="normal">And, now, Sebastian was close to them, going on to the room at -the end of the passage. He was in front of them. He was passing them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is your last farewell," said Zara. And ere. Beatrix could -shriek, "No. No!" divining the girl's mistake; ere, too, she could make any -attempt to restrain her, Zara had sprung forth from the embrasure of the -doorway, the long dagger gleaming in her hand, as the sickly rays of Sebastian's -lamp shone on it, and had buried it in his back, he springing around suddenly -with a hoarse cry as she did so--his hands clenched and thrust out before -him--in his eyes an awful glare. Then with a gasp he sank to the floor, the lamp -becoming extinguished as he did so. Whereby, Zara did not understand that, lying -close by the man whom she had slain, or attempted to slay, was Beatrix, who had -swooned from horror, and then fallen prostrate.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sebastian had carried his white drill jacket over his arm as -he advanced along the passage, he having taken it off as he mounted the steps, -perhaps with the view of being better able to assist the Indians in the task of -removing Julian when he should summon them. And Zara, full of hate as she was; -full, too, of rage and jealousy as she had been at the moment before she stabbed -him, as well as at the moment when she did so, had observed such to be the case, -when, instantly, there came into her astute brain an idea that, through this -circumstance, might be wreaked a still more deadly vengeance on Sebastian for -his infidelity to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He would have sent that other to his death in the sea," she -thought; "now--false-hearted jaguar--that death shall be yours. If the knife has -not slain you, the water shall." Whereupon, quick as lightning, she seized the -jacket and disappeared with it down the corridor, entering at the end of the -latter a room in which Julian lay wounded and bound upon a bed. A room in which -there burnt a candle, by the light of which she saw that he who was a prisoner -there was asleep.</p> - -<p class="normal">Without pausing to awaken him, she took from off a nail in the -room the navy white jacket that Julian had worn--which like Sebastian's own was -stained somewhat with blood--and, seizing it in one hand and the candle in the -other, went back to where Sebastian lay.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I cannot put it on him," she muttered, "as he lies thus; -still, it will suffice. The Indians will think it is the other in this light, -since both are so alike." After which she crept down the passage to the stairs, -and, whistling softly, called up the men outside to her, there being five of -them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He is here," she whispered as they approached Sebastian. -"Here. Waste no time; away with him," while they, with one glance at the -prostrate body, prepared to obey her, knowing how Sebastian confided many things -to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">But one of that five never took his eyes off the girl, and -seeing that from beneath the jacket there protruded a hand on which was a -ring--a ring well known by all around Desolada--he drew the jacket over that -hand, covering it up. Yet, as he did so, he contrived also to disarrange the -portion that lay over Sebastian's face--and--to see that face. Whereupon, upon -his own there came an awful look of gloating, even as the Indians bent down and, -lifting their burden, departed with it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"At last," he whispered to Zara, "at last. You not endure -longer?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," the girl replied. "No longer. He loved -that--that--other--and--and--I slew him. Now, Paz, go--and--sink him beneath the -sea forever."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes. Yes. I sink him. He knew not Paz was near, but Paz never -forget. I sink him deep. But, outside--I take ring away so that Indians not -know. Oh, yes, he sink very deep. Paz never forget."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></h4> - -<h5>"THE MAN I LOVE."</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Recovering her consciousness, Beatrix -perceived that she was alone. Yet, dimmed though her senses were by the swoon in -which she had lain, she was able to observe that some change had taken place in -the corridor since she fell prostrate. Sebastian Ritherdon's body was gone now, -but the little lamp which he had carried lay close to the spot where she had -seen him fall, while near to it, and standing on the floor, was a candlestick. -Within it was a candle, which showed to her startled eyes something which almost -caused her to faint again; something that formed a small pool upon the shiny, -polished floor. And then as she saw the hateful thing, the recollection of all -that had happened returned to her, as well as the recollection of other things.</p> - -<p class="normal">"He was going to the end of the passage," she said to herself -as, rising, she drew her skirts closely about her so that they should not come -into contact with that shining, hideous pool at her feet; "therefore, Julian -must be there. Oh, to reach him, to help him to escape from this horrid, awful -house!" Whereon, snatching up the candlestick from the floor, she proceeded -swiftly to the end of the corridor; while, seeing that, far down it, there was -one door open, she naturally directed her footsteps to that.</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, as she held the light above her head, she saw that on a -bed there lay a man asleep, or in a swoon--or dead! A man whose eyes were closed -and whose face was deadly white, yet who was beyond doubt Julian Ritherdon.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh, Julian!" she gasped, yet with sufficient restraint upon -herself to prevent her voice from awaking him. "Oh, Julian! To find you at last, -but to find you thus," and she took a step forward toward where the bed was, -meaning to gaze down upon him and to discover if he was in truth alive or not.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet she was constrained to stop and was stayed in her first -attempt to cross the room, by the noise of swift footsteps behind her and by the -entrance of Zara, whose wild beauty appeared now to have assumed an almost -demoniacal expression.</p> - -<p class="normal">For the girl's eyes gleamed as the eyes of those in a raging -fever gleam; her features were working terribly, and her whole frame seemed -shaken with emotion.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is done!" she cried exultingly--there being a tone of -almost maniacal derision in her voice. "It is done. In two hours he will be -dead. And I have kept my word to you. You loved him, and you desired to see him. -Well, you have seen him! Did you take," she almost screamed in her frenzy, "a -long, last farewell? I hope so, since you will never take another," and in her -fury of despair she thrust her face forward and almost into the other's.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, now, hers was not the only wild excitement in the room. -For Beatrix, recognising to what an extreme the girl's jealousy had wrought her, -and what terrible deed she had been guilty of, herself gave a slight scream as -she heard the other's words, and then cried:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Madwoman! Fool! You are deceived. You have deceived yourself. -I never loved him. Nor thought of him. This man lying here, this man whom he -would have murdered, is the one I love with all my heart; this is the man I came -to save."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then as she spoke, Julian--who was now either awake or had -emerged from the torpor in which he had been lying--cried from out of the -darkness: "Beatrix, Beatrix, oh, my darling!" Whereon she, forgetting that in -her excitement she had proclaimed her love, forgetting all else but that her -lover was safe, rushed toward where he lay, uttering words of thankfulness and -delight at his safety. Yet, when a moment later they looked toward the place -where Zara had been, they saw that she was gone. For, slight as was the glimmer -from the candle, it served to show that she was no longer there; that in none of -the deep shadows of the room was she lurking anywhere.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had, indeed, rushed from the room on hearing Beatrix's -avowal, a prey to fresh excitement now, and to fresh horrors.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have slain him in my folly," she muttered wildly to -herself. "I have slain him. And--and, at last, I might have won him. God help -me!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then she directed her footsteps toward where she knew Madame -Carmaux was, toward where her ears told her that, below the balcony on which the -woman stood, they were making preparations to break into the house. Already, she -could hear the hammering and beating on the great door from without; and, so -hearing, thought they must be using some tree or sapling wherewith to break it -in. She recognised, too, the Commandant's voice, as he gave orders to one of his -men to blow the lock off with his carbine.</p> - -<p class="normal">But without pause, without stopping for one instant, she -rushed into the room and out upon the balcony where, seizing Madame Carmaux by -the arm, she cried:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Let them come in. It matters not. Sebastian is dead, or will -be dead ere long. I deemed him false to me, as in truth he was. I have sent him -to his doom. The Indians have taken him away to drown him, thinking he is that -other."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then from a second woman in that house there arose that night -a piercing heartbroken cry, the cry of a woman who has heard the most awful news -that could come to her, a cry followed by the words--as, throwing her hands up -above her head, she sank slowly down on to the floor of the veranda--</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have slain him--you have sent him to his doom? Oh, -Sebastian! Oh, my son!"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes, your son," said Zara. "Your son."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is impossible," they both heard a voice say behind them, -the voice of Julian, as now he entered the room with Beatrix. "You are mistaken. -Madame Carmaux never had a son, but instead a daughter."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said still another voice, and now it was Mr. Spranger -who spoke, all the party from outside having entered the house at last. "No. She -never had a daughter, though it suited her purpose well enough to pretend that -such was the case, and that that daughter was dead; the birth of her son being -thus disguised."</p> - -<p class="normal">"You hear this," the man in command of the police said, -addressing the crouching woman. "Is it true?"</p> - -<p class="normal">But Madame Carmaux, giving him but one glance from her -upturned eyes, uttered no word.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have a warrant for your arrest and for this man called -Sebastian Ritherdon," the sergeant said. "If he is not dead we shall have him."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then I pray God he is dead," Madame Carmaux cried, "for if -you arrest him you will arrest an innocent man."</p> - -<p class="normal">In answer to which the sergeant merely shrugged his shoulders, -while addressing one of his force he bade him keep close to her.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Was he in truth her son?" Julian asked, turning to where a -moment before Zara had been standing. But once more, as so often she had done in -the course of this narrative, the girl had vanished. Vanished, that is, so far -as Julian and one or two others observed now, yet being seen by some of those -who were standing near the door to creep out hurriedly and then to rush madly -down the corridor.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Madame Carmaux, glaring at him with a glance which, -had she had the power, would have slain him where he stood. "Though I often -called him so. It is a lie."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Is it?" said Julian quietly. "It would hardly seem so. Here -is a paper which was written in England ere I set out for Honduras by the man -whom I thought to be my father, and in which he tells in writing the whole story -he told me by word of mouth. I looked for that paper after his death--and--I -have found it here--in the pocket of Sebastian's jacket."</p> - -<p class="normal">Such was indeed the case. When Zara had run into the room -where Julian was, and had possessed herself of his jacket with the naval buttons -on it--she meaning by its use to more thoroughly deceive the Indians who were to -take Sebastian away in his stead--she had left behind her the other jacket which -the latter had carried over his arm. And that, in the obscurity of a room lit -only by the one candle, Julian should have hastily donned another jacket so like -his own, and which he found in the place where he had lain for three nights, was -not a surprising thing. But he recognised the exchange directly when, happening -to put his hand into the pocket, he discovered the very missing papers which Mr. -Ritherdon said he was going to leave behind for Julian's guidance, but which he -must undoubtedly have forwarded to his brother, as an explanation--an -account--of his sin against him in years gone by.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Whoever's son he was," said Mr. Spranger, "he was undoubtedly -not the son of Charles Ritherdon and his wife, Isobel Leigh. There can be no -possibility of that. Who, therefore, can he have been--he who was so like you?" -while, even as he gazed into Julian's eyes, there was still upon his face the -look of incredulity which had always appeared there whenever he discussed the -latter's claim to be the heir of Desolada.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If she," said Beatrix now, with a glance toward where Madame -Carmaux sat, rigid as a statue and almost as lifeless, except for her sparkling, -glaring eyes--"if she never had a daughter, but did have a son, why may he not -be that son? Some imposture may have been practised upon Mr. Ritherdon."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is impossible," her father said. "He knew his own child -was lost--his brother's narrative tells that; she could not have palmed off on -him another child--her own child--in the place of his."</p> - -<p class="normal">"There is the likeness between us," whispered Julian in Mr. -Spranger's ear. "How can that be accounted for? Can it be--is it possible--that -in truth two children were born to him at the same time?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said Mr. Spranger. "No. If such had been the case, your -uncle, the man you were brought up to believe in for years as your father, must -have known of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Then," said Julian, "the mystery is as much unsolved as ever, -and is likely to remain so. She," directing his own glance to Madame Carmaux, -"will never tell--and--well. Heaven help him! Sebastian is probably dead by -now."</p> - -<p class="normal">"In which case," said the other, always eminently practical, -"you are the owner of Desolada all the same. If Sebastian was the rightful heir, -and he is dead, you, as Mr. Ritherdon's nephew, come next."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nevertheless," replied Julian, "I am not his nephew. I am his -son. I feel it; am sure of it."</p> - -<p class="normal">But, even as he spoke, he noticed--had noticed indeed, -already--that there was some stir in the direction where Madame Carmaux was. He -had seen that, as he uttered the words "Heaven help him! Sebastian is probably -dead by now," she had sprung to her feet, while uttering a piteous cry as she -did so, and had stood scowling at Julian as though it was he who had sent the -other to his doom. Then, too, he had seen that, in spite of the sergeant of -police and one or two of his men having endeavoured to prevent her, she had -brushed them on one side and was crossing the room to where he, with Mr. -Spranger and Beatrix, stood. A moment later, she was before them; facing them.</p> - -<p class="normal">"You have said," she exclaimed, "that he is probably dead by -now," and they saw that her face was white and drawn; that it was, indeed, -ghastly. "But," she continued, "if he is not dead--if yet he should be saved, if -the scheme of that devil incarnate, Zara, should have failed--will you--will you -hold him harmless--if--if--I tell all? Will you hold <i>him</i> harmless! For -myself I care not, you may do with me what you will."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," said Julian. "Yes--if you will----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"No," said the sergeant of police. "That is impossible. You -cannot give such a promise. He has to answer to the law."</p> - -<p class="normal">"What!" cried Madame Carmaux, turning on the man, her eyes -flashing--"what if I prove him innocent of everything--of everything attempted -against this one here," and she indicated Julian.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Do that," said the sergeant, "and he may escape."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Come, then," she said, addressing Mr. Spranger and Julian; -"but not you, you bloodhound," turning on the man. "Not you! Come, I will tell -you everything. I will save him."</p> - -<p class="normal">While, making her way through the others as though she still -ruled supreme in the house, and followed by the two men, she led the way to a -small parlour situated upon the same floor they were on.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></h4> - -<h5>THE SHARK'S TOOTH REEF</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Meanwhile the night grew on, and with it -there was that accompaniment which is so common in the tropics: the wind rising, -and from blowing lightly soon sprang up into what the sailors call half a gale.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now and again, far away to the east, flashes of rusty red -lightning might be seen also, the almost sure heralds of a storm later.</p> - -<p class="normal">The wind blew, too, over the dense masses of orange groves and -other vegetation which go to form the tropical jungle that hereabout fringes the -seashore; compact masses that, to many endeavouring to arrive at that shore, -would offer an impenetrable, an impassable, barrier. Though not so to those -acquainted with the vicinity and used to threading the jungle, nor to the -Indians and half-castes whose huts and cabins bordered on that jungle, since -they knew every spot where passage might be made, and the coast thereby reached -at last.</p> - -<p class="normal">Zara knew also each of those passages well, and threaded them -now with the confidence born of familiarity; with, too, the stern determination -to arrive at the end she had sworn to attain, if such attainment were possible.</p> - -<p class="normal">She had left the room where Madame Carmaux had been -confronted, not only by her but by all the others, in the manner described; had -left it suddenly, though mysteriously, even as to her maddened brain a thought -had sprung, dispelling for the moment all the agony and passion with which that -brain was racked. The thought that, as she had sent the man she loved to his -doom, so, also, it might not yet be too late to avert that doom--to save him.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Indians who were bearing him to the old ramshackle -sailing-boat he possessed (a thing half yawl and half lugger--a thing, too, -which she supposed those men had been instructed to pierce and bore so that it -would begin to fill from the first, and should, thereby, sink by the time it was -in deep water) must necessarily go slowly, owing to the burden they had to -carry, while she--well! she could progress almost as swiftly as the deer could -themselves thread the thickets that bordered the coast.</p> - -<p class="normal">Surely, surely, lithe, young, and active as she was she would -overtake those men with their burden ere they could reach the yawl; she would be -able to bid them stop, and could at once point out to them the fatal mistake -that had been made. She could give them proof, by bidding them take one glance -at the features of the senseless man they were transporting, of the nature of -that mistake.</p> - -<p class="normal">So she set out to overtake the Indians with their burden; set -out, staying for nothing, and allowing nothing to hinder her. For, swiftly as -she might go, every minute was still precious.</p> - -<p class="normal">And now--now--as the night wind arose still more and the rusty -red of the lightning turned to a more purple-violet hue--sure warning of the -nearness of the coming storm--she was almost close to the beach where she knew -Sebastian's crazy old craft was kept in common with one or two others; namely, a -punt with a deep tank for fish, a scow, and a boat with oars. She was close to -the beach, but with, at this time, her heart like lead in her bosom because of -the fear she had that she was too late.</p> - -<p class="normal">"No sound," she muttered to herself. "No voices to be heard. -They are gone. They are gone. I <i>am</i> too late!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, redoubling her exertions, she ran swiftly the remainder -of the distance to where she knew the boathouse--an erection of poles with -planks laid across them--stood.</p> - -<p class="normal">And in a moment she knew that she was, indeed, too late. Where -the yawl usually floated there was now an empty space; there was nothing in the -boathouse but the punt and the rowboat.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Oh! what to do," she cried, "what to do!" and she beat her -breast as she so cried. "They have carried him out to sea, even now the yawl is -sinking--has sunk--they will be on their way back. He is dead! he is dead! he -must be dead by now!"</p> - -<p class="normal">While, overcome by the horror and misery of her thoughts, she -sank down to the ground. But not for long, however, since at such a crisis as -this her strong--if often ungovernable--heart became filled with greater courage -and resource. To sink to the ground, she told herself, to lie there wailing and -moaning over the impending fate of him she loved, was not the way to avert that -fate. Instead, she must be prompt and resolute.</p> - -<p class="normal">She sprang, therefore, once more to her feet and--dark as was -all around her, except for the light of a young crescent moon peeping up over -the sea's rim and forcing a glimmer now and again through the banks of deep, -leaden clouds which the wind was bringing up from that sea--made her way into -the boathouse, where, swiftly unloosing the painter of the rowboat, she pushed -the latter out into the tumbling waves and began to scull it.</p> - -<p class="normal">"They must have gone straight out," she thought, "straight -out. And they would not go far. Only to where the water is deep enough for the -yawl to sink, or to encounter one of the many reefs--those jagged crested reefs -which would make a hole in her far worse than fifty awls could do."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then still bending her supple frame over the oars, while her -little hands clenched them tightly, she rowed and rowed for dear life--as in -actual truth it was!--her breath coming faster and faster with her exertions, -her bosom heaving, but her courage indomitable.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I may not be too late," she whispered again and again; "the -boat may not yet have filled. I may not be too late."</p> - -<p class="normal">Suddenly she paused affrighted, startled; her heart seemed to -cease to beat, her hands were idle as they clutched the oars. Startled, and -despairing!</p> - -<p class="normal">For out here the water was calmer, there being on it only the -long Atlantic roll that is so common beneath the roughness of the winds; except -for the slapping and crashing of those waves against the bows of the boat with -each rise and fall it made, there was scarcely any noise; certainly none such as -those waves had made, and would make against the boathouse and the long line of -the shore. So little noise that what she had heard before she heard again now, -as she sat listening and terrified in her place. She caught the beat of oars in -another boat, a boat that was drawing nearer to her with each fresh stroke--that -was, also, drawing nearer to the boathouse.</p> - -<p class="normal">The Indians were returning. Their work was done!</p> - -<p class="normal">"I am too late," she moaned. "I am too late. God help us -both!"</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, too, she heard something else.</p> - -<p class="normal">Over the waters, over the rolling waves, there came to her -ears the clear sounds of a man singing in a high tenor--it was almost a high -treble--a man singing a song in Maya which she, who was of their race, knew was -one that, in bygone days the Caribs and natives had sung in triumph over the -downfall of their enemies. A song which, when it was concluded, was followed by -a little bleating laugh, one which she knew well enough, a laugh which only one -man in all that neighbourhood could give. Then she heard words called out in a -half-chuckling, half-gloating tone, still in Maya.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Sink him beneath the sea forever,' she say, 'forever beneath -the sea.' And Paz he never for get, oh, never, never! Now he sunk," and again -she heard the bleating laugh, and again the beginning of that wild Carib song of -triumph.</p> - -<p class="normal">Springing up, dropping the oars heedlessly--her heart almost -bursting--the girl rose from her seat, then shrieked aloud--sending her voice in -the direction where now there loomed before her eyes a blur beneath the moon's -glimmer which she knew to be a boat. "Paz," she cried, "Paz, it is not true, say -it is not true. Oh! Paz, where is he?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Where you wish. Where you tell me put him," the other called -back, while still beneath the brawny, muscular strokes of the Indians rowing it, -the boat swept on toward the shore. "Beneath the waves or soon will be. Breaking -to pieces on Shark's Tooth Reef. Paz never forget."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Beast! devil!" the girl cried in her agony, forgetting, or -recalling with redoubled horror, that what had been done was her own doing, was -perpetrated at her suggestion. "Return and help me to save him. Oh! come back."</p> - -<p class="normal">But the boat was gone, was but a speck now beneath the moon, -and she was alone upon the sea, over which the wind howled as it lashed it to -fury at last.</p> - -<p class="normal">"The Shark's Tooth Reef," she murmured. "The Shark's Tooth -Reef, The worst of all around. Yet--yet--if caught on that, the yawl may not -sink. Oh! oh!" and she muttered to herself some wild unexpressed words that were -doubtless a prayer. Then she grasped the oars once more, which, since they were -fixed by loops on to thole pins instead of being loose in rowlocks, had not -drifted away as might otherwise have been the case, and set the boat toward the -spot where the Shark's Tooth Reef was as nearly as she could guess.</p> - -<p class="normal">"If I can but reach it," she muttered to herself. "If I can -but reach it."</p> - -<p class="normal">But now her labours were more intense than before, her -struggles more terrible. For, coming straight toward the bow of the boat, the -Atlantic rollers beat it back with every stroke she took, while also they -deluged it with water, so that she knew ere long it must sink beneath the waves. -Already there were three or four inches in the bottom--nay, more, for the -stretchers were half-covered--another three of four and it would go down like -lead. And each fresh wave that broke over the bows added a further quantity.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To see him once again; only to see him though if not to -save," she moaned--weeping at last; "to see him, to be able to tell him that -though I sent him to his doom I loved him," while roused by the thought, she -still struggled on, buffeted and beaten by the waves; breathless, almost -lifeless--but still unconquered and unconquerable.</p> - -<p class="normal">Suddenly she gave a gasp, a shriek. Close by her, rising up -some twenty feet from the sea, there was a cone-shaped rock, jagged and serrated -at its summit; black, too, and glistening as, in the rays of the fast rising -young moon, the water streaming from off it. It was the Shark's Tooth Reef, so -called because, from its long length of some fifty yards (a length also serrated -and jagged like the under jaw of a dog), there rose that cone-shaped thing which -resembled what it was named from.</p> - -<p class="normal">And again she shrieked as, looking beyond the base of the -cone, peering through the hurtling waves and white filmy spume and spray, she -saw upon the further edge of the base of the reef a black, indistinct mass being -beaten to and fro. She heard, too, the grinding of that mass against the reef, -as well as its thumps as it was flung on and dragged off it by the swirling of -the sea; she heard, how each time, the force of the impact became louder and -more deadly.</p> - -<p class="normal">"To reach him at last," she cried, "to die with him! To die -together."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then it seemed that into that quivering, nervous frame there -came a giant's strength; it seemed as though the cords and sinews of her arms -had become steel and iron, as though the little hands were vises in the power of -their grip. "To die together," she thought again, as, with superhuman efforts, -she forced her boat toward the battered, broken yawl.</p> - -<p class="normal">Now, she was close to it--now!--then, with a crash her own -boat was dashed against the larger one, its bow crushed in, in a moment, its -stem lifted into the air. But, catlike, desperate, too, fighting fate with the -determination of despair, she had seized the top of the yawl's side; had clung -to it one moment while the sea thundered and broke against her feet below, and -had then drawn herself up onto the deck over the side.</p> - -<p class="normal">And he was there, lying half-in, half-out the little -forecastle cuddy, bound and corded--insensible.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I have found you, Sebastian," she whispered, her lips to his -cold ones. "I have found you."</p> - -<p class="normal">With an awful lurch the yawl heeled over, the man's body -rolling like a log as it did so, and then Zara knew that the end had come. Even -though he lived, nothing could save him now; his arms were bound tightly to his -sides, the cords passing over his chest from left to right. He was without sense -or power.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Nothing can save him now--nor me," she said. "Nothing."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then she forced her own little hands beneath those cords so -that, thereby, she was bound to him; whereby if ever they were found, they would -be found locked together; she grasping tightly, too, the top ply, so that -neither wave, nor roll of sea, nor any force could tear them apart again. And if -they were never found--still--still, nothing could part them more.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Together," she murmured, for the last time, her own strength -ebbing fast, "together forever. Together at the end. Always together now--in -death!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></h4> - -<h5>MADAME CARMAUX TELLS ALL</h5> -<br> - -<p class="normal">Calmly--almost contemptuously--as though she -were in truth mistress of Desolada and a woman who conferred honour upon those -who followed her, instead of one who was in actual fact their prisoner, Madame -Carmaux led the way to that parlour wherein she had promised to divulge all; to -reveal the secret of how another man had usurped for so long the place and -position which rightfully belonged to Julian Ritherdon.</p> - -<p class="normal">And they who followed her, observing how rigid, how masklike -were the handsome features; how the soft, dark eyes gleamed now with a hard, -determined look, knew that as she had said, so she would do; so she would -perform. They recognised that she would not falter in her task, she deeming that -what she divulged would tell in Sebastian's favour.</p> - -<p class="normal">Still firm and calm, therefore, and still as though she were -the owner of that house which she had ruled for so long with absolute sway, she -motioned to Julian and Mr. Spranger to be seated--while standing before them -enveloped in the long loose robe of soft black material in which she had been -clad, and with the lace hood thrown back from her head and setting free the dark -masses of hair which had always been one of her greatest beauties--hair in which -there was scarcely, even now, a streak of white.</p> - -<p class="normal">"It is," she murmured, when the lights had been brought, "for -Sebastian's sake, if he still lives. And to prove to you that he is -innocent--was innocent until almost the day when he, that other, came here," and -her glance fell on Julian--"that I tell you all which I am about to do. Also, -that I tell you how I alone am the guilty one."</p> - -<p class="normal">Her eyes resting on those of Julian and Mr. Spranger, they -both signified by a look that they were prepared to hear all she might have to -narrate. Then, ere she began the recital she was about to make, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet, if you desire more witnesses, call them in. Let them -hear, too. I care neither for what they may think of me, nor what testimony they -may bear against me in the future. Call in whom you will."</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment the two men before her looked into each other's -faces; then Mr. Spranger said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"Perhaps it would be as well to have another witness, -especially as Mr. Ritherdon is the most interested person. My daughter is -outside, if--if your story contains nothing she may not hear----"</p> - -<p class="normal">"It contains nothing," Madame Carmaux answered, there being a -tone of contempt in it which she did not endeavour to veil, "but the story of a -crime, a fraud, worked out by a deserted, heartbroken woman. Call her in."</p> - -<p class="normal">Then, summoned by Julian, Beatrix entered the room, and, -taking a seat between her father and her lover, was an ear-witness to all that -the other woman had to tell.</p> - -<p class="normal">For a moment it seemed as if Madame Carmaux scarce knew how to -commence; for a few moments she stood before them, her eyes sometimes cast down -upon the floor, sometimes seeking theirs. Then, suddenly, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"That narrative which George Ritherdon wrote in England when -he was dying, and sent to his brother Charles, who was himself close to his end, -was true."</p> - -<p class="normal">"It was true!" whispered Julian, repeating her words, "I knew -it was! I was sure of it! Yet how--how--was the deception accomplished?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"He loved me," madame exclaimed, she hardly, as it seemed, -hearing or heeding Julian's remark. "Charles loved me--till he saw her, Isobel -Leigh. And I--I--well, I had never loved any other man. I did not know what love -was till I saw him. Then--then--he--what need to seek for easy words--he jilted -me, and, in despair, I married Carmaux on the day that he married her. It seemed -to my distracted heart that by doing so I might more effectually erase his -memory from my mind forever. And my son was born but a week or so before you, -Julian Ritherdon, were born."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sebastian. Not a daughter?" Julian said.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes; Sebastian; not a daughter. Yet, later, when it was -necessary that my child should be registered, I recorded the birth as that of a -daughter, and at the same time I registered that daughter's death. Later, you -will understand why it was necessary that any child of mine should disappear out -of existence, and also why, above all things, it must never be known that I had -a son."</p> - -<p class="normal">Again Julian looked in Mr. Spranger's eyes, and Mr. Spranger -into his, their glances telling each other plainly that, even now, they thought -they began to understand.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I heard," Madame Carmaux went on, "that she too had borne a -son, and in some strange, heartbroken excitement that took possession of me, I -determined to go and see Charles Ritherdon, to show him my child, to prove to -him--as I thought it would do--that if he who had forgotten me was happy in -marriage, so, too, was I. Happy! oh, my God! However, no matter for my -happiness--I went.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I arrived here late at night, and I found him almost -distracted. His wife was dying: she could not live, they said; how was the child -to live without her? Then I promised that, if he would let me stay on at -Desolada, I would be as much a mother to that child as to my own, that I would -forget his cruelty to me, that I would forgive.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'Come,' he said to me, on hearing this, 'come and see -them--come.' And I went with him to the room where she was, where you were," and -she looked at Julian.</p> - -<p class="normal">"I went to that room," she continued, "with every honest -feeling in my heart that a woman who had sworn to condone a man's past -faithlessness could have; before Heaven I swear that I went to that room -resolved to be what I had said, a second mother to you. I went with pity in my -heart for the poor dying woman--the woman who had never really loved her -husband, but, instead, had loved his brother. For, as you know well enough, she -had been forced to jilt George Ritherdon even as Charles had jilted me. I went -to that room and then--then we learned that she was dead. But, also, we learned -something else. There was no child by her side. It was gone. Its place was -empty."</p> - -<p class="normal">"I begin to understand," murmured Julian, while Beatrix and -her father showed by their expression that to them also a glimmering of light -was coming.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yet," said Madame Carmaux, "scarcely can you -understand--scarcely dream of--the temptation that fell in my way. In a moment, -at the instant that Charles Ritherdon saw that his child was missing, he cried, -'This is my brothers doing! It is he who has stolen it. To murder it, to be -avenged on me for having won his future wife from him. I know it.' And, -distractedly, he raved again and again that it was his brother's doing. In vain -I tried to pacify him, saying that his brother was far away in the States. To my -astonishment he told me that, on the contrary, he was here, close at hand, if -not even now lurking in the plantation of Desolada, or at Belize.</p> - -<p class="normal">"'I saw him there yesterday,' he cried, 'I saw him with my own -eyes. Now I understand what took him there. It was to steal my child--to murder -it. Great God! to thereby become my heir.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"As he spoke there came a footfall in the passage; some one -was coming. Perhaps the nurse returning; perhaps, also, if George Ritherdon had -only been there a short time before us, she did not know that the child had been -kidnapped. 'And if she does not know, then no one else can know,' he cried. -'While,' he said, 'if that unutterable villain, George, thinks to profit by this -theft, I will thwart him. He may rob me of my child, he may murder the poor -innocent babe--but he at least shall never be my heir,' and as he spoke his eyes -fell on -<i>my</i> child in my arms. 'Cover it up,' he whispered, 'show its face only, -otherwise the clothes it wears will betray it. Cover it up.'"</p> - -<p class="normal">"If this is true, the crime was his," whispered Julian.</p> - -<p class="normal">"<i>That</i> crime was his," said Madame Carmaux, "the rest -was mine. But--let me continue. As Charles spoke, the nurse was at the door--a -negro woman who died six months afterward--a moment later she was in the room. -Yet not before I had had time to whisper a word in his ear, to say, 'If I do -this, it is forever? If your child is never found, is mine to remain in its -place?'--and with a glance he seemed to answer, 'Yes.'</p> - -<p class="normal">"None ever knew of that substitution, no living soul ever knew -that the child growing up as his, its birth registered by him at Belize as his, -was, in truth, mine. Not one living soul. Nor were you ever heard of again. We -agreed to believe that you had been made away with. Yet, as time went on, -Charles Ritherdon seemed to repent of what he had done; he came to think that, -after all, his brother might not have been the thief, or, being so, that he had -not slain the child; to also think that perhaps some of the half-castes or -Indians, on whom he was occasionally hard, might have stolen it out of revenge. -And it required all my tears and supplications, all my prayers to him to -remember that, had he not been cruelly false to me, it would in truth have been -our child which was the rightful heir, which was here--his child and mine! At -last he consented--provided that the other--the real child--you--were never -heard of again. My son should remain in his son's place, if you never appeared -to claim that place.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Sebastian grew up in utter ignorance of all; he grew up also -to resemble strangely the man who was supposed to be his father--perhaps because -from the moment I married Monsieur Carmaux it was not his image but that of -Charles Ritherdon which was ever in my mind.</p> - -<p class="normal">"But when George Ritherdon's statement came, and with it the -information that you were in existence, Charles determined to tell Sebastian -everything. He would have done so, too, but that the illness he was suffering -from took a fatal termination almost directly afterward--doubtless from the -shock of learning what he did. Yet it made no difference, for the day after his -death Sebastian found the paper and so discovered all."</p> - -<p class="normal">"He knew then," said Julian--though as he spoke his voice was -not harsh, he recognising how cruel had been this woman's lot from the first, -and how doubly cruel must have been the blow which fell on her when, after -twenty-five years of possession, the son whom she had loved so, and had schemed -so for, was about to be dispossessed--"he knew then who I was when we first met, -and--and--God forgive him!--from that moment commenced to plot my death."</p> - -<p class="normal">"No!" cried Madame Carmaux. "No! Have I not said that he was -innocent? It was I--I--who plotted--alas! he was my son. Will not a mother do -all for her only child? It was I who changed the horses in their stalls, putting -his, which none but he could ride in safety, in place of the sure-footed one he -had destined for you; it was I--God help and pardon me! who put the coral snake -in your bed--I--I--who did the rest you know of."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And did you, too, procure the Indians who were to take me out -to sea and drown me?" asked Julian with a doubtful glance at her. "Surely not. -There was a man's hand in that. And it was Sebastian who was advancing along the -passage when Zara's knife struck him down."</p> - -<p class="normal">"By instigation I did it," Madame Carmaux cried, determined to -the last to shield the son she still hoped to meet again in this world--"the -suggestion, the plot was mine alone. While because he was weak, because from the -first he has ever yielded to me, he yielded now. Spare him!" she cried, and -flung herself upon her knees before that listening trio, her calmness, her -contemptuousness, vanished now. "Spare him, and do with me what you will."</p> - -<p class="normal">So the story was told, so the discovery of all was made at -last. Julian knew now upon how simple a thing--the fact of Madame Carmaux having -taken that strange determination to go and see the man who had cast her off and -jilted her, carrying her child in her arms--the whole mystery had rested. But -what he never knew was that, had Zara lived, she could have also told him all. -For in the savage girl's love for the man, who in his turn had treated her -badly, and in her determination to be ever watching over him, she had long since -overheard scraps of conversation which had revealed the secret to her in the -same way as they had done to Paz.</p> - -<p class="normal">And it was to her, and her determination to prevent Sebastian -from committing any crime by which his life or his liberty might become -imperilled, that Julian owed the fact that he had not long since died by the -hand of Madame Carmaux--if not by that of Sebastian.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_34" href="#div1Ref_34">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></h4> - -<h5>CONTENTMENT</h5> -<br> - -<p style="margin-left:15%; text-indent:-10px">"And on her lover's arm she leaned,<br> -And 'round her waist she felt it fold."</p> - -<br> -<p class="normal">Some two or three months of Julian's leave remained to expire -at the time when the foregoing explanation had taken place, and perhaps nothing -which had occurred since the day when he first set foot in British Honduras had -caused him more perplexity than his present deliberations as to how to make the -best of that period.</p> - -<p class="normal">For now he knew that he had done with the colony for ever; he -had achieved that for which he had come to it; he had proved the truth of George -Ritherdon's statement up to the hilt, and--in so far as obtaining the possession -of that which was undoubtedly his--well! the law would soon take steps to enable -him to do so.</p> - -<p class="normal">Only, when he told himself that he had done with the colony, -when he reflected that henceforth his foot would never tread on its earth more, -he had also to tell himself that he could alone consent to sever his connection -with it by also taking away with him the most precious thing it contained in his -eyes--Beatrix Spranger.</p> - -<p class="normal">"For," he said to that young lady, as once more they sat in -the garden at "Floresta," with about and around them all the surroundings that -he had learned to know so well and to recall during many of the gloomy nights -and days he had spent at Desolada--the great shade palms, the gorgeous -flamboyants and delicate oleander blossoms, as well as the despairing looking -and lugubrious monkey--"for, darling, I cannot go without you. If I were to do -so, Heaven alone knows when I could return to claim you; and, also, I cannot -wait. Sweetheart, you too must sail for England with me, and it must be as Mrs. -Ritherdon."</p> - -<p class="normal">He said the same thing often. Indeed at night, which is--as -those acquainted with such matters tell us--the period when young ladies pass in -review the principal events that have happened to them during the day, Beatrix -used to consider, or rather to calculate, that he made the same remark about -twenty times daily. While, since, loving and gentle as she was, she was also -possessed of a considerable amount of feminine perspicacity, she supposed that -he reiterated the phrase upon the principle that the constant drop of water -which falls upon a stone will at last wear it away.</p> - -<p class="normal">"Though," the girl would say to herself in those soft hours of -maiden meditation, "he need not fear. He cannot but think that his longing is -also shared by me."</p> - -<p class="normal">Aloud, however, when once more he repeated what had become -almost a set phrase, she said:</p> - -<p class="normal">"You know that you have taken an unfair advantage of me. -Indeed, though it was only by chance, you have put me to terrible mortification. -You overheard my avowal to that unhappy girl, my avowal that--that--I loved -you." And Beatrix blushed most beautifully as she softly uttered the words. -"Think what an avowal it was. To be made by a woman for a man who had never -asked for her love."</p> - -<p class="normal">"Had he not," Julian said, "had he not, Beatrix? Never asked -for that love on one happy day spent alone by that woman's side, when he -confided everything to her that bore upon his presence here; and she, full of -soft and gentle sympathy, told him all her fears and anxiety for the risks he -might run. And, did he not ask for that love on the night which followed that -day, as they rode back to Belize beneath the stars?"</p> - -<p class="normal">And now his eyes were gazing into hers with a look of love -which no woman could doubt, even though no other man had ever looked at her so -before; while since loverlike, they were sitting close together, his arm stole -round her waist.</p> - -<p class="normal">To the inexperienced--the present narrator included--it may be -permitted to wonder how lovers learn to do these things as well as how they -discover, too, the efficacy of such subtle tenderness; yet one is told that they -are done, and that the success thereof is indisputable.</p> - -<p class="normal">Nor, with Beatrix, did either the look of love or the soft -environment of his arm fail in their effort, as may be judged from her answer to -his whispered question, "It shall be, shall it not, darling?"</p> - -<p class="normal">"Yes," she murmured, blushing again and more deeply. "Yes. If -father permits."</p> - -<p class="normal">And so Julian's love grew toward a triumphant termination; yet -still there were other matters to be seen to and arranged ere he, with his wife -by his side, should quit the colony forever. One thing, however, it transpired, -would require little trouble in arranging; namely, the property of Desolada, -when the law should put him in possession of it, since, on investigation being -made after the disappearance of Sebastian, it was found to be so heavily -mortgaged that to pay off the loans upon it would leave Julian without any -capital whatever; while, at the same time, he would be saddled with a possession -in a country with which he had nothing in common. Of what had become of the -money left by Charles Ritherdon at his death (and it had been a substantial sum) -or of what had become of the other sums borrowed on Desolada, there was no one -to inform them.</p> - -<p class="normal">Sebastian had disappeared, was undoubtedly gone forever--and -of his fate there could be little doubt. Certainly there could be no doubt in -the minds of either Beatrix or Julian or of Mr. Spranger, who had of course been -made acquainted with the substitution of Sebastian for Julian. Zara also had -disappeared, and Madame Carmaux had--escaped.</p> - -<p class="normal">How she had done it no one ever knew, but in the morning which -followed that eventful night when she made her confession, she was missing from -her room, at the door of which one of the constabulary had been set as a guard. -That she should be able so to evade those who were passing the night at Desolada -was easily to be comprehended when, the next day, her room was examined; they -understood how she might have passed on to the balcony outside that room, have -traversed it for some distance, and then have made her way into some other -apartment, and so from that have descended the great stairs in the darkness, and -stolen away into the plantations. At any rate, whether these surmises were -correct or not, she was gone, and she has never since been seen in British -Honduras.</p> - -<p class="normal">Yet one planter, who makes frequent journeys to New Orleans in -connection with his imports and exports, declares that only a few months ago he -saw her in Lafayette Square in that city. It was at the time when the terrible -scourge of Louisiana, the yellow fever, is most dreaded, and even as the planter -entered the Square he saw a man lying prostrate on the ground, while afar off -from him, because of fear of the infection, yet regarding him with a gaping -curiosity, was a crowd of negroes and whites. Then, still watching the scene, -this gentleman saw a woman clad in the garb of a Nun of Calvary, who approached -the prostrate man, and, while calling on those near to assist him, ministered to -his wants in so far as she could. And, her veil falling aside, the planter -declared that he saw plainly the face of the woman who, in British Honduras, had -been known for a quarter of a century as Miriam Carmaux. He also recognized her -voice.</p> - -<p class="normal">If such were the case, if, at last, that tempestuous soul--the -soul of a woman who, in her earlier days, had had meted out to her a more cruel -fate than falls to the lot of most women--if at last the erring woman who had -been driven to fraud and crime by the love she bore her child--had found calm, -if not peace, beneath that holy garb, perhaps those who have heard her story may -be disposed to think of her without harshness. Such was the case with Julian -Ritherdon, who, as she made her confession, forgave her for all that she had -attempted against him--since she was scarcely a greater sinner than his own -father, who had countenanced the fraud she perpetrated, or his uncle, whose -early vindictiveness led to that fraud. Such, also, was the case with Beatrix, -from whose gentle eyes fell tears as she listened to the narrative told by the -unhappy woman while she was yet uncertain of the doom of the son for whom she -had so long schemed and plotted. And so let it be with others. If she had erred, -so also she had suffered. And, by suffering, is atonement made.</p> -<br> - -<p class="normal">You could not have witnessed, perhaps, a brighter scene than that which took -place on a clear October morning in the handsome Gothic church of Belize, when -Julian Ritherdon and Beatrix Spranger became man and wife.</p> - -<p class="normal">Space has not permitted for the introduction of the reader to -several other sweet young English maidens whose parents' affairs have led to -their residences in the colony; yet such maidens there are in Honduras--as the -inquiring traveller may see for himself, if he chooses--and of these fair exiles -some were, this morning, bridesmaids. They, you may be sure, lent brightness and -brilliancy to the scene, and so did the uniforms of several young officers of -her Majesty's navy, these gentlemen having been impressed into the ceremony For, -as luck would have it, not a week before, H.M.S. Cerberus (twin-screw cruiser, -first-class, armoured) had anchored, off Belize, and, as those acquainted with -the Royal navy are aware, no officer of that noble service can come into contact -with any ship belonging to it (as Julian Ritherdon soon did) without finding -therein old friends and comrades. Be very sure also, therefore, that George -Hope, George Potter, John Hamilton, that most illustrious of naval doctors, -"Jock" Lyons, and many others dear to friends both in and out of the service, -all came ashore in the bravery of their full dress--epaulettes, cocked hats, and -so forth--while the <i>Padré</i> "stood by" to lend a hand to the local -clergyman in performing the ceremony. While, too, the path from the churchyard -gates to the church door was lined by bluejackets who, of course, were here clad -in their "whites" and straw hats.</p> - -<p class="normal">But, because rumour ever runneth swift of foot, even in so -small a colony as this--where, naturally, its feet have not so much ground to -cover--and in so small a capital as Belize, with its six thousand inhabitants, -the church was also filled with many others drawn from the various races, mixed -and pure, who dwell therein. For, by now, there was scarcely a person in either -the colony or capital to whose ears there had not come the news that the -handsome young officer who was in a few moments to become the husband of Miss -Spranger, was, in truth, the rightful owner of Desolada. Likewise, all knew that -Sebastian had never been that owner, but that he was the son of Carmaux, who had -perished by the fangs of the tommy-goff, and of the dark, mysterious beauty who -had come among them as Miriam Gardelle and had married him. And they knew, too, -that this marriage was to be the reward and crown of dangers run by Julian, of -more than one attempt upon his life, as well as that it was the outcome of a -deep fraud perpetrated and kept dark for many years.</p> - -<p class="normal">Paz was there, too, his eyes glistening with rapture at the -sound of the Wedding March, his weird soul being ever stirred by music; so, -also, was Monsieur Lemaire, grave, dignified, and calm as became a French -gentleman in exile, and with, about him as ever, that flavour of one who ought -by right to have walked in the gardens of Versailles two hundred years ago, and -have basked in the smiles of the Great Monarch.</p> - -<p class="normal">And so they were married, nor can it be doubted that they will -live happy ever afterward--to use the sweet, old-time expression of the -storybooks of our infancy. Married--she given away by her father; he supported -by his oldest friend in the Cerberus--and both passing happy! Married, and going -forth along the path of life, he most probably to distinction in his calling, -she to the duties of an honest English wife. Married and happy. What more was -needed?</p> - -<p class="normal">"I come," he said to her that afternoon, when already the -steamer was leaving Honduras far astern, and they were travelling by the new -route toward Kingstown on their road to England--"I came to Honduras to find -perhaps a father, perhaps an inheritance. Neither was to be granted to me, but, -instead, something five thousand times more precious--a wife five thousand times -more dear than any parent or any possession."</p> - -<p class="normal">"And," she asked, her pure, earnest eyes gazing into his, "you -are contented? You are sure that that will make you happy?"</p> - -<p class="normal">To which he replied--as--well! as, perhaps--if a man--you -would have replied yourself.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Bitter Heritage, by John Bloundelle-Burton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A BITTER HERITAGE *** - -***** This file should be named 52956-h.htm or 52956-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/9/5/52956/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by the -Web Archive (New York Public Library) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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