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diff --git a/old/65345-0.txt b/old/65345-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 603866e..0000000 --- a/old/65345-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14715 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Under Three Flags, by Bert Leston Taylor - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Under Three Flags - A Story of Mystery - -Author: Bert Leston Taylor - Alvin T. Thoits - -Release Date: May 15, 2021 [eBook #65345] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MFR, Gísli Valgeirsson, Barry Abrahamsen, and the Online - Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This - file was produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THREE FLAGS *** - - - - - _UNDER THREE FLAGS_ - —A Story of Mystery - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - UNDER THREE FLAGS - - - - A Story of Mystery - - - - BY - - B. L. TAYLOR AND A. T. THOITS. - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - CHICAGO AND NEW YORK: - RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY. - MDCCCXCVI. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _A PRIZE STORY_ - - - In THE CHICAGO RECORD’S series of “Stories of Mystery.” - - - _UNDER THREE FLAGS_ - - BY - - B. L. TAYLOR AND A. T. THOITS. - - - - (This story—out of 816 competing—was awarded the THIRD PRIZE in THE - CHICAGO RECORD’S “$30,000 to Authors” competition.) - - - - - ────────────────── - Copyright, 1896, by B. L. Taylor and A. T. Thoits. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - UNDER THREE FLAGS. - - - ---------- - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - “OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY.” - - -“No; I am not tired of life. Who could be on such a day? I am weary -simply of this way of living. I want to get away—away from this stagnant -hole. It is the same dull story over and over again, day after day, -world without end, amen!” - -“Would you be a bit more contented in any other spot?” - -“I think so. I cannot believe that mankind in general is so selfish, so -hypocritical, and, worst crime of all, so hopelessly stupid as it is -here. The world is 25,000 miles in circumference. Why spend all one’s -days in this split in the mountains?” - -“But, tell me, what is your ambition, then? Have you one?” - -“You would smile pityingly if I told it you.” - -“No; I’ll be as serious as—as you.” - -“Then incline thine ear. I would I were the ruler of a savage tribe, in -the heart of far-away New Zealand, shut in by towering mountains from -the outer world.” - -“But why spend all one’s days in a valley?” - -“Oh, well, if you’re going in for a valley, why not have a good one?” - -She throws herself down beside him on the grass and clasps her arms -about his neck. “You foolish boy; you don’t know what you want.” - -“Don’t I?” He draws the glowing face to his and kisses it. - -The two are idling in a grassy nook on the slope of one of Vermont’s -green hills, sheltered by a clump of spruce from observation and the -slanting rays of the sun. - -There is an infinite calm in the late spring air, and the golden -afternoon drifts by on lazy pinions. Away in the west, across the vale, -the main spur of the Green Mountain range awaits the last pencilings of -the low-descending sun. Southward Wild River sings its way through -buttercup and daisy flecked meadows; to the north the smoke from the -chimneys of Raymond blurs the lines of as fair a landscape as earth can -boast. - -Derrick Ames pulls his hat over his eyes, stretches himself on the -greensward and gazes long and lovingly at his companion. The fair face, -browned by many rambles among the hills; the rippling hair, tumbled in -confusion about mischievous and laughter-laden brown eyes; the rounded -arms; the slim, girlish figure, about which even the coarse dress donned -for mountain climbing falls in graceful lines; the dainty feet and the -perfectly turned ankles, make a picture for an artist. - -She picked up the book which lies open upon the grass and glances over -its pages, dreamily. - -The sun goes down in a golden haze, and still the lovers tarry in their -sylvan trysting-place. - -“It is getting late and damp; we had better be moving,” he says, -finally. - -They arise and take their way across the pasture, their arms clasped -about each other’s waist. Derrick is talking in low, earnest tones, with -an infrequent interruption by his companion. - -“It’s no use,” he exclaims, impatiently, in reply to a protest on her -part. “Twice I have spoken to your father, with the same result. I have -been refused and insulted. He is selfish, overbearing—” - -She places one hand upon his lips. “But will you not make a third -trial—for my sake,” she pleads. - -“For your sake I would do anything,” he answers, pressing the soft hand -to his lips. “There is no time like the present. Will you wait for me -here?” She nods. “Where will I find your father?” - -“At the bank. I think he said he would be there all the evening.” - -“I will return shortly, for I know what the answer will be.” - -She watches the erect form of her lover as he strides down the road -leading into the village. - -The shadows deepen in the valley. The opalescent light that hangs over -the range fades into the darkening gray. The moon rises in full, round -splendor and transforms the river into a silver torrent. - -The clanging of the Raymond town clock, as it hammers out the hour of 8, -rouses the girl. “Derrick should be here soon,” she murmurs. Then she -clutches her heart with an exclamation of pain and terror. - -It is a swift, sharp spasm, that passes away as quickly as it came, and -which leaves the girl for several minutes afterward somewhat dazed. -Footsteps echo in the road. - -“The result?” eagerly, anxiously queries the girl as Derrick reaches her -side. - -He must have walked swiftly. He is breathing hard and his face is pale -as the moonlight. Or is it the reflection of that light? - -“Come away from here, for God’s sake!” he exclaims in a harsh, unnatural -voice, half-dragging her into the road. “I beg your pardon; I did not -mean to be rough,” he adds, as the astonished eyes of the girl look into -his. “Will you come for a walk, dear?” And as she follows, mechanically, -wonderingly, he walks swiftly away from the village. - -“I am all out of breath,” she protests, after a few moments of the -fierce pace he has set. And they stop to rest at a spring beside the -road. - -“You have quarreled with father,” asserts the girl, half questioningly; -but Derrick remains silent. - -He stops suddenly, and, holding her in his arms, smooths back the dark -ringlets from her moist brow. “Helen, darling, do not press me for an -answer to-night. Let us be happy in the present. God knows it may not be -for long.” He presses a passionate kiss upon the girl’s unresisting and -unresponsive lips, and then lifts to the moonlight a face as troubled as -the tossing river behind the dusky willows. As he releases her he -extends his arm toward the ball of silver that is wheeling up the -heavens. “See!” he cries. “The moon is up and it is a glorious night. -Shall we follow that pathway of silver over the hills and far away?” - -A loving look is her willing assent. - -The witchery that the moon is said to exert o’er mortals must be more -than a poet’s myth. A strange peace has come upon the girl. Her senses -are exalted. She seems to be walking on air. Nor does she now break upon -the silence of her companion, whose agitation has been replaced by a -singular calm. - -What a stillness, yet what a busy world claims the woods they are -crossing to-night! The crawling of a beetle through the dead leaves is -distinctly heard, and a thousand small noises that the day never hears -fill the forest with a strange music. - -A short distance farther and the wanderers emerge into the open and -pause to marvel at the picture spread before them. - -It is a wondrous night. Bathed in a radiance that tips with silver every -dew-laden spear of grass, the pasture slopes down to a highway, and the -brawling of the brook beside it comes to their ears as a strain of -music. - -Silently the lovers take their way through this fairyland, clamber over -the wall into the road, and continue on. - -“I am cold,” complains the girl, with a little shiver. Derrick wraps his -light overcoat about her shoulders. - - * * * * * - -The striking of a town clock causes them both to start. - -“Where are we?” asks the girl, looking about her in bewilderment. The -moon passes behind a cloud. The spell is over. - -“Why, this is Ashfield, isn’t it? There is the station, and the church -and the—Derrick! Derrick, where have we been wandering? Five miles from -home and midnight! What will Louise and father say? We must go home at -once.” - -“Home,” he repeats, bitterly, pointing to the north. “There is no home -yonder for me. Listen, Helen!” He draws her to him fiercely. “If we part -now it must be forever. I shall never go back. I cannot go back! Will -you not come away with me—somewhere—anywhere? Hark!” - -The whistle of the Montreal express sounds from the north. - -The girl seems not to hear him. The long whistle of the express again -echoes through the night. - -“Helen, darling!” There is a world of yearning and entreaty in his -voice. - -She throws her arms about him and kisses him. “Yes, Derrick; I will go -with you—to the end of the world.” - -The station agent regards the pair suspiciously. In the dim light of the -kerosene lamps of the waiting-room their features are only partially -discernible. - -“Sorry,” he says, “but this train don’t stop except for through -passengers to New York.” - -“But we are going to New York,” almost shouts Derrick. “Quick, man!” The -train has swept around the curve above the village and is thundering -down the stretch. - -“Wall, I guess I kin accommerdate ye,” drawls the station master. He -seizes his lantern and swings it about his head and No. 51 draws up -panting in the station. - -“Elopement, I guess,” confides the station agent to the conductor, as -Derrick and the girl clamber aboard the train. - -The latter growls something about being twenty minutes late out of St. -Albans, swings his lantern and No. 51 rumbles away in the mist and -moonlight. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - THE PRISONER OF WINDSOR—THE TRAGEDY OF A NIGHT. - - -“Stanley, I have good news for you.” - -“All news is alike to me, sir.” - -Warden Chase of the Vermont state prison regards the young man before -him with a kindly eye. - -“Your sentence of three years has been shortened by a year, as the -governor has granted you an unconditional pardon,” he announces. - -“His excellency is kind,” replied the young man in a voice that -expresses no gratitude and may contain a faint shade of irony. - -He is a striking-looking young fellow, even in his prison garb, his dark -hair cropped close and his eyes cast down in the passive manner enjoined -by the prison regulations. His height is about five feet ten inches and -his figure is rather slender and graceful. His face is singularly -handsome. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, and the two long years -of prison life have dimmed but little of the fire that flashes from -their depths. A square jaw bespeaks a strong will. The rather hard lines -about the firm mouth were not there two years before. He has suffered -mentally since then. There are too many gray hairs for a man of 28. - -Warden Chase touches a bell. “Get Stanley’s things,” he orders the -attendant, who responds. - -“Sit down, Stanley.” The young man obeys and the warden wheels about to -his desk. - -“I am authorized to purchase you a railroad ticket to any station you -may designate—within reason, of course,” amends Mr. Chase. “Which shall -it be?” A bitter smile flits across Stanley’s face and he remains -silent. - -“North, east, south or west?” questions Mr. Chase, poising his pen in -air. - -“I have no home to go to,” finally responds Stanley, lifting his eyes -for the first time since his entrance to the room. - -“No home?” repeats the warden, sympathetically. “But surely you must -want to go somewhere. You can’t stay in Windsor.” - -Stanley is thoughtful. “Perhaps you had better make the station -Raymond,” he decides, and he meets squarely the surprised and -questioning look of the warden. - -“But that is the place you were sent from.” - -“Yes.” - -“It is not your home? No; I believe you just stated that you had no -home.” - -“I have none.” - -“And you wish to revisit the scene of your—your trouble?” - -Stanley’s gaze wanders to the open window and across the valley. - -“Well, it’s your own affair,” says the warden, turning to his desk. “The -fare to Raymond is $2.50. I am also authorized to give you $5 cash, to -which I have added $10. You have assisted me about the books of the -institution and have been in every respect a model prisoner. In fact,” -supplements Mr. Chase, with a smile, “under different circumstances I -should be sorry to part with you.” - -“Thank you,” acknowledges Stanley, in the same impassive tones. - -“And now, my boy,” counsels the warden, laying one hand kindly on the -young man’s shoulder, “try to make your future life such that you will -never be compelled to see the inside of another house of this kind. I am -something of a judge of character. I am confident that you have the -making of a man in you. Here are your things,” as the attendant arrives -with Stanley’s effects. - -Mr. Chase resumes his writing and Stanley withdraws. Once within the -familiar cell, which is soon to know him no more, his whole mood -changes. - -“Free!” he breathes, exultingly, raising his clasped hands to heaven. -“What matter it if my freedom be of a few days only, of a few hours? It -will be enough for my purpose. Heavens! Two years in this hole, caged -like a wild beast, the companion of worse than beasts—a life wrecked at -28. But I’ll be revenged! As surely as there is a heaven above me, I’ll -be repaid for my months of misery. An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a -tooth!” - -He throws his prison suit from him with loathing. Then he sinks back -into his apathy and the simple toilet is completed in silence. - -A suit of light gray, of stylish cut, a pair of well-made boots, a -negligee shirt and a straw hat, make considerable change in his -appearance. He smiles faintly as he dons them. - -He ties his personal effects in a small package. They are few—half a -dozen letters, all with long-ago post-marks, a couple of photographs, -and a small volume of Shakespeare given him by the warden, who is an -admirer of Avon’s bard. - -“Off?” asks Mr. Chase, as he shakes hands. “Well, you look about the -same as when I received you. A little older, perhaps”—surveying him -critically—“and minus what I remember to have been a handsome mustache. -Good-by, my boy, and good luck. And, I say,” as Stanley strides toward -the door, “take my advice and the afternoon train for New York. Get some -honest employment and make a name for yourself. You’ve got the right -stuff in you. By the way, do you know what day it is?” - -“I have not followed the calendar with reference to any particular -days.” - -“The 30th day of May—Memorial day,” says Mr. Chase. - -“It will be a memorial day for me,” responds Stanley. “Good-by, Mr. -Chase, and thank you for your many kindnesses.” - -“I’m rather sorry to have him go,” soliloquizes the warden, as his late -charge walks slowly away from the institution. “Bright fellow, but -peculiar—very peculiar.” - -Stanley proceeds leisurely along the road leading to the station. His -eyes are bent down, and he seemingly takes no note of the glories of the -May day, of the throbbings of the busy life about him. A procession of -Grand Army men, headed by a brass band that makes music more mournful -than the occasion seems to call for, passes by on the dusty highway. - -“Homage for the dead; contumely for the living,” he murmurs, bitterly. - -The train for the north leaves at 4:30. Stanley spends the time between -in making some small purchases at the village. - -“At what hour do we arrive at Raymond?” he asks the conductor, as the -train pulls out. - -“Seven forty-five, if we are on time.” - -“Thank you,” returns the young man. He draws his hat over his eyes, and -turns his face to the window. - - * * * * * - -At 7:45 o’clock in the evening Sarah, the pretty housemaid at the -residence of Cyrus Felton, answers a sharp ring at the door bell. In the -semi-darkness of the vine-shaded porch she distinguishes only the -outlines of a man who stands well back from the door. The gas has not -yet been lighted in the hall. - -“Is Mr. Felton at home?” inquires the visitor. - -“The young or the old Mr. Felton?” - -“The young or the old?” repeats the man to himself. - -Sarah twists the door-knob impatiently. “Well?” she says. - -“I beg your pardon; I was not aware that there were two Mr. Feltons. I -believe the elder is the person I wish to see.” - -“He is not at home.” - -“He is in town?” - -“Oh, yes. He went down-street about 7 o’clock, but we expect him back -before long.” - -“Would he be likely to be at his office?” - -Sarah does not know. Mr. Felton rarely goes to the office evenings. -Still, he may be there. - -“And the office is where?” - -“In the bank block.” Sarah peers out at her questioner, but, with a -“thank you,” he has already stepped from the porch. As he strides away -in the dusk and the house door slams behind him, a second figure leaves -the shadow of the trellis, moves across the lawn and pauses at the gate. - -“In the bank building,” he muses. “One visitor ahead of me. Well, there -is no need of my hurrying,” and he saunters toward the village, the -electric lamps of which have begun to flash. - -At 8:05, as Sarah afterwards remembers, Cyrus Felton arrives home. Sarah -comes into the hall to receive him. - -“A gentleman called to see you, sir, about ten minutes ago. Did you meet -him on your way?” - -“Probably not. I have been over to Mr. Goodenough’s. Did he leave any -name?” - -“No, sir. Oh, and here is a letter that a boy brought a little while -ago.” Sarah produces a note from the hall table and disappears upstairs. - -Mr. Felton opens the note, glances at its contents and utters an -exclamation of impatience. He crumples the paper in his hand, seizes his -hat and hurries from the house and down the street. - -In the brightly lighted room of Prof. George Black, directly over the -quarters of the Raymond National Bank, a party of young men are whiling -away a few pleasant hours. The professor is lounging in an easy-chair, -his feet in another, and is lost in a “meditation” for violin, to which -Ed Knapp is furnishing a piano accompaniment. Suddenly the professor -rests his violin across his knees. - -“Hark!” he exclaims and bends his head toward the open window. “Wasn’t -that a shot downstairs?” - -“Probably,” assents one of the group. “The boys in the bank have been -plugging water rats in the river all the afternoon.” - -“But it’s too dark to shoot rats.” - -“Oh, one can aim pretty straight by electric light. Go ahead with your -fiddling, George. Get away from that piano, Knapp, and let the professor -give us the cavatina. That’s my favorite, and your accompaniment would -ruin it. Let ’er go, professor.” - -As the strains of the Raff cavatina die away, a man comes out of the -entrance of the Raymond National Bank. He glances swiftly up, then down -the street. Then he crosses the road in the shadow of a tall building -and hurries toward the station. - -“There is no train, north or south, before 11:50,” says the telegraph -operator, in response to a query at the window. He is clicking off a -message and does not turn his head. His questioner vanishes. - - * * * * * - -“Jim, Mr. Felton wants to see you,” the clerk of the Raymond Hotel -informs the sheriff of Mansfield County, who is playing cards in a room -off the office. Sheriff Wilson is a man with a game leg, a war record, -and a wild mania for the diversion of sancho pedro. When he sits in for -an evening of that fascinating pastime he dislikes to be disturbed. - -“What’s he want?” he asks absent-mindedly, for he has only two more -points to make to win the game. - -“Dunno. He seems to be worked up about something.” - -“High, low, pede!” announces the sheriff triumphantly. “Gentlemen, make -mine a cigar.” He throws his cards down and goes out into the office. -Cyrus Felton is pacing up and down excitedly. He grasps the officer by -the arm and half drags him from the hotel. When they are out of hearing -of the loungers he exclaims, in a voice that trembles with every -syllable: - -“Mr. Wilson, a fearful crime has been committed. Mr. Hathaway has been -murdered!” - -“Murdered!” The sheriff’s excitement transcends that of his companion, -who is making a desperate effort to regain his composure. - -“He is at the bank. I discovered him only a few moments ago. Come, see -for yourself.” - -They soon reach the bank, which is only a stone’s throw from the hotel. -After passing the threshold of the cashier’s office in the rear of the -banking-room the two men stop and look silently upon the grewsome sight -before them. - -Lying upon the floor, one arm extended toward and almost touching the -wide-open doors of the vault, is the body of Cashier Roger Hathaway. His -life has ebbed in the crimson pool that stains the polished floor. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - JACK ASHLEY, JOURNALIST. - - -A loud pounding on the door of his room in the tavern at South Ashfield -awakens Mr. Jack Ashley from a dream of piscatorial conquest. - -“Four o’clock!” announces the disturber of his slumbers, with a parting -thump. Ashley rolls out of bed and plunges his face into a brimming bowl -of spring water. - -It is early dawn. A cool breeze, laden with the scent of apple blossoms, -drifts through the window. - -“God made the country and man made the town,” quotes the young man, as -he descends to the hotel office. - -“Ain’t used to gittin’ up at this hour, be ye?” grins the proprietary -genius of the tavern. - -“The habit, worthy host, has not fastened upon me seriously. This is -usually my hour for going to bed. Hast aught to eat?” - -“Breakfas’ all ready,” with a nod toward what is known as the -dining-room. - -Ashley shudders as he gazes at the spread. It is the usual Vermont -breakfast—weak coffee, two kinds of pie on one plate, and a tier of -doughnuts. - -“Gad! This country is a howling wilderness of pie!” he mutters, -surveying the repast in comical despair. “And to flash it on a man at 4 -a.m.! It is simply barbarous!” - -During his short vacation sojourn Mr. Ashley’s epicurean tastes have -suffered a number of distinct shocks. But the ozone of the Green -Mountains has contributed toward the generation of an appetite that -needs little tempting to expend its energies. He makes a hearty -breakfast on this particular morning, drowns the memories of the menu in -a bowl of milk, and announces to Landlord Howe that he is ready to be -directed to the best trout brook in central Vermont. - -Mr. Howe surveys the eight-ounce bamboo with mild disdain. “Them fancy -rigs ain’t much good on our brooks,” he declares. “Ketch more with a -75-cent rod.” - -“I am rather inclined to agree with you on that point, most genial -boniface; but it’s the only rod I happen to have with me, and I expect -to return with some fish unless the myriad denizens of the brook which -you enthusiastically described last night exist only in your -imagination. By the way, what do you think of the bait?” passing over a -flask. - -Mr. Howe’s faded blue eyes moisten and a kindly smile plays over a -countenance browned by many summers in the hay field. - -“Didn’t buy that in Vermont,” he ventures. - -“Hardly. I’m not lined with asbestos.” - -The landlord grins. It is a habit he has. - -“I keeps a little suthin’ on hand myself,” he confides in a cautious -undertone, although only the cattle are listening. “But fact is, there -ain’t no use er keepin’ better’n dollar’n a half a gallon liquor. The -boys want suthin’ that’ll scratch when it goes down. Now that, I opine,” -with an affectionate glance at the flask which Ashley files away for -future reference, “must a cost nigh onter $3 a gallon.” - -“As much as that,” smiles Ashley. “That, most appreciative of bonifaces, -is the best whisky to be found on Fulton street, New York. Well, I must -be ‘driving along.’ Where’s this wonderful brook of yours?” - -“Follow that road round through the barnyard and ‘cross the basin to the -woods. Good fishin’ for four miles. And mind,” as Ashley saunters away, -“don’t bring back any trouts that ain’t six inches long, or the fish -warden will light on ye.” - -“Thanks. If I should run across the warden—” and Ashley holds up the -flask. - -“That’d fetch him, I reckon,” chuckles Mr. Howe. Ashley vaults over the -bars and strides across the meadows. - -Ashley is in high feather. “This air rather discounts an absinthe frappe -for stimulative purposes,” he soliloquizes. “Ah, here’s the wood, -there’s the brook, and if I mistake not, yonder pool hides a whopper -just aching for a go at the early worm.” But it doesn’t and Ashley -enters the forest. - -The farther he plunges into the spice-laden wilderness the more is he -enchanted with his surroundings. Picture a cleft in the mountain whose -sides drop almost sheer to a gorge barely wide enough to accommodate a -wood road and a brook that parallels and often encroaches upon it. Tall -pines interlace and shut out the direct rays of the sun and every now -and then a cascade comes tumbling somewhere aloft and plunges into a -broad, pebble-lined basin. - -As Ashley sits by one of these pools, his wading boots plunged deep in -the crystal liquid, and pulls lazily on a briar pipe, the reader is -offered the opportunity of becoming better acquainted with him. - -He is a prepossessing young fellow of something like 27, medium height -and rather well built. Blue eyes and an aggressive nose, on which -gold-bowed eyeglasses are airily perched, are characteristics of a face -which has always been a passport for its owner into all society worth -cultivating. A well-shaped head is adorned with a profusion of blond -curls, supplemented by a mustache of silken texture and golden hue, -which its possessor is fond of twisting when he is in a blithesome -humor, which is often, and of tugging at savagely when in a reflective -mood, which is infrequent. - -Ashley is noted among his friends for chronic good humor and unbounded -confidence in his own abilities. He is one of the brightest all-round -writers on the New York Hemisphere, and he knows it. The best of it is, -City Editor Ricker also knows it. All the office sings of his exploits -and “beats” and does their author reverence. Jack always calls himself a -newspaper man. That is the sensible title. Yet he might wear the name of -journalist much more worthily. - -Ashley is in Vermont for his health. Five years of continuous hustling -on a big New York daily has necessitated a breathing spell. He was -telling Mr. Ricker that his “wheels were all run down and needed -repairing,” and that he believed he would take his vacation early this -year. - -“I’ll tell you where you want to go,” volunteered the city editor, who -was “raised” among the Green Mountains and served his apprenticeship -gathering locals on a Burlington weekly. - -“All right; let’s have it.” - -“Take three weeks off and go up into Vermont.” - -“Vermont—Vermont—where’s Vermont? O, yes, that green daub on the map of -New England. Railroad run through there?” - -“Now, see here, Jack,” retorted Ricker, “you’re not so confoundedly -ignorant as you imply. That’s the trouble with you New Yorkers who were -born and bred here. You consider everything above the Harlem River a jay -community. You’re a sight more provincial than half the inhabitants of -rural New England.” - -Jack laughed. “Come to think of it, you hailed from there.” - -“Yes, and it’s a mighty good State to hail from. Now, you run up to -Raymond—it’s a little town about in the Y of the Green Mountain range. -You’ll not have Broadway, with its theaters, and restaurants, and bars, -but you’ll get a big room, with a clean, airy bed to sleep in—none of -your narrow hall-chamber cots—and good, plain, wholesome food to eat. -Those necessities of life which Vermont does not supply, good tobacco -and good whisky, you can take with you. You’ll come back feeling like a -fighting cock.” And before his chief finished painting the attractions -of the Green Mountain State, with incidental references to John Stark -and Ethan Allen, Ashley was willing to compromise and two days later -found him en route for Raymond. - -Jack fishes the brook as he does everything else—without any waste of -mental or physical exertion. - -Landlord Howe did not deceive him. It is an excellent trout brook, and -by the time the sun is well up he has acquired a well-filled creel. He -is sauntering along to what he has decided shall be the last pool, when, -as he turns a bend in the road, he runs upon a man lying beside the -path, with one arm shading his face and clutching in the other hand a -package. - -“Hello!” sings out Ashley, stopping short in surprise. The man arises -and passes his hand over his eyes in bewilderment. - -“Off the main road, aren’t you?” queries Ashley. The stranger makes no -reply. He bestows upon Ashley a single searching glance and hurries down -the road in the direction of the village. - -“He’ll be likely to know me again,” is Jack’s comment. “Gad! What eyes! -They went through me like a stiletto. What the deuce is he prowling -around here for at this time o’ day? He isn’t a fisherman and he can’t -be farming it with those store clothes on. Well, here goes for the last -trout.” - -The last trout is not forthcoming, however, so the fisherman unjoints -his rod, reloads and fires his pipe and strolls slowly back to the -hotel. Landlord Howe sees him as he comes swinging across the basin and -waits with some impatience until the young man gets within hailing -distance, when he informs him dramatically: - -“Big murder at Raymond last night.” - -“How big?” asks Ashley, with lazy interest. Murders are frequent -episodes in his line of business. - -Well, it is the largest affair that Mr. Howe has known of “round these -parts since dad was a kid.” Roger Hathaway, cashier of the Raymond -National bank, has been found murdered and the bank robbed of a large -sum of money, and there is no clew to the murderer. The details of the -tragedy have come over the telephone wires early this morning, and the -whole county is in a fever of excitement. - -“No clew?” muses Ashley, and his interest in the affair grows. Then he -thinks of the man he encountered on the brook an hour ago. “Seen any -strangers around here?” he inquires of Mr. Howe. - -“No one ’cept you,” replies that worthy, contributing a broad grin. - -“Oh, but I can prove an alibi,” laughs Jack. “I came down from Raymond -on the early evening train, and everyone was alive in the town then, I -guess. Are the police of this village on the lookout?” - -“Well, rather. The local deputy sheriff is on the alert as never before -in his life.” - -“It is not impossible that my early morning friend on the brook was -mixed up in last night’s affair,” thinks Ashley. But he says nothing of -the meeting. What is the use? If the unknown was fleeing he must be -pretty well into the next county by this time. But in what direction? - -The Raymond murder is the one topic of the day at South Ashfield. The -villagers are gathered in force about the hotel veranda and Ashley -fancies that they regard him a trifle askance as he hunts up a chair and -kills an hour while waiting for the up-train, in listening to the rural -persiflage of the group and the ingenious theories of the local oracle. - -“At what time did the killing occur?” he inquires of one of the -loungers. Somewhere around 8 o’clock the night before, he is informed. - -“And no clew to the murderer,” he meditates. “Now, if this was New York -I’d take hold of the affair and work it for all it was worth.” - -He little dreams what effect the “affair” is to have on his future. Yet -as the train bears him to Raymond the instinct of the newspaper man -tells him that it is a cast possessing phases of peculiar interest. And -he is not wholly unprepared for the telegram that is thrust into his -hands when he leaves the train. - -“One of the disadvantages of telling your paper where you intend -spending your vacation,” he remarks as he glances at the dispatch. Then -to the telegraph operator: “I’ll have a story for you after supper.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE STORY OF A CRIME. - - -The following dispatch appeared in the columns of the New York -Hemisphere, under the usual sensational headlines: - - “Raymond, Vt., May 31.—This quiet town among the Green Mountains - had cause indeed to mourn upon this year’s occurrence of the - nation’s Memorial Day. Last evening, at the close of the most - general observance of the solemn holiday yet undertaken in - Raymond, the community was horror-stricken by the discovery of - the foulest crime ever committed within the limits of the state. - - “Roger Hathaway, cashier of the Raymond National Bank and - treasurer of the Wild River Savings Bank, was found murdered at - the entrance of the joint vault of the two institutions, which - had been rifled of money and securities aggregating, it is - thought, not less than $75,000. The crime had apparently been - most carefully planned and evidenced not only thorough - familiarity with the town and the interior arrangements of the - banks, but also the possession of the fact that the national - bank had on hand at the time an unusual amount of ready money. - The position of the murdered cashier and the conditions of the - rooms indicated also that the official had met his death while - endeavoring to protect the funds entrusted to his care, his - lifeless body, in fact, barring the entrance to the rifled - vault, a mute witness to his faithfulness even unto death. - - “The Raymond National and Wild River Savings Banks occupy - commodious quarters on the ground floor of Bank Block, a - three-story brick structure on Main Street, the principal - business thoroughfare of the town. The banking rooms are in the - northern portion of the block, occupying the entire depth of the - building, the only entrance being from Main Street. The north - wall of the block is parallel with a tributary of the Wild - River, which joins that stream, about 300 yards distant. The - interiors of the banking-rooms are plainly but conveniently - arranged. A steel wire cage extends east and west, separating - the officials of the institutions from the public, with the - customary counter and two windows for the savings and national - bank, respectively. At the rear of the room is the private - office of the cashier, separated from the main room in part by - the vault, an old-fashioned brick affair, built into the - partition in such a manner as to be partly in both rooms. The - iron doors to the vault open into the cashier’s private office, - although originally designed to be entirely within the main - office. Some years prior the office of the cashier was enlarged - to accommodate the meetings of the directors, and the partition - was moved east, bringing the major portion of the vault within - the enlarged room. Two doors communicate with the cashier’s - room, one opening from the public office, the other from the - interior of the main banking-room. Two large windows, looking - respectively west and north, afford light for the cashier’s - office. Both these windows are heavily barred, as indeed are the - two windows on the north side of the main office. A dark closet, - four by six feet, in the southwest corner of the cashier’s room, - serves in part as a storage-room for old ledgers, account-books - and supplies, and as a wardrobe for employes. - - “It was in the cashier’s room that the tragedy that has so sadly - marred the evening of Memorial Day took place, that witnessed - the awful struggle between the assassin and the white-haired - custodian of the bank’s funds. The details of that struggle may - never be known, but the circumstances tell plainly that Cashier - Hathaway either surprised the assassin in the dark closet, where - he had perhaps concealed himself to await an opportunity to work - upon the combination of the safe, or had himself been surprised - while about to close the door of the vault. - - “The crime was committed in the vicinity of 8 p.m., and its - early discovery—within less than half an hour thereafter, - indeed—singularly enough was due to a letter which the murdered - cashier had previously sent to the president of the bank, - requesting his immediate presence to confer on a business - matter. The president, the Hon. Cyrus Felton, upon returning to - his residence shortly after 8 o’clock, found a note from Cashier - Hathaway asking him to call at the bank at once. The note had - been left by a messenger, the servant stated, about fifteen - minutes before. Mr. Felton hastily repaired to the bank, about - ten minutes’ walk. He found the outer door ajar, but the door to - the cashier’s private office was locked. This was not unusual, - and, presuming that the cashier was busy within, Mr. Felton used - his own key and opened the door without knocking. Then the awful - discovery of the murder was made. - - “Cashier Hathaway lay face downward in front of the open safe - door, his right arm partially drawn up beneath the body and his - heavy oaken desk chair overturned near by. His first thought - being that the cashier had fallen in a shock, Mr. Felton - hastened to raise the recumbent form. As he turned the body - over, the soft rays from the argand lamp on the cashier’s desk - revealed an ominous pool upon the polished floor, even now - augmented by the slight moving of the body. Roger Hathaway lay - weltering in his own blood, slowly oozing from a bullet hole - directly over the heart. - - “It was several moments before Mr. Felton could pull himself - together to take cognizance of the circumstances. He then noted - the unmistakable evidences of a desperate struggle. As stated, - the cashier’s own chair lay overturned near the body; one of the - side drawers in the desk was partially drawn out, and the - orderly row of directors’ chairs were now disarranged as if a - heavy body had been flung violently against them. The door of - the dark closet was wide open and a lot of old ledgers that had - been piled upon its floor were toppled over into the room. The - doors of the safe were open, and a glance within revealed the - principal money drawer half-withdrawn, and empty save of two - canvas bags of specie and nickels; a goodly bunch of keys with - chain attached hanging in the lock. The story was told. Cashier - Hathaway had been murdered and the bank robbed. - - “Mr. Felton immediately notified Sheriff Wilson, and the legal - machinery of the town was at once set in motion to encompass the - capture of the murderer and robber. It was thought that with the - short start obtained the feat would be a comparatively easy - matter. - - “Nearly $50,000 in available cash, and half as much more in - securities, part negotiable and part worthless to the robber, - were secured by the murderer. The presence of this unusually - large amount of ready money was due to the fact that $50,000 of - Mansfield County bonds matured to-day and were payable at the - Raymond National Bank. - - “The presence of Cashier Hathaway in the bank at that particular - time was by the merest chance, and the conclusion is therefore - irresistible that the murder was not premeditated. The savings - and national banks, though both among the most prosperous and - stable fiduciary institutions in the state, are comparatively - small, the capital of the national bank being $50,000 and - employing but a small clerical force. The latter comprise, - besides the cashier, the teller of the bank, Frederick Sibley; - the bookkeeper of the savings bank, Ralph Felton, son of the - president, and one clerk, a youth named Edward Maxwell. For the - last two weeks the teller, Mr. Sibley, has been confined to his - residence by illness, and considerable extra labor has - necessarily devolved upon the cashier. Memorial Day, a legal - holiday in Vermont, the bank had been closed, and on returning - from the services at the cemetery, in which he had taken - part—for Mr. Hathaway had been a gallant soldier in the famous - Vermont brigade—the cashier had dropped into the bank, - apparently to complete some work upon the books. It is possible - that the robber—the opinion is general that there was but one - engaged in the enterprise—had previously entered the bank, and - upon the entrance of the cashier concealed himself in the only - place available, the dark closet. He may have remained an - unobserved spectator of the cashier through the partly opened - door and as the latter finished his work and prepared to close - the safe, the robber may have concluded, by a coup de main, to - save himself the trouble of attempting to solve the combination, - and, noiselessly stepping from the closet, have sought to - surprise the cashier. On this hypothesis the presumption is that - Mr. Hathaway became aware of his danger, and turning sought to - ward off the blow, when the struggle ensued that was ended with - his death. Or the cashier may have discovered the presence of - some intruder in the closet, and seizing his revolver, which he - kept in a drawer of his desk, he may have approached the closet, - when the robber sprung upon him and, wresting the weapon from - the feeble hands of the old banker, turned it against the - latter’s breast. - - “The fatal shot was fired at so close range that the clothing of - the victim was scorched by the explosion. No weapon was found in - the room; the revolver which, as noted above, the cashier was - known to have kept in his desk, is also missing. The wound was - made, the physicians state, by a 32-caliber bullet, which - penetrated the breast directly above the vital organ, and death - must have been instantaneous. The shot was fired at about 8 - o’clock. Prof. Black, who occupies rooms directly over the - cashier’s office, heard a shot at that time, as did several - friends who were in the room with him, but they attributed it to - boys shooting water rats from the bridge beneath the professor’s - window. - - “Thus far the tragedy possesses few extraordinary features. But - what has become of the murderer? Raymond is not so populous that - the presence of a stranger would be unnoted. Yet no one has - volunteered information of any suspicious characters in town. - Within fifty minutes of the commission of a daring crime the - perpetrator disappeared, leaving not a trace for the local - sleuths. The last seen of Mr. Hathaway alive, so far as known, - was about 7:45 o’clock, when he stepped to the door of the bank, - and, calling a boy who was standing on the bridge, throwing - stones into the stream, asked him to take a letter to President - Felton at his house. Half an hour later he was found shot - through the heart in his office. - - “President Felton was seen by the Hemisphere representative - to-day, and told the story of the finding of the dead cashier - substantially as outlined above. He was terribly affected by the - tragedy and could hardly be induced to converse regarding it. - - “Roger Hathaway was one of the best known and highly esteemed - residents of Raymond. He was 63 years of age and had been - identified with the national and savings banks ever since their - organization, the last twenty years as cashier and treasurer - respectively. He was prominent in Grand Army and church circles; - a deacon in the Congregational Church. Of a severely stern but - eminently just disposition, it was not known that Deacon - Hathaway possessed an enemy in the world. He lived in a plain - but substantial mansion, the family homestead of several - generations of Hathaways, with his two daughters, his wife - having died some ten years before. He was one of the founders of - both the savings and national banks, which under his management - had prospered to an unusual degree and stood high among the - banking institutions of the state. He had held several important - positions in the gift of his townspeople, and as town treasurer - his rugged honesty, economic conservatism and strict observance - of the letter of the law in the handling of the town’s funds, - had earned for him the sobriquet of ‘watchdog of the treasury,’ - a title which he sealed even with his life blood. - - “Up to a late hour this evening no clew to the murderer has been - discovered. The theory is held by the local police that the deed - was clearly that of an expert bank robber, and they are inclined - to think that he may be a member of the same gang that has - broken into numerous postoffices in New Hampshire and Vermont - within the last few months. The officials cite the fact that the - local papers had advertised that $50,000 in Mansfield County - bonds were to be redeemed at the Raymond National Bank upon this - particular date, and the natural presumption that the bank would - have on hand a large amount of currency, with the knowledge that - yesterday was a holiday, when the bank would be closed and - afford an unusual opportunity to work upon the safe, would form - a strong inducement to a daring burglar.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE. - - - (By telegraph to the New York Hemisphere.) - - “Raymond, Vt., June 1.—A startling sequel to the murder of - Cashier Hathaway and the robbery of the Raymond National and - Wild River Savings Banks was developed to-day in the mysterious - disappearance of Miss Helen Hathaway, the younger daughter of - the dead banker, and Derrick Ames, a well-known young man of - Raymond. - - “Ames is about 27 years old, and occupied a responsible and - lucrative position in the local office of the Vermont Life - Insurance Company. While not possessing a positive reputation - for evil, Ames was regarded askance by the more staid and - conservative residents of the town, and his position socially - was somewhat anomalous. He had resided in Raymond some five or - six years and was known to have been a warm admirer of Miss - Hathaway. But it was equally apparent to the gossip-loving - townspeople that Deacon Hathaway regarded the young insurance - clerk with distinct disfavor, and had forbidden his daughter’s - continuing the intimacy. It was likewise well known that the - missing girl had frequently met Ames clandestinely. - - “Neither Miss Hathaway nor Derrick Ames was seen after the - discovery of the bank tragedy. Ames was at his boarding house at - noon on the day of the murder, but did not return to supper. His - room, with all his effects, was left as usual and gave no - indication that he contemplated a hasty departure. Even at the - office where he was employed he left some personal effects and - half a month’s salary was to his credit. - - “In the case of Miss Hathaway, also, there are absolutely no - indications of premeditated departure. Her sister states that - she has taken not even a wrap, only the clothes she wore that - afternoon as she left the house. Neither man nor maiden was seen - by any person to leave Raymond. No vehicle was secured for - either of them, and no one answering their description boarded - the train at the Raymond Station. They have disappeared as - completely, as suddenly and as mysteriously as did the murderer - of Cashier Hathaway. - - “The knowledge of these circumstances has intensified the - excitement occasioned by the murder and robbery. The - coincidence, if it be but a coincidence, of the unpremeditated - elopement of Helen Hathaway upon the very day, nay, perhaps the - very hour, that her aged father was stricken by the bullet of - the assassin, is sufficiently startling of itself to cause the - most intense excitement. - - “Is there any connection between the disappearance of Derrick - Ames and Helen Hathaway and the shooting of Cashier Hathaway and - the subsequent looting of the bank vault? Why did the couple, if - they simply ran away to get married without the parental - sanction, do so manifestly on the spur of the moment, without - any prearranged plans, without notification to even their - intimate friends? And why, if they went innocently away, have - they failed to acquaint any one with their present whereabouts, - when they must be aware of the cruel murder of Miss Hathaway’s - good father, the details of which have been published far and - wide, not only in the provincial newspapers, but throughout the - metropolitan press? - - “There is not a resident of Raymond who will hint at even the - possibility of any guilty knowledge of the taking-off of her - father by Helen Hathaway, before or during her hurried flight. - For although regarded as unusually high-spirited and impetuous, - she was loving and lovable to a degree and the idol of her - sister. The only indiscretion that can be attributed to the - missing girl was her occasional meetings with Derrick Ames - without the sanction of her father. - - “Her companion in flight, on the other hand, was not especially - favorably known in Raymond. While he came to the town with - excellent credentials, he was not a favorite in any particular - set or society. Handsome in face and figure, an athlete of - considerable local repute, with alternate moods of extreme - depression and satirical good humor, he was such a one as might - be expected to turn the head of a romantic young girl like the - absent Miss Hathaway. Ames was free with his money, and while - not a drinking man, in the sense of the term in this part of the - country, he occasionally wooed the wine cup with great energy - and originality. He had enemies in plenty and but a week before - the tragedy had abruptly resigned the lieutenancy of the Raymond - Rifles because of a trifling disagreement with the captain. It - must be stated, however, that no mean or ignoble act or petty - crime had ever been attributed to him, the chief cause of his - unpopularity proceeding from his reserve, the sharpness of his - tongue and the irascibility of his temper. - - “Had Derrick Ames disappeared alone, on the evening of the - murder, there would have been but one opinion as to his guilt or - innocence. But the unaccountable flight of Miss Hathaway—this is - the one flaw in the chain of circumstantial evidence. Some - people will explain this away on the universal theory for every - inexplicable action of the human mind—hypnotism. It is said that - Ames placed Miss Hathaway within the spell of his own powerful - will, and unknowingly, unwittingly, blindly obedient, beautiful - Helen Hathaway accompanied the cold-blooded slayer of her own - father in his flight from the scene of his crime. - - “Did Ames and Miss Hathaway leave Raymond together? While there - is no evidence that they did, the presumption is so strong as to - compel the inference. In any event Raymond has practically - convicted Derrick Ames of complicity, if not actual - participation, in the murder of Roger Hathaway. - - “It is possible that the murder was not premeditated, as was - intimated in these dispatches yesterday. Ames may have called - upon the cashier at the bank, to plead again his suit for the - hand of Helen Hathaway. A blunt refusal, hasty words, a bitter - quarrel, Ames’ temper, quick and ungovernable, a brief struggle, - the fatal shot and the older man lay dead upon the floor. What - more natural than that the young murderer, fully appreciating - his terrible situation, and cognizant of the large amount of - ready money in the safe, should wrench the familiar bunch of - keys from the pocket of the dead cashier and possess himself of - the treasure? It requires something of a stretch of the - imagination to fancy the assassin, his hand yet reeking with the - blood of her father, inducing the young girl to accompany him in - his flight for life and liberty, yet it is not impossible—and in - the belief of many it is just what Derrick Ames did do. - - “There is but the faintest possible clew as yet to connect any - one else with the crime. Besides a few hotel arrivals—commercial - men comparatively well known—one stranger, and one only, is - believed to have been in Raymond on the day of the murder. No - one saw him come, no one saw him leave the town. Inquiry was - made at the depot, the telegraph operator states, shortly after - 8 o’clock, as to the time of departure of the next train south. - The operator did not notice the questioner particularly, - although he is positive he was a stranger in Raymond. - - “The theory of a prearranged plot to rob the bank on the night - the cashier was shot has been assiduously worked by the local - authorities. It was known that there would be a large amount of - money in the bank on the night preceding the paying off of the - matured county bonds. Was it not worth while for an organized - gang of bank robbers to plan a descent on the Raymond - institution? Was it not possible that they did so plan; that - they had already secured access to the banking-room while the - populace was watching the parade in the afternoon; that they - were awaiting the cover of darkness to begin work upon the safe, - when all unexpectedly the cashier arrived and entered the bank; - that the robbers retreated to the dark closet; that here they - remained hidden while Mr. Hathaway performed some pressing work - upon the books, meanwhile sending the note requesting the - presence of the president; that while he stepped to the front - door to secure a messenger for the letter the robbers may have - conceived the daring scheme of seizing the cash drawer from the - vault; that the cashier returned while they were in the very act - of executing their design; that he rushed to his desk and had - already possessed himself of his revolver, when he was seized by - the robbers and shot dead before he could succeed in making use - of his own weapon, which was subsequently picked up and carried - off by the robbers? - - “More careful investigations of the scene of the murder - developed the fact that the struggle between the cashier and his - assailant, or assailants, must have been not only a severe one, - but of several minutes’ duration. There were marks of violence - on the body of the dead banker, the physicians report, which - must have been made by an exceptionally strong man. The right - wrist showed quite severe abrasions, as if it had been grasped - fiercely by a strong hand, and on the other side of the wrist - was a purple mark that was evidently made by a seal ring pressed - into the flesh by the tremendous force with which the hand had - been seized. The snow-white and abundant hair of Mr. Hathaway - was also disheveled, when the body was first discovered, and the - chain to which his bunch of keys had been attached was snapped - off, only about two inches remaining upon his person. No signs - of a weapon or any burglarious tools were discovered in or about - the bank premises, but evidence of the extreme coolness and - sang-froid of the murderer is afforded by the fact that, - apparently in searching for suitable paper in which to wrap the - big package of bills two or three full pages of the big bank - ledger were torn out and used for the purpose. - - “Nothing was missing from the person of the dead man, except, - singularly enough, a curiously fashioned locket which Mr. - Hathaway wore as a watch charm. It contained miniatures of his - two daughters, Louise and Helen. No reason for its being carried - off is apparent. The link which held it to the watch-chain was - broken as if the locket had been violently removed. - - “The exact amount of money stolen cannot as yet be stated. - President Felton alleges that, until the trial balance is drawn - off, it will be impossible to give figures. Certainly not less - than $40,000 in greenbacks was secured, and probably half as - much more in securities, which, however, are not negotiable and - are therefore worthless to the robbers. The bank is perfectly - solvent, President Felton states, and will resume business at an - early date. - - “Mr. Felton is well-nigh prostrated by the shock of his awful - discovery on the evening of Memorial Day and has aged visibly in - the last two days. He does not attach so much importance to the - dual disappearance of Derrick Ames and Helen Hathaway as do most - of the citizens, and expresses the opinion that it is a simple - elopement and that the couple will return shortly. - - “The directors of the savings and national banks, at a meeting - this morning, authorized the offer of a reward of $4,000 for the - capture and conviction of the murderer or murderers, in addition - to the purse of $1,000 ‘hung up’ by the town. - - “The coroner’s inquest will be begun to-morrow.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - THE CORONER’S INQUEST. - - -For a town the size of Raymond, 3,000-odd inhabitants, the Mansfield -County court house is an unusually large and commodious structure. But -the spacious room is not nearly adequate to the demands of the pushing -crowd that seeks admittance to the inquest that has been summoned by -Coroner Lord to sit upon the body of the dead cashier, Roger Hathaway. -George Demeritt, the town’s sole day police force, is literally swept -off his feet by the surging assemblage, and in less than five minutes -after the throwing open of the doors the room is a solid mass of -perspiring humanity. - -With much difficulty Sheriff Wilson makes a passage for the dozen -witnesses under his charge, the crowd gazing, with the sympathetic -impudence of an inquest audience, at the statuesque form of Miss -Hathaway, heavily veiled, and the bowed figure of President Felton of -the Raymond Bank. - -The jury selected by Coroner Lord files in from the judges’ room, and -after the customary preliminaries the autopsy performed by Drs. Robinson -and Dodge is read by the latter. The document, stripped of its verbiage -and medical terms, alleges that Roger Hathaway died from a bullet wound, -the leaden missile having entered the left breast almost directly over -the heart, and that death must have been instantaneous. There were signs -of violence on the person of the dead man, a severe contusion on the -forehead that might have been inflicted by a blow or might have been -caused by the fall to the floor. There were also slight abrasions on the -right wrist. - -Dr. Dodge states, in reply to an inquiry from the coroner, that Mr. -Hathaway had probably been dead an hour when he reached his side. Rigor -mortis had not begun. - -“Mr. Cyrus Felton.” - -There is a craning of necks in the court room as the coroner calls to -his feet the aged bank president. Jack Ashley, who is sitting at the -lawyers’ table, jotting down a few notes, begins to take a lively -interest in the case. - -Mr. Felton slowly walks to the witness stand. That he is greatly moved -even the least observant in the throng can but notice, and his hand -trembles visibly as he replaces his pince-nez and turns to face Coroner -Lord. - -The usual formal questions as to his acquaintance with the dead man, his -connection with the bank, etc., are asked and answered. - -“I visited the bank in response to a note which I found when I returned -home from my—from the postoffice,” Mr. Felton states. - -“The note was from Mr. Hathaway?” - -“It was.” - -“And its contents?” - -“The note merely said: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’” - -“Have you the note with you?” - -“No; I tore it up,” replies Mr. Felton, and the expression which -accompanies his words is noted by Ashley, who is scanning narrowly the -countenance of the banker. - -“The note had been left at my house a short while before I returned -home, my servant tells me,” proceeds Mr. Felton. “I went at once to the -bank.” The witness has grown so agitated that he is obliged to seat -himself, and his voice is hardly audible in the stilled room. - -“The front door was slightly ajar and I walked through the bank to the -directors’ room. The door to this apartment was locked; I unlocked it -and entered. Mr. Hathaway lay face downward in the middle of the floor, -I should think. I thought he might have fallen in a shock and went to -lift him up, when I saw the blood. I felt for his pulse, but there was -no motion.” The voice of the witness breaks as he utters these words and -he covers his face with his handkerchief. - -“Were there any evidences of a struggle?” the coroner asks, after a -moment. - -“Yes. Mr. Hathaway’s office chair was overturned and the directors’ -chairs were disarranged. One of the drawers in Mr. Hathaway’s desk had -been pulled so far out that it had dropped to the floor and the contents -were spilled. A lot of old ledgers that had been piled in the closet -were toppled over into the room. I glanced into the closet and then -turned my attention to the open vault. I found the cash drawer in the -safe withdrawn and empty except for a couple of canvas bags of silver -and nickels. I then hastened to find Sheriff Wilson.” - -“What hour was it when you entered the bank?” asks Coroner Lord. - -“About 8:20 o’clock.” - -“And at what time did you notify Sheriff Wilson?” - -Mr. Felton hesitates a moment and glances inquiringly at that official. -“It did not seem more than a minute that I spent in the bank. But I was -so shocked—and I—and I stopped to gather up the papers on the -floor—perhaps it was five minutes before I got to the hotel.” - -“Did you notice any weapons on the floor of the cashier’s room?” - -“No, sir.” - -“What amount of money do you estimate was stolen from the safe?” - -President Felton debates a moment, as if making a mental calculation, -and replies: “At least $37,000 in currency and gold, and some -securities. The exact amount of the latter we cannot tell until we have -listed our papers.” - -“That is all, Mr. Felton.” - -A suppressed murmur of intense interest runs around the crowded room as -Louise Hathaway takes the witness stand. As she raises the veil that has -concealed her features the townspeople marveled at the composure her -marble countenance evinces. Ashley glances at her with interest and -draws a long breath. “Gad! she’s a beauty,” he decides, and then drops -his eyes as they encounter the calm gaze of the witness. - -Her father left the house to go to the bank about 6:30 o’clock, Miss -Hathaway testifies. Tea was served at 6 o’clock. Her sister Helen had -not returned at that time, but at her father’s request they had not -waited the tea, because he said he had some work to do at the bank. It -was an unusual thing for him to go to the bank evenings, but the illness -of the teller had necessitated extra work. - -“Miss Hathaway, do you know where your sister is?” The silence in the -court room is intense as the coroner asks the question. - -“My sister did not return that afternoon,” declares Miss Hathaway, after -a brief pause. “I have reason to think that she has gone with Mr. Ames -to be married.” - -“And you do not know where they now are?” - -Miss Hathaway shakes her head, as her fingers clasp and unclasp -nervously in her lap. The ordeal is a trying one. - -“When did you last see your sister?” - -“About 2 o’clock in the afternoon.” - -“And when did you last see Mr. Ames?” - -A slight flush replaces the pallor for a moment; then as suddenly -recedes, leaving her paler than before. - -“I have not seen Mr. Ames for a fortnight,” she replies in a tone barely -audible. - -“Did your sister indicate to you her intention of eloping?” is the next -question. - -“I had no reason to think that she contemplated a clandestine marriage. -But I should prefer not to discuss the matter further, Mr. Lord,” says -the witness, in evident agitation. “I am sure Helen’s departure can have -no possible connection with—with that awful deed. It was only an -unfortunate coincidence that they went away on that afternoon. I—I am -sure they will return in due time.” - -Coroner Lord glances irresolutely at the state’s attorney, and after a -moment’s deliberation permits Miss Hathaway to retire. - -Sheriff Wilson, the next witness, describes minutely the appearance of -the bank and vault and of the body of the dead cashier. - -Sarah Johnson, the maid at Mr. Felton’s residence, testifies that the -note referred to by Mr. Felton was left at the house shortly before 8 -o’clock by a lad named Jimmie Howe. A few minutes later a stranger -inquired for Mr. Felton at the house. There is a slight buzz of -excitement among the audience at this first mention of the presence of a -stranger in the village on the evening of the tragedy. - -“How do you know he was a stranger?” sharply inquires the coroner. - -“For the reason that when I asked him which Mr. Felton he wished to see -he replied that he did not know there were two Mr. Feltons.” That -evidence is conclusive. It is, so far as the audience is concerned. - -“He asked where he could find Mr. Felton, and I told him perhaps at his -office in the bank building,” continues Sarah. - -Miss Johnson is closely questioned as to the demeanor of the stranger, -but she knows little of importance, as she had not seen the visitor’s -face. He was of medium height, she says, and his voice was pleasant. -Sheriff Wilson, who has first learned of this clew, smiles patronizingly -upon Ashley and the other newspaper men. - -A bright-faced lad of 12 is Jimmie Howe, whom Coroner Lord next calls to -the stand. Jimmie was playing on the bridge when Mr. Hathaway called to -him from the bank door and asked him to take a note to Mr. Felton and to -hurry about it. After he delivered the note he went home. - -Prof. George Black, Edward Knapp and three others, who were in Prof. -Black’s room in the bank building, testify to hearing a shot about 8 -o’clock, but whether before or after that hour they cannot agree. - -Alden Heath, the telegraph operator at the depot, stated that some -one—he was busy at his key at the time—asked somewhere around 8 o’clock -when the next train left. He answered without looking up, and when he -did glance at the window the inquirer was gone. It was a strange voice; -of that he was positive. - -George Kenney, who states that he is the station agent at Ashfield, is -next sworn. His testimony establishes the probable fact that Derrick -Ames and Helen Hathaway boarded the midnight train for New York. - -There is an involuntary but quickly suppressed exclamation from the -witnesses. Miss Hathaway is trembling and Ralph Felton, who is sitting -near her, is savagely biting his mustache. - -As Coroner Lord calls the name of Richard Chase and the stalwart warden -of the State prison at Windsor appears on the witness stand there is a -hush of expectancy. - -“Ernest Stanley, a convict in the Vermont State prison, was released at -noon of Memorial Day,” Warden Chase says succinctly. “He asked for and -was given a ticket to Raymond, and left on the north-bound afternoon -train. He was five feet ten inches in height, of medium build, dark -complexion, smooth face, and had closely cropped dark hair. He wore a -light tweed suit and a straw hat.” - -As Mr. Chase concludes his testimony the coroner consults for a few -moments with the state’s attorney and then summons Ralph Felton, son of -President Felton, and the bookkeeper of the Wild River Savings Bank. - -As the young man steps to the stand Ashley glances at him interestedly, -and after a good look decides that he does not like him. There is a -certain shiftiness of eye that the New Yorker does not fancy, and the -notes which he takes of the witness’ testimony are nearly verbatim. - -Young Felton answers in the briefest phrases the questions of the -coroner. He had seen no strangers in the bank in the last few days. He -had last seen Mr. Hathaway the afternoon before the tragedy, when the -bank closed for the day. On the afternoon of Memorial Day— - -The witness stops abruptly and a flush overspreads his features as he -nervously bites his tawny mustache. - -“On the afternoon of Memorial Day,” invites the coroner. - -“I was around town as usual,” finishes Felton. - -For some reason the momentary hesitation of the witness apparently -impresses Mr. Lord, and he seems disposed to make minute inquiry. - -“Where did you say you were on the afternoon of Memorial Day?” he again -interrogates. - -Ralph Felton looks straight at the coroner an instant, and then his gaze -wanders over the stilled room and finally rests upon his father, who, -roused from the impassive attitude in which he has sunk after completing -his own testimony, casts a startled look upon his son. - -The sudden hush that has involuntarily accompanied Mr. Lord’s question -is intensified, as father and son gaze at each other, apparently -oblivious of the unanswered coroner. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - FATHER AND SON. - - -An almost imperceptible raising of the eyebrows by the elder man, and -Ralph Felton turns quickly to the coroner. - -“Really, Mr. Lord, I cannot furnish a detailed statement of my every -movement during the last week,” he says, nonchalantly. “I witnessed the -procession, or at least the local post, on its way to the depot to meet -the Ruggbury contingent, and later went to the Exchange for dinner. In -the afternoon I was in the billiard room of the hotel, and I believe I -visited the postoffice in the evening.” - -“What time did you last see Mr. Hathaway?” The persistence of the -coroner in questioning the bookkeeper is inexplicable to the audience, -who have not observed the little slips of paper that State’s Attorney -Brown has passed along the table to Mr. Lord. - -“About noon on the day of the murder.” - -“Where?” - -Ralph Felton is for the first time manifesting signs of impatience. “He -was in the bank. I went to get something which I had left there, and -while I was there Mr. Hathaway came in. I left him there and a short -time afterward saw him in the procession.” - -“Mr. Felton, where were you between 7:45 and 8:30 o’clock the evening of -Tuesday?” - -A dull red replaces the slight pallor on the face of the young man. - -“Mr. Lord, I cannot say where I was during that particular time. I have -my own personal reasons—not connected with this case, I assure you—for -not desiring to answer your question.” - -The murmur which has begun to overspread the room is quickly but only -temporarily hushed as the coroner announces: - -“The inquest is adjourned until to-morrow morning at 9 o’clock.” - - * * * * * - -“You know why I did not answer Coroner Lord’s question. I am tired of -this hypocrisy. I simply will not go on the stand again—and that settles -it!” - -Within the richly furnished library of Cyrus Felton’s home the -inquisition so abruptly broken off by Coroner Lord has been resumed. - -The president of the Raymond National Bank now bears little resemblance -to the bowed old man who, with trembling lips and pallid brow, testified -regarding the murder of Cashier Hathaway a few hours before. There is an -angry flush upon his face and a stern setting of the chin that causes -one straight line to mark the location of his lips. - -At the last defiant words of his son a spasm as of sudden pain for a -moment distorts his patriarchal face, and his hand involuntarily presses -his heart. - -“I am going to leave Raymond—at once—to-night. Leave as Derrick Ames -left,” continued Ralph Felton, with an imprecation. “It’s no use -talking. My mind is made up and you should be the last man to urge me to -remain. You know—” - -“Ralph, this is madness,” interrupts his father. “There can be no -necessity for your leaving town, least of all while matters are as they -are. The bank—” - -“The bank needs both of us—I don’t think,” rejoins the younger man -flippantly. “As the boodle is gone I guess you can get along without a -bookkeeper for a time—maybe forever. But go I shall, and money I must -have. Oh, I know what you are going to say,” as Mr. Felton opens his -lips. “It doesn’t make any difference where it has gone. Suffice it to -say, it is planted. If you have ever had any experience with—but here it -is getting on toward 11 o’clock, and at 12:10 I must take the Montreal -express. I don’t propose to board it here. I shall drive to South -Ashfield. Now, understand me, father,” as Cyrus Felton again seeks to -interrupt him, “it is just as much for your interest for me to be a -couple of thousand miles from Raymond as it is mine. It is bound to come -out—why, what’s the matter?” - -Once again that ashen pallor accompanies a spasm of severest pain, and -this time Cyrus Felton emits a slight groan as his fingers sink into the -heavily upholstered arms of the sleepy-hollow chair into which he has -sunk. - -“Nothing—nothing but a pleurisy attack,” he faintly replies. - -There is silence for a moment, broken only by the sonorous ticking of -the mantel clock. - -“Well, the money?” - -“Ralph, you know that I can ill afford to spare any considerable amount -just now. But your safety must, of course, be considered, and I will -endeavor to send you funds later. What I can spare now ought to be -sufficient to start life anew in some western city.” - -Ralph Felton smiles sardonically as his father steps to the little safe -set in the wall, and, moving the screen from the front, turns the -combination. He lounges toward the receptacle, and, leaning on the -screen, gazes down at his father, who has withdrawn one of the two -drawers which the safe boasts and is running over a package of bills. -The contents of the lower drawer are exposed by the withdrawal of the -upper one, and the light from the chandelier is reflected back from some -shining substance in the till. It catches young Felton’s eye and his -long arm passes over the stooping figure of his father and picks the -gleaming metal from the drawer. It is a loaded revolver of the bull-dog -variety, 32 caliber, and one chamber has been discharged. - -Cyrus Felton raises his head. The shining little engine of destruction -in the clasp of his son is almost before and on a level with his eyes. - -With a shudder the elder man turns his head and slowly and laboriously -rises to his feet. He seems to have suddenly aged even in the last few -moments. - -Ralph Felton examines the revolver critically, looks at his father’s -averted face, and, without speaking, lays the weapon in the drawer. -There is silence in the room, broken at last by the almost apologetic -tones of the father. “How will you reach South Ashfield?” he asked. - -“Oh, Sam must drive me over with the mare. I will start him up now.” - -As his son leaves the room Cyrus Felton sinks into an easy-chair and his -head drops upon his bosom. Who can tell the thoughts that surge through -his troubled mind at the moment? The clatter of hoofs on the concrete -driveway beside the window arouses him from his reverie, and a moment -later Ralph Felton enters, a satchel in his hand. - -“Well, father, Sam is ready and I must go. We shall have little more -than an hour to make the ten miles and catch the express. Good-by; it is -all right, sir; believe me, father,” the younger man drops his -disengaged hand not unkindly on the other’s shoulder, “my sudden -departure will do nobody here any harm, and least of all will it affect -you. One thing I will say; I will find the scoundrel who took Helen -Hathaway from Raymond, if he is above ground, and when we meet he will -have occasion to remember that time.” Ralph Felton’s face is darkened by -a savage scowl as he speaks, and he raises a clenched fist with a -gesture so suggestive that his father involuntarily steps back. “Yes, I -have two objects in cutting the town. One reason you know, the other is -to seek and find the hound who has stolen Helen Hathaway from me. I -cared for her as I shall never love another woman, and I meant to have -her. Now—” - -The musical chime of the clock begins to strike the hour. Ralph Felton -seizes the package of bills that lies upon the table and places it in an -inner pocket. - -“I will return sometime, father, when this bank affair has ceased to be -a subject of investigation,” he says, with his hand on the door-knob. -“Good-by. Just keep a stiff upper lip and you’ll be all right. I’m off.” - -The outer door closes with a sharp click and a moment later the -impatient stamping of hoofs is succeeded by the even footfalls of the -fastest mare in Mansfield County. - -As the sound grows fainter and fainter Cyrus Felton suddenly starts as -if aroused from a stupor. - -“Why did I let him go? Idiot that I am! It is madness—worse than -madness. It is confession. Am I losing my senses, that I did not insist -upon his remaining and completing his testimony? At the worst it could -never be proved. The wages of sin! The wages of sin!” he groans, as he -sinks back in his chair and buries his face in his hands. - - * * * * * - -“Mr. Ralph Felton to the stand,” orders Coroner Lord. - -As on the preceding day, the court room is packed with the people of -Raymond. There is a craning of necks toward the settees reserved for -witnesses. Ralph Felton is not there, and there is a death-like -stillness as Coroner Lord again calls this now most interesting of -witnesses. - -“Mr. Coroner!” The lank figure of the station agent at South Ashfield -elevates itself above the crowd. “If it please your honor, Ralph Felton -boarded the Montreal express at South Ashfield last night.” - -Of course there is a sensation, a murmur of voices that the coroner -quickly checks. The few remaining witnesses are unimportant and the -inquest is adjourned until afternoon. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - A PROPOSITION OF PARTNERSHIP. - - -The usual congress of village gossips is in session to-night at the -Exchange hotel. It is the fourth day since the Raymond Bank affair, and -the details of the tragedy are discussed with an animation and a wealth -of clew that brings a smile to the face of John Barker, the New York -detective, who retreats to a quiet corner of the hotel veranda to finish -his cigar and muse upon the affair with the calm contemplation -characteristic of men in his calling. - -The detective’s face expresses a shade of annoyance as Jack Ashley -ascends the steps to the veranda, draws a chair opposite his, lights a -cigar and tilts his seat back at a comfortable angle. - -“You are John Barker, the detective,” began Ashley. Barker assents with -a nod. - -“I haven’t a card with me, but my name is Jack Ashley, and I am attached -to the staff of the New York Hemisphere.” Barker looks duly impressed. - -“You are an ordinary detective, I presume?” Barker stares. “What I mean -is, if you will pardon my frankness, you are not a Sherlock Holmes or a -M. Lecocq?” It is apparent from his face that the detective is in doubt -whether to laugh or express his displeasure. He compromises with a faint -smile and accepts the proffered cigar. - -“My reason for asking,” goes on Ashley, “is that I have a proposition to -offer you.” - -Barker strikes a match to touch off his weed. “That proposition is—” - -“That we work this bank case together.” Barker drops the lighted match -and gazes at his new acquaintance in astonishment. - -“Have another match,” remarks the other, passing it over. - -The detective lights his cigar and puffs away on it for some moments in -silence. “I am not in the habit of taking in partners,” he observes -finally. - -“I always take a deep interest in an affair like the Hathaway case,” -resumes Ashley, without reference to the other’s remark. “In fact, my -special line on the Hemisphere has been the running down of mysterious -crimes. I have trailed quite a number of them, and you will pardon my -egotism when I say I have been quite successful in my dual capacity of -sleuth and newspaper man.” Barker looks a trifle bored. - -“To be candid, however, this case is a bit too big for me to handle -alone. It spreads out too much. It is too much of a job for one man to -look after.” - -“Indeed?” The irony in the detective’s voice is thinly veiled. He says: - -“Then on the strength of your intimation that you are a devilish clever -fellow—you will pardon my frankness this time—I am asked to take in an -assistant who will gladly share with me the $5,000 reward in the event -of the murderer being apprehended.” - -“No; I sha’n’t bother about the reward. I am simply looking for glory.” - -“You are young in the newspaper business?” - -“About twelve years.” - -“And looking for glory?” - -Ashley laughs. “For my paper; not for myself.” He passes over a telegram -received that day. It read as follows: - - - =“Jack Ashley, Raymond, Vt.: Work up case at any expense, and - discover murderer if possible. Chambers.”= - - -“Now,” says Ashley, as he replaces the dispatch in his pocket, “I will -tell you why I think it would be to your advantage to join forces with -me.” Barker evinces some interest. - -“I am in possession of some facts which you not only do not know, but -are not likely to get hold of unless I enlighten you.” - -“Ah!” The detective draws his chair nearer his companion and glances -about to make sure there are no outside listeners. - -“When I finish, if you consider my information as valuable as I appraise -it, you can do as you please about the partnership idea. At any rate you -will be so much ahead. Come up to my room. We will not be disturbed -there.” When they are comfortably seated and fresh cigars lighted Ashley -begins his story. - -“I have run onto two clews. One of them I consider important; the other -less so. By the way, how long have you been in town? Come in on the -after-dinner train?” - -“Yes, I have acquainted myself with the known facts in the case and the -result of the coroner’s inquest. Deceased came to his death at the hands -of some person unknown.” - -“But who will be known ere long. But to resume. As you know, a man -called at the house of Cyrus Felton shortly before 8 o’clock of the -night of the killing. To the inquiry of the housemaid as to which Mr. -Felton was wanted the man replied that he ‘did not know there were two.’ -Not long after 8 o’clock that same evening a man appeared at the ticket -office of the railroad station and inquired when the next train left. -These incidents, while not startling in themselves, seem to prove that -in each case the questioner was a stranger to Raymond. Every one around -these parts knows that there are two Feltons, father and son, and the -natives are also presumed to know that there is no night train through -the town before 11:50.” - -“Very well reasoned,” remarks Barker. - -“As you also know, on the afternoon of Memorial Day a chap named Ernest -Stanley was liberated from the State prison at Windsor, after serving -two of a three years’ sentence for forgery. Despite the fact that -Raymond was not his home and that he had not, so far as known, a friend -or acquaintance in the place, and contrary to the advice of the warden, -who took an interest in the fellow, he bought a ticket to this town and -started north on the afternoon train. That latter fact was proved by the -ticket agent at Windsor, who sold him the ticket and saw him board the -train. I went to Windsor this forenoon, after the inquest, saw a -photograph of this Stanley, and secured a pretty accurate description of -him.” - -“But there is no evidence that he left the train at this station. Or if -he did—” - -“He could have been, as I believe he was, the visitor at Felton’s -house.” - -“I am not so sure of that,” contends the detective. “On the evening of -Memorial Day the agent of a granite manufacturers’ journal, published at -Chicago, stopped at this hotel. He arrived on the afternoon train from -the north, and after supper, the clerk told me when I quizzed him, he -inquired where Cyrus Felton lived. Felton, you know, is the principal -owner in the Wild River Granite Quarries. It is more than likely, is it -not, that he was the visitor at the Felton residence?” - -“Still he may not have called that night.” - -“True. Admitting the caller to have been Stanley, what then? A motive -must be assigned.” - -“We will discuss that later. For the present suffice it to be known that -Stanley was sentenced to State prison for forging the name of Cyrus -Felton two years ago.” - -“Well, what of it? If Stanley’s thoughts were of revenge they were -apparently directed against Felton, not the man who was murdered.” - -“That is precisely the point that is not clear to me,” confesses Ashley. - -“Now, listen. Here’s a proposition for you: If Stanley was not concerned -in the bank affair, what was he doing at 6 o’clock next morning asleep -in the bushes in a lonely gorge near South Ashfield village?” - -“The devil!” - -“With a package of papers clutched fast in his hands, about the size -that a bundle of treasury notes and securities would make.” - -“You know he was there?” - -“I met him.” - -Barker is thoughtful. “You said nothing to the authorities or in your -dispatches about the incident?” - -“No. I didn’t consider it worth while. The authorities were already -scouring the country round about, and I did not exploit it in my -dispatches because I concluded to save it for a longer and better story -when we run down the criminal—beg pardon, when the criminal is run down. -But,” continues Ashley, as Barker remains silent, “that is the clew to -which I attach the less importance. - -“I had heard from some source that Ralph Felton had been seen at this -hotel a good share of Memorial Day, and I started in on a pumping -expedition, beginning with John Thayer, the clerk. Thayer was noticeably -uncommunicative; I thought I’d bluff him a bit, so I remarked: ‘Well, -you’ve concluded to tell me what you know, eh?’ The bluff appeared to -work, for he flushed a little and replied: ‘I’ll tell you all about it -if you will agree to keep it out of the paper.’ As I had suspended all -dispatches to the Hemisphere pending the discovery of a story worth -filing, I readily enough agreed to refrain from publishing his secret to -the world. Then he extracted a promise that I should not divulge a word -to any one in the village. - -“‘Ralph Felton is as innocent of that crime as you or I,’ asserted -Thayer when all the conditions for secrecy had been satisfactorily -arranged. - -“‘That is possible, but why did he refuse to answer the coroner and why -did he cut the town?’ said I. - -“‘He had a good reason for wanting to keep dark, and I suppose he ran -away to prevent being compelled to testify where he was Memorial Day -afternoon and evening.’ - -“‘You know where he was, then?’ - -“‘Yes; he was here at the hotel. I tell you this because I want you to -know that he is innocent. Felton is a good friend of mine, and I thought -perhaps if you knew how the facts were you might see your way clear to -letting him down as easy as possible in the paper.’ I assured him that -my specialty was setting folks right and then Thayer told off the -following story: - -“About 2 o’clock on the afternoon of Memorial Day a woman arrived at -Raymond on the afternoon train from the south, came to this hotel and -registered as ‘Isabel Winthrop.’ She was superbly dressed and displayed -an abundance of jewels. According to Thayer, whose head was completely -turned by her appearance, she was magnificently, phenomenally beautiful. -You can take that for what it is worth. Thayer assigned her a room and -showed her to it. As she passed in she requested him to send a messenger -to acquaint Ralph Felton that a lady desired to see him. Finding him was -an easy task, as he was at that moment playing poker in a room in the -hotel. Felton appeared somewhat surprised when called out, but threw up -the game and went to the woman’s room. That was the last Thayer saw of -him for an hour, when Felton left the hotel. His face was flushed and he -seemed to be laboring under strong excitement. Before he left he called -Thayer to one side. ‘John,’ said he, ‘if you are a friend of mine say -nothing about my caller to-day. You understand?’ - -“I remarked casually: ‘Then he returned to the hotel that afternoon?’ - -“‘Oh, yes,’ said he. - -“‘And was there during the evening?’ - -“‘Yes, I noticed him in the office at the time the alarm over the bank -affair was sounded. He left the hotel then and I did not see him again -that night.’ - -“‘Well,’ I asked pointedly, ‘can you swear that Felton was in the hotel -between 7:45 and 8:30 the evening of Memorial Day?’ I never saw a chap -so taken back as was Thayer. He could not locate Felton at any -particular time during the evening; moreover, he could not say -positively that the Winthrop woman spent the evening in her room. He -supposed she did. The only point that Thayer was sure of was that the -woman left for the south on the first train the next morning. - -“‘Thayer,’ said I, consolingly, ‘the only way I see to clear your absent -friend is to find this Winthrop woman. Describe her to me as accurately -as you can.’ He did so and I have a pretty good pen portrait of the -unknown in my memorandum-book, marked ‘Exhibit A.’ - -“‘Oh, by the way,’ said Thayer, ‘she left a handkerchief in the room.’ - -“‘The deuce she did! I must have that,’ said I. And here it is,” said -Ashley, passing over a dainty lace creation for Barker’s inspection. In -one corner is the letter “I” curiously embroidered in silk. - -“There are thousands of such handkerchiefs,” comments the detective. - -“Yes, but not scented with that variety of perfume.” The detective -sniffs it. “Did you ever smell anything just like that?” queries Ashley. -Barker allows that he never did and his acquaintance with scents is an -extended one. - -“If Isabel Winthrop is found,” declares Ashley, “that handkerchief, and -especially that perfume, may play an important part in her discovery.” -Barker smiles. - -“Truth is stranger than fiction, my boy,” retorts Ashley. “Well, what do -you think of my clews?” - -The detective wraps himself in cigar smoke and thought for several -minutes. Then he extends his hand. - -“I believe I’ll accept your proposition.” Ashley returns the pressure -warmly. - -“I think we’ll make a strong pair to draw to,” he says. - -“But,” adds Barker, “you will see that I am more or less disinterested -when I tell you that I incline to the belief that neither of your clews, -good as they are, is the correct one.” - -“No? Whom do you suspect?” - -Barker rises. “Ashley,” says he, “you are young, enthusiastic and -clever. How are you fixed for patience?” - -“Job was a chronic kicker in comparison,” is the prompt reply. - -“Well, then, about to-morrow evening I shall be ready to talk with you -and lay out the campaign. Satisfactory?” - -“Perfectly. Let’s go down to the billiard room and knock the balls -around for an hour.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - LOUISE HATHAWAY. - - -“Good afternoon. Will you walk in?” - -“Thank you. I will detain you but a short time.” Jack Ashley follows -Miss Hathaway into the half-lighted drawing room, accepts the offered -chair and seats himself beside the big bay window. She sinks quietly -into a chair opposite him and glances at the bit of pasteboard in her -hand. - -Ashley has seen Louise Hathaway at the inquest and has remarked that she -is an unusually attractive woman. And now, as his glance for an instant -sweeps over her, he votes her superb. - -Brief as is his admiring gaze, it is critical. It rests upon the twined -mass of golden hair, drifts over the face to the long white throat and -the strong shoulders, thence to the faultless figure and sweep of limb. -She is as different from her sister Helen as the placid morning is -unlike the beauteous night. Louise is the morning. There is a strong -sunlight in her glorious blue eyes, but now they are shadowed by the -grief of the last few days. - -She lifts her eyes from the visiting card. “You are a reporter,” she -says, with a shade of weariness in her voice. - -“I have the honor of representing the New York Hemisphere. I do not -desire to cause you any annoyance, but there were some matters not -brought out in the inquest which I wish to investigate.” - -“And you have come all the way from New York for this?” - -“No; I have been spending my vacation in Raymond, and, of course, when -the news of the tragedy reached our paper I was instructed to look after -it. I know that the errand on which I have come must be a painful one -for you to discuss, but I assure you that I have more than a reportorial -interest in the case.” - -“Yes?” She looks at him inquiringly. - -“You must be aware that the case is an unusual one,” he goes on. “My -interest in it has grown into a determination to run down and bring to -justice the slayer of your father.” - -He tries to read in the glance she gives him a trace of gratitude, of -approval. Failing, he decides that Louise Hathaway is an extraordinary -young woman. - -“Have you discovered anything—anything that the local authorities—they -are so stupid—have overlooked?” she asks, and he fancies there is -something of anxiety in the calm, slow tones of a very musical voice. - -“Yes,” he replies. “We, the detective and myself, are engaged on several -clews. But it is necessary that we should be in possession of every bit -of knowledge obtainable concerning all the persons who have any bearing, -near or remote, upon the case.” - -Miss Hathaway turns upon Ashley a pair of blue eyes in whose depths he -can read naught but purity and honesty. “I fear I can tell you little,” -she says. - -“Derrick Ames—” - -“Is innocent,” she interrupts. - -“I am of the same opinion. Derrick Ames and your sister were lovers?” -She nods. - -“Your father, I am told, strongly opposed the young man’s attentions. -There was a more favored suitor.” - -Miss Hathaway regards him with mild surprise. “You knew then—” - -“What I have come to ask you about more particularly,” finishes Ashley, -unblushingly, regarding his digression from the truth as a bit of -diplomacy. - -“I was not very well acquainted with him,” avers Miss Hathaway, -“although we have lived in the same town nearly all our lives. But -father regarded him as a model young man, and until lately encouraged -his attentions to Helen in every way.” - -“Now, who the deuce is she talking about?” wonders Ashley, who has -simply chanced it in his assertion that there was a more favored suitor -than Derrick Ames. - -“I never fancied him, and Helen disliked him exceedingly,” continues -Miss Hathaway. “But the more she discouraged him the more persistent he -became. One night Helen came to my room in tears. They had had a fearful -scene, she stated. She should marry him or none, he had declared, and -had made all sorts of wild threats.” - -“I did not know he was such a desperate character,” remarks Ashley -tentatively. - -“I do not believe the people of this town knew what his true character -was. Helen said he seemed to have torn off the mask that night and that -his face was that of a demon. He was wild with rage and left the house -with curses. I sometimes think—” Miss Hathaway pauses and her face wears -a troubled expression. - -“What on earth does she think?” meditates Ashley, who is becoming a -trifle bewildered. - -“I sometimes think it was his hand that struck down our poor father. But -then he could have had no motive, and there was in my eyes a reason for -his action which other people could not surmise.” - -“And yet that action seemed unexplainable?” hazards Ashley. - -“To others, yes. It seemed perhaps a confession of guilt. But after what -Helen told me I firmly believe that he has gone to search for her. And -when he and Derrick Ames meet, I shudder to think of what may happen.” - -Ashley sees the light at last. So Ralph Felton was the favored -suitor—Ralph Felton, whom nearly every one in Raymond regarded as a -model young man, and who, despite his unaccountable flight, found plenty -of people willing to explain it in a dozen charitable ways. - -“You say that until lately Mr. Hathaway regarded Felton’s attentions to -your sister with favor. Had he any reason for suspending his approval?” - -“I imagine so. During the last month or so he rarely spoke of him, and -once, when his name was mentioned at table, he frowned.” - -“I suppose you know that the case looks black against Ames; that not -half a dozen people in the town have a good word to say for him?” - -“I do not care what is said against Derrick Ames. I am sure that he is -innocent of any connection with my father’s death. What he was to others -I cannot say, but in the eyes of Helen and myself he was a noble-hearted -young man, incapable of an unworthy thought or act.” - -“She pleads for him as if for a lover,” thinks Ashley, regarding with -admiration the girl before him. The flash in the blue eyes and the flush -in the cheeks tell of warm sympathies and a loyal heart. - -“Your sister never intimated to you the likelihood of an elopement?” -Ashley inquires. - -“Never. Had she a thought of such a thing I should have known it. We -kept nothing from each other.” - -“You knew that they met clandestinely?” - -“I did.” - -Ashley shifts the line of questioning to return to it at a more -favorable opportunity. It is apparent that it is becoming painful to the -girl. - -“What were the relations between your father and Mr. Felton—the elder -Felton?” - -“Almost wholly of a business nature.” - -“They were friends?” - -“Yes. I had noticed, however, that during the last few weeks they did -not meet as often as before.” - -“Was Mr. Felton at your house within a short time previous to the -murder?” - -“He was here the evening before it.” - -“Anything out of the ordinary in the visit?” - -“Nothing, except that Mr. Felton appeared to be angry.” - -“Will you make an effort to recall what happened on that particular -evening?” Louise is thoughtful for a few moments. - -“I fear I can recall but little,” she replies slowly. “I was passing -through the hall on my way upstairs, and as I stepped by the library -door I glanced in. Father was sitting in his desk chair and Mr. Felton -was standing near the door, with his hat in his hand.” - -“Did you hear any of the conversation?” queries Ashley, with the keenest -interest in the new scent. - -“Let me see—yes; I remember Mr. Felton said: ‘I can’t and I won’t!’ I -think those were his words.” - -“Did he appear to be excited?” - -“Perhaps so. He spoke very loudly.” - -“And your father’s reply—did you hear that?” - -“Yes; I remember I paused an instant from curiosity. Father said, and I -recall that his voice sounded rather harsh: ‘Then there is but one -alternative.’ Then I went upstairs to my room. A few minutes afterward I -heard the front door slam. Father did not retire until several hours -afterward.” - -“It was not his practice to do so?” - -“No; he usually retired early. I don’t see what this has to do with the -mystery—but then I am not a detective or a newspaper man.” - -“It may have much to do with it,” murmurs Ashley. Miss Hathaway looks at -him inquiringly. - -“What do you think?” she asks. - -“Candidly, I don’t know what to think,” he confesses. - -“Will you permit me to turn inquisitor for a few moments?” Miss Hathaway -requests. “There are one or two questions I should like to have -answered.” - -“I will answer a thousand,” replies Ashley cheerfully, as he meets the -direct gaze of the young lady. - -“Is there any evidence against Derrick Ames, other than was brought out -at the coroner’s inquest?” - -Ashley notes the anxiety in the voice and hesitates. It may be cruel, -but it also may be profitable, so he replies slowly to Miss Hathaway: - -“I regret to say that there are a great many things about Ames’ -movements that will have to be explained away.” - -Miss Hathaway covers her face with her hands. A less keen observer than -Ashley could note the hopelessness in the face that she finally lifts. - -“But you said that you believe him innocent,” she exclaims, almost -eagerly. - -“I said so, surely,” admits Ashley. “But in order to prove his innocence -it will be necessary to produce him.” - -A silence. Miss Hathaway’s troubled gaze is fixed upon him. His quick -brain has been working and he has arrived at a conclusion. “This woman -believes in the possibility of Ames’ guilt and she has some reason other -than the evidence that has been produced. Ah, why didn’t I think of that -before?” - -“Miss Hathaway,” says Ashley, speaking deliberately, “you said a moment -ago that you would do anything to assist me in tracing the slayer of -your father.” She nods. - -“Then will you show me the letter which you received from your sister -upon her arrival in New York?” - -If Ashley expects any result from this haphazard question he is -assuredly not prepared for what really happens. Miss Hathaway’s face -turns ashen and a great fear springs into her eyes. She rises to her -feet, her hands clenched. - -“Who told you I received a letter?” she demands in a trembling voice. - -“We newspaper men have many means of obtaining information,” replies -Ashley. - -“Mr. Ashley,” the girl says—she is quite calm now—“I appreciate your -efforts fully and thank you for them. God grant that they may be crowned -with success. As for my sister’s letter, I cannot show it to you, as I -have destroyed it. Its contents I shall never reveal.” - -“I shall hope to see you again before I leave Raymond,” remarks Ashley, -as he rises to take his leave; for the interview has reached its natural -limits. - -“I am at home to you at any time,” responds Miss Hathaway, acknowledging -gravely his pleasant adieu. - -As Ashley saunters back to the hotel his mind is in a more bewildered -condition than at any other time since he has begun work on the Hathaway -case. - -“Now that I am in it, I shall stay, if it occupies the rest of my -natural life,” he determines. “What a magnificent young woman! Fortunate -that I am not susceptible, else I should already be idiotically in love -with this queen of the morning, whose sad blue eyes haunt me still, in -the words of the old song.” - -Oh, the self-sufficiency of youth! - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - MR. BARKER’S DISCOVERIES. - - -After supper Ashley retreats to the most secluded corner of the veranda -and amuses himself blowing smoke rings over the railing. Barker has been -gone ever since morning. He must have struck a warm trail. Twilight -gathers ere Ashley beholds the familiar figure swinging down the street -toward the hotel. - -The detective draws a chair beside that of Ashley, and, after making -certain that no listeners are about, remarks complacently: “My boy, I -believe we are on the trail of Roger Hathaway’s murderer.” - -“Indeed! I confess that I am deeper in the woods of speculation than -ever.” - -“Ah, but when I give you the result of my day’s work I think you will -find yourself out of the forest and on the broad highway of conviction.” - -“Then you must have put in a more profitable afternoon than I spent, and -I accomplished considerable. Had your supper?” - -“No. Guess I’ll run in and have supper and then we’ll adjourn to my room -for a smoke talk.” - -Half an hour later finds the New Yorkers comfortably settled in Barker’s -second-floor. - -“I may as well state at the outset that, as you intimated when you -introduced yourself last evening, I am not a Sherlock Holmes,” begins -Barker. “But I have had considerable experience in ferreting out -criminals. A good memory for faces, an extensive acquaintance with the -brilliants and lesser lights of the crook world, a knack of putting two -and two together with a view to obtaining four as a result, more or less -analytical abilities, an excellent physique, a fair amount of sand and -an unlimited stock of patience are my qualifications for the profession -upon which I have thus far brought no discredit.” - -“Pretty good stock in trade, I should say,” comments Ashley. - -“Thank you. Now, every detective waits patiently for what he regards as -his big case. I think this Hathaway affair is mine—or ours, as we are -working together. Now, I’ll get down to business and tell you what I -have discovered to-day. We may as well begin with a comprehensive study -of the cast of characters. Unfortunately, three of the leading ones are -beyond our reach.” - -“Then you figure Derrick Ames extensively in the case?” - -“Rather. We will begin with him and consider his probable relation to -what is destined to be a celebrated case. - -“It is unfortunate that the people in the world whose photographs one is -likely to want at some time or another are the very people who seldom -run to pictures,” resumes Barker. “There isn’t a picture of Ames in -existence. So far as known he never had one taken. Nor are there any -photos of Helen Hathaway to be had. The only portraits of her in -existence are the miniature in the locket missing from the dead -cashier’s watch-chain and a crayon portrait which, I am informed, hangs -in a room at her late home. - -“I find that Ames was regarded as an odd stick by the discriminating -inhabitants of Raymond—principally because he did not associate with -them more than was absolutely necessary. He is said to be well educated -and is of a high-strung, poetic temperament. Heaven knows how he came to -locate in such a prosy town as Raymond, but the explanation of his -remaining here as long as he did is simpler; he was apparently devoted -to Helen Hathaway. I say apparently for want of knowledge of what his -exact sentiments were. Of his early history I learned little, save that -he came here some three years ago from New York State, studied law with -a local counsellor, and finally took an excellent position with the -Vermont Life Insurance Company. - -“Oddly enough, the one male companion that Ames chose was a chap about -as opposite in temperament and every other way as one can imagine. Sam -Brockway is the name of the fellow, and he is employed as a cutter in -the sheds of the Wild River Granite Company. And Ames hunted him up only -when he got into one of his periodical fits of the blues, and the two -would start off on a racket that would last several days. It was this -habit of drinking, combined with a cynical skepticism upon matters and -things dear to the heart of a deacon, that made Ames objectionable to -Mr. Hathaway, and the antipathy was cordially returned. Helen, however, -was a loyal little woman, and despite her father’s commands she -continued her intimacy with Ames. An elopement was a logical sequence of -such a companionship, and were it not for certain damning evidence that -I extracted from this Brockway and discovered myself, I should dismiss -Ames, temporarily at least, as having no connection with the bank case.” - -“Yet you say Brockway is a friend of Ames’,” remarks Ashley. - -“He is. But while a good-hearted chap and loyalty itself, he is not -especially astute and by shrewd questioning and judicious bluffing I -discovered that he was probably the last man who saw Ames before he -disappeared from Raymond, Roger Hathaway excepted.” - -“You mean—” - -“I mean that Derrick Ames was seen to enter the Raymond National Bank -about 8 o’clock on the evening of Memorial Day.” - -“H’m! That is serious. Yet his mission may have been an innocent one.” - -“True. But to continue. This forenoon I visited the station at Ashfield, -where Ames and the girl—there can be no question that they were the -pair—boarded the night express south. While I was lounging about the -station, waiting for the train back to Raymond, my eye caught the -glitter of an object lying between the inside rail of the track and the -south end of the platform, and partly under the latter. It was a -revolver, 32 caliber, and one chamber was empty. With that for a basis, -I questioned the station agent on another tack, and he finally succeeded -in remembering that just as the train pulled into the station that -memorable night the girl handed Ames his coat, and as he threw it over -his arm an object dropped from one of the pockets, which Ames quickly -recovered and replaced in the coat as he and his companion clambered -aboard the train. Might not this revolver have been the object dropped -by Ames, and might he not when he put it back in his coat have slipped -it into the sleeve, through which it dropped as he stepped upon the -train?” - -“Well, the theory is ingenious, even if wrong,” muses Ashley. - -“I clinched it a bit more,” continues Barker. “Where had Ames and the -girl boarded the train? The station agent remembered that it was at the -south end of the platform, as the New York sleeper was made up next -behind the engine and baggage car.” - -“I beg to remark,” puts in Ashley, “that the fact of one chamber in a -revolver being empty is not at all unusual. I have in my pocket a gun in -that condition, but as it is a 38 caliber, that lets me out of any -connection with the tragedy.” - -“Of course,” smiles Barker, “I take all these bits of evidence for what -they are worth. While waiting for my train I argued in this wise: -Derrick Ames was in love with Helen Hathaway, and the attachment -resulted in an elopement. Neither was seen after 2 o’clock of Memorial -Day, and the inference is that they were together somewhere all the -afternoon and evening. The elopement was apparently unpremeditated, as -they took nothing with them, so far as known, except the clothes they -wore. There must have been some cause for such an impromptu exit. People -do not elope that way no matter how love-mad they may be. Where was -Helen when Ames was seen going into the bank? Waiting for him somewhere. -What was his errand? To make a final appeal for the girl’s hand, with an -elopement in mind as the last resort, perhaps. But even failing in that, -why elope that particular night? There must have been a cause for -hurrying him away. But if you assume that Ames committed the crime, even -as the upshot of a fierce quarrel, even perhaps in self-defense, you -must figure him a moral monstrosity, for only such could strike down a -father and elope subsequently with the daughter. And then there is the -missing money. You see it argues a villainy more despicable than a man -like Ames could have been guilty of.” - -“Yet pathology records even more singular instances of moral -distortion.” - -“Even so. But is it not more reasonable to believe that Ames may have -been only a witness to the murder, or a spectator on the scene of the -tragedy after it had occurred, and that he was hurried away by the -horror of the affair? But in either event would he not have argued that -to fly would be the worst possible thing he could do? I confess that -when I arrived at Raymond I was in doubt as to Ames’ possible guilt, but -my afternoon’s investigations have about convinced me that Derrick Ames -had nothing to do with the death of Cashier Hathaway.” - -“Then you must have substituted some other person as the object of your -suspicion.” - -“Yes; but the substitution is not especially recent. Before I give you -the result of my afternoon labors let me tell you of a discovery that I -made yesterday, not three hours after my arrival in town. - -“After I had posted myself from the stenographic notes of the inquest I -dropped into the bank to have a talk with the officials. President -Felton took me into the directors’ room, where the tragedy occurred, and -I sat in the cashier’s chair and glanced around to get a few bearings. -While Felton was retelling his story of the finding of Hathaway’s body I -toyed with a blotter on the desk. It was the ordinary blotter, larger -than the average, with the advertisement of an insurance company on one -side. As I glanced carelessly at it I noticed that it had taken up the -ink of some unusually plain characters. - -“Felton was called out of the room for a moment and I slipped the -blotter in my pocket to examine it at my leisure. When I returned to the -hotel I made an investigation, and I discovered—but I will let you see -for yourself. Hand me that small mirror on the wall.” - -Ashley does so. The detective takes his prize from a bundle of papers in -his pocket, smooths it flat on the table, and places the mirror -perpendicularly before it. Then he draws the lamp over and remarks -complacently: “Look here upon this picture!” - -And this is what Ashley sees as he gazes upon the reflecting surface. -There are three groups of characters. The first group reads: - - =“Come to the bank immediately—”= - -The second: - - =“Your personal account overdrawn—”= - -And the third: - - =“These things I charge you fail not, Cyrus Felton, at the peril - of your good name. Roger Hathaway.”= - -“Jove! It reads like an accusation!” cries Ashley, dropping back into -his chair. - -“It is an accusation!” declares the detective, with the ring of triumph -in his voice. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - A SIFTING OF EVIDENCE. - - -Both men smoke on in a brief silence that Ashley breaks with an -inquiring “Well?” - -“Much,” is Barker’s smiling response. “Now, my boy,” he adds briskly, as -he extracts a bunch of writing paper from his grip and sharpens his -pencil, “tell me everything you know concerning the dramatis personae in -this drama. We will get our facts together, and then I’ll give you my -theories—for I have more than one. Go ahead.” - -When Ashley has exhausted his stock of information and has hazarded one -or two ingenious theories, the detective leans back in his chair and for -the space of five minutes says not a word. Finally he turns to Ashley. - -“This Hathaway mystery,” he begins, “is either simplicity itself or it -is shrouded in a veil that only the patient search and unceasing effort -of months will lift. My first glance at the case led me to believe that -the murder was the work of a professional, so swiftly had it been -accomplished and so completely had the work of the operator been covered -up. But the most earnest search has failed to discover the presence in -town on Memorial Day of any person who could possibly be regarded as a -suspicious character, except Ernest Stanley, of whom more anon. - -“Then the deed must have been committed by some one in Raymond. Thus far -we have evidence affecting four men—Derrick Ames, Cyrus Felton, Ralph -Felton, and Ernest Stanley. If two of the four were implicated it could -have been only the Feltons, father and son. I do not say that any of the -four is the guilty man. But a chain of evidence must be forged about the -slayer of Roger Hathaway, and in order that this chain shall be -complete, minus not a single link, it becomes necessary for us to -establish the innocence of these four men, if they are innocent, as well -as the presumptive guilt of a fifth party, if a fifth party committed -the crime.” - -“In other words, we are hampered by a superabundance of clews.” - -“Exactly. I will pardon your interruption, but no more of them, unless -they are good ones. Now, your attention. - -“Roger Hathaway was killed in his office in the bank on the evening of -Memorial Day, some time between 7:45 and 8:30 o’clock. No definite -minute or five minutes can be fixed. Two of our characters were, we -know, and the other two may have been, at the bank between 7:45 and -8:30. To begin with Ames. Sam Brockway tells me that he saw Ames enter -the bank after Hathaway had handed a note to the boy, Jimmie Howe. -Brockway did not stay to see Ames come out; when the latter did emerge -he was unseen. It is not unreasonable to assume that Ames killed -Hathaway as the climax of a bitter quarrel over the latter’s daughter, -and that, to facilitate his escape, he helped himself to the bank’s -funds. But it is unreasonable to assume that subsequently he induced the -daughter to elope with him. That is the weak link in that chain.” - -“But suppose that the elopement was already under way; that everything -had been arranged for, hour of departure, route and conveyance,” debates -Ashley. “Would not Ames argue that solitary flight, and a failure to -carry out the prearranged plans must weigh heavily against him? An -elopement is an excellent excuse for leaving town hurriedly, you know.” - -“Possible,” returns the detective. “Now, the letter which you say Louise -Hathaway received from her sister, but the contents of which she refuses -to reveal, must have contained some reference to Ames which Miss -Hathaway has reasons for concealing. At any rate, there is good ground -for suspecting that Ames knows something of the murder of Roger -Hathaway, whether or no his own hand was stained with the cashier’s -blood. Now,” says Barker, turning to the blotter and the mirror on the -table, and propping up the reflector with the water pitcher, “look that -over carefully, Ashley, and tell me what you find.” - -Ashley draws his chair up to the table and examines critically the -characters on the blotter as reflected in the mirror. - -“All of the words which are distinguishable were not, when blotted, on -the same sheet of paper,” he asserts. “At least two and perhaps three -sheets of paper were used. The words, ‘your personal account overdrawn,’ -must have been at the bottom of one sheet and those with the signature -attached upon another, but whether top, middle, or bottom of the page is -of no consequence.” - -“Very good,” approves Barker. “That was the first conclusion I arrived -at when I examined the blotter. Now, how about those words, ‘Come to the -bank immediately’?” - -“Their position is not so clear to me. Their nature would indicate that -they began the letter, but if so I cannot see why they should blot and -the words following them should not appear.” - -“But if they were part of another letter—what then?” - -“Ah,” remarks Ashley, thoughtfully. - -“I am assuming, and I think reasonably, that the blotter was first used -upon the letter or letters whose contents we are attempting to guess,” -says Barker. “There are many faint marks around the legible words, but -naturally only the words concluding each page would be distinguishable. -Those above would be either dry or in process of drying. But what else -do you deduce, Ashley?” - -“Well, the writing does not display, in my opinion, undue haste or -agitation. I am not an expert in handwriting, but I should say that this -letter was written at a normal speed and by a man in a comparatively -calm condition of mind. The signature is bold and firm, as are all the -legible characters. I should also say that this letter was the one which -Roger Hathaway sent to Cyrus Felton half an hour or so before he was -found dead in his office.” - -“You remember Felton’s testimony at the inquest?” - -“Perfectly. He stated that the note he received contained the simple -request: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’” - -“Then you think he lied to the coroner?” - -“It would seem so. Unless—” - -“Unless the note he received at his house on the evening of Memorial Day -did contain only that brief summons, which is contained in the five -words at the top of the blotter.” - -“Precisely,” agrees Ashley. “That brings us to the question, when was -the other letter written? It must have been previous to the note -referred to at the inquest, but how many hours or days before? Let me -have your theory, Barker. My mind is already shaping a shadowy one.” - -The detective chews his cigar reflectively. “Suppose that Roger Hathaway -discovered, some time ago—within a few weeks, we will say—that the -affairs of the bank were not in the condition that they should be?” he -hazards. “An examination of the books showed not only that the -president’s personal account was overdrawn, but that certain operations -of the latter had jeopardized the soundness of the institution. The -knowledge might have been expected or unexpected. In either case the -cashier realized that something had to be done, and at once. So on the -day before Memorial Day, or even earlier, he wrote a letter to the -president and couched it in plain English. He instanced the overdrawal -of the president’s personal account and a number of other unpleasant -conditions, and urged upon that gentleman the necessity for an immediate -adjustment of the critical affairs, closing with the admonition, ‘Fail -not, Cyrus Felton, at the peril of your good name.’ - -“Having dispatched his letter to the president, the cashier waited -anxiously for a reply. It came in the form of a call by Felton at the -residence of Hathaway the evening before Memorial Day. The interview was -a stormy one. At least we know it was not harmonious. The cashier again -set forth the necessity for immediate action. Ways and means were -discussed, but no way out of the tangle seemed clear. In desperation the -cashier suggested some unpleasant but safe method of salvation. The -president responded angrily, ‘I can’t and I won’t!’ and the cashier -answered decisively, ‘Then there is only one alternative.’ Without -waiting to discuss this alternative, the president left the house in a -temper and the cashier sat up in his library for hours afterward, -meditating on the crisis. - -“Now, what was this ‘one alternative’ indicated by the cashier? Clearly -publicity of the bank’s condition and its subsequent wreck. The next day -was Memorial Day. The cashier took part in the solemn services and in -the evening he went to the bank to perform some necessary work upon the -books, the teller being ill. No word had come from the president, no -intimation that he was prepared to follow out the course pointed out the -night before, and avoid the disgrace which the wreck of the bank would -entail. Again the desperation of the situation flashed upon the cashier. -The president must act, and at once. So the cashier indited a brief but -peremptory note to the president: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’ This -he delivered to Jimmy Howe, whom he found on the bridge tossing pebbles -into the stream. - -“The president answered the summons. Within the cashier’s office the -accusation, apparently so plainly indicated on this blotter, was -repeated verbally. A sharp dispute followed. Hot words led to blows. The -drawer of the cashier’s desk was open and his revolver lay in view. Can -you supply the rest?” - -“But the open vault and the missing money and securities?” contends -Ashley. - -“The vault may have been, probably was, already open. The missing -funds—had been missing for some little time,” replies Barker, with a -significant smile. Then he resumes: - -“Felton testified that on the night of the tragedy he reached the bank -about 8:20. As he left his house about 8:05 he must have got to the bank -not far from 8:15. It is not more than ten minutes’ walk, even at an -ordinary pace. He told Sheriff Wilson, when he found the latter at the -hotel, that he discovered Hathaway ‘only a few moments ago.’ Yet the -sheriff stated to me that he was positive it was 8:35 when he was -informed of the affair. He looked at his watch when he was accompanying -Felton to the bank. Again, Felton told the coroner that ‘it did not seem -more than a minute that I spent in the bank,’ so that here we have a -hiatus of fully a quarter of an hour. Now, where was Felton during that -fifteen minutes if not in the company of Roger Hathaway? If Hathaway was -dead when Felton reached the bank, why was not the sheriff informed -earlier? You see there is an apparent discrepancy that might be -explained on the theory that Hathaway was alive when Felton entered the -bank, and that an interview of ten or fifteen minutes was ended by the -death of the cashier.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - FURTHER CONSIDERATION OF CLEWS. - - -Having allowed Ashley to digest the food for thought furnished by the -detective, the latter resumes his story: - -“Upon my return from Ashfield I called upon Cyrus Felton, found him at -his residence and interviewed him in his library for fully an hour. When -I introduced myself as a detective he started visibly. In place of the -extreme agitation which characterized his testimony at the inquest, he -betrayed a nervousness rather peculiar, to say the least, in one whose -knowledge of the crime embraced only what he related to the coroner. - -“I questioned him minutely, avoiding any direct query that would be -likely to arouse his suspicions. To my question, ‘When did you last see -Mr. Hathaway?’ he replied that it was on the afternoon of Memorial Day, -when the Grand Army post marched to the cemetery. - -“‘And before that—when?’ - -“He hesitated a few moments and answered that he had last talked with -the cashier several days, probably a week, before the tragedy. - -“‘Your relations with Mr. Hathaway were always of a friendly nature?’ - -“‘Eminently so.’ - -“The answer was straightforward and the look that accompanied it was -open and direct, the only one, by the way, during the entire interview. -Of course I was not at the time aware of the unharmonious interview -which, as Miss Hathaway reported to you, occurred at her father’s house -on the evening preceding Memorial Day. Lie No. 1, conceding that he told -the truth about the note which he received from the cashier on the -evening of the tragedy. - -“‘Now, this revolver of Mr. Hathaway’s, what sort of a weapon was it, -Mr. Felton?’ I asked. He gave me a half-startled look and I fancied that -his gaze strayed for an instant to the safe set in the wall of his -library. It flashed upon me that the lost gun was concealed behind the -steel door of that same safe. - -“‘The revolver,’ he said, in an absent sort of way; ‘oh, it was an -ordinary affair, 32 caliber, I believe they called it, nickeled and with -a pearl handle. I had often seen it lying in Mr. Hathaway’s drawer, but -so far as I know it was never used.’ - -“‘Would you recognize that revolver if you should see it again, Mr. -Felton?’ - -“‘I don’t know as I could positively identify it. Revolvers are so much -alike, are they not?’ I nodded, and again his eyes shifted toward the -door of his safe. - -“Well, as I say, I talked with him for about an hour, most of the -interview dealing with the forgery case of two years ago, in which our -mysterious friend, Ernest Stanley, figured as the principal. But of that -more later. - -“It was about 5 o’clock when I called at Felton’s house, and the supper -bells of the neighborhood were ringing when I left. Instead of going to -the hotel I struck down a side street to the river road, for a smoke and -a stroll, and a chance to run the Hathaway case over in my mind. - -“Half a mile below the village there is quite a stretch of road without -any houses along it. The cemetery is on one side, the river on the -other. I was sprawling on the stone wall that skirts the city of the -dead and looking toward the village, when I saw a figure rapidly -approaching. ‘Cyrus Felton or I’m a goat!’ I exclaimed, and rolled out -of sight behind the wall. My eyesight is keen and I could not mistake -the tall, lank form of the bank president. ‘What the deuce is he doing -down this road at an hour when he should be peacefully eating his -supper?’ I wondered. - -“When Felton passed around the bend in the road I sprung over the wall -and followed at a cautious distance. He looked around once or twice, and -I had to dodge behind a tree each time. Suddenly he stopped and walked -out upon the bank of the river, while I again took up a position behind -my friendly stone wall. - -“Our banker walked to the edge of the river, and, with his hands clasped -behind him, stared at the water, now and then casting a look up and down -the road. - -“‘Heavens! Is he going to commit suicide?’ I thought. Surely my mild -catechism had not driven him to such an extremity. My fears were shortly -allayed. He suddenly thrust his hand into his coat pocket, and, -withdrawing some object, hurled it into the stream. It sunk with a small -splash. I was too far away to more than guess what the object was. -Felton remained on the bank for several minutes, gazing at the surface -of the river, then suddenly wheeled and started toward the village. As -he passed me I fancied he looked a bit more relieved in mind. - -“After he was out of sight I walked over to the river and marked as near -as possible the spot where he had stood. The river at that point is -deep, and I fear that the bottom is muddy, as the stream makes a sharp -bend and spreads into a broad lagoon, with little or no current.” - -“You intend to go a-fishing?” queries Ashley. - -“At daylight, if we can get a boat of some sort.” - -“And if our search is rewarded by the finding of a revolver—the -revolver—what then?” - -“Then I think we shall have a case against Cyrus Felton stronger than we -shall make out against any one else. I can see by your face that you are -only half convinced of that fact,” continues Barker. “You are more -inclined to suspect the younger Felton than the elder, eh?” - -“Well,” argues the newspaper man, “in the case of Ralph Felton there is -a motive, an evil temper, and what is usually regarded as confession of -guilt—flight.” - -“Good. Let us look over young Felton’s case,” says the detective. “Ralph -Felton, we know, is possessed of an evil temper and a disposition to -bullyrag a young lady who is sensible enough not to love him. We know -also that he gambles with traveling men who put up here, and drinks more -or less. As the good people of this town regard Ralph as a model young -man, his indulgence in cards and wine on the quiet shows a broad streak -of deception in his character. - -“His inclinations toward gayety were not cultivated in his native town. -Previous to a twelvemonth ago four or five years of his life were spent -in New York, Chicago and other cities. His occupation during a share of -that time was that of representative and selling agent for the granite -company in which his father is the principal stock owner. He was -apparently wild and reckless, for a year ago he returned to Raymond and -through the efforts of his father was given the position of bookkeeper -in the bank, a position which does not usually pay much. It would appear -that the elder Felton had enacted the role of the prodigal’s father. - -“While Ralph Felton was ‘down country’ he fell in love with a pretty -face, and upon its possessor he squandered all his means and more. When -Ralph returned to Raymond the woman wrote to him demanding money and a -fulfillment of pledges. The former he had not; of the latter he had no -thought, as he had become desperately enamored of Helen Hathaway. Unable -to obtain satisfaction by a correspondence, the woman visited Raymond -the afternoon of Memorial Day, registered as ‘Isabel Winthrop,’ and sent -word to Ralph that a lady desired to see him. He went to her. The -interview between the pair was not harmonious. Sounds of a quarrel came -from the room, and once or twice the word ‘money’ was used. Half an hour -or so from the time he entered the hotel Ralph left with a flushed -countenance, first pledging the clerk to say nothing of his feminine -caller. - -“He has essayed promises with her, but something substantial is demanded -to back them up. He must have money, but where is it to be secured? No -use to apply to his father, that he well knows. The more he racks his -brain the more desperate becomes the situation. Then a wild thought -comes to him. The bank! There must be a large amount of money in the -safe. The county bonds mature the next day. He knows, we will -assume—perhaps the knowledge is accidental—the combination of the safe. - -“Ralph returns to the hotel, and, with a calmness born of a desperate -resolve, informs ‘Isabel Winthrop’ that he has arranged for the needed -funds, and reiterates his promises for the future. As dusk comes on he -leaves the hotel unobserved by the clerk, goes to the bank, opens the -front door and locks it behind him, and proceeds to the cashier’s office -in the rear, wherein open the doors to the vault. - -“As with a trembling hand he twists the combination of the vault he -hears the sound of a key in the outer door. He springs to his feet and -casts a startled glance about him. There is no egress from the room save -by the way he came. Ah! The closet! He secretes himself in the dark -closet at the farther end of the room, and at that instant Roger -Hathaway enters. - -“‘The cashier,’ murmurs the prisoner in the closet, as through the -partially open door he watches Hathaway light his desk lamp. ‘He has -dropped in to get some papers and will soon be gone,’ thinks Ralph. But -to the latter’s despair the cashier opens the vault, takes out the big -ledger, and settles down apparently to an evening’s work. - -“Here is a nice predicament, but there is nothing to be done except wait -until the cashier finishes his evening’s work and goes home. Half an -hour or more goes by. The closet is dusty and Ralph is seized with an -irresistible desire to sneeze. The explosion, a half-smothered one, -occurs, and the cashier looks about him in surprise and wonder. But he -continues his work. Suddenly Felton sees him seize a pad of writing -paper, scratch off a brief note and leave the room to find a messenger. -Has the cashier suspected the presence of some person in the bank -besides himself and has he taken this means to summon assistance? As -this thought flashes upon him young Felton becomes desperate, but as he -watches the face of the cashier, who returns calmly to his writing, he -convinces himself that he is mistaken. - -“Again that cursed inclination to sneeze, which in vain he attempts to -smother. This time there is no mistake. The cashier rises to his feet -and glances about the room in alarm. His eyes finally rest on the partly -opened door of the dark closet. Hathaway is a man of nerve. He opens the -right-hand drawer of his desk, takes out and cocks his revolver and -walks deliberately toward the closet. - -“All this is seen by Ralph, and his plan to rob the bank is succeeded by -a desire to escape from the building unrecognized. To accomplish this -the cashier must be overpowered. So when the latter flings open the -closet door the man within reaches out, grasps the revolver arm and -draws the cashier into the darkness of the closet. Then ensues a fierce -struggle, for Roger Hathaway, though old, is still a powerful man. This -would account for the old ledgers that were toppled over into the -office, and for the marks on the body of the murdered man. - -“During the struggle the revolver is discharged and the bullet enters -the cashier’s heart. The doctors in the case tell me that the course of -the bullet was such that the leaden missile might have come from a -pistol discharged during such a struggle as I have described. But to -continue: - -“Ralph Felton draws the limp form of the cashier out into the office and -lays it upon the floor. A moment’s examination shows him that the man is -dead, and he realizes his frightful position. Then the thought occurs to -him that, if he carries out his original plan of robbing the bank, the -crime will be ascribed to burglars. So he fills his pockets with what -money and securities are in the safe, closes the door to the cashier’s -office behind him and leaves the bank, with the front door unlocked or -ajar.” - -“Unless—” interrupts Ashley. - -“Unless what?” - -“Unless,” says the newspaper man, leaning back in his chair and blowing -a cloud of smoke ceilingward—“unless Ralph Felton, when he rose from his -examination of the body, was suddenly confronted by his father, who had -come to the bank in response to the summons sent by the cashier!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - THE KEY TO THE MYSTERY. - - -“Following along the lines of your theory,” continues Ashley, “if Ralph -Felton rose from the corpse of Roger Hathaway and confronted his father -upon the threshold of the cashier’s office, that dramatic meeting would -explain many things. It would explain the startled glance that Cyrus -Felton shot at his son—I was studying the faces of both—when the latter -refused to state at the inquest where he had spent the time between 7:45 -and 8:30 on the evening of Memorial Day. It would account for the -carrying off of the cashier’s revolver and its subsequent burial among -the waters of Wild River; for young Felton’s flight, and for the extreme -agitation of the elder Felton ever since the night of the killing.” - -“And,” adds Barker, “it would satisfactorily clear up the interim of -fifteen minutes between the time Cyrus Felton should have reached the -bank and the moment when the sheriff was notified. In fact, if the -Felton family is responsible for the death of Roger Hathaway there must -be some understanding between father and son. But we will now proceed to -the consideration of an important character in our tragedy—Ernest -Stanley. - -“Two years ago, while the directors of the Raymond National Bank were -holding their annual meeting, the teller stepped into the room and -announced that a stranger had presented at the bank for payment a check -for $1,000, signed by Cyrus Felton. - -“‘Impossible!’ exclaimed that individual, who was presiding over the -directors’ meeting. ‘Let me see the check.’ The teller produced it, and -Felton at once declared it a forgery, and a bungling one at that. An -officer was quickly summoned and Ernest Stanley, who had presented the -check, was arrested. - -“His trial in the Mansfield County Court was short. The forgery was -proved and the young man was sentenced to three years in the state -prison at Windsor. In his own defense—he had no money with which to -employ a lawyer—Stanley stated that the check had been given to him two -days before he presented it, by a casual acquaintance who claimed the -name signed to the bit of paper. It was in payment of a gambling debt -and the transaction occurred in Phil Clark’s well-known lair of the -tiger on Fifth Avenue, New York.” - -“Which, by the way, is no more,” puts in Ashley. “The place was closed -out six months ago and Phil is now in ’Frisco.” - -“It was in existence during Stanley’s trial,” resumes Barker, “and the -trial was adjourned a couple of days while his improbable story was -looked up. As was expected, neither Phil nor any of the habitues of his -place knew of such a person as Ernest Stanley, much less such a -transaction as he alleged to have occurred there. - -“Stanley received his sentence calmly. Beyond stating that his age was -26 and his occupation that of a bookmaker he refused to furnish any -details of his birth, early life or present residence. He served two -years of his sentence and was pardoned by the governor this last -Memorial Day. Strangely enough, the pardon was secured by the man whose -name he was alleged to have forged—Cyrus Felton. Now, what feelings do -you suppose actuated Felton in securing a remission of a year in the -prisoner’s sentence? Compassion?” - -“What should you say were I to suggest the word ‘remorse’?” replies -Ashley. - -“I should say,” declares the detective, with a smile of approval, “that -you had hit upon the very word. It is plain that you foresee what I am -leading up to.” - -“To the theory that Stanley was innocent of the forgery and that the -check was given to him by Ralph Felton?” - -“Exactly. It will be difficult to prove, but if it can be proved it will -have an important bearing on the Hathaway mystery. It will show Ralph -Felton’s capacity for wrongdoing and will enable us to surmise to what -extent Cyrus Felton would shield his son from conviction of a crime. At -the time the check was presented Ralph Felton was supposed to be in New -York, and as he had been for some time more or less of a trial to the -old man the latter doubtless suspected in an instant what we are -assuming to have been the truth. He had to decide between his son and a -stranger, and, as usual, the stranger suffered.” - -“What led Stanley to attempt to cash the check in Raymond?” debates -Ashley. - -“Well, if he was a stranger in New York he would find it impossible to -cash it at any of the banks in that city. Why not run up to Raymond and -cash it at the bank on which it was drawn? I forgot to say that at the -trial Stanley alleged that his acquaintance of the gambling rooms -claimed to be a Vermonter and appeared to have plenty of money.” - -“And he did not hazard the suggestion that this acquaintance was the son -of the man whose name was forged?” - -“He did not know that there was a son. To prove this, if the visitor at -Cyrus Felton’s house on the evening of Memorial Day was the released -prisoner of Windsor, note his surprised reply to the housemaid, ‘I did -not know there were two Feltons.’” - -“True,” admits Ashley. “Keep along, old man.” - -“If Stanley was that visitor,” pursues the detective, “his object in -revisiting Raymond was to obtain revenge for the wrong that had been -done him. - -“When he arrived at Raymond, at 7:45, he went directly to Felton’s -house. Failing to find the bank president at home, he obtained -directions as to where Felton’s office was and proceeded to the bank -block. The office, which is on the second story, at the south end of the -block, was dark and Stanley returned to the street. As he stood in front -of the bank and thought of the day, two long years before, when he -stepped from its portals with a constable gripping his arm, he noticed a -light in the rear. Perhaps Felton was within. So he pushed open the door -and—” - -“Hold on a bit. How does the bank door come to be open? You are assuming -a great deal this time, Barker,” laughs Ashley. - -“I am assuming that he got into the bank some way or other,” retorts the -detective. “If not—and here I will quote your own words when you -imparted to me your valuable discovery—‘What was Stanley doing at 6 -o’clock the next morning asleep in the bushes in a lonely gorge near -South Ashfield village?’ - -Ashley laughs merrily. “I was expecting that,” he says. “But I’ll be -hanged if I will believe that an Edmond Dantes sort of a chap like -Ernest Stanley is capable of—” - -“Permit me to suggest that Ernest Stanley may be a cheap criminal -instead of an Edmond Dantes,” interrupts Barker, with a withering -sarcasm that only increases Ashley’s good humor. “We have given him a -good character simply to suit our present theory. He may have really -forged old Felton’s name, and his visit to Raymond may have been -actuated by a base desire for revenge upon a stern justice meted out to -him. Alone in the bank with Roger Hathaway and the open vault, murder -and robbery may have come natural to him. We know nothing that should -lead us to decide that he was a much-abused young man.” - -“Yet you believe he is, I’ll wager,” asserts Ashley. - -“I confess that I do. A man would be half a dozen kinds of a fool to -forge the name of the president of a bank and present the check for -payment at the latter’s own bank. Still what evidence we have against -Stanley is strong. We can account for the flight of Derrick Ames on the -simple elopement theory. We can explain the levanting of Ralph Felton on -the theory that he refused to establish an alibi because it would -necessitate the confession of an acquaintance with ‘Isabel Winthrop,’ -when he was an ardent suitor for the hand of Helen Hathaway, and on the -further supposition that he has gone to hunt for the woman he insanely -loved. We can explain the nervous condition of Cyrus Felton on the -assumption that he fears his son was implicated in the bank robbery and -trembles for his safety. But we cannot explain why Ernest Stanley fled -from Raymond the night of Memorial Day and hurried over mountain and -stream and through forest, chased like a wild beast, until he found a -haven of refuge. The open bank door is the break in the chain of -evidence against him, and that may be mended by assuming that the -cashier forgot to lock the door behind him when he entered the bank. - -“We must find Stanley,” Ashley promptly declares. - -“And there are others to be found,” the detective rejoins dryly. “But -especially must we run down Stanley. I am convinced that he is the key -to the mystery, and when we have located his position in this puzzling -case I believe that the rest of the race will be plain sailing.” - -“I fear it will be a long, stern chase.” - -“Such chases usually are,” remarks Barker, composedly. “I have already -set the machinery in motion, and the police of the entire country are on -the lookout for a chap answering Stanley’s description. What makes our -task the harder is the probable fact that Stanley is not a member of the -criminal class, and so a comparatively easy channel of pursuit is -closed. He presumably made for New York, and somewhere in that busy -human hive we may run across him.” - -“Then our labors at this end of the road are about completed?” - -“Nearly so. To-morrow morning, before the village is astir, we will go -a-fishing. If we find what we expect the case may be precipitated a bit. -Otherwise we will shift the scene of our operations to New York, after I -have pumped the servants in the Felton family and inquired as far as is -possible into the affairs of the bank. Is your vacation about wound up?” - -“It will be in a day or so. I have nothing to keep me here longer except -a pleasant duty that I owe to myself.” - -“And that is—” - -“To make an unprofessional call upon Miss Louise Hathaway.” - -“Ho! Sits the wind in that quarter?” laughs the detective. - -“Don’t be absurd, my friend,” smiles Ashley. “Miss Hathaway interests me -only as would a statue of the Venus de Milo.” - -“Indeed? Still, men have lost their hearts to a statue.” - -“In books and plays. If we are to arise at daybreak I would suggest the -advisability of retiring.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - A CHANGE OF BASE. - - -“I believe this is the exact spot; yes, I am sure it is. Drop your -anchor, Ashley, so that the bow will point up-stream,” says Barker, as -he grasps a long pole with a hook at one end, and prepares to explore -the bed of Wild River. - -Ashley lets go the rock that does duty as an anchor and remarks -ruefully, when all but a yard of the rope is run out: “This is deep-sea -fishing. There is over twelve feet of water here.” - -“Thunder! And mud enough to bury a man-of-war,” grunts the detective. - -After fifteen minutes of earnest but ineffectual groping in the slimy -bed of the stream Barker throws the pole from him and remarks: “No use.” - -“Can’t the river be dredged?” - -“Yes; with a force of men and a steam dredger, and the whole township -looking on and asking questions. We can do nothing this morning. Up -anchor and away! I could use a little breakfast.” - -“By the way,” observes Ashley, as the two men walk back to the hotel, -“in all your talk last night you said nothing of that locket, with the -miniatures of the Hathaway sisters, which was stolen from the -watch-chain of the murdered cashier the night of the killing.” - -“Do you know it was stolen on that night?” asks the detective. - -“We must assume that it was until we know otherwise, I suppose,” returns -Ashley. “If the missing locket is found in the possession of any one of -our suspects it would be a strong link, would it not?” - -“Very likely, but we must find our man first. Shall you be ready to -leave for New York to-night?” - -“Sure thing.” - -“Good. We must strike the trail there and follow it, if need be, to the -end of the world.” - -Ashley has been in Raymond only two weeks, but already he begins to sigh -for the pleasures and palaces of gay, crowded and babel-voiced New York. - -“Hang it!” he growls to Barker, as he packs his valise, “this Vermont -country is all right, but the natives are atrocious. They know no -literature except those provincial Boston dailies and the current -paper-covered rot; no music except Sousa’s marches, no art except the -colored supplements to the Sunday newspapers and no conversation higher -than horse, hay and village gossip.” - -“Your criticism is too sweeping,” replies the detective. “There is more -culture in Raymond, in proportion to its population, than there is in -New York, I’ll wager. And where in that politics-ridden city will you -find another woman rivaling your fervid description of Miss Louise -Hathaway?” - -“Ah, she is a rose in a wilderness. And that reminds me that I have -promised myself the pleasure of a farewell call upon her,” says Ashley. - -“Farewell?” repeats the detective, skeptically. “You will not see the -last of Miss Hathaway to-day unless I am much mistaken. I have known of -more than one lover of statuary who failed to be content with the marble -and warmed it into living, breathing womanhood.” - -“Nonsense!” laughs Ashley. “I shall live and die a bachelor.” - -But he spends fully ten minutes in tying his cravat, brushes his hair -with unusual care, gives his mustache an extra twist, and saunters up to -the Hathaway homestead in an expectant frame of mind. Foolish Jack -Ashley! In after years he will smile at the recollection of the thoughts -that flit through his busy mind to-day. - -Just as he turns into the path leading to the Hathaway residence Miss -Hathaway is stepping out upon the veranda. She sees him and smiles in -her grave way. - -“Good afternoon,” she says to her visitor. He answers, uncovering his -head. - -“I called to say au revoir. I leave for New York to-night.” - -She leads the way to the reception room. After they have taken their -seats near the open window she answers: - -“You will return? Your work here on—on the case is not yet finished?” - -“No; we shall have occasion to visit Raymond more than once before the -mystery which shrouds the bank case is dispelled. It is going to be a -long chase, I fear, Miss Hathaway. But I hope to come to you some day -and tell you of its successful end.” - -“I hope so,” she replies dreamily, her thoughts far away. - -“You have heard nothing more from your sister?” - -“Nothing.” Her look is frank. - -“I can tell you nothing of our plans,” says Ashley, “further than that -our principal endeavor will be to discover Ernest Stanley.” - -“Ernest Stanley?” repeats Miss Hathaway. “Oh, the young man who was -pardoned from State prison on Memorial Day. Do you think he committed -the crime?” - -“Frankly, no. But we believe that he knows something of its -perpetration. In other words, we regard him as the key to the mystery.” - -“And Derrick Ames?” questions Miss Hathaway, with the anxious expression -of yesterday in her gaze. - -“Derrick Ames must be found, also. If you could give me any -information—” - -“I can tell you nothing,” she replies hurriedly. - -“Ralph Felton is another absentee whose presence is earnestly desired,” -he resumes. - -“You say you do not believe that Stanley is the guilty man. Does it, -then, lie between Ralph Felton and—” - -“And Derrick Ames?” finishes Ashley. “Not necessarily. There is another, -but for excellent reasons I should prefer not to mention the name. Have -you any plans for the future?” - -“No definite plans. Mr. Cyrus Felton has been appointed executor of the -estate and after that has been settled I shall probably make my home at -his house.” - -“At Cyrus Felton’s?” murmurs Ashley, in such a peculiar voice that Miss -Hathaway looks at him in surprise. - -“Yes; that is the only place I can go to at present. He has long been a -friend of the family.” - -“Have you no relatives—in Boston, New York, or elsewhere?” - -“No near relatives. It will not be very long ere I shall have to make a -home for myself. I am told that the estate will settle for very little,” -confesses Miss Hathaway, with a red spot in each pale cheek. Ashley -understands and regards her sympathetically. - -There is a short, somewhat embarrassing silence. Then Ashley rises -regretfully. He says: - -“I am afraid it must be good-bye—or, perhaps, au revoir. I shall hope to -see you again before the summer is gone.” - -“I trust so,” Miss Hathaway responds, this time quite cordially, as she -gives him her hand at parting, and Ashley holds it an instant longer -than ordinary courtesy calls for. And as he walks slowly away from the -house he carries with him the vision of a tall girl, with a pure white -face and sad blue eyes, into which the sunlight will some day come -again. - -At night he and Barker take the Montreal express for New York. - - * * * * * - -Summer drifts into autumn and autumn into winter. Life goes on much the -same in Raymond. The Hathaway mystery gradually fades from public -interest, and it is set down as a crime that will never be explained. - -The Raymond National Bank has closed its doors. The robbery of its vault -was a blow from which it found it impossible to recover. - -No tidings are received of Derrick Ames and Helen Hathaway or of Ralph -Felton. None, unless they are in the keeping of the silent, stern-faced -Cyrus Felton or the beautiful girl with the sad blue eyes who abides -under his roof. - -Every Sunday, in rain or in sunshine, mid heat or cold, Louise Hathaway -may be seen ascending the hill in the little cemetery by which Wild -River sings its way, her mission of love to deposit a basket of flowers -upon a grave at the head of which stands a plain white shaft bearing, -besides the name and dates, the simple inscription, “Faithful Unto -Death.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - SHADOWS OF COMING EVENTS. - - -It is early in the evening. Jack Ashley is seated at his desk in the -Hemisphere office enjoying his pipe preliminary to setting forth on an -assignment. - -The month is March. Nearly a year has elapsed since Ashley’s first visit -to the Vermont town which, for a brief space, came into the world’s eye -as the scene of the mysterious death of Cashier Roger Hathaway in the -Raymond National Bank. During this time no further light has been shed -on the mystery, which has gradually dropped from the thoughts of all -save a few persons, two of whom are Ashley and John Barker, the -detective. - -Jack hears from Barker occasionally. The latter is busy on other work, -but he still keeps a live interest in what he regards as the case of his -life, and both he and his newspaper colaborer hope some day to astonish -Vermont, and incidentally the country, by solving the Hathaway mystery, -one of the most remarkable in the criminal annals of New England. - -But as the months slipped by Ashley’s stock of confidence decreased -slightly and to-night finds him wondering whether he will ever have the -privilege of handing the news editor a bundle of “copy,” with the remark -“There is an exclusive that is worth while.” - -“I have helped run down a number of crimes and fasten them upon the -guilty persons,” he soliloquizes, “and have flattered myself that I was -something of a detective. But in each of those cases the trembling -villain was on or about the scene of his crime and when you had your -case made out all there was to do was to clap a heavy hand upon his -shoulder. But in this Hathaway drama about all of the leading characters -have disappeared, and the man whom we regard as the key to the mystery, -Ernest Stanley, is the very man we are least likely to find. - -“But is Stanley the key?” continues Jack, stretching himself in his -chair. “I don’t think Barker and I have attached sufficient importance -to that blotter found on Hathaway’s desk. These fragments of sentences -keep haunting me, even amid my daily duties. Something tells me that if -we had the imprint of an entire page of that letter to Felton we could -solve the mystery without finding our men. ‘These things I charge you, -Cyrus Felton, fail not at the peril of your good name.’ ‘These things—’” - -Ashley is slowly scratching a match to relight his pipe, when he -suddenly stops and his thought-wrinkled forehead smooths. - -“Hello! Here’s an idea, perhaps a valuable one. It is possible that -Barker and I have been all wrong in regarding that letter as an -accusation. The English language is elastic. ‘I charge you, Cyrus -Felton,’—‘I charge you, I charge you, I charge you.’ Now, instead of ‘I -accuse you,’ read ‘I adjure you.’ But ‘I adjure you,’ what? To ‘fail -not.’ To ‘fail not’ in what? Ay, there’s the rub. I am as much in the -dark as before. Still the idea is worth considering, and I’ll spring it -on Barker.” - -Ashley finishes his smoke in silence and when the last flake of tobacco -has yielded its solace he draws on his coat and boards an uptown car. - -In that brilliantly lighted section of Broadway where stands the Hoffman -House, Jack stops a moment to chat with an acquaintance. - -“Say,” remarks the latter, “there’s a chap yonder staring hard at you. -Know him?” - -At his friend’s suggestion Ashley turns suddenly and catches the -searching gaze of a tall, handsome man with a dark-brown beard trimmed -to a point. He is richly but simply attired, and his appearance is -unmistakably that of a gentleman. As Ashley returns his stare with -interest the stranger turns and enters the hotel. - -The incident is trivial, but it awakens curious emotions in Ashley, and -absently overlooking his acquaintance’s suggestion of a visit to the -cafe, he says an au revoir and continues up Broadway. - -“I have seen those eyes somewhere,” he muses, “but hang me if I can -recall where.” - -As, late in the evening, his assignment covered, Ashley is sauntering -down Broadway, he is haunted by the vision of a bearded face surrounding -a pair of piercing eyes. He even drops in at the Hoffman House and looks -through the bar room, cafe and reading rooms, but the handsome stranger -is not in view. - -Ashley has been in Raymond once since he left it, the spring before, and -he was kindly received by Miss Hathaway. But that was all. Not all his -engaging manners and clever conversation could penetrate the reserve -with which she surrounded herself, and he almost decided that she was -indeed the marble which he professed to Barker to have solely interested -him. Still, that pure white face, with its matchless blue eyes and the -sad smile that occasionally lighted it, lingers vividly in his memory -and will continue to linger until— - -He is at the Hemisphere office now. A very short time suffices to write -and hand in his “copy” and then he lounges into the cable editor’s room, -with the inquiry: “What news from over the sea, Chance?” - -“Nothing special except the insurrection in Cuba,” Chance tells him. -“Affairs are getting hot down there. You can judge of the magnitude of -to-day’s battle at Cienfuegos when you read that thirty Spaniards were -killed and fifty captured.” - -“I should say so,” laughs Ashley. “The average mortality per battle is -three men killed and four wounded, is it not?” - -The cable editor throws a handful of “copy” from him with a sniff of -disgust. “One can never tell how far to trust this rot we are getting -from Madrid and Key West,” he says. “I wish the Hemisphere had a live -man such as you down in Cuba to give us some straight information on the -conflict.” - -“Thank you. I have no desire to run up against Yellow Jack.” - -“Hang Yellow Jack! He is only dangerous to those half-fed raw recruits -that the government is sending over from Spain. I have talked with Mr. -Hone about the advantage of sending a representative to Havana or -Santiago, and he is seriously considering it. Hold on! Here’s something -coming now,” and Chance turns to his table. - -Ashley waits until the dispatch has been received, and then reads with -interest the following special from Madrid: - - “Ten thousand additional troops will be dispatched to Cuba - within a week, in response to the demand of Gen. Martinez de - Truenos, the new captain-general of the island. Gen. Truenos has - had experience in fighting Cuban insurgents, and a speedy - termination of the uprising is looked for.” - -“Same old bluff,” comments Ashley, and then, awakened to an interest in -Cuban affairs by the words of the cable editor, he visits the -night-editor’s den in search of further information. - -The longest story is from Key West, and a portion of it runs in this -wise: - - “The insurgents are winning victories every day. The Cuban - patriots do not need more men. All they want is arms and - ammunition. - - “It is whispered that the greatest difficulty with which the - present captain-general has to contend is the conspiring among - his own alleged supporters and advisers. One or two Spanish - generals and a number of influential residents and land-owners - at Havana, Santiago and other important points are suspected of - active sympathy with the insurgents, but no proof of such - complicity can be obtained. It is even said that the chosen - president of the provisional republic is at present in Cuba, and - that under the very nose of the hated oppressor he directs the - movements of the patriot armies. It is thought that this - condition of affairs is responsible for the change in - captain-generals, as Truenos is reputed to be a clever diplomat - as well as a tried soldier. The next few months will probably - decide the fate of the republic. The Cubans must win this year - or never.” - -“What do you think?” Ashley asks the night editor. “Has the island any -chance of liberty?” - -“The prospects were never rosier,” is Chambers’ reply. “It is evident -that the Castilian has an enormous job on his hands in the present -insurrection. We received a dispatch a short while ago which has a local -reference. I sent it up to Hone, and perhaps Ricker has it by this time. -It states that the insurgents count upon valuable assistance from New -York and that an expedition is being fitted out here. This wire came -from Washington and the Spanish minister there has asked our government -to prohibit the assistance I speak of. Hello!” as a bunch of copy is -thrown upon his table, “the president has issued a proclamation bearing -on the matter.” - -The proclamation is brief but significant. It sets forth that, without a -violation of the friendly relations existing between Spain and the -United States, this government cannot countenance the fitting out of -expeditions designed to assist the insurrectionists in Cuba. A number of -United States vessels have been ordered to patrol duty, and a rigid -surveillance of the coast will be maintained. - -“That may be good government, but it is confoundedly un-American in -sentiment,” remarks Ashley, scornfully, for he is an American through -and through. - -“The government’s course was clear,” Chambers mildly observes. “The -President could do nothing less. I do not imagine, however, that the -patrol will be much more than perfunctory.” - -When Ashley reports at the Hemisphere office the next day he finds in -his letter box two yellow envelopes. One is from the city editor and -contains an assignment to interview Senor Rafael Manada of the Cuban -revolutionary society in the United States. The senor is stopping at the -Fifth Avenue and a full story on Cuban affairs from the New York end is -wanted. - -“Well this is something new, at any rate,” thinks Jack, and he tears -open the second envelope. This contains a dispatch dated from Raymond, -Vt., the night before, and Ashley whistles softly as he comprehends the -concise but thoroughly interesting contents: - - “See you to-morrow afternoon at your office. I have found - Hathaway’s revolver. Barker.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - THE BEGINNING OF THE TRAIL. - - -“Don Rafael Manada? Yes, sir! Front, show the gentleman to No. 48.” - -A few minutes later Ashley is ushered into one of the most sumptuous and -expensive suites in the big hotel. - -He bows gracefully to the tall gentleman who advances to meet his -visitor, bearing in his hand the card that has preceded him. Don Rafael -is a man at whom even the least observant would be likely to take a -second glance. Of perhaps 40 years of age, his hair of raven hue and -unusual abundance is still unflecked by gray. The face is of olive hue, -cleanly shaven save as to heavy mustachios, which by an odd freak of -nature are snow white; heavy eyebrows of the same hue as the hair -surmount eyes of piercing brilliancy; a long, aquiline nose, lips and -mouth a trifle too sensuous for the rest of the features, complete a -singularly interesting countenance. - -“You came from the Hemisphere?” queries Don Manada, in melodious tones, -with hardly a trace of the Castilian accent. “I am pleased to greet a -representative of that great journal, whose influence is always cast on -the side of right and justice. I read with the deepest emotions of -gratitude this morning an editorial in your journal protesting against -the proclamation which the administration has issued against the fitting -out of expeditions designed to aid the insurrection in Cuba. Your paper -properly urged that the United States government should recognize the -Cubans as belligerents. Ah, my dear sir, could that be done, Cuba would -be a free republic within the twelvemonth,” finishes Manada, -enthusiastically. - -“It was to secure an expression of opinion from you on the outlook in -Cuba and the preparations being made in this country that I have been -commissioned to interview you, Don Rafael,” says Jack Ashley. - -“Anything that it would be proper for me to say, as the agent of the -Cuban revolutionary party, I shall be glad to give,” continues Manada, -smilingly. - -And now the Cuban patriot becomes imbued with nervous energy as he -reverts to the absorbing hope and ambition of his life—the freedom of -Cuba. He paces the floor with erect, military tread, as he speaks -rapidly: - -“This war is not a capricious attempt to found an independence more to -be feared than useful. It is the cordial congregation of Cubans of -various origin, who are convinced that, in the conquest of liberty, -rather than abject abasement, are acquired the virtues necessary to -maintain our freedom. This is no race war. - -“In the Spanish inhabitants of Cuba the revolutionists expect to find -such affectionate neutrality or material aid, that through them the war -will be shorter, its disasters less and the subsequent peace more easy -and friendly. We Cubans began the war; the Cubans and Spanish together -will terminate it. If they do not ill-treat us, we will not ill-treat -them. Let them respect and they will be respected. Steel will answer to -steel and friendship to friendship. In the bosom of the son of the -Antilles there is no hatred, and the Cuban salutes in death the Spaniard -whom the cruelty of a conscript army tore from his home and hearth and -brought over to assassinate in many bosoms the freedom to which he -himself aspires. But rather than salute him in death the revolutionists -would like to welcome him in life.” - -“Very good, indeed, Don Manada,” comments Ashley as he hastily jots down -a skeleton of the impassioned words of the Cuban. - -“Now, to leave generalities,” says Jack, “upon what specific elements of -strength, or of weakness on your opponents’ part do you base your hopes -of ultimate success?” - -Manada smiles. “All our elements of strength, nor all the Spanish -sources of weakness, we may not divulge yet. First, and of this I -believe you newspaper men need not be assured, the information that -comes from Cuba or from Madrid is entirely untrustworthy, distorted, -colored and manufactured to suit Spanish ideas and hopes. It tells you -that the insurrection is limited to three or four provinces. Yet you -will notice to-day’s dispatches from Madrid state that a blockade of -every port of Cuba is imminent, large and small, and an additional -squadron of ten Spanish gunboats has been dispatched from Cadiz to aid -the big fleet now patrolling Cuban waters. Think you that the Madrid -government would declare that blockade if the insurrection were limited -to three or four paltry provinces? Bah! I can assure you, while they may -not now be ready or willing to declare themselves, yet touch every Cuban -in the heart, let him whisper to you his sentiments, and you will find -them to a man praying for the success of the revolution. You Americans, -in the full enjoyment of true liberty, can form but a faint idea of the -real situation in Cuba. Imagine a land where no one is free to write or -say anything except what the government judges deem proper! Imagine a -government ever ready to throw you into prison, confiscate your -property, bring ruin to everything that is dear to you on earth, and to -set over you a Spaniard to watch your acts, almost your thoughts! That -is the way we live in Cuba. Of late the number of these spies has been -increased by hordes. They are not all men. Some of them—and the -shrewdest and most harmful to our cause—are women, who ingratiate -themselves with prominent revolutionists, sometimes becoming possessed -of invaluable plans, which they promptly reveal to the Spanish -government. It is believed that some of these women are located in -cities in the United States, where it is thought their presence may be -useful to spy upon the movements of the friends of Cuba in this country. -But of course that is a game two can play at, and we ourselves are not -wholly unaware of the secret plans of the enemy.” - -“Reference has been made in some of the dispatches from Key West, Don -Manada, to the fact that the revolutionists have become possessed of a -steamer which has been remarkably successful in evading the Spanish -cruisers and landing men and ammunition from the Dominican and Florida -coasts?” - -Manada’s lip curls scornfully at Ashley’s use of the word “evading.” -Then he smiles. - -“Did you happen to read in any of the press dispatches an account of the -loss of the Spanish man-of-war Mercedes?” - -Ashley has seen a casual reference to the disaster. “She ran on a reef -near the Great Exuma, while pursuing a suspected filibustering steamer, -did she not?” - -“The Mercedes was sunk in forty fathoms of water in fair and open fight -with the Cuban cruiser Pearl of the Antilles,” in slow and measured -tones responds Manada, his black eyes glittering. “The Spanish -government has strenuously sought to conceal that fact, but it has -leaked out, and only yesterday I received from Le Director de la Guerra -a copy of El Terredo’s report of the battle. Ah, that was glorious! The -Mercedes went down in less than seven minutes, while the Pearl was -unharmed. Senor Ashley, we have to thank the inventive genius of your -countrymen for the success of our gallant cruiser, for El Terredo states -that it was the wonderful effectiveness of the new dynamite cannon and -the Yankee gunner that accomplished the feat.” - -Ashley’s unfailing scent for news assures him that this interview is -good for at least a two-column leader in the Hemisphere. Here is -information that will make a sensation in the morning. The American -public has been wholly in the dark as to this new element in the -insurrection, this Cuban cruiser, with her patent dynamite gun and -Yankee gunner, that has destroyed one of the most powerful of Spain’s -cruisers. - -“El Terredo? Is he the captain of the Pearl of the Antilles, Don -Manada?” - -“He is, and one of the bravest and most successful of our commanders on -land as well as sea. Why, there is not a cruiser of the Spanish navy now -in Cuban waters that alone would dare engage the Pearl! They are well -aware of her prowess and the skill and bravery of her commander, whom -they have rightly named ‘El Terredo,’ ‘the terror.’ - -“Then we have other plans the details of which cannot be revealed. Do -you remember how the sinking of De Gama’s Brazilian ironclad was -effected in the revolution in that country? It did not require another -man-of-war to destroy her. Only a little instrument less than five feet -in length—whish! boom!—and the resistless water is gushing in a torrent -through the sides of the ironclad. Ah, warfare is different in these -modern days, Senor Ashley, and victory does not always rest on the side -of the heaviest guns.” - -“It is said in a Washington dispatch, Don Manada, that the Spanish -minister has received information that a formidable filibustering -expedition is about to leave this city for Cuba. Have you any knowledge -of the fact?” - -Manada shrugs his shoulders. “Quien sabe? Are not all vessels clearing -for any port obliged to obtain papers stating their destination? And -does not the President’s proclamation warn against the shipping of arms -and ammunition to Cuba from American ports? But of this be assured—Cuban -patriots will not be without arms and ammunition to bring this war to a -successful conclusion. It is true that is what we most need now. -Ammunition especially is not as plentiful as we could wish, but had we -none at all, with his trusty machete a Cuban patriot is more than a -match for a brace of the puny, boyish conscripts Spain is sending to -find early graves on Cuban soil. In the battle of Siguanoa, of which -also I have just received an authentic account, our comrades finally -charged with their machetes, which they handle with wonderful skill, and -completely routed the Spanish troops. The actual fighting masses of the -revolutionists, senor, the soldados raso, are no mean soldiers, even -from a northerner’s point of view. And they are not all Cuban born or -Spanish born who have settled in Cuba and become identified with the -island. You would be surprised, I doubt not, to learn that not a few of -your own nationality are fighting for human liberty on the side of the -revolutionists.” - -“And the character of the Spanish officers?” inquires Ashley, getting -more and more interested. - -Manada frowns. “Gen. Truenos, the new captain-general, we know as yet -only by reputation. His chief of staff, the Madrid papers state, is to -be Gen. Murillo, who is now in this country—in this city, if I mistake -not. He poses as a diplomat and is the head of the spy bureau. Of the -other leading Spanish officers in Cuba, they are of the usual -foreign-service character. Some veterans, some young and inexperienced, -seeking to win laurels in this war, a few Spanish noblemen, whom the -exigencies of the family purse have forced into the army. By the way, -attached to the new captain-general’s staff, I learn there is a young -American, a sugar planter. His name, I am told, was Felton, but he -changed it to Alvarez. More Spanish, you see.” - -Felton! A question is on Ashley’s tongue, when the utter absurdity of -connecting Ralph Felton’s identity with that of a young Cuban planter -occurs to him and he refrains. - -“Well, Don Manada, I am obliged to you for the half-hour you have -accorded me, and I only hope your words will have as convincing an -effect on the readers of the Hemisphere as they have had on me.” - -“Thank you, Senor Ashley. I shall ever be pleased to meet you when your -duties may oblige you to seek one of the Cuban revolutionary party. -Adios.” - -“Well,” remarks the interviewer to himself, as he stops a moment to -strengthen his memory by a fresh Havana, “if my friend of the bleached -mustachios is not a rainbow chaser of the latest approved political -character, Gen. Truenos and the Spanish army—and navy, too—have -considerable work cut out for them in the vicinity of the Caribbean Sea. -Hello!” he exclaims, staring at a graceful figure that is crossing -Twenty-third Street in his direction. “If that isn’t Miss Louise -Hathaway of Raymond, Vt., my memory for faces is entirely destroyed.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - A CUP OF CHOCOLATE AT MAILLARD’S. - - -“It is Miss Hathaway!” - -“Why, Mr. Ashley!” - -“Then I am not quite forgotten,” smiles Jack, as he takes the little -black-gloved hand. - -“Forgotten? Ah, no, indeed. I was only startled to meet one familiar -face amid this never-ending procession of strangers. But this, I -presume, is your native heath, Mr. Ashley? How do you carry the memory -of so many faces?” as Ashley bows for the dozenth time toward the stream -of pedestrians. - -“That is a part of our business, Miss Hathaway. A newspaper man acquires -a passing acquaintance with all classes of society. But to drop shop -talk, tell me of Raymond and of yourself. I feel quite an interest in -the quaint old town. Here is Maillard’s close by. Suppose we drop in and -have a cup of chocolate. Oh, it is quite the thing,” smiles Jack, as -Miss Hathaway hesitates a moment. “Everybody goes to Maillard’s after a -shopping tour.” - -“Then, as we are in Rome, we must imitate the Romans,” she acquiesces. -“For surely these bundles must be quite sufficient to convict me of -having been shopping.” - -When she is snugly ensconced in an alcove, with a steaming cup of the -beverage so dear to the feminine heart before her, Jack studies her face -across the tiny table. - -More beautiful if that were possible, than ever, he decides, watching -the shifting color in the rounded cheek; with more animation—yes, -decidedly more animation; quite a different being from the doubly -bereaved daughter of the dead cashier of nearly a year ago. But what is -she doing in New York? thinks Jack, with a sudden twinge in the cardiac -region that astonishes even himself. It cannot be that she has heard -from Derrick Ames, and besides, her sister—What rot, he mentally -concludes, as the subject of his thoughts suddenly looks up and catches -his puzzled expression. - -Miss Hathaway’s eyes twinkle. “Has it just occurred to you that you have -left your pocketbook at home?” she asks. “Your expression was just such -as the humorous artists attach to the subjects of such unfortunate -contretemps.” - -“Ah, but that seldom does happen in real life, Miss Hathaway. No; my -sole earthly possessions are at this moment resting securely in the -bottom of one small pocket. But what lucky chance brought you within -range of my defective vision on Broadway this afternoon?” - -“Oh, I have been a dweller in the metropolis since last Saturday. We, -that is Mr. Felton and myself, are en route to Cuba.” - -“To Cuba! Pardon me, but why to that war-racked isle? You see, I have -just returned from interviewing a native of Cuba on the situation there, -and his description hardly makes it out as a desirable watering-place -just at present.” - -Miss Hathaway laughs, a trifle nervously. “Perhaps it is rather an odd -place to go this spring, and while I had a great desire to visit the -country I really had no serious idea of gratifying the wish. But one -evening while I was thinking of the matter, Mr. Felton suddenly asked me -how I would like to go to Cuba. I said I would be delighted to go to -escape the chill winds of March, and to my great surprise he suggested -that we make preparations and start at once for New York. So here we -are, and on Saturday we sail for tropic climes. But do you think there -is any danger to Americans traveling in Cuba? I thought—I had read—that -the disturbances were limited to some of the far inland districts and -that there was no trouble in Havana and the larger cities.” - -Ashley pulls his mustache thoughtfully. “No, I do not see how there can -be possible danger for you,” he says at last. “Be sure, to avoid any -possible annoyance, to get your passports before leaving New York. By -Jove,” he murmurs under his breath, “if the Hemisphere should send a man -to Cuba, and I that man—well, that wouldn’t be half-bad.” - -“But why should Mr. Felton desire to go to Cuba?” Ashley asks. “I -fancied all his interests were in Vermont.” - -“He says that he has some property that requires his attention there, a -sugar plantation, I fancy, or something of the sort. Anyway, he is quite -anxious to go.” - -A sugar plantation in Cuba! Jack draws a long breath and his active mind -reverts to his interview with Don Manada. Felton-Alvarez of the -captain-general’s staff, a young American planter! The son has evidently -forsworn his country and by joining the Spanish army has become a -Spanish citizen. Therefore he undoubtedly cannot be extradited. But the -father? - -“How long does Mr. Felton contemplate remaining in Cuba?” Ashley asks, -carelessly. - -“That will depend upon his inclinations and the condition of his -business affairs.” - -“That means indefinitely,” Jack thinks. “Cyrus Felton must not go to -Cuba!” Then aloud: “Miss Hathaway, pardon me if I revive unpleasant -memories, but the deep personal interest I took in the case must be my -apology. Have you heard from your sister—since—since the tragedy?” - -For a moment Miss Hathaway is silent, her face clouding with the sad -thoughts of that last fateful Memorial Day. “Mr. Ashley,” she says at -last, looking him full in the face, “I have received two letters from my -sister Helen. She is well, and I trust happy. She was married in this -city the day after they—she—left Raymond.” - -“To Derrick Ames?” - -Louise nods. - -“Are they now residing in the city?” - -“No; they are not now in this country—I should say this part of the -country,” she adds, hastily. - -For a moment a silence falls and both absently sip their chocolate, busy -with their thoughts. Then Ashley remarks, smilingly: - -“Apropos of nothing, Miss Hathaway, did you ever hear of the great -French ball, the annual terpsichorean revel of Gotham?” - -“Certainly, I have read about it. I gather that it is not always -strictly—well, not exactly in the same category with the patriarchs’ -ball.” - -“No—not precisely,” admits Ashley. “What I was leading up to is this: I -suppose I shall be assigned to do the ball for the Hemisphere to-morrow -evening—I have done it for the last two years—and a friend of mine -kindly presented to me a pocketful of tickets. Now, I know you would -enjoy looking in on the brilliant scene for an hour or two in the early -part of the evening.” - -“Why, Mr. Ashley, I really do not see how we could. It would hardly be -proper.” - -“Not perhaps to mingle with the rush, but as a casual looker-on in -Verona the propriety could scarcely be questioned. A mask, a box where -you could sit and listen to the really good music and watch the glitter -and gayety, I believe you would recall the hour whiled away as one of -thorough enjoyment. Besides—and here is the selfish part of my -proposition—it would render the affair less of an old story to me. You -must really say ‘yes,’” persists Ashley, as Miss Hathaway hesitates, -with the inevitable result. - -“Well, if Mr. Felton is willing to pose as a ‘chaperon’ for a brief -space, perhaps I may consent to assist the Hemisphere.” - -“I assure you that that appreciative journal will be deeply grateful. -Where shall I call for your ultimatum?” - -“We are stopping at the St. James. And now I must hurry home to examine -my purchases. Thank you so much for your kindness, Mr. Ashley. I am so -glad to have met you again. Good-by.” - -“Au revoir—until the morrow,” Jack responds, as Miss Hathaway’s elegant -figure threads its way through the throng. “I wonder what the -straight-laced Vermont maiden would say if she could look into the -wine-room of the garden about an hour before the French ball makes its -last kick. But she won’t, though. The first hour or two of the function -is as decorous as an afternoon tea on Fifth Avenue—rather more so, I -fancy. And now to the office to fire the Cuban heart with Don Manada’s -screed.” - -But seated at his desk at the Hemisphere office, Ashley’s thoughts -persist in straying away from the yellow sheets he is rapidly covering -with the Manada interview. - -The Raymond tragedy mingles with thoughts of Cuba. His previously -conceived ideas are undergoing a decided metamorphosis. The knowledge -that the elder Felton is going to Cuba, where his son, according to the -description of Manada, is apparently settled, and for a long period, if -not forever, suggests to the newspaper man the conclusion that Mr. -Felton must have been aware of his son’s movements since the sudden -departure from Raymond; may even have counseled that flight. Nay, more, -that father and son are jointly implicated in the death of Cashier -Hathaway. The theory just evolved grows stronger the more Jack considers -the circumstances. On Cyrus Felton, then, depends the unraveling of the -mystery. And he left Raymond suddenly, according to Miss Hathaway’s -admission. Barker, judging from his message on the finding of the -revolver, must have been in Raymond before or during the departure of -Cyrus Felton. Is it not possible, then, that the ex-bank president -became possessed of the knowledge that Barker is again actively at work -on the case; that he further became aware that Barker had, or was likely -to get, some important clew, such as the discovery of the revolver, for -instance; that he considered discretion the better part of valor and -determined to flee the country and join his son in Cuba? - -Ashley’s busy pen ceases to skim over the paper for a moment, as he -rears this dazzling edifice. - -“I believe I have struck the bull’s-eye,” he reflects. “If only Barker -has a little more evidence to back up the finding of the revolver, Miss -Hathaway may not take that trip to Cuba after all—at least, not with her -present amiable traveling companion.” - -A few moments later the big batch of copy, the result of Ashley’s visit -to Don Manada, is tossed upon the desk of the city editor. Then, still -preoccupied and unusually untalkative for jovial Jack Ashley, the -interviewer has again drawn on overcoat and gloves and is leaving the -entrance to the Hemisphere office when a hand is dropped on his -shoulder, as Detective Barker earnestly greets him: - -“You’re just the man I want to see. Where can we indulge in a quiet talk -for half an hour?” - -“Come right up to the cable editor’s room. He won’t be in for an hour or -two.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - BARKER DECIDES TO STRIKE. - - -“Well, my boy,” begins Barker, “it’s a long lane that has no turn, and I -think we have reached the beginning of the end of this Hathaway mystery. -There is the weapon that sent Roger Hathaway to eternity Memorial Day of -last year,” handing it to Ashley, with a complacent air. “I am not a -betting man, or I would wager a reasonable sum that, ere the anniversary -of the crime rolls around, the murderer will be safely incarcerated in -the Mansfield County jail in Vermont.” - -Ashley examines curiously the weapon Barker has produced. It is an -ordinary 32-caliber Smith & Wesson revolver, of the bull-dog variety, -covered with rust, and all of the five chambers, with possibly one -exception, contain unused cartridges. - -“Yes, there is one empty chamber,” responds Barker, as Ashley attempts -ineffectually to turn the rusty cylinder, “and that sent poor old -Hathaway out of the world. And now I will tell you of some important -clews that I have succeeded in running down since I saw you last. - -“You know I subscribed for the Raymond local newspaper, and a mighty -good investment that $1.25 proved. Week before last the paper contained -a local item about a boy’s finding a revolver on the bank of Wild River. -It was only a ten-to-one shot that the revolver picked up by the river -bank was Hathaway’s missing gun, but I took the short end and posted off -to Raymond. The result of my trip you now hold in your hand. - -“The little chap who found the revolver had picked it up close to the -opposite bank from which it had been thrown. It was quite a stretch -beyond the deep pool that we explored. You see I was fully a hundred -yards from Felton when he hurled the revolver into the stream, and I -miscalculated the force he put into the throw. His feeling of loathing -for the hateful weapon was such that he hurled it nearly across the -river. Even then, it would have been covered by two or three feet of -water had not the river been dammed last fall, a few rods above the -place, to furnish power for a sawmill. That left only an inch or two of -water over the revolver, and little Jimmy Jones, or whatever his name -was, found it there while prowling about the river bank. It is Roger -Hathaway’s revolver, too, beyond a doubt. I had Sibley, who was teller -of the bank, and who has seen it in Hathaway’s desk a thousand times, -examine it, and he positively identifies it. - -“So far, so good. That revolver rivets a mighty strong link, I take it, -to the chain we have already forged about Cyrus Felton. But the -situation had become somewhat complicated, I found after I secured -possession of the revolver. Felton has skipped from Raymond, taking the -Hathaway girl with him, and evidently does not intend to return for some -time, if indeed at all. Consequently our next and most imperative duty -is to find where he now is and see that he does not get beyond our -reach.” - -“I can do that in five minutes,” Ashley quietly assures the detective. -“Cyrus Felton and Miss Louise Hathaway are now at the St. James hotel in -this city. They sail for Cuba next Saturday.” - -“Good,” remarks the phlegmatic Barker. “That is luck on a par with -finding the revolver. But when Cyrus Felton leaves New York it will be -to go back to Vermont. Bound for Cuba, eh? Why did he select that -country instead of Europe, I wonder?” - -“Because his son is in Cuba. Barker, I opine that it will be necessary -for both of us to revise our theories of the murder,” continues Ashley. -“In the judgment of the undersigned, both Feltons, father and son, are -equally implicated in that crime. As to which actually fired the fatal -shot, I am not prepared to say. But I am confident that both were in the -bank when Hathaway was shot. I learned to-day that there is a young -American, a planter, in Cuba who has joined the Spanish army as an -officer on the staff of the captain-general. His name is, or was, -Felton. Now comes the senior Felton, en route to Cuba. Why should he go -to Cuba just at this time while the island is in the throes of -insurrection? He tells Miss Hathaway that he has business interests -there—a sugar plantation. Isn’t it clear that he is going to join his -son?” - -Barker taps his forehead reflectively. “The idea is plausible,” he -admits. “But what in the name of the great hornspoon is he taking Miss -Hathaway there for? It isn’t possible that he is so cold-blooded, so -absolutely devoid of conscience, that he would wed the daughter of the -man he had slain?” - -“Decidedly not,” returns Ashley, with very like a snort of disgust at -the suggestion of the possibility of Louise Hathaway becoming Cyrus -Felton’s wife. “Miss Hathaway is Felton’s ward, and of course he is -obliged to take her with him. Besides she herself is anxious to go to -Cuba. She told me so this afternoon.” - -“Anxious to go herself, eh?” repeats Barker. “Well, there is no -accounting for tastes. I think if I were going on a pleasure trip, -however, I should select some other spot than that home of Yellow Jack -and the machete. But”—the detective’s forehead is wrinkled in -thought—“you don’t suppose she has any friends in Cuba whom she is -anxious to see—her sister or Derrick Ames?” - -Ashley considers this possibility a moment. “It is possible,” he -exclaims. “She admitted she had received letters from her sister, who -was well and happy—but not in this country, she said at first, and then -changed it to ‘not in this section of the country.’ Ames and her sister -may be in Cuba, as well as Ralph Felton; but not, I will wager a good -deal, in the same vicinity—not, at least, if Ames knows it. Barker, it -seems to me that instead of this matter becoming simplified it is daily -growing more complicated. The thing for us to do is to cut the Gordian -knot at once and bring matters to a climax.” - -“There is only one way to do it.” - -“Exactly. Arrest Cyrus Felton, and charge him with being the murderer of -Roger Hathaway, or an accomplice before or after the act.” - -Barker picks up the revolver again. - -“We have got a good deal of strong evidence against him,” he says, -slowly; “yet I should like to get the son in the same net. With the two -of them jointly accused and jointly tried I am certain we could unravel -the mystery. I have evidence against the elder Felton that I have not -yet told you; in fact, what I consider as a sufficient motive for the -crime. The absence of a good, healthy motive, you know, was the weak -link in our chain. - -“The president of those two banks, I am convinced, was short in his -accounts with both institutions. In other words, he had used the bank’s -securities to tide over his own financial affairs, which I have -discovered, were not in the flourishing condition supposed. Although he -was aware that Felton’s accounts were overdrawn, as was evidenced by the -writing on the blotter, Hathaway was apparently ignorant of the fact -that the president had taken many of the bank’s securities and -hypothecated them for his own account. That was done by the president -through the connivance of his son, the bookkeeper. Get the idea?” - -Ashley nods. - -“Now then: You will recall that Cyrus Felton told you, after the murder, -that nearly $50,000 in available cash and about half as much more in -securities had been stolen. He testified at the inquest that some -securities had been taken. My theory is that not one single one of those -securities was taken from the bank that night. ’Cause why? Because they -had previously been extracted by Cyrus Felton and his son. And the cash? -That, I believe was Ralph Felton’s share for his part in the tragedy. -Perhaps father and son had planned for the latter to rob the bank that -night—the former anxious for the covering up of the loss of the -securities, the latter covetous of the money. The time was drawing near -when the annual examination of the savings bank was due. It was to have -taken place in June. Then the discovery that many of the ‘jackets’ that -should contain securities were empty was inevitable. But Cashier -Hathaway was at the bank that night. The son may have been concealed in -that closet, awaiting his opportunity. The cashier, no longer willing to -permit the president’s overdrafts, wrote that imperative note to Cyrus -Felton. The latter visited the bank. An altercation ensued. Heated words -were uttered. Hathaway may have discovered the loss of the securities. -The president and cashier, old men both, engaged in a scuffle. Perhaps -the president sought to wrest the key to the vault from the cashier’s -hands. At any rate, a struggle. Ralph Felton leaped from his -hiding-place, and seizing the cashier’s revolver, which he knew was kept -in the desk, rushed to the assistance of his father. The fatal shot, -and—father and son gazed in dismay at each other across the dead body of -the faithful cashier. The rest is simple of explanation—the rifling of -the vault and the subsequent flight of the son. Ashley, that is my -revised theory of the murder of Roger Hathaway. What do you think of -it?” - -“It is worthy of your perspecuity, Barker, and in some respects it -appears flawless. Yet—well, sometimes I have a sort of intuition that we -are off the right track altogether. Ah, Barker, if we could but find -that chap I saw in the bushes that morning, Ernest Stanley. Now that you -have revised your theory, and in the light of recent developments, I -feel more than ever that Stanley possesses the key that will unlock the -inner doors of the mystery. - -“However, that is neither here nor there, for Ernest Stanley has as -completely vanished as though the earth had opened and swallowed him up. -It is almost inexplicable.” - -“No stranger than the fading away of Derrick Ames and Helen Hathaway. -You know we traced them to this city, and the most searching -investigation by both the metropolitan police and our own men could not -find them or ascertain for a certainty whether they went west or east. - -“But to return to the Feltons. Those two missing leaves from the bank -ledger could a tale unfold, I fancy, in relation to Cyrus Felton’s -precise relations with the bank. Yes, on the whole, I believe we have -sufficient evidence to strike. He is at the St. James, you say? I guess -I had better arrest him at once, and then, if he declines to go back to -Vermont without extradition papers, I can proceed to Montpelier -to-morrow and get the necessary documents in season to start back to -Raymond by Friday—unlucky day for him, I fancy. Well, old man, you will -have to spill a whole bottle of ink on this, I suppose. Will you spring -the full story in the morning?” - -Jack starts suddenly. “By Jove!” he exclaims, looking at the detective, -with a rueful glance, “it seems like a brutally cold-blooded thing to -say, but do you know, I have invited Felton and Miss Hathaway to look in -on the French ball to-morrow evening, and now—if the deed wasn’t an -apparent refinement of cruelty, I would ask you to postpone the arrest -of Felton till day after to-morrow.” - -“You are positive he does not contemplate sailing for Cuba till -Saturday?” inquires Barker. - -“So Miss Hathaway said. And, yes.” Jack’s eye has run hastily down the -advertised dates of sailings in the Hemisphere. “The Mallory Line -steamer, City of Callao, sails for Havana and the West Indies on -Saturday. That is the steamer they are evidently booked for. But to make -assurance doubly sure I will telephone to the office of the steamship -line and ascertain if staterooms have been secured for them.” - -Barker nods approvingly at the precaution. - -“Yes,” the reply comes over the wire, “Mr. Cyrus Felton and Miss -Hathaway are booked for the Callao.” - -“For Havana?” - -“Yes; for Havana.” - -“That settles that, then,” observes Barker, cheerfully. “Felton can -enjoy his little fling at the garden, and subsequently have something to -think about while he awaits the action of the grand jury.” - -Inured as he is to tragic scenes and happenings, Jack winces slightly at -thought of the part he expects to play in acting as the “guide, -philosopher and friend” of Cyrus Felton on probably his last night of -liberty. - -“By the way,” he remarks, “you said Felton had made preparations for an -extended absence from Raymond. Did he cause that to become generally -known in the town?” - -“Per contra, as the lawyers say, no one in Raymond had any idea that he -contemplated a trip to Cuba, understanding that he is off on a business -trip to New York. A little judicious investigation revealed the fact -that he had quietly severed every business tie that should connect him -with Raymond. Even his house, I found, he has mortgaged to the chimneys, -and then leased for a period of ten years to a western man, to whom, by -the way, he has disposed of his interest in the quarries. His share in -the bank block he sold two months ago, taking a mortgage for two-thirds -the purchase price, but this mortgage he last week transferred to the -Vermont Life Insurance Company, receiving cash therefor. Even his horses -have been shipped to Boston and sold. All this Felton has accomplished -so quietly that, as I said before, no one in Raymond suspects that he is -not as deeply interested financially in the town as ever. - -“Well, on the whole,” finishes Barker, “I am glad we have concluded to -postpone the arrest a couple of days, for I have some personal matters I -must attend to. What have you on hand to-night?” - -“Just an hour or so at the Madison Square Garden. Come to dinner with me -and we’ll go to the Garden together. I want to talk this matter over -further,” says Ashley. - -Barker acquiesces, and as the newspaper man leads the way to the street -he murmurs to himself: - -“So the blow falls on Wednesday. Well, it will make one of the most -interesting ‘beats’ in the history of the Hemisphere and I guess I had -better begin on the story to-night.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - PHILLIP VAN ZANDT. - - -“What are they playing now, Phillip?” Isabel Harding draws the program -to her and scans the musical numbers listed thereon. - -“Is it possible that you do not recognize the immortal unfinished -Schubert symphony?” her companion asks, with good-natured sarcasm. - -“You know I cannot tell one symphony from another,” Mrs. Harding -remarks, pettishly. “I wish you would pay less attention to the music -and more to me.” - -Phillip Van Zandt smiles, but makes no reply to this reproach. And while -he listens intently to the divine music which the orchestra is making, -his companion sips her claret punch with a pretty frown upon her face. - -The place is Madison Square Garden; the occasion, one of a series of -classical concerts which Mr. Walter Damrosch and his orchestra are -furnishing New York. - -The two—Mrs. Harding and Mr. Van Zandt—are sitting by the wall in a -comparatively uncrowded section of the Garden and more than one person -who glances at them remarks that they are a handsome couple. - -Phillip Van Zandt is not far from 30 years of age. There is nothing -effeminate about his singularly handsome face; the closely trimmed brown -beard does not conceal the firm, almost hard lines about the mouth. A -mass of dark-brown curls cluster about a noble forehead that fronts a -well-shaped head. But the striking features of the face are the eyes. -Something inscrutable lurks in their dark-brown depths, now dreamy and -tender, and again cold and glittering. - -Who he is and what he is are points upon which his nearest -acquaintances—he has no intimate friends—have never succeeded in -satisfying themselves. He came somewhere out of the West less than a -year ago. He occupies luxurious quarters at the Wyoming apartment house, -spends money freely, and seems to be drifting through existence with the -insouciance of a man who has lived his life and who looks forward to -nothing this side of Charon’s ferry—or perhaps beyond. - -He plays at cards and plunges at the track and wins or loses with the -inevitable composure which characterizes his every action. To men he is -cold, often insolent; to women he is indifferent, although infinitely -courteous. Handsome, distingue, wealthy, witty in a dry, cynical sort of -way, he is a man who could be immensely popular with his fellows and -fascinating to the other sex. That he is neither one nor the other is -his peculiarity. - -His companion of this evening, Isabel Harding, is a personage, who would -attract instant attention in a crowd of attractive women. She is -magnificently proportioned—a splendid animal, as Van Zandt remarked when -first his careless gaze rested upon her. Her hair is black as midnight; -her eyes, large and lustrous, can either flash with the fury of the -tiger or beam with the softness of the dove. Her mouth is somewhat -large, but it is firm, and between full, scarlet lips gleam two arcs of -strong, milk-white teeth. - -She has known occasions when propriety was not finically insisted upon, -but on this night she is as demure as innocence at 16. For she knows Van -Zandt well enough to understand that, while virtue and worth may not -interest him, viciousness and unworthiness decidedly do not. And the -least discerning student of human nature can see that she loves -him—loves him blindly, madly, and—hopelessly. - -Van Zandt cares nothing for her, save in his indifferent way, and she -knows it. But she does not despair. She is a woman. - -Somewhere in Bohemia, Van Zandt met Isabel Harding. She interested him, -she was so unlike the other women at the little French restaurant where -he had dropped in to get lunch and a bottle of really good wine. Some -small service by him rendered sufficed to establish between the two a -camaraderie that continued until the present. It witnessed no alteration -of sentiment on the part of Van Zandt. But Isabel—she began by admiring -and finished by worshiping. - -He never asked who or what she was, although she was obviously a woman -with a story to tell. She was a widow, she said. Widows are many in -Bohemia. - -“Some day I will give you my history,” she told him. But Van Zandt only -laughed and asked, “Shall we go to the play to-night?” - -“He cares no more for me than for the glass he is holding,” Mrs. Harding -now thinks, as she watches his face, turned again toward the orchestra. -“Don’t you ever think of anything except music?” she demands, a little -impatiently. - -“Oh, yes; of a great many other things. For instance, I was this minute -thinking of you.” - -“Oh, indeed?” ironically. “Something vastly complimentary, no doubt.” - -Van Zandt smiles emphatically. “I was thinking that I should like to set -you to music, if I possessed the faculty,” he says, as he glances -humorously at his companion’s pouting face. - -“What should you write, a waltz refrain or a dancehall ditty?” asks Mrs. -Harding. - -“Neither; I should write a symphony, a wild sort of affair,” he smiles. -“It would begin quietly and run along for bars and bars in a theme that -would suggest days when the heart was young and life seemed a pathway of -roses. This would give place to scherzo and the whole movement would be -light and playful and singing. Then the music would begin to grow -troublous, anon turbulent, and would finally burst into uncontrollable -tumult. This would gradually pass away, and the third movement would be -capriccio, the music now flashing fire, again singing on like a mountain -brook, on and on, and on.” - -“You are very discerning, Mr. Van Zandt,” says Isabel, biting her lip. -“What name should you bestow on this remarkable symphony?” - -“I should call it ‘Isabel.’” - -“And the last movement, what would that be?” - -“Oh, that would be unfinished, like Schubert’s,” Van Zandt replies, with -a provoking smile. - -“Fortunately. For if you design to complete it you will have to do so -from memory. I am going away,” declares Isabel, with a flush in each -cheek. - -“Going away? Where?” - -“Ah, mon ami, that is for you to find out. Besides, what do you care? I -have had an offer—diplomatic service, I believe it is politely called. I -leave in two days.” - -“By Jove! You would do well in diplomatic circles,” exclaims Van Zandt, -glancing at her in frank admiration. “You said nothing of this before.” - -“I have only just made up my mind. Your symphony decided me,” Isabel -avers with some bitterness. - -“The Garden is filling up,” Van Zandt remarks abruptly. About all the -tables around them are beginning to be taken. “Hello! There’s that chap -again,” he adds, as two men seat themselves at an adjoining table and -fall to chatting. - -“Didn’t know I was a musical critic, did you, Barker? Well, you see our -regular music expert is off duty sick to-night, so they put me on the -job. It’s a short one.” - -“Your duties, friend Ashley, appear to be beautifully diversified.” - -“They are that. Anything from a murder to a concert. I suppose Raymond -is about the same as when we left it, about a year ago?” - -“To a dot. Same crowd on the hotel veranda. Same symposium of hay, horse -and village gossip.” - -“Just the same it is a great country. I’d give several good iron dollars -to be back for one morning in that gorge near South Ashfield, on the old -wood road where I ran upon Ernest Stanley.” - -“Push over a bit. Here’s another party,” says Barker, as a jolly quartet -approach. - -“Plenty of room,” they declare, as they find chairs and seat themselves -close by. The man nearest to the detective and the newspaper man is a -stout, florid-faced party, whose clean-cut visage and smooth bearing -betoken the sporting man. His companions are well-dressed young men -about town. - -“Hold on, major,” remarks one of the latter, interrupting the stout -party in the act of giving an order to the waiter. “I’ll buy this round, -gentlemen, and we will make it wine. I played in luck to-day.” - -“So? Cards run well, eh?” - -“Never saw them come easier. I had a bit of luck, major, which does not -materialize often enough to render poker a continuously profitable -employment. I sat between two men who raised the pot four times before -the draw, and I filled up a straight flush.” - -“You stood the raises on a bob flush?” - -“I had to. It was open at both ends. Basket of wine, waiter, and fetch -it in a hurry,” adds the young man, whom his friends call Chauncey, and -he gives the waiter a tip that sends him a-flying. - -The major smiles as the reminiscences of innumerable interesting -jack-pots are stirred up by the story of his young friend’s good luck. - -“Speaking of straight flushes,” he observes, “I never saw a hand fill -more neatly or appropriately than during a little game in which I was -sitting three or four years ago.” - -“Story by the major, gentlemen,” cries Chauncey, rapping the table to -order and receiving the angry glances of a number of people about him -who are trying to hear the music. “Here comes the wine. We will drink a -toast to all straight flushes, high or low, and then the major shall -have the floor.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - A SUPPOSITION BECOMES A FACT. - - -“You remember when Phil Clark was running up on Fifth Avenue,” begins -the major, after the wine has been brought and pronounced only -half-iced. - -“Rather,” responds Chauncey, dryly. “I dropped five hundred there one -night and it wasn’t much of a game at that.” - -“Well, I drifted into Phil’s one night three years ago, more or less, -and found the place as quiet as a country village. There was no big game -going on, and mighty few small ones. In one of the rooms I found Col. -Dunnett. You remember Dunnett. We were chatting and commenting on the -dullness of the evening, when two young men came into the room and, -after a glance at us, one of them suggested a hand at poker. - -“I knew one of the young men slightly. His name was Stanley, I believe. -Quiet, reserved sort of a chap. He hadn’t been in New York long, he -said. Made books out at the Sheepshead races. I did not fancy his -friend, who had been drinking some and was inclined to be a bit noisy. -His name—let me see—Fenton, or Fallon; no, Felton, that was what Stanley -called him. - -“We began the game and it broke up after the hand I started in to tell -you about. The betting simmered down to Felton and Stanley. Felton held -four aces and bet all the cash he had. ‘I ought to raise you,’ said -Stanley; ‘still,’ he added, ‘if that is all the cash you have—’ - -“‘You needn’t worry about me,’ sneered Felton, as he took a check-book -from his pocket. ‘I said that was all the change I had with me, but my -check is good.’ He scratched off a check and threw it on the table. ‘You -can see that, or call my previous bet, as you please.’ - -“Stanley was as calm as I am now. He leaned over to me, and, spreading -his cards, asked: ‘Major, will you loan me a thousand a moment to bet -this hand?’ I glanced at it and had a trifle of difficulty in -restraining my surprise. He had filled, as he told me afterward, the -middle of a straight flush, king up! - -“‘Cert, my boy,’ I replied, cheerfully, to his request, and I passed -over two $500 bills. Stanley tossed them on the table, and looked -inquiringly at Felton. The latter, with a smile of sublime confidence, -spread out four aces. ‘No good,’ was Stanley’s calm announcement. He -exhibited his hand, and then pocketing the stakes, after returning me my -thousand, he remarked: ‘Thank you, gentlemen, for your entertainment. I -don’t believe I’ll play any more to-night.’ And putting on his coat and -hat, he left the room. - -“Felton sat like one dazed for some moments. Then he walked to the bar -and after a stiff drink hurried off. I never saw either of them after -that night.” - -Ashley and Barker have been silent and interested listeners to this yarn -by the major. As the latter and his friends rise Ashley rises also and -taps the major on the shoulder. “Pardon the intrusion,” he says, with an -engaging smile. “I have been vastly interested in your poker story, sir, -for the reason that I think I know one of the players—Felton, I believe -you called him. Do you happen to recall what sort of a looking chap he -was?” - -“Hanged if I remember,” replies the major, wondering at the other’s -earnestness. - -“Was he a rather tall, good-looking young fellow, with light-brown hair -and eyes and a tawny mustache?” persists Ashley. - -“Now that you speak of the mustache, I believe that your description -fits him. He had a heavy, yellowish mustache, which he was in the habit -of biting, as though his dinner did not suit him.” - -“Thank you,” says Ashley. “Will you have something more to drink, -gentlemen?” - -But the major and his party take themselves off and Ashley resumes his -seat with a satisfied smile. - -“So, Barker, we hit it about right after all, eh?” - -“It would appear so,” returns the detective complacently. “We now know -what we have assumed to have been the case—that Ernest Stanley suffered -imprisonment two years for another’s crime, and that the real criminal, -the man who forged Cyrus Felton’s name, was none other than his son, -Ralph Felton.” - -As Barker pronounces these words Ashley hears a smothered exclamation -behind him and turns quickly. But all he sees is a gentleman and lady -gathering their wraps preparatory to taking their departure. The man’s -back is toward Ashley, but the latter waits until the party faces his -way and then for the space of a second their eyes meet. - -“There is only one more selection, and it does not amount to much,” Van -Zandt tells Mrs. Harding, and they join the crowd that is leaving the -garden. - -“Do you know those two men who sat at the next table to us? The younger -looked at you as though he knew you and was waiting to be recognized.” - -“Your imagination, cara mia. I know neither of them,” replies Van Zandt, -lightly. Then, as he hands her into a carriage at the corner and says -“Kensington” to the driver, he holds Isabel’s hand a moment at parting -and inquires gravely: “So you are really going away then?” - -“In two days,” she answers, and searches his face for some evidence of -regret. It is as impassive as the sphinx. - -“Well, I suppose I shall see you at the French ball to-morrow evening?” - -“You may, if you care to look for a Russian court lady, attired wholly -in black.” - -“Rest assured that the festivities will be robed in sables until I find -her. Good-night.” Van Zandt closes the carriage door, watches it a -moment as it rattles up the avenue and then saunters toward Broadway. - -Ashley and Barker have remained at their table in the garden and Jack is -telling the detective that for the second time within twenty-four hours -he has caught the stare of the man with the brown beard and piercing -eyes. “I have seen that face somewhere,” he mutters, as he wrinkles his -brow in a desperate effort to burst the memory cell that prisons the -secret. Suddenly he smites the table a blow that sets the glasses -jingling and invites the disapprobation of the waiter. “Oh, memory! -Memory, thou sleepy, shiftless warder of the brain!” he cries. - -“What is the matter now?” asks Barker. - -“Keep calm, old chap,” returns Ashley, gripping the detective’s wrist. -“Keep calm while I confess to you that we have let slip through our -hands the key to the Hathaway mystery!” - -“What!” almost shouts the detective, starting to his feet. “You mean—” - -“I mean that the man with the brown beard and stiletto optics who just -left us is my friend of the mountain gorge. He is Ernest Stanley!” - -“Well, he has slipped us this time,” says the detective, disconsolately, -as they stand outside the garden and sweep the street with anxious gaze. - -“Not yet,” Ashley rejoins cheerfully. “See! There he is beyond that -third light, handing his magnificent companion into a carriage.” - -“Call a cab and follow them,” says the detective, starting toward the -line of conveyances pulled up at the curb. - -“No need of that,” Ashley interrupts. “He is not going to ride.” At that -moment it was that Van Zandt closed the door to the carriage which bore -Mrs. Harding to the Kensington, and as he starts toward Broadway the -detective and the newspaper man follow at a cautious distance. - -Unconscious of the espionage Van Zandt starts uptown at a swinging gait. -At Thirty-second Street he branches into Sixth Avenue, and the two men -behind him wonder that he does not ride. At the park he turns down -Fifty-ninth Street and finally enters the Wyoming apartment house, -leaving Ashley and Barker staring up at the brownstone elevation. - -The former waits five minutes and then pulls the bell. “The name of the -gentleman who has just gone upstairs?” he asks the colored attendant who -responds. - -“Mr. Phillip Van Zandt,” replies the sable youth, as he slips a -half-dollar into his pocket. - -“Van Zandt—is that his name?” queries Ashley, a trifle disappointed, -although he might have expected a strange name. Then the porter tells -him that the gentleman with the brown beard has been a resident of the -Wyoming for several months; that he is a wealthy bachelor, and a variety -of other equally important information. - -“Well, what do you think now?” asks Barker, as they walk over to the -elevated road. - -“I haven’t changed my opinion,” is Ashley’s response. “I believe that -Phillip Van Zandt is or was Ernest Stanley.” - -“Well, we have him located, at any rate,” remarks the detective. “See -you at the French ball to-morrow night? I am on the lookout for a couple -of gentry whom I expect to be there. This is my station. Good-night.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - - “DON CAESAR DE BAZAN.” - - -The big French ball, that annual revel at the metropolis, brings -together a motley assemblage of the devotees of folly. The scene at the -entrance to Madison Square Garden to-night is the same scene witnessed -at this function the year preceding, and the year before that. A mass of -cabs and carriages in apparently inextricable confusion fill the street. -They struggle up and deposit their fares and escorts and chaperons fight -their way through the mob that blocks the brilliantly lighted entrance, -and not always without an unpleasant encounter. - -Upon the threshold of the gay interior Louise Hathaway pauses -diffidently and thanks fortune that a mask hides her face from the -inquisitive stares around her. But led by Jack Ashley, Louise and Mr. -Felton proceed to a box and once within its shelter the young girl gives -herself up to an unmixed enjoyment of the brilliant spectacle before -her. - -The scene is decorous, even sedate. Few acquaintances have been made, -and when the strains of “Loin du Bal” arise in voluptuous swell only a -small number of dancers respond. - -“Why this is as proper as one of our country dances, and far less -noisy,” Louise whispers to Ashley, but that knowing young man winks -mysteriously behind his mask and remarks: “Wait!” - -“Oh, but I shan’t wait,” is the young lady’s response. “You remember -what I emphatically declared—only an hour or two and then we return to -the hotel.” - -“Then you need fear nothing that would shock you in the least degree,” -Ashley assures her. “The rioting does not begin until after midnight, -and does not amount to much then. But see. The floor is filling up, the -reserve is wearing off, and it would need only the eruption of some -reckless spirit to bring on a pandemonium.” - -It is apparent that only a desire to humor the wishes of Miss Hathaway -has led Cyrus Felton to the garden. And yet it is all so novel, all so -bright and full of color, that he becomes interested in spite of -himself, and when Ashley proposes a tour of the floor with a peep at the -wine-room, Mr. Felton glances irresolutely at Louise. The young lady -nods an assent. - -“Do not be gone long,” she enjoins, “although I could listen to the -music and watch the picture half the night.” - -When they are gone she leans back in her chair, partly draws the box -draperies, and watches dreamily the ever-changing panorama on the vast -floor. Suddenly there is borne to her ears a melody strangely sweet, yet -filled with a subtle melancholy. Louise catches her breath and listens. -It is the andante of the Beethoven Sonata Pathetique she played so often -in her old Raymond home. It has always been her favorite, and she is -really an artist in soul and execution. Some one is whistling softly the -divine first theme, and with a tenderness she has often felt yet could -not satisfactorily express through the medium of an unsympathetic -pianoforte. - -She leans over the box and her eyes rest upon the figure of a man -attired in the costume of Don Caesar de Bazan. He is leaning carelessly -against the pillar of the box in which she is sitting, not a dozen feet -from her. So closely does his costume fit him and so bravely does he -bear it that he looks a veritable Don Caesar who has stepped for an hour -from a bygone century. A brown beard covers the lower part of his face; -all above is hidden by a black silk mask. - -While Louise is taking note of this interesting personality she hears -the door open behind her, and turns expecting to greet Mr. Felton or -Ashley. Instead a stranger steps rather shakily into the box and closes -the door with an affable “Good-evening, mademoiselle.” Louise makes no -reply, and her unwelcome visitor drops into a seat with easy -familiarity. - -“I have been more enthusiastically received to-night, but I will let -that pass,” he remarks, with cheerful impudence. - -“I do not know you, sir,” says Louise frigidly, as she rises and casts a -wildly anxious look over the ball-room. - -“Oh, well, I am not so hard to get acquainted with,” offers the insolent -mask. “Will you drink a bottle of wine with me?” - -“Leave me at once!” commands Louise, pointing to the door with trembling -finger. - -“By George! That’s an attitude worthy of Lady Macbeth,” remarks his -insolence, in frank admiration. “I will go,” he adds, in mock humility, -“but I must at least have a kiss to solace me for the loss of your -society.” - -“You would not dare!” gasps Louise, retreating to the box rail. - -“Dare?” laughs his insolence; “I would dare anything for such a prize,” -and he approaches her unsteadily. - -Louise’s frightened gaze is turned toward the ball-room and again rests -upon Don Caesar de Bazan, who, attracted by the colloquy, has stepped a -pace out upon the floor and is an interested spectator of the encounter. - -“Save me!” she whispers, and sinks upon one knee. - -But the entreaty is superfluous. Already Don Caesar’s hands are on the -rail and with a vault he is in the box. His arm shoots out and his -insolence goes down with a crash. He struggles to his feet with an oath -and makes for Don Caesar; but the latter’s threatening attitude, -clenched fist and eyes that flash fire through the black mask, cause him -to stop, and muttering, “You will hear from me again,” he leaves the -box. - -Don Caesar lifts his cap and is about to follow, when Louise interrupts -him. “Do not go,” she says gratefully, “until I have thanked you a -thousand times for the service you have rendered me.” - -Don Caesar bows. “As for the service,” he remarks lightly, “it was -nothing. The fellow has been drinking, and seeing you alone—” - -“My friends have left me only for a few moments,” Louise hastens to -explain, as she glances over the floor and bites her lips in vexation. - -“Then I may remain until they return?” Don Caesar observes inquiringly, -dropping into a chair. “Some other graceless scamp may blunder in here.” - -Louise’s eyes express a timid assent to the proposition. - -“This is the first of these balls that you have attended?” asks Don -Caesar, noting that she is ill at ease. - -“Yes; and it will be the last. I had read much of them, how brilliant -they were, and all that, and I naturally acquiesced when I was tempted -with an invitation. For I was told that if one went masked there was no -harm in looking on for an hour.” - -“Nor is there. The wickedness will not begin for some time, and it is at -best, or worst, a cheap, tawdry wickedness, wholly unattractive to saint -or sinner. It is all inexpressibly stupid. A lot of tinsel-decked people -rushing hither and thither in the dance, with little regard for the -rhythm of the music and less for the etiquette of the ball-room, and a -line of weary clubmen, bankers, men-about-town, butchers and bakers and -candlestick-makers looking on.” - -“Yet you attend, though your remark indicates familiarity with the -function.” - -“Oh, yes, I attend. For in spite of it all there are flowers and music, -light and color and a certain brilliancy that enables one to forget for -the nonce the even deadlier stupidity of the outside world.” - -“Don Caesar de Bazan of old was not a cynic,” remarks Louise, smilingly. - -“Had he been he would not have maintained our evergreen regard. When we -sit down to a book or a play we like to leave our cynicism behind us; to -live with men who have not a care beyond the morrow; men who mount horse -and ride away from their troubles; whose swords leap from their sheaths -at the breath of an insult; good, hearty, whole-souled fellows whose -fortunes one delights to follow, but whom, alas, we seldom meet in the -flesh.” - -“Perhaps it is as well. You might grow awfully tired of them.” - -“Perhaps. I sometimes think that, outside of the lasting friendships -with the people in books and plays, the only satisfactory acquaintances -are the chance ones.” - -“True,” murmurs Louise, dreamily. She wonders whether the face behind -the black mask matches the melody of the voice. A similar thought flits -through Don Caesar’s mind, as his eyes take in the graceful figure of -the girl, clad all in black, a single ornament fastened at the long -white throat. - -“I, too, have few friends,” says Louise. “But there is one friend who -never fails me, through joy or sadness—my music.” - -“Ah, there is naught like it to drive away that enemy to life, dull -care,” put in the Don. “It is my one passion. And I have cultivated it -only lately. But now I give myself up to it entirely, attending every -concert of any repute, and bewailing fate a thousand times that I cannot -play, or sing, or write.” - -“I think I can guess your favorite melody—one of them, at least.” - -“Can you, indeed?” asked Don Caesar, in interested surprise. - -“The Sonata Pathetique.” - -“Ah, is it not beautiful? You have guessed correctly, but how?” - -“You were whistling it softly as you stood near yonder pillar, a moment -before the occasion for your presence here arose.” - -“Very probably. It is continually running through my head. Do you know, -the melody has two meanings to me. When I am out of patience with the -world and myself it seems tinged with an inexpressible melancholy. And -when I am in good spirits the refrain becomes singing, joyous, -triumphant. Has it ever seemed so to you?” - -“I do not know. It has always seemed beautiful. It is my favorite.” - -“And mine. You are not a New Yorker,” ventures Don Caesar. - -“So? It is now my turn, Don Caesar, to marvel at your guessing powers.” - -Don Caesar laughs softly. “It does not demand an extraordinary acute -discernment. Your accent and manner betoken the New Englander.” - -“Are we then so provincial that we so easily betray ourselves? But you -are right. I am a Vermonter.” - -“I thought so. Odd, is it not, how dominos conduce to confidences, even -among strangers?” - -“Yes. And yet I think they would prove unsatisfactory for conversational -purposes among people who—” Louise pauses. - -“People who have been formally introduced, eh?” finishes Don Caesar. -“Are you in the city for any length of time?” - -“Only until Saturday. We sail for Cuba then.” - -“Cuba? That is a long way off,” muses Don Caesar. “I came very near -forgetting that I had not been formally introduced and expressing the -regret that I should not see you again before you sail.” - -“You said a moment ago that the only satisfactory acquaintances were the -transitory ones,” Louise reminds him. - -“True. But that rule has its exceptions, like all others.” - -“Consistency is no more a man’s attribute than a woman’s,” moralizes -Miss Hathaway. “My friends approach, Don Caesar,” she adds, as she -catches a glimpse of Mr. Felton and Ashley threading their way over the -crowded floor. - -“That is the signal for my departure, then,” says Don Caesar. “Before I -go I would crave one small boon.” - -“I owe you some return for your timely assistance. Speak, Don Caesar.” - -“Just a glimpse of the face that your mask so jealously veils.” - -“Oh!” cries Louise, somewhat disturbed. - -“Remember,” urges Don Caesar, “we shall never meet again—But ’twould be -ungenerous to press my request,” he adds, rising. “I must say farewell, -then, with only the memory of a sweet voice to recall one of the few -pleasant quarter-hours that I have known.” - -Some impulse, she can hardly explain what, seizes Louise. With trembling -fingers she detaches her mask and uncovers a face suffused with blushes. - -“I thought so!” murmurs Don Caesar, as his eyes take in the glory of -that face, which is almost immediately veiled again. - -“Thank you,” he says, simply, and presses to his lips for an instant the -hand she timidly gives him in parting. - -He is gone, and Louise sinks back into her chair with beating heart, -wondering whether she has been foolish, or unmaidenly, or indiscreet. -She forgets to administer to Ashley the scolding he deserves for his -long absence and receives abstractedly his explanation of a row in the -wine-room and their detention by the crowd. Her gaze wanders about the -ball-room in search of the graceful figure of Don Caesar de Bazan, but -he has vanished. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXII. - - A FAIRY TALE THAT CAME TRUE. - - -Toward 10 o’clock Louise Hathaway decides that she has witnessed enough -of the brilliant panorama to warrant her in returning to the hotel, and -as Cyrus Felton is plainly bored by a scene not attuned to his -temperament, Ashley hunts up their wraps, hails a carriage and they are -driven to the St. James. - -“You will make a night of it, I suppose,” Miss Hathaway remarks, as -Ashley prepares to say good-night. - -“No; I shall remain only long enough to finish my story for the paper. I -wrote the introduction this afternoon. One year’s ball is much the same -as another’s. Have you any plans for the morrow?” - -“None, except mild sight-seeing. Will you not lunch with us?” - -“I shall be delighted,” murmurs Ashley. To be near Miss Hathaway is -pleasure unalloyed; incidentally he desires an opportunity to quietly -study Cyrus Felton. “At 1 o’clock, say?” he asks. - -“At 1 o’clock. We must thank you again, Mr. Ashley, for your escort this -evening.” - -“Don’t mention it—again,” smiles Ashley. “I am sorry I cannot ask you to -assist in my work to-morrow. It would be fully as interesting and more -to your taste, likely, than the French ball.” - -“Then it cannot be a political meeting.” - -“Hardly. It is the trial trip of the new United States cruiser America, -probably the fastest vessel of any size afloat in the world to-day.” - -“That will be delightful. You must tell me all about it when you return. -Your description will be much more interesting, I am sure, than the -newspaper accounts.” - -“Fully as interesting as the Hemisphere’s story, perhaps. Good-night, -Miss Hathaway. Oh, by the way, Mr. Felton,” as Louise trips upstairs, -“did you know that Roger Hathaway’s revolver has been found?” - -Ashley asks the question in the most casual of tones, but his keen eyes -are riveted on the elder man’s face. The result is not wholly what the -questioner expected. Mr. Felton simply stares at Ashley and repeats: -“Hathaway’s revolver found? Where? When?” - -“It was fished out of Wild River about opposite the cemetery a day or -two ago. But perhaps it was after you had started for New York. Odd, is -it not, that the weapon with which the crime was perhaps committed -should be brought to light within a stone’s throw of the grave of the -murdered man? But pardon me. Perhaps, I have awakened painful -reflections; so I will say no more. Good-night.” - -Cyrus Felton stands like a stone upon the threshold to the reading-room -for fully a minute after Ashley has left the hotel. Then he turns and -goes slowly upstairs to his room. - -When Ashley reaches the Garden he hunts up Barker and rescues that -amiable gentleman from the importunities of a brace of masks who are -gayly informing him that they are “just beginning to like him.” Ashley -drags him away and asks: “Have you located the gentry for whom you were -looking to-night?” - -“No, but I have chanced upon one or two choice incidents in society life -which the chief may find useful some day.” - -“Good. Let me in early when they materialize. Now, old chap, if you will -kill time here for half an hour or so, until I finish my story, I’ll -join you.” - -Ashley hunts up an out-of-the-way corner and the work is soon finished -and dispatched by a district messenger boy. Then the newspaper man -returns to the wine-room, but Barker has strayed. - -While Jack is lounging about the edges of the ball-room, his cheek is -brushed by a Jack rose tossed from a near-by box. He looks around and -sees leaning over the box rail a woman attired in the costume of a lady -of the Russian court. The eyes behind the mask twinkle invitingly, and -as she is alone Ashley fastens the rose in his coat, tosses a kiss to -the donor and proceeds to look for the door leading to that particular -box. - -“May I enter, lady fair?” he asks, as he stands upon the threshold. - -“On one condition,” the lady in black informs him. - -“Name it,” he smiles. - -“That you do not ask me to drink a bottle of wine with you; that you -talk of something interesting; and that you do not make love to me.” - -“And you call that one condition? But I accept,” says Ashley, closing -the door behind him. The next instant he suppresses an exclamation and a -tendency toward mild protestation. For in closing the door he has caught -one finger on a nail which some careless carpenter omitted to drive -home, and the digit gets a painful tear. - -The lady in black extends sympathy and lends her own dainty lace -handkerchief to bind up his wound. As he bends to tie the knot with his -teeth the perfume on the lace almost startles him. - -“Your first condition, madam, was easily accepted,” he smiles, as he -throws himself into a chair and toys with the handkerchief about his -finger. “The second is more difficult to live up to, and the third is -cruel.” He is carelessly unwrapping the handkerchief as though to rebind -it, and is looking for some initial. - -“Oh, tell me a story—something I haven’t heard,” yawns the lady in -black. “At the first sign of stupidity I shall send you away.” - -“A story?” drawls Ashley. Ah, he has found what he sought. In one corner -of the handkerchief is the letter “I,” curiously embroidered in silk. - -“Very well,” he says, in rare good humor, “I promise you a story that, -while it may not be entirely new to you, will hold your interest to the -end. But first, madam, I must beg of you to lay aside your domino, that -I may know whether my tale is interesting you or I am courting the -unhappy fate which you threatened should be meted out to stupidity.” - -The lady in black laughs musically and, partially drawing the box -draperies, she tosses off her mask, and, to Ashley’s intense amaze, -reveals the face of the handsome woman whom he remembers to have seen -with Phillip Van Zandt the preceding night at the Damrosch concert. - -But Jack Ashley is not a young man who permits his face or voice to -betray his emotions. So he knots the lace once more about his injured -digit, settles himself comfortably in his chair and begins: - -“Once upon a time—” - -“Is this a fairy tale?” interrupts his handsome auditor. - -“A fairy tale? Perhaps. But a fairy tale that came true. Once upon a -time there lived in a small New England community a youth to whom the -simple amusements and rustic pleasures of his native town became as -tedious as a twice-told tale. As his father was engaged in a business -whose interests extended over the country, the youth was given a roving -commission, and soon after he was tasting the sweets of an existence in -the great city. Metropolitan life suited him to a T. His only regret was -that his means were not sufficient to keep pace with his luxurious -tastes. - -“In the course of time he met and loved a very pretty girl. She had hair -of midnight, eyes like black diamonds, a superb figure and a thousand -charms. Whether her heart was as true as her face was fair, I know not. -The torrent which bore these two hearts was more or less turbulent. In -the trouble which came between them I am charitable enough to believe -that the man was to blame. The youth found that living beyond his means -has an inevitable and unpleasant result, and it was not long ere his -father, after palliating innumerable offenses, summoned him home. He was -given a position in a bank in the town which he still despised, and he -soon forgot his city love, being assisted in this forgetfulness by a -passion which he had conceived for the beautiful daughter of the cashier -of the bank in which he was employed. - -“The neglected one wrote many letters, but could obtain no satisfaction -of her faithless swain. Finally she decided to visit him in his New -England home; so on a memorable afternoon she arrived in his town, went -to a hotel and sent word to the youth that she desired to see him at -once.” - -“Well?” demands the lady in black, as Ashley pauses. The flash in her -eyes and the nervous fingers tell him that, while his story may not be -enjoyed, it is being listened to with intense interest. - -“The youth obeyed the summons,” he resumes, “and there was a scene. -Money was demanded, and money he had none. But perhaps it was to be had -somewhere. That night a murder was committed in the town. It was an -extremely mysterious affair, and the excitement which it caused was -intensified a day or two later, when the young man of our story suddenly -disappeared and was never after heard from. The detective employed on -the case assumed that if he could find the mysterious woman who -registered at the hotel the day of the tragedy some light might be -thrown upon the affair and the whereabouts of the absent young man -ascertained.” - -“Have you any object in telling me this story?” asks the lady in black, -in a voice which she strives to render calm and unconcerned. - -“Only your entertainment.” - -“Then you have not succeeded.” - -“I have succeeded in one thing,” returns Ashley, in quiet triumph. “I -have found the woman.” - -“Indeed? That is more interesting. But perhaps you are mistaken.” - -“Impossible. The beautiful unknown left in the hotel room a lace -handkerchief scented with a most peculiar perfume.” Ashley is slowly -unwrapping the lace creation about his finger, and he sniffs it as he -speaks. “A perfume which the finder of the handkerchief had never known -before,” he goes on, as he spreads the lace upon his knee. “Besides the -perfume, which distinguished this from thousands of other handkerchiefs, -there was in one corner the letter ‘I,’ curiously embroidered in silk.” - -As if he were alone and talking to himself, Ashley takes from a wallet -in his pocket the handkerchief which for months he had carefully -treasured, and spreading it upon his knee compares it with the one which -lately wrapped his finger. They are identical. Then he looks up and -catches the half-scornful, half-startled gaze of the lady in black. - -“Is that all?” she inquires. - -“No. But I expect you to furnish the last chapter.” - -The lady in black again adjusts her mask. “Not to-night,” she says. -“Come to my hotel to-morrow and I will endeavor to gratify your -curiosity.” - -“Whom shall I inquire for?” - -“I believe you have my name.” - -“Ah, yes. And the hotel, madam?” - -“The Kensington.” - -“And the hour?” - -“Ten in the morning.” - -“Thank you. I will be prompt.” - -Ashley leaves the box humming a lively air and proceeds to look up his -friend Barker. - -“Busy, old man?” he asks, when he has finally located the detective. - -“Not especially? Why?” - -“Do you see that woman in black in yonder box, talking with a -swarthy-looking gentleman?” - -“I do.” - -“That is ‘Isabel Winthrop.’” - -“The devil!” - -“No; but perhaps one of his satanic highness’ amiable representatives. I -have an interview arranged with her for to-morrow at 10; place the -Kensington. I want you to follow her when she leaves the Garden and keep -an eye on her until 10 o’clock to-morrow morning. If I do not hear from -you before that hour I shall consider that she has made the engagement -in good faith. I have a big day’s work to-morrow, and I believe I will -go home and turn in.” - -“All right, Jack, my boy. I will keep her ladyship in view if she leads -me to China. So long.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII. - - A REPRISAL OF TREACHERY. - - -“Don’t be absurd, Don Manada.” - -“Absurd? Dios! I was never more thoroughly in earnest in my life.” - -“Nevertheless, you are absurd,” Isabel Harding smiles tantalizingly over -her champagne glass at the flushed face and glistening eyes of her -companion. - -This conversation occurs shortly after midnight at an out-of-the-way -table in the arcade at the east end of the Garden. - -For all it began so decorously, this year’s ball is a particularly -riotous affair and already the fantastic orgee is well under way. Masks -have been scattered to the patchouli-laden winds. Yet there are a few -discreet folks who, though they mingle with the mad crowd, have retained -their masks. As Don Manada and his companion are comparatively removed -from observation, they have laid aside their dominos for the moment and -are conversing in earnest whispers. - -Isabel Harding is so radiantly, magnificently, dangerously beautiful -that it is a terrific strain for the gentleman at her side to maintain -the least semblance of composure. - -“In what does my absurdity consist?” he demands in a passionate whisper. - -“Can you ask? You tell me that you love me—which I already know—and urge -a suit which I have twice before told you is hopeless. You profess to -believe that I could learn in time to honestly return your undoubtedly -sincere affection. It is impossible. I will be honest with you. I am not -one to whom love comes slowly. I love only one man, and he—don’t look so -murderous, Don Manada—he cares nothing for me,” she finishes, bitterly. - -“Come, a truce to lovemaking!” rallies Isabel. “Don’t look so fiercely -downcast, Don Manada. Fill up the glasses and we will drink a melancholy -toast to unrequited love. We are alike unsuccessful lovers. But we will -continue to be good friends.” - -“Impossible,” replies Don Manada, as he gloomily pours out the wine. “I -go to Cuba to-morrow.” - -“Indeed? I trust that I am not responsible for the loss of your society -to your New York friends.” - -“No, senora. I go because duty calls me, but I had expected to wear a -lighter heart than that which will accompany me.” - -Don Manada is too much occupied with his despair to note the peculiar -look which Isabel darts at him from between her half-dropped eyelids. - -“Cuba?” she repeats, dreamily. “Ah, I should like to visit that country -some day.” - -Don Manada looks up with swift hope. “You would, senora? Then you -shall!” he cries. “We will leave to-morrow on my vessel. I will be your -slave. You have but to speak and every wish will be gratified. You will -do me this favor,” he urges, and then, with the fervor and descriptive -powers of a Claude Melnotte, he proceeds to paint a fascinating picture -with a tropical background, his enthusiasm fired by ravishing glances -from his companion. - -“Quite an escapade you have outlined,” smiled Isabel. “But it is too -prosy. If the voyage promised a dash of adventure, if it were spiced -with an element of danger, I—” she pauses and lifts the wineglass slowly -to her lips. - -“Danger?” echoes Don Manada, with a curious smile. “Dios! The voyage -might not be without all the adventure your heart could desire, senora.” -He takes from his pocket a newspaper clipping and hands it to Isabel, -after a glance about him to make certain that they are unobserved. The -clipping is from the current edition of the Hemisphere. It is a dispatch -from Key West, and a portion of it reads as follows: - - “This city has been in a fever of excitement all day over the - report that an important filibustering expedition is to leave - New York this week to aid the Cuban insurgents. The report is - backed by excellent authority, and there is no doubt that an - effort will be made to send valuable assistance to the patriots - of the Antilles some time during the week. In some way the - United States authorities and the Spanish government have got - wind of the proposed expedition and they are striving to nip it - in the bud. The Spanish warship Infanta Isabel this morning - steamed from this harbor for the purpose, one of her officers - said, of intercepting the filibusters on the high seas. - - “It is also stated that a prominent and gallant member of the - Cuban revolutionary society will head the expedition, but his - identity has not been disclosed.” - -Mrs. Harding glances through the clipping and hands it back with a -quizzical smile. - -“So you are the prominent and gallant member of the Cuban revolutionary -society referred to?” she infers. - -“Not so loud!” cautions Don Manada. “We may be overheard. What think you -of the voyage now, senora?” - -“I fear it is a bit too dangerous,” replies Isabel, with a yawn. “We -should never reach Cuba.” - -“Trust me,” assents Don Manada, complacently. “Once on the high seas, -the Isabel will lead the Spanish warships a pretty chase.” - -“Ah, the name of your schooner is the Isabel?” - -“Of our yacht—yes. Is it not happily named?” - -“Perhaps so,” answers Mrs. Harding, with an enigmatic expression in her -lustrous eyes. “And where should I find your yacht in case I should at -the last moment decide to accept your offer of a merry voyage to the -tropics?” - -“My yacht? I should conduct you to it,” says Don Manada in some -surprise. - -“Oh, no; that would not do,” objects Isabel. “I should be driven to it -veiled just preceding its departure.” - -Don Manada looks around the arcade, but there is no one within twenty -feet of their table. - -“North river, foot of 23d street,” he whispers. “You will go?” as Isabel -appears to be hesitating mid conflicting emotions. - -“You will promise not to make love to me during the entire voyage?” - -“I will promise anything, senora, though you have imposed an unhappy -obligation.” - -“Then I think I will say—yes.” - -“Bueno!” cries the delighted Don Manada, and, seizing Isabel’s hand, he -covers it with passionate kisses. - -“Oh, by the way, what time do you sail?” - -“At 5 o’clock.” - -“Very well. I will send final word to your hotel in the morning. Now, -leave me to dream over my folly,” says Mrs. Harding, disengaging the -hand which Don Manada still tenderly holds. - -Then, as the latter goes off to the wine-room to submerge his happiness -in champagne, Isabel leans back in her chair and laughs softly. “The -fool,” she sneers. “Well, all men are fools—all but one.” - -“And that one?” inquires a voice behind her. She looks up startled, to -meet the calm gaze of a man of perhaps 50, with dark hair and mustache -slightly tinged with gray and the distinct air of a soldier. - -“Ah, who but yourself?” returns Isabel composedly. “Sit down, Gen. -Murillo. I have much to tell you.” - -The intelligence is plainly of a pleasing nature. Gen. Murillo murmurs -“Bueno!” more than once as he listens, and when she finishes he remarks -approvingly: “You have done well and may count on my gratitude.” - -“Gracias,” responds Isabel. “That is about the extent of my Spanish, -General.” - -“Ah, but you will learn readily. It is simple. Hist! a gentleman -approaches. It were well if we be seen little together to-night. Until -the morrow then, adios.” - -Gen. Murillo moves off toward the swirl of dancers and Isabel surveys -with an air of recognition a gentleman in the costume of Don Caesar de -Bazan, who has descended to the arcade by the north stairway and is -coming slowly toward her. Don Caesar looks curiously after the departing -form of the Spaniard; then, dropping into a chair beside Isabel, he -tosses off his mask and asks carelessly: “Well, my dear Isabel, when do -you leave for Cuba?” - -“For Cuba?” repeats Mrs. Harding in simulated surprise. - -“Exactly. After a glance at the gentleman who just left you I do not -need to be enlightened as to the diplomatic duties to which you alluded -last night.” - -“Well, Phillip, I have few secrets that you do not share,” Isabel says -sweetly; “I leave for Cuba to-morrow.” - -“So soon,” he murmurs courteously. - -“The sooner the better. Every day I am near you makes eventual -separation the harder. I know that you care nothing for me,” she goes -on, her cheeks flushed crimson. “Don’t interrupt me,” as Van Zandt seeks -to interpose a protest. “I know that you care nothing for me, not in the -way I would have you feel. I have your friendship, yes, beyond that I am -nothing to you. And I—I love you, Phillip—love you as I never expected -to love a man. I make the avowal without shame, for I know there is no -possibility of a change in your sentiments toward me. And I am going -away—to-morrow,” half sobs the woman, as she covers her face with her -hands. - -Van Zandt lays his hand upon Isabel’s head and smooths the dark tresses -sympathetically. She pushes the hand away. - -“Courage! Tears ill become a diplomat,” declares Van Zandt. “This is a -dreary world. We seldom attain our heart’s desire, even though the -object we seek be a lowly one. Will you have some wine?” Isabel shakes -her head. She has dried her eyes and has relapsed into an apathetic -melancholy. - -Van Zandt signals to a waiter. “A little wine will help lighten our -hearts,” he tells Mrs. Harding; “for believe me, mine is not less heavy -than yours. Cheer up and we will drink a toast to all unrequited love.” - -Isabel gives him a swift look of surprise. “You heard?” she demands. - -“I heard nothing,” he replies, smilingly. “What has given rise to your -question?” - -“’Tis less than an hour since I offered that very toast. I have had a -proposal to-night.” - -“Indeed? And you rejected it?” - -“Can you ask such a question. The world is full of Don Manadas, but -there is only one—” - -“So? The swarthy gentleman, with the curious white mustachios?” -interrupts Van Zandt. “I noticed you talking with him.” - -“I had rejected him twice before, but his persistence is worthy of a -better cause. To-night I promised to accompany him on a filibustering -expedition to Cuba. Think of it! The fool!” sneers Isabel. - -“And you will not go.” - -“Most certainly not. I only half-promised. To-morrow I shall send word -that I have changed my mind.” - -“And meanwhile you have accomplished something toward your new duties, -eh?” remarks Van Zandt. If Isabel Harding could read the dark, handsome -face that she loves so well, she would know that she has lost forever -the esteem of Phillip Van Zandt. - -“You have betrayed the man who trusted you,” continues Van Zandt in the -same quiet and impassive voice. - -“Betrayed him? And what if I did?” flashes Isabel passionately. “Call it -treachery if you will. I say it is only a reprisal of treachery. Take me -out of here, Phillip. I am sick of these lights and the music and the -scent of the flowers.” - -“I will see you to a carriage,” says Van Zandt, quietly. - -Ten minutes later he says good-by to her, as he prepares to close the -carriage door. - -“Some day, Phillip, you will realize how much I love you,” Isabel -whispers, as she presses to her lips the hand he mechanically gives her. - -Words, words, words; but destined to have a tragic fulfillment! - -Van Zandt looks after the retreating carriage with a darkening brow. -“Call it treachery if you will,” he repeats, grimly. “By George! I’ll -spike her ladyship’s guns! The cause of liberty shall not be jeopardized -by the indiscretion of its friends or the machinations of its enemies!” - -As he turns and re-enters the garden a man steps to a waiting cab, and, -indicating the carriage which is bearing off Isabel Harding, he whispers -to his driver: “Keep that rig in view till it stops. Understand?” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV. - - FOR THE CAUSE OF LIBERTY. - - -“You proposed to a lady to-night.” - -“What is that to you, sir?” Don Manada turns fiercely upon the gentleman -who has tapped him upon the shoulder and requested the pleasure of a few -moments’ conversation with him. - -“Nothing to me, perhaps,” returns Phillip Van Zandt, quietly; “to you -much, possibly. Sit down. Or better, suppose we adjourn to the arcade. -We shall be freer from interruption there.” - -“I must decline to accompany you, sir, until I have reason to believe -that the matter on which you desire to talk is of more importance than -your opening remark would indicate.” - -Van Zandt surveys the Cuban with a trifle of impatience. “As you -please,” he observes. “But permit me to say that upon your disposition -to listen to what I have to impart depends the success or failure of the -expedition which is to start for Cuba to-morrow—or, rather, to-day.” - -Manada starts violently and bends a searching look upon the other’s -face. “Nothing could be of greater importance to me, sir,” he says, and -without further remark he follows Van Zandt to the little table where an -hour ago he for the third time offered Isabel Harding his hand and -heart. - -“Now, to business,” remarks Van Zandt, glancing at his watch. “It is -1:30. Thirty minutes for talk, the rest of the night for action. You are -Don Manada of the Cuban revolutionary society.” That gentleman bows. “I -am Phillip Van Zandt. That is all you need know concerning myself. Mrs. -Isabel Harding, the lady to whom you made violent love to-night”—the -Cuban scowls, but Van Zandt goes on relentlessly—“I have known for some -months. She has honored me—shall I say?—with her deep regard. Perhaps -she hinted as much to you.” - -Manada leans back in his chair and looks his new acquaintance over -critically. This, then, was his rival; a negative one, to be sure, but a -rival that any man might fear. - -“If it will flatter your vanity to know that the lady in question -confessed to me that she loved only one man in the world and that that -happy individual was not myself, you are welcome to the information,” -Manada offers, sarcastically. - -“Thank you. But I was already aware of the fact, and it is not to the -point. You proposed to Mrs. Harding and were rejected. Stay,” as the -other colors and is about to make an angry retort: “I did not bring you -here, sir, to refresh your mind one instance in which the usually -discriminating Isabel displayed poor taste. But I repeat, she rejected -you; hence subsequently something must have occurred between you to lead -up to a rather peculiar agreement—Mrs. Harding’s consent to accompany -you on a filibustering expedition?” - -“Caramba! She told you—you overheard—” - -“I overheard nothing. Eavesdropping is not in my line. And she told me -little more; but enough to warrant me in stating that you have been -indiscreet, sir, to use no harsher term, and have jeopardized not only -your own welfare but that of your fellow-countrymen.” - -“You seem to be pretty familiar with my affairs, senor.” - -“Not so familiar with them as the Spanish government and the United -States authorities may be,” responds Van Zandt, dryly. “All I know of -your plans I have told you. What I do not know you will tell me now.” - -An angry rejoinder trembles on Manada’s lips, but something in the -stern, quiet air of the man before him checks his wrath. - -“Mrs. Harding,” resumes Van Zandt, “consented to go to Cuba with you, -did she not?” - -“Practically, yes.” - -“And you were to receive her final decision on the morrow?” - -“Well, senor?” - -“She will not go.” - -“Then you persuaded her—you interfered,” cries Manada hotly. - -“I did nothing of the sort. Still, I repeat, she will not go. But, stay, -perhaps she will,” murmurs Van Zandt, thoughtfully. “Perhaps her -ladyship’s plans lie deeper than I have supposed,” he thinks. “But even -if she does go, I tell you, my friend, it were far better that you -burned your vessel where it now lies than that Isabel Harding sets foot -upon its deck.” - -“Your meaning?” demands Manada in a hoarse whisper. - -“Your face tells me that you have guessed the truth,” Van Zandt says -more kindly. “The woman has betrayed you. She is a spy—diplomat is the -polite word—in the employ of the Spanish government.” - -“Caramba!” hisses Manada, sinking back into his chair with colorless -cheeks. “But you can furnish proof of what you assert?” he cries almost -eagerly. - -Van Zandt’s lip curls. “Had you watched the fair Isabel after you left -her you would have seen join her a gentleman whose presence in itself -would have been proof sufficient—Gen. Murillo. You know him?” - -“Of the Spanish service,” murmurs Manada in crushed tones. - -“Precisely. I met him at the club the other day. And if I mistake not he -has done an excellent bit of work for his government to-night.” - -“But I will find the woman,” bursts out Manada, leaping to his feet. -“Por Dios! I will search her out and—” - -“You will do nothing of the kind,” interrupts Van Zandt, drawing the -excited man back into his chair. “Mrs. Harding left for her hotel half -an hour ago. Even were she here it would avail you nothing to confront -her with her—diplomacy. Gen. Murillo is already in possession of your -plans. No, my friend; the mischief is done, but happily it is not -irremediable.” - -“Ah!” cries Manada, with a flash of hope. - -“Now, listen to me. We have wasted too much time already. What is the -name of your vessel?” - -“The Isabel.” - -“So? Pretty name, but have it changed at the first opportunity. Where -does she now lie?” - -“North River, foot of Twenty-third Street.” - -“Excellent,” comments Van Zandt, his eyes lighting with satisfaction. -“And at what time did you intend to sail?” - -“At five in the afternoon.” - -“You are of course aware that both the Spanish and United States -governments are on the keen lookout for filibustering craft?” - -“Certainly,” Manada replies, grimly. “But we were confident of slipping -through unmolested. We had arranged to clear for the Bermudas, and once -on the high seas we felt sure of running away from any warships that -might lie in our course.” - -“Ah, your vessel is a yacht. And the cargo—of what does that consist?” - -“Two thousand rifles and 200,000 rounds of cartridges.” - -“How is it loaded?” - -“The ammunition is packed in kegs, ostensibly containing salt fish; the -rifles are in bags and are hidden at the bottom of bins of potatoes in -the hold.” - -“The cargo could be shifted before daybreak, do you think?” - -“Two or three hours should suffice.” - -“Good. You must have noticed, lying in the neighborhood of your vessel, -a rather trim article in the yacht line.” - -“The Semiramis? Yes. A magnificent vessel!” exclaims Manada. - -Van Zandt nods. “She is my property and I believe her to be the fastest -vessel afloat in the world to-day. Now here is my plan—I consider it the -only one that will extricate you from the dilemma in which you are -placed: I will place the Semiramis at the service of the struggling -patriots of the Antilles. We will shift the Isabel’s cargo before the -night is gone, and before the sun goes down on another day the Semiramis -will be on her way to Cuba. Once without New York bay I defy anything -short of a cannon ball to overhaul her. What say you, Don Manada?” - -The Cuban’s face expresses the astonishment and joy that he feels. To be -raised suddenly from the depths of despair to the pinnacle of hope -effects a remarkable change in one of his temperament. - -“Santa Maria!” he cries, as he presses warmly Van Zandt’s hands. “You -have done me as great a service as one man can do another. Por Dios! We -shall outwit them cleverly.” - -“Then let us be off,” says Van Zandt. “It is after 2 o’clock and we have -little time to spare.” - -The men secure their coats and hats and ten minutes later board a -cross-town car. - -“Senor Van Zandt, I owe you a debt of gratitude,” declares Manada; “yet -I find myself marveling that you, a stranger, and the one man to win -Isabel Harding’s affection, should interest yourself in me and the cause -I represent.” - -“Oh, it promised an adventure; something I have long been in need of to -stir my blood to action,” replies Van Zandt, lightly. “Besides, am I not -an American, and is not the cause of liberty a cause that appeals to -every American with a spark of manhood in his soul? Only those who know -what liberty is realize its priceless worth.” - -They are now walking along West Street. Manada silently reproaching -himself with his recent folly, wraps his greatcoat more tightly about -him, and breathes a shivering malediction on the cutting winds that -sweep adown the Hudson. - -The sky is overcast and a slight snow is falling. It is a good night for -the work in hand. - -The river front is black and silent and the outlines of the vessels -about the pier are barely distinguishable through the driving storm. - -West Street, though dimly lighted, is not deserted. From the grog-shops -come echoes of many a brawl, and every now and then a drunken -longshoreman reels or is thrown into the street and staggers off, heaven -knows where. Every half-hour or so a ferry boat lumbers in and out of -the slip, and there is a temporary bustle in the vicinage. - -“A miserable night, senor,” remarks Van Zandt, as they cross West Street -and pick their way toward the pier where lies the vessel in which are -centered now all of Don Manada’s hopes. The latter has forgotten for the -nonce his recent humiliation and is keenly alive to the adventurous -undertaking in hand. - -The men plunge through the gloom, muffled to the eyes and with heads -bent before the biting blasts from the river, when their ears are -suddenly assailed by the sound of a scuffle ahead of them and a -half-choked cry for help. Quickening their steps, they run upon two men. -One of them is prone upon the pier; the other, clearly his assailant, -bends over him. - -Before the scamp can rise Van Zandt deals him a blow with his heavy cane -that stretches him beside his victim. He is not a courageous rogue, or -if he is realizes that his chance for an argument is not especially -good. So when he struggles to his feet he makes off without a word, -without even an imprecation. - -Van Zandt and Manada raise the prostrate form and bear it back to the -street. As the lamplight falls upon the face of the unconscious man Van -Zandt utters an ejaculation of astonishment. - -“By heaven! it is Gen. Murillo! You see, my friend, that I was not -mistaken. He probably came down here to have a look at the Isabel, and -was set upon by one of the scum of the river front.” - -Manada nods a silent assent. “He must not see us,” he mutters, uneasily. - -“Don’t be alarmed. He is not likely to recognize any one for a few -minutes. I hope he is not badly hurt. Off with him to yonder saloon; or, -better, to the ferryhouse. The man will be safer there, though we are -more likely to find a policeman at the saloon.” - -A policeman is at the ferryhouse, however, and assistance is summoned. -Van Zandt and Manada wait until Gen. Murillo is laid in the ambulance -and the surgeon in charge has assured them that the man is not fatally -hurt; then they tell their story to the policeman and go about their -business. - -“A peculiar episode,” remarks Van Zandt. “Our friend will never know to -whom he owes his rescue and perhaps his life. Our affair must be -hurried, nevertheless, for we know what his first effort will be when he -recovers consciousness.” - -“Yet some day, when Cuba is free, I shall have the pleasure of recalling -the incident to his mind.” - -“When Cuba is free,” repeats Van Zandt. “Well, luck favoring us, we -shall fire a shot to-day that will ring in the ears of the government at -Madrid. Here we are at the Semiramis. Where is the Isabel?” - -“Just beyond. Not twenty feet away.” - -Van Zandt hails his yacht and ten minutes later he and Manada are in the -luxurious cabin, in consultation with Capt. Beals, a bluff old Maine sea -dog, who is prepared for any caprice on the part of his employer and -expresses not the least surprise when informed that arrangements for a -cruise to Cuba must be instantly set afoot. - -And that morning, while the wind howls around Manhattan Island, and -drives the sleet into the eyes of belated pedestrians; while Murillo -awakens to consciousness in Bellevue Hospital and tells the attending -surgeon that, head or no head, he leaves for Cuba within half a dozen -hours; and while the last carriage load of half-drunken sports dashes -away from the Madison Square Garden, a work is in progress aboard the -Semiramis that means more to its owner than he dreams of as he stands -with folded arms in the dim light of the ship lanterns, watching -silently the transshipment of the insurgent’s arms. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXV. - - TWO KINDS OF BLOCKADE. - - -About 9:30 of the morning following the French ball Phillip Van Zandt -drops into his favorite seat in the dining-room of the St. James hotel -and picks up the morning paper. - -Scarcely had he unfolded it when his attention was attracted by two -persons seated at the table beyond him. They are Cyrus Felton and Louise -Hathaway, and the latter never looked fairer than on this bright March -morning. - -“Ah, my divinity of the ball,” he murmurs. “By Eros! She is superb. -Hair, a mass of gold and the sunlight gives it just the right effect. -Purity and innocence are in those blue eyes and in every line of the -face. Knowing no evil and fearing none, and yet with the self-poise of a -queen. It almost restores one’s confidence in humanity to look upon such -a face. - -“I would be glad indeed to know her, but the opportunity for an -introduction is not likely to arise. I could scarcely presume on last -night’s meeting, and besides, she would hold me to my word. What impulse -possessed her to remove her mask at my request? I’ll wager she regretted -it an instant later. Well, she did not see my face, so I may devour her -visually in perfect safety. - -“And her companion?” Van Zandt goes on meditatively. “Not her husband, -assuredly. Too old for that. More likely her father, or perhaps her -guardian. They are going to Cuba, so she told me. Well, I am going to -Cuba, too. I may meet her there. Friendships are easily cultivated in a -foreign land. My dear Van Zandt, is it possible that you are becoming -interested in a woman? Careful; you forget who you are,” he concludes -bitterly, and stares moodily out upon the crowded street. - -Mr. Felton and Miss Hathaway are breakfasting leisurely, unconscious of -the interest they have aroused in the gentleman at the next table. Mr. -Felton is scanning the columns of the Hemisphere, with particular -reference to the full dispatches from Cuba and Madrid. Suddenly he drops -the paper with the exclamation: “This is very unfortunate!” - -“What is unfortunate?” inquires Miss Hathaway, sipping her coffee. - -“Here is a dispatch from Havana, stating that the government has ordered -a complete blockade of the island and that all steamship engagements to -and from Cuba have been canceled for an indefinite period.” - -Miss Hathaway looks up in mild dismay. “Then we cannot leave Saturday,” -she says. - -“It would seem not. Ah, here is something more. The newspaper has looked -up the report at the New York end and finds it to be true. The steamer -City of Havana of the Red Star line, this paper says, will probably be -the last passenger vessel to leave New York for Cuba until the blockade -is raised.” - -“But can we not go on that?” - -Mr. Felton reads on: “The City of Havana sails to-day at 11 o’clock.” -Then he glances at his watch. “It is now nearly 10. Perhaps we can make -it. Wait, I will ascertain from the clerk.” - -Mr. Felton rises, and as he turns to leave the dining-room Van Zandt -gets a view of his face, and he starts as if from a nightmare. - -“That face again!” he breathes. “That face, which has haunted my dreams -and has been before me in my waking hours! And her father! Merciful -heaven, it cannot be. There is a limit to fate’s grotesquerie.” - -Miss Hathaway glances in Van Zandt’s direction and their eyes meet. It -is only an instant, but it leaves the girl somewhat confused and -accentuates the young man’s disorder. - -At this juncture Mr. Felton returns with the information that they have -little more than an hour to reach Barclay Street and the North River, -from which point the steamer leaves. - -“Then let us go at once. I am ready,” Louise says, “after I have -scribbled a note of explanation to Mr. Ashley. He was to have lunched -with us at 1 o’clock, you know.” - -After they have gone Van Zandt drops his head upon his hand, and for the -space of ten minutes remains plunged in thought. Then, to the waiter’s -surprise, he leaves his breakfast untouched and quits the dining-room. - -In the office he sees Mr. Felton settling his bill. Outside the hotel a -line of “cabbies” are drawn up and these Van Zandt looks over -critically, finally signaling to one of them, a jovial, red visaged -Irishman. - -“Riley, a lady and gentleman are going from this hotel to Barclay Street -and North River within a few minutes. I want you to have the job of -carrying them,” says Van Zandt. - -“I’m agreeable, sor.” - -“After you have secured the job, I want you to miss the steamer which -sails for Cuba at 11 o’clock. Understand?” - -Riley puckers up his mouth for a whistle which he decides to suppress. - -“Sure that would not be hard, sor. It’s tin o’clock now.” - -“Here they come now. Look to your job,” says Van Zandt. - -Mr. Felton and Miss Hathaway emerge from the hotel, followed by a porter -with their trunks. Amid a chorus of “Keb, sir!” “Keb!” “Keb!” in which -Riley sings a heavy bass, Mr. Felton looks about him in perplexity, and -finally, as though annoyed by the importunities of Riley, who is rather -overdoing his part, he selects a rival “cabbie.” - -Riley turns somewhat sheepishly to Van Zandt, who looks after the -disappearing carriage in vexation. - -“Shall I run them down, sor?” asks the Irishman, with a wink which means -volumes. - -“Can you prevent them reaching the pier?” - -“Sure, I think so, your honor.” - -“I’ll give you $50 if you do it.” - -“Be hivens! I’d murdther thim for that,” exclaims Riley, as he leaps to -his box. - -The two cabs proceeded at a smart pace down Fifth Avenue, but as the -congested trucking district is reached progress becomes slower. - -“Can you make the pier in time?” Mr. Felton asks the driver anxiously, -consulting his watch for the dozenth time. - -“Sure thing,” is the confident response. - -Neither the driver nor his passengers see the cab behind them. Riley has -his reins grasped tightly in one hand, his whip in the other, and the -expression on his round red face indicates that he is preparing for -something out of the ordinary. - -They have now reached lower West Broadway, and before Mr. Felton’s -driver knows it he has become entangled in a rapidly created blockade. - -Progress now is snail-like. Mr. Felton becomes nervous, while Miss -Hathaway finds much to interest her in the seemingly inextricable tangle -of trucks, drays, horse cars, cabs, etc. Suddenly a space of a dozen -feet or so opens before them, and the driver is about to take advantage -of it when Riley gives his horse a cut with the whip and bumps by, -nearly taking a wheel off the other cab. - -Then ensues a duel of that picturesque profanity without which no truck -blockade could possibly be disentangled. - -Riley, who is ordinarily one of the most good-natured of mortals, -becomes suddenly sensitive under the abuse heaped upon him and dragging -the rival cabman from his box he proceeds to handle him in a manner that -affords keen delight to the onlookers. - -It is a snappy morning and Riley rather enjoys the exercise he is -taking. But it is suddenly ended by a brace of policemen, who struggle -upon the scene and pounce upon the combatants. Explanations are then in -order and peace is restored. No one is arrested. - -Riley is willing to break away, for as he looks around he notes with -satisfaction that the blockade has increased to unusual proportions and -he awaits serenely its slow unraveling. - -Meanwhile Mr. Felton is invoking the vials of wrath upon all cabmen, -past, present and to come. It is nearly 11:30 when they reach the pier -and, as they expect, the steamer has gone. - -“’Tain’t my fault, mum,” the “cabbie” explains apologetically. “Him’s -the chap what done it,” indicating Riley, who has driven up to the pier -with the triumphant flourish of a winner in a great race. - -Mr. Felton casts a withering look upon the jolly Irishman. “We may as -well return to the hotel,” he tells Louise. - -At this moment Van Zandt steps from his cab, and, raising his hat, -remarks: - -“I trust that the carelessness of my driver has not caused you serious -annoyance.” - -“He has prevented our catching the last steamer that will sail for Cuba -in probably some months,” replies Mr. Felton, tartly. - -“You blockhead!” cries Van Zandt sternly, turning to Riley, who averts -his face. - -“My dear sir, it is needless for me to assure you of my profound regret. -It will not help matters. The mischief is done—and yet I think I can -repair it.” - -“Repair it?” repeats Mr. Felton. “In what possible way, sir?” - -“Very easily, if you desire. You were going to Havana, I presume?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“My yacht sails for Santiago this afternoon at 1 o’clock. I shall be -happy to land you at that port, and you may thence proceed by rail to -Havana.” - -Mr. Felton and Louise look at each other in surprise. “Really, sir,” -says the former, “you are very good, but I do not see how we can put you -to such trouble.” - -“I assure you that you will not inconvenience me in the slightest. The -yacht is large and you will be the only passengers, with one exception.” - -Mr. Felton hesitates. “How badly does he want to go to Cuba?” wonders -Van Zandt and he remarks: “This will probably be your only chance to -reach Havana in some little time, if, as you say, there are no more -steamers. Really, I almost feel like insisting on your accepting my -offer, as some sort of reparation for the annoyance to which you have -been put and for which I feel partly responsible.” - -“But a blockade has been declared about the island. Your yacht—” - -“My yacht will land you at Santiago,” supplies Van Zandt, with a -peculiar smile. “We sail in about an hour, and we may as well proceed to -the yacht at once. For I assume that you have decided to permit me to -atone for the blackguardly behavior of my driver.” - -Mr. Felton consults Miss Hathaway and the matter is decided in the -affirmative, and as Van Zandt hands them into their coupe, he tells the -driver: “North River, foot of Twenty-third Street.” - -An hour later Miss Hathaway is expressing her admiration for the -beautiful yacht that is soon to bear her to the tropics, and Capt. Beals -is giving the last orders preparatory to getting under way. - -As Van Zandt watches Mr. Felton cross from the pier to the deck of the -Semiramis into his dark eyes comes a glitter of almost savage -satisfaction, and he murmurs: - -“I have you safe now, and by George! You will not soon escape me!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI. - - THE PENALTY OF PROCRASTINATION. - - -A pencil of sunlight has struggled through the heavy draperies at the -windows and laid a tiny straight line across the carpet in the -comfortable apartments of Jack Ashley on West Thirty-fourth Street. The -oriole timepiece on the mantel chimes the hour of 9 when that individual -awakens with a series of prodigious yawns. - -Fifteen minutes more and Ashley’s toilet is complete, and with heels -elevated to a comfortable angle, he proceeds to scan the pages of his -morning paper. His own story of the French ball first claims his -attention, and with a comment of satisfaction on the size of the -headlines with which it is introduced, he runs his eye approvingly over -the dozen or so illustrations with which the article is embellished. - -A scare head of the largest size catches his eye, and with awakening -interest he reads the sensational headlines. “Gaining Ground—Cuban -Revolutionists Driving Spaniards before Them—Hemisphere’s Exclusive -Interview with Senor Manada Creates Excitement in Washington—United -States Man-of-War to Be Sent to Cuba to protect American Interests,” and -much more of the same tenor. As Jack skims over the voluminous -dispatches that follow the head, he reads with interest one brief item, -dated Santiago de Cuba, via Nassau, N. P. It is as follows: - - “The Government is redoubling its efforts to suppress the news, - and is apparently determined that the press of the United States - and elsewhere shall not learn the exact state of affairs on the - island. Nine-tenths of the local newspaper men have been fined - by the press censor. Several editions of the leading papers have - been seized, and telegrams for transmission abroad from eastern - Cuba are now absolutely forbidden. It is also a fact that - foreign correspondents have been threatened with expulsion. The - Spanish authorities allege that the mysterious steamer fired - upon by the warship Galicia was not the American ward liner - Santiago, but a rebel vessel which the insurrectionists have - purchased in the United States and fitted up as a gunboat. A - blockade of all the ports of the island, as previously - intimated, has been formally announced.” - -“It looks as if the paper would be obliged to send a man down there,” -Ashley reflects, as he struggles into his topcoat. “What a superb day -for the trial trip,” as he opens the street door and steps into the -sunlight. “And this is the day, too, that Barker is to arrest Felton. He -didn’t specify any time, probably not till afternoon, anyway. I almost -wish I wasn’t assigned to that trial trip. I should like to interview -him after the arrest. However, my story is all written up and I can get -the details of the arrest from Barker after I return from the America. I -wonder how Miss Hathaway will take the affair,” a softer light shining -in his eyes as his thoughts revert to the beautiful ward of Cyrus -Felton. “She treats him with the utmost deference and respect, but I -cannot think that she cares especially for him. Heigho! Now for a cup of -coffee and then for another tete-a-tete with the beautiful unknown of -the Raymond hotel.” - -It is on the stroke of 10 as Ashley saunters up to the clerk’s desk in -the Kensington and requests that his card, upon which he has penciled a -few lines explaining his identity, be taken to Mrs. Winthrop. - -“Mrs. Winthrop?” the urbane clerk repeats. “There is no such lady -stopping here, to my knowledge.” - -Ashley is nonplused. So he has been duped, he thinks, by the fair -unknown. But why has not Barker kept his agreement? A nice sort of a -shadow if he cannot follow as striking-looking a woman as “Mrs. -Winthrop.” But stay! Perhaps she has given a fictitious name, but is -actually stopping at the Kensington after all. Barker could not have -slipped upon a simple matter like that. - -Abstractedly twirling his glove, Jack leans over the desk and says in a -low tone to the clerk, an old acquaintance: “Is there a rather -striking-looking young woman, with dark eyes and midnight hair, stopping -at the house?” - -The clerk smiles. - -“Sorry, Jack, but you are too late, I’m afraid. The beautiful Mrs. -Harding left at 9 o’clock, bag and baggage.” - -Ashley turns thoughtfully away and repairs to the reading-room for a -quiet think. So her name—for the present at least—is Mrs. Harding. But -where is Barker? The detective is probably shadowing Mrs. Harding now. -Ashley concludes that there is nothing for him to do but await Barker’s -return. He has been on the watch barely half an hour when the detective -swings himself from a cable car in front of the hotel. - -“Well?” is Jack’s impatient salutation as he leads the way to a retired -corner of the reading-room. - -Barker is not in exuberant spirits; his brows are knitted in a frown and -he is nervously biting his mustache. - -“Well, she has gone—left town, and is apparently en route from the -country—for Cuba, I believe.” - -“For Cuba!” and Jack stares at the detective in mild amaze. Verily, -either a most remarkable series of coincidences or the tangled threads -of the Raymond mystery are pointing unmistakably to the fair isle of the -Antilles. - -“Yes, for Cuba. Let me impress it upon your mind in the beginning that -Mrs. Isabel Harding—that’s the name she is sailing under—is no ordinary -woman. Why—but to begin at the beginning. According to our understanding -last night, I followed her to this hotel, where I found she was actually -stopping. I naturally concluded that she made the engagement with you in -good faith, else she would have given another hotel.” - -“She did give me a fictitious name,” breaks in Jack. “Or, rather, she -led me to believe that her name was still Winthrop.” - -“Did she? Well, that was useless. Anyhow, I decided to stop here last -night, to be on guard early this morning. I found that my lady had -breakfasted early. This made me suspicious and I kept close watch of -her. Shortly after 9 o’clock she settled her bill at the hotel and with -her trunks was driven to the Jersey City ferry. Of course I followed. At -the Pennsylvania depot she was joined by a foreign-looking -chap—Spaniard. Quite a distinguished-looking duffer. If you should ever -run across him you will know him by a small, crescent-shaped scar on his -left cheek. I was successful in getting close enough to them to hear -some of the conversation. It appeared from their talk, Ashley, that your -Mrs. Harding is, in addition to her other accomplishments, a spy in the -pay of the Spanish Government, and that she has been successful in -learning some of the secret plans and plots of the Cuban filibusters in -this city. She is now on her way to Port Tampa aboard the Florida -limited, and I should judge it is their intention to proceed from Key -West at once to Havana.” - -“Their intention? Did the Spanish officer accompany her?” - -Barker nods. “He looked as if he was right out of the hospital; his head -was bandaged. Perhaps some of the Cuban sympathizers had it out with -him. However, that episode is closed, for the present at least. And now -for Cyrus Felton. I shall take him directly to the Tombs, and according -to our compact he will be invisible to any of the newspaper fraternity. -Will you come with me to the St. James while I nab the bird?” - -Ashley starts. He has for a moment forgotten the catastrophe that is -about to overcome Cyrus Felton. He looks at his watch. “I am overdue at -the office,” he says. “But say, Barker, I had an engagement to lunch -with Felton and Miss Hathaway at 1 o’clock. Can’t you put off the arrest -until to-morrow?” - -Barker shakes his head. “Not a minute,” he replies, emphatically. “I -have delayed long enough. If you intended to lunch with the fair Miss -Hathaway you will have an opportunity to do so just the same and your -presence will doubtless be appreciated in her tremendous confusion. If -you can’t come with me I will drop round at the office and see you -later.” - -“All right, then. Do the job in as gentlemanly a manner as possible,” -grins Ashley. - -Barker nods and walks rapidly toward the St. James, while Ashley boards -a Broadway car and rolls downtown. - -The detective saunters up to the hotel office desk, writes the name -“Cyrus Felton” on a bit of cardboard, and, passing it to the clerk, -inquires: “Is that gentleman in?” - -“No, sir; gone. Left an hour ago.” - -“When will he return?” - -“Well, that’s rather beyond me,” smiles the clerk. “Mr. Felton and a -lady sailed this morning for Cuba, on the City of Havana. I assume that -they did. They were driven from here to the pier.” - -“What time does the steamer sail?” asks Barker, taking out his watch. - -“Eleven o’clock.” - -“Too late!” grits the detective. It is even now five minutes past the -hour. - -For a moment Barker permits his emotions to master his self-possession, -and he startles even the debonair clerk, accustomed as the latter is to -the strong terms sometimes employed by irritable guests. - -His feelings relieved in a measure by this unusual outbreak, the -detective sits down for a moment to consider the situation. Cyrus -Felton, then, is on his way to Cuba, doubtless to join his son. Mrs. -Harding, a valuable quantity in the mystery, is also headed for the -Antilles. Everything seems to point to Cuba. Barker picks up a railroad -timetable. - -“Twelve m.; Florida express for Savannah, Jacksonville and Port Tampa,” -he reads. - -“By the gods, I’ll do it!” he exclaims, as he starts for the street. -“First to the pier and make sure that the steamer has gone, and, if so, -then to Key West. I shall be only two hours behind the woman, and I may -reach Havana ahead of Felton. Hi, there, cabby!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII. - - THE CRUISER AMERICA. - - -“Jack, Mr. Ricker wants to see you,” is the information extended to -Ashley when he reaches the office. He reports at the room of the city -editor, and that gentleman informs him that he has not arrived any too -soon. - -“I know that I am an hour or so behind, but I have been working up a -story that will make interesting reading,” Ashley explains. “What’s up? -My trial-trip assignment isn’t until 3, is it?” - -“The start was set for 3, but it has been pushed forward to 1 o’clock,” -says Ricker. - -“It is about noon now. I may as well start for Brooklyn at once. Good, -snappy day for a run down the bay. - -“Thunder!” says Ashley, when he reaches the street. “I had forgotten -that I was booked for a consolatory lunch with Miss Hathaway at 1. I -must send my regrets. Hang it, that will look as if I was on to the -arrest and was afraid to show up.” - -But he sends the note, nevertheless, and feels better in mind. “If that -cold-blooded Barker only handles the matter properly,” he thinks. - -Even as he reaches the Government dock Jack sees the pennant of Capt. -Meade run up to the main truck of the cruiser whose initial trial in -commission he is to report; he is none too soon for the gang-plank is -being withdrawn by half a score of blue-clad sailors as he makes a -flying leap and lands upon the deck of the newest and fastest -acquisition to Uncle Sam’s navy, the cruiser America. - -Ere Jack has fully recovered his footing a youthful-appearing midshipman -brusquely demands his business. - -It takes sometime before Jack is permitted to tread the sacred precincts -of the quarter-deck. - -Capt. Meade is for the time being on the bridge, and, before making the -acquaintance of the commander, Jack proceeds to look about the vessel. - -The America has an air of being a ship made for getting there; an -up-to-date cruiser, without frills and furbelows, but distinctively with -an aspect of power. In the bright sunlight her snowy hull gleams like -polished marble. Her four great smokestacks relieve in a measure the -glaring effect of her big white bulk, while the polished brass and steel -with which all the decks are gird-ironed suggest, without the presence -of the murderous rapid-fire and revolving cannon stationed about the -decks, that the vessel is designed for war. - -Ashley is soon engaged in the collection of information regarding the -America for the benefit of Hemisphere readers. The cruiser is, the -second officer informs him, of over 7,000 tons displacement. Her battery -comprises two six-inch, 40-caliber rapid-fire guns, one on each side, -forward of the superstructure; one eight-inch, 40-caliber on the center -line, abaft the superstructure; eight four-inch rapid-fire guns in -armored sponsons on the gundeck, four on each side; six-pounder -rapid-fire guns, four-pounders, one-pounders, Gatlings and torpedo tubes -galore. - -“There are three vertical, triple-expansion engines, each set driving a -separate screw. The propellers are of manganese bronze and the—” - -“Thank you, that is sufficient, I guess,” interrupts Jack. “The -Hemisphere readers will have a very good idea of the offensive and -defensive power of the America now, I am sure.” - -The cruiser is slowly backing out into the stream. There is a big throng -on the pier to watch her departure, and a whole battery of cameras are -leveled as she finally swings around. - -Now the ship becomes indeed instinct with life and is pointing down the -bay with a speed that augurs well for the shattering of records. The -whistles of all the craft in sight screech a salute and the America’s -hoarse whistle bellows responsively. Past the Battery and Governor’s -Island she speeds and then, fairly by quarantine, the patent log is cast -into the foamy wake and Capt. Meade rings “full speed.” - -The speed trial of the America has actually begun. - -Jack is idly watching the rapidly receding island, when he becomes aware -by the slight bustle on the quarterdeck that the commander of the -America has returned from the bridge. - -Capt. Meade, or “Fighting Dave,” as he is affectionately designated in -naval circles, is a man of about 60 years, but forty-five years of his -eventful career have been spent in the navy. He has worked himself up, -without political or social influence, from apprentice boy to commander -of the newest and best cruiser in the United States. - -Jack has heard of “Fighting Dave,” and he scans the famous naval officer -with much interest. A figure slightly below the average, but stockily -built; a cheerful visage, face weather-beaten and innocent of beard, -surmounted by a shock of grizzly hair; eyes whose keen expression might -well belie the jovial look upon the face—this is Capt. David Meade, -U.S.N. - -“Good face,” thinks Ashley, as he completes his scrutiny. “I should like -to know Capt. Meade personally, and I will.” - -With his customary assurance and easy grace Ashley approaches the -autocrat of the quarterdeck and tenders his card. - -Capt. Meade glances at the pasteboard and then his keen eyes wander to -the newspaper man. Apparently the scrutiny is satisfactory, for the -bronzed face wrinkles into the most benign of smiles and a tremendous -fist grasps Jack’s right hand with a grip which causes him to mentally -question his ability to write up the trial trip, or anything else, for a -week at least. - -“So you are from the Hemisphere?” Capt. Meade observes. “Well, I like -that paper and one of its representatives is heartily welcome to my -ship. In these days of sentiment and gush and peace and good-will and -brotherly love, and so forth, and so forth, it does my heart good to get -hold of a paper which isn’t afraid nor ashamed to speak right out in -meetin’ for the land we live in and the flag that floats above it. But -come below, Mr. Ashley, and we’ll clinch the sentiment with a toast.” -And the captain leads the way to his sumptuous quarters, where the -“splicing of the main brace” is accomplished with alacrity and vigor by -commander and newspaper man. - -“Well, what do you think of the America?” asks the captain. “Did you -ever see anything like that on a vessel going over twenty knots an -hour?” setting his glass, filled to the brim, on the table. The surface -of the liquid is scarce more ruffled than that of a mirror. “No sign of -vibration, eh? She stands up as steady as a house.” - -Jack is really surprised as he considers the circumstances. “From what -little I have seen of her I should say she is a remarkable craft and one -that Uncle Sam should feel proud of,” he replies. - -“Remarkable? She’s a wonder! Why, she can walk away from anything that -floats—anything, big or little, torpedo catchers or stilettos. I was on -her when her first trial trip with the builders aboard took place, and -while she made twenty-five knots then, she can do better. And she is -going to do it to-day. Before we reach Sandy Hook, young man, you can -just put it down in your log-book that the American flag is being borne -over the water faster than any other flag is likely to be carried for -some time. One more splice and then we’ll show you how the trick is -done.” - -As the captain and his guest return to the quarterdeck of the cruiser it -is apparent that something unusual is attracting the attention of -officers and crew. Those who are not actively engaged in the -manipulation of the cruiser are gathered at the port rail watching -intently a steamer that is running parallel with the America, about an -eighth of a mile distant and about three lengths astern. - -“What is it, Mr. Jones?” inquires Capt. Meade of the third officer, who -has just removed the binocular glasses from his eyes. - -“A strange craft, sir, evidently a yacht which is apparently using the -America as a pacemaker. She pulled up astern of us fifteen minutes ago, -and has since been steadily gaining. Very fast, sir, I should say, but -she bears no ensign or pennant of any kind.” - -Capt. Meade takes the glasses from the hands of his subaltern and looks -long and critically at the strange vessel. She is nearly the same length -as the America, though manifestly of considerable less tonnage. And she -is painted black, without a bit of gay color from stem to stern to -relieve the somberness of her hull. - -Two black smokestacks, that appear unusually large and are set at a -decidedly rakish angle, are relieved by two narrow bands of white. Capt. -Meade with a seaman’s appreciative eye admires the shapely lines of the -yacht, but as his practiced vision notices the comparative ease with -which she is creeping up on the America his jovial face becomes slightly -troubled. - -“Mr. Jones, have the log taken and work out our speed at once,” he -orders. - -“Twenty-four and a quarter knots,” is the report. - -For the next ten minutes the captain watches intently the strange yacht. -Her course is apparently shaped precisely parallel with that of the -America, and she still continues to gain, inch by inch, upon the white -cruiser. Now she is amidships, and now the two vessels are on even -terms. - -A puff of white steam rises abaft the stranger’s big smokestacks, and a -long shrill whistle salutes the cruiser. - -’Tis a challenge for a race and it stirs Capt. Meade’s blood to fever -heat. He sends for the chief engineer. - -“How is the machinery working?” he inquires. - -“Finely, sir; not the sign of the slightest trouble anywhere.” - -“Very well, sir; we will begin now to push her for a record. Put on -every ounce of steam she will stand, first with natural and afterward -with forced draught.” - -The chief engineer salutes, and returns to his domain, and a second -later the hoarse whistle of the America sounds a defiant acceptance of -the challenge of the black yacht. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII. - - GREAT RACE TO THE OCEAN. - - -“By Jove! I had no idea the captain had so much sporting blood in his -veins,” murmurs Jack Ashley to himself, as he watches alternately the -challenging craft and the America. “It is a race fit for a king’s -delectation. I wonder whose yacht that is. I don’t remember seeing her -described in any of the papers, as she certainly would have been if she -were owned in New York. She is a big one, and a beauty, too. And swift -as the wind! But she doesn’t seem to be gaining now. No, by Jupiter! We -are gaining on her! The America has struck her gait at last! But that’s -a game craft there. She sticks to us like a leech and refuses to be -shaken off. Ah!” - -The impromptu race has been in progress nearly half an hour, and the two -vessels, still less than an eighth of a mile apart, are gradually -drawing nearer each other. It is apparent that the yacht is determined -to continue the race at closer range, and has changed her course for -that purpose. Meanwhile the big cruiser has held to her original course, -and as the yacht straightens away for another parallel run she has lost -her former advantage and the two vessels are practically on even terms. - -It is a battle royal! - -The white cruiser is cleaving the water with tremendous speed, her bow -sending the spray curling nearly as high as her armored top, while the -waves astern are churned by her triple screws into a foam that extends -as far as the eye can reach. The roaring of her furnaces is audible -above the whir of the machinery and the whistling of the wind through -the rigging. From her three great smokestacks steadily increasing masses -of inky smoke trail out above the snowy wake. - -All eyes on the deck of the cruiser are riveted on the yacht. For a -short space of time it looks as if both vessels might be propelled by -the same power, so even are their relative positions. Then, to the -practical eyes aboard the cruiser, it is apparent that the America is -drawing ahead, slowly to be sure, and imperceptibly to the untrained -eye, but still gaining. - -A dozen yards, a quarter length, a half, a clear length ahead! - -A hearty cheer is trembling on the lips of the crew of the cruiser, but -it is not uttered. The race is still unfinished, the victory still hangs -in the balance. - -Like a thoroughbred that has been feeling her antagonist, the yacht now -seems to respond to some undeveloped power. The cruiser gains no -more—she is losing her advantage. The watchers on the quarterdeck of the -America can see the black prow lessening the open water that separates -the two craft. Now her bow laps the stern of the America, but not for -long. She is overhauling the cruiser faster now, and in a few -minutes—seconds, it seems to the anxious spectators on the latter -vessel—she is abeam of the America. - -Out beyond Sandy Hook, where the billows flash into curving crests like -the manes of wild horses, a great fleet has gathered to watch the race -against time of the famous warship. Instead it is their privilege to -witness a race between two of the swiftest sea hounds ever unleashed on -the trail of the wind. - -Through the impromptu armada the racers speed over the toppling seas. A -thousand glasses are upon them. What does it mean? The white cruiser all -may recognize, but her sable-hulled consort, what is she? Straight out -from staff and halyards the wind whips the flag and ensigns of the -America, but neither ensign nor flag does the strange steamship show, -and except for the great white wake that trails behind her she might be -a phantom ship, another Flying Dutchman. - -But ere the “reviewing stand” recovers from its first surprise, both -craft are miles away, black bow and white bow piling over hills of foam -like sleighs over snowdrifts and the surge that goes sobbing along the -glistening sides of the cruiser, inaudible above the roar of her mighty -engines, sounds like the weeping for a lost race. - -For the black hull is bow and bow with the white, as, after a long and -critical survey of the yacht from the bridge, Capt. Meade descends to -the deck and summons the chief engineer. - -“Everything is working finely, sir,” that official reports. “We are -steaming the extreme limit under natural draught. Shall we try the -forced now, sir?” - -Capt. Meade hesitates and again gazes long at the yacht. The latter has -now a clear length of open water to the good and her stern is presented -squarely in view for the first time. The single word Semiramis is -inscribed thereon in gold letters. But no port is designated. - -“The Semiramis,” murmurs the commander of the America. “I never heard of -the craft before, but her name will be on every man’s lips before long, -I’ll wager.” Then to the chief engineer: “Yes, put on the forced -draught.” - -Jack Ashley wipes the marine glasses with which the thoughtfulness of -the second officer has provided him, and turns them again toward the -afterdeck of the yacht. - -“Well, may I be keelhauled, or some other equally condign nautical -punishment,” he mutters, after a long look. “If that isn’t Louise -Hathaway, seated in a steamer chair, then do my optics play me strange -pranks. But what is she doing on the deck of that yacht? She appears to -be alone; at least there is no other lady passenger on deck. Ah, there -is Mr. Felton. So Barker was too late. Felton and Miss Hathaway must be -the guests of the gay yachtsman who is making ducks and drakes of the -America on her trial trip. - -“Thunder and Mars!” cries the newspaper man, nearly dropping the glasses -to the deck. “Phillip Van Zandt! He is apparently the owner of the -yacht. Good heavens! What irony of fate brings together those two -participants in the Raymond tragedy. For Van Zandt is Ernest Stanley, I -will swear it. - -“Well, as the novelists say, the plot thickens. How did Van Zandt -ingratiate himself into the good graces of Cyrus Felton? It must have -been recently, for Miss Hathaway spoke as if they had no friends in the -city. Hang it all! I don’t just fancy the situation. How assiduously he -is waiting upon her now! Heigho, Jack! I think I would as soon have -reported this trial trip from the deck of the Semiramis.” At which -thought Ashley impatiently pitches over the rail the remains of one of -Capt. Meade’s favorite brand of cigars. - -The black plumes of smoke that pour from the chimneys of the America are -becoming denser and larger. The forced draught is now fully in -operation, and in the boiler-rooms the half-naked stokers ceaselessly -feed the greedy fires. - -The cruiser has reached the limit of her speed. - -How is it with the Semiramis? - -For a time the America seems to hold her own and even to gain slightly. -But the advantage is transitory. The yacht still apparently has speed in -reserve. Once more she leaps forward and not again is opportunity -afforded the America’s people to view her gleaming sides. - -For another hour both vessels are driven at their highest speed. The -Semiramis continues to gain upon the America, and is now nearly a -quarter of a mile ahead. - -Half an hour later Capt. Meade sees a flag run up to the masthead of the -vanishing yacht. He gives an order and the cruiser’s forward gun booms a -salute. - -“What do you make of that ensign, Mr. Smith?” inquires the commander, -turning to the second officer. - -“A strange flag, sir, not the flag of any nation that I recall,” is the -reply. - -“Ah, I have it,” suddenly exclaims the captain. “Well, she is a great -craft and magnificently handled. The America made a gallant fight -against odds and lost; but you can say, Mr. Ashley,” as that individual -ascends the steps to the bridge, “that the America has broken all -records in the navies of the world, and for two consecutive hours has -exceeded twenty-seven knots an hour. Yonder craft has beaten that time, -but she has not the heavy armament of the America.” - -“What was the ensign she ran up a moment ago, captain?” Ashley asks. - -“That, sir,” replies Capt. Meade, “was the flag of Cuba Libre, the -emblem of the sometime republic of the Antilles!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX. - - ASHLEY LAGS SUPERFLUOUS. - - -“If she is the property of the revolutionists, gentlemen, with her -phenomenal speed she can run the strictest blockade the Spaniards can -institute, can land arms, ammunition and re-enforcements at will, and -practically snap her fingers at the whole Spanish navy.” - -The speaker is Capt. Meade and the place the officers’ mess table on -board the America. Naturally the one topic of conversation is the -strange yacht and her remarkable performance. - -“Yes,” continues the captain, impressively, “I believe that the result -of the insurrection may hang on the fate of that steamer. My sympathies -as an individual, I do not hesitate to say, are with the rebels. But my -duty as an officer impels me to notify the War Department of the -departure of the Semiramis and the flaunting of the Cuban flag. However, -I hardly think the warning will harm her, even if it should set the -entire Spanish navy in pursuit.” - -“Do you think the yacht is bound for Cuba now?” inquires Ashley, with an -unpleasant sensation in the vicinity of the fifth rib. - -“Certainly. She is apparently coaled and equipped for a long voyage. She -set low enough in the water to carry quite a cargo, too. Oh, yes; she is -off for the West Indies sure enough.” - -Ashley relapses into a reverie and the burden of his thoughts is -something like this: “Louise Hathaway, Cyrus Felton and this mysterious -Van Zandt on the same steamer and bound for Cuba! How and why?” He -mechanically pulls at his cigar. Finally, as the signal for breaking up -of the dinner party is given by the commander, he murmurs: “What will -John Barker say?” - -The America has completed her run; and now, her officers and the naval -experts aboard having expressed their satisfaction with her performance, -the cruiser is steaming back to her dock. The shrill salutes of the many -steam craft in the harbor greet the ears of Ashley as he accompanies the -officers to the deck. The sun is shining in a haze of cold gray. The -March air, a few hours ago so clear and warm, is dull and -marrow-piercing. Ashley shivers and buttons his coat more closely about -him. - -A few moments more, and the cruiser is slowing down preparatory to -making her pier, and Jack seeks Capt. Meade to express his thanks. The -latter shakes his hand cordially and remarks: “Better come on our next -cruise, my boy; we may have another try at the black yacht. The navy -expert says it was rumored in official circles that if this trial was -satisfactory the America is to be ordered immediately to Cuba to protect -American interests. Good news, if true, eh?” - -Ashley allows that if the captain says it is good news, good news it -certainly must be; and a half-defined hope is forming in his mind as he -steps once more on terra firma. - -“After I turn in my story on the trial trip I shall proceed to hunt up -some possible light on the latest twist in the Hathaway tangle,” he -meditates, as he sets his face toward the lights of Gotham town. “Felton -and Miss Hathaway were booked to sail on the City of Callao on Saturday; -yet I discover them to-day headed southward on the Semiramis. Miss -Hathaway must have left some explanation, and it is barely possible that -Barker may know something about the sudden departure. I should not be a -particle surprised if John, too, were aboard the Semiramis. Nothing will -ever surprise me again. But if Barker got left I shall probably find him -sitting on the steps of the Hemisphere office, in a state of mind -bordering on the profane.” - -But fate decrees that many days shall elapse ere the detective and his -newspaper friend again clasp each other by the hand; days big with -exciting events that the serene Ashley dreams not of as he saunters down -Newspaper Row. - -From his box in the office Ashley extracts a letter, evidently hastily -written and sealed. The address is in Barker’s handwriting, and Ashley -tears it open. He reads: - - “My Dear Ashley: I start for Cuba at 12 o’clock via Key West. - Write this just before the train starts. Felton has eluded - me—thanks to your infernal French ball—and sailed for Cuba on - City of Havana at 11 o’clock. Don’t know whether he got wind of - contemplated arrest or not. If I have good luck at Key West will - be in H. as soon as he. May trail him to the son and bag both at - once. In any event, do not intend to lose sight of him again - till he is safely landed in Vermont. I may run across your Mrs. - Harding, and if I do will try my luck at making her tell what - she knows of young Felton, on threat of exposing her as a - Spanish spy. Good scheme, eh? Must close, train starting; will - write from Cuba. Hastily, - - “Barker.” - -“So Cuba is to be the scene of the next act of the Raymond tragedy,” -Jack thinks. “How suddenly all the characters have betaken themselves to -the southern isle, and how events have crowded on each other the last -day or two! First, news that young Felton is in Cuba; then appear Cyrus -Felton and Louise Hathaway in the city; then the mysterious woman of the -Raymond hotel, and the stranger of the mountain gorge—and all of these -are at this moment en route to Cuba. Only Derrick Ames and Helen -Hathaway remain to be accounted for, and if Barker’s theory is correct, -and they, too, are in Cuba, what a situation and what a complication! I -must be there at the finish. The paper really needs a war correspondent -in the ever-faithful isle, and I’ve half a mind to ask for the -assignment.” - -From his desk Ashley takes a bulky package of manuscript, glances -through it, and with a sigh replaces it within an inner compartment. -“The Raymond mystery story, the newspaper beat of the year,” is not to -be used yet. - -But the account of the trial trip of the America must be written, and -soon the sheaves of yellow paper are being rapidly covered by Jack’s -flying pen. - -At last it is finished, and with a grunt of satisfaction Jack arranges -the scattered sheets and proceeds to the desk of the city editor. - -“Ah, Ashley,” remarks that dignitary, glancing at the manuscript and -without raising his eyes; “trial trip was a success, wasn’t it? Yes; -well, I have a little something here that I wish you would look up. You -have done so much Cuban stuff lately that you are more familiar with the -ground than any other man on the staff. The Washington wire states that -a vessel, the Isabel, that was to have sailed from here to-day, has been -detained at her moorings, foot of Twenty-third Street. She is suspected -of having arms and ammunition for the Cuban rebels on board. The -information was filed by the Spanish minister. Just look up the local -end of the story, find out who fitted out the steamer, where she was -ostensibly to clear for, etc. You had better see your filibuster friend, -Manada. He might give you something on it.” - -“Blast Cuba!” mutters Jack, as he leaves the office. “Everything is Cuba -now. Talk about Tantalus! His case wasn’t a marker to mine. Here are all -the characters in a drama in which I am interested gone to Cuba, while I -lag superfluous on the stage, doomed to write up stuff about the -confounded island and its affairs at long range. Besides, I haven’t -fairly got back my land legs, and now I must jaunt up the North River -two or three miles. Well, there is no use kicking, I suppose. Guess I -will look up Don Manada first, though.” - -Ashley’s annoyance dissipates rapidly, however, and he has recovered his -customary serenity when he tenders his card to the clerk at the Fifth -Avenue Hotel, to be taken to Don Manada’s rooms. - -“Don Manada has left, sir” the clerk tells him. “He had his effects -removed early this morning and stated that he might not return for some -months.” - -“Where has he gone, do you know?” - -“To Cuba, I think.” - -Jack turns away. “To Cuba, of course. Everybody with whom I have -business to-day has gone to Cuba. If that filibustering vessel, the -Isabel, has not eluded the officers and sailed for Cuba by the time I -reach her wharf, I shall be mightily surprised. No; I have decided to be -surprised at nothing hereafter. The Isabel! There’s another -coincidence—the first name of Mrs. Harding or Mrs. Winthrop or whatever -it is—the woman of the Raymond Hotel. Well, here goes for the Isabel.” - -It is cold, foggy, dark and altogether disagreeable as Jack alights from -the car at the foot of Twenty-third Street and picks his way down the -long wharf to where he is informed the detained steamer is docked. She -is still there; he sees her smokestacks and masts outlined against the -sky. A single lantern is alight on the vessel, but the gang-plank has -been hauled in. - -“Steamer ahoy!” Ashley calls, and after several repetitions of the hail -a gruff voice sounds from the gloom in the vicinity of the lantern. - -“Ashore, there! What do you want?” - -“Is this the Isabel?” - -“Yes,” is the brief reply. - -“Well, I want to talk with you a moment. Can’t you run out a plank and -hold that lantern nearer, so I can see to come aboard? I am from the -Hemisphere.” - -There is a moment’s hesitation and then the lantern approaches the -steamer’s side and a plank is extended to the pier. - -“Now, all I want to find out is about the alleged seizure of the -vessel,” begins Jack, thrusting a cigar into the fist that releases the -lantern. - -“There ain’t much to say,” is the reply. “I am a United States deputy -marshal and was placed in charge of the vessel this noon. Whether her -cargo contains arms and ammunition I can’t say for sure, as she is not -to be searched till to-morrow, but from the remarks dropped by some of -the crew I’ll bet a hat the cargo has been taken off. One of the crew -was considerably under the weather when I came aboard and I gathered -from his talk that some of the Isabel’s cargo was shifted to another -steamer, a long, black craft, some time after midnight or early this -morning.” - -“What was the name of the other steamer?” inquires Ashley, a sudden -suspicion entering his mind. - -“Blessed if I know,” replies the deputy marshal. - -“The Semiramis, I’ll wager $4 to a nickel,” mutters Ashley, as he thanks -the marshal and goes ashore. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXX. - - ON TO FAIR CUBA. - - -“There are only two bits of evidence needed to complete my moral -conviction that I am the only person connected with the Raymond tragedy -who is not in Cuba or on his way thither,” remarks Ashley, loquitur, as -he boards a cross-town car. “One is the assurance that Cyrus Felton and -Miss Hathaway have left the St. James Hotel with no intention of an -immediate return; the other, the knowledge that Phillip Van Zandt has -closed his quarters in the Wyoming flats for an indefinite period. I -believe I will try the St. James first.” - -He does. The clerk smiles benignly upon him when he inquires for the -Vermonters. “Gone, Jack; but you were not forgotten,” he says. “The day -clerk turned this over to me,” extracting a note from the letter rack. - -“Thank you, Ed,” acknowledges Ashley. He tears open the note and reads: - - “Dear Mr. Ashley: I regret very much that circumstances have - made it necessary to postpone indefinitely the luncheon for this - afternoon at 1, to which I had looked forward with much - pleasure. We have just learned that in order to reach Cuba we - must sail on the City of Havana, which leaves New York at 11 - o’clock to-day. With many thanks for your kindnesses, believe - me, sincerely yours, - - Louise Hathaway.” - -“Far from enlightening me, this note only plunges me deeper in the fog,” -thinks Ashley, sniffing the faint odor of violet that clings to the -dainty stationery. “She asserts here that she is going to Cuba on the -City of Havana, yet I discover her aboard the Semiramis. At any rate -they have gone to Cuba, and there is no particular reason for my -visiting Van Zandt’s apartments. It is getting late, anyway, and I -believe I will return to the office. If Ricker is in a good-humored mood -I will attempt to convince him that the only feature which the paper at -present lacks is a live man at Havana who can tell the difference -between an overwhelming Spanish or Cuban victory and a fifth-rate -scrimmage that a dozen New York policemen could quell in ten minutes.” - -Ashley swings himself upon a Broadway car and lapses into a meditation. -“How the deuce do Miss Hathaway and Cyrus Felton come to be aboard the -Semiramis? And if Ernest Stanley is Phillip Van Zandt, where did he get -the money to own such a yacht? Forty or fifty thousand dollars of -Raymond National Bank funds wouldn’t pay for one side of the Semiramis. -But it may not be his yacht. I have simply assumed so because he looked -as if he owned the ocean as well. Good gracious, I should be inclined to -regard Miss Hathaway’s disappearance as a clear case of abduction but -for the fact that the fair Louise appeared entirely satisfied with her -surroundings when I focused the America’s glasses upon her graceful -self. I am beginning to believe that I am clear off my reckoning on Van -Zandt. The Semiramis may be owned by the Cubans and he may simply be one -of the leaders of the expedition. And he may not be Ernest Stanley at -all, although I think—hang it! I don’t know what I think. I shall quit -thinking from now on. It is too hard work.” - -Much relieved by this determination, Ashley sits at his desk, lights his -briar and dashes off a short sketch of the detained filibustering -vessel. This he tosses over to the night-desk men, and strolls into the -city editor’s den. - -“When you are at leisure, Mr. Ricker, I should like to bore you for five -or ten minutes,” he announces. - -“I am at leisure now, Jack. Sit down. It has been a rather light night -and there is an unusual lull just at present. What is on your mind?” - -“It is something like half a dozen years since I began work on the -paper, is it not?” - -“Just about, my son.” - -“And during that time I have never kicked on an assignment or asked for -any particular job.” - -“Yes; if I recollect rightly, that is about the size of it,” remarks -Ricker dryly. “Now, what can I do for you?” - -“I should like the assignment of war correspondent at Havana.” - -The city editor is silent for a moment. - -“I am sorry you did not speak of this Havana business before,” he says, -encircling the pastepot with a ring of smoke. “Unfortunately I have -mapped out two or three months’ work for you at a place a good many -miles from the capital of Cuba.” - -Ashley’s face does not reveal the disappointment he feels. - -“All right, Mr. Ricker, I have no kick coming. I will break another one -of my rules and ask what the assignment is before I have been notified -of it.” - -“It is an important mission, my son, and the selection of the man to -fill the place does not come within my department. But as a good man was -needed I urged the desirability of putting you on the job.” - -“You are very kind,” murmurs Ashley. - -“I intended to communicate to you his wishes to-night,” resumes Ricker. -“In fact, I received the assignment for you an hour ago and you would -have found it in your box in the morning.” The city editor tosses over a -yellow envelope and Ashley finds therein the brief notification: - -“Beginning March 18, Mr. Ashley will enter upon the duties as war -correspondent at Santiago de Cuba.” - -Ashley looks up and catches the indulgent smile of his chief. - -“Ricker, you’re a jewel,” he says, warmly, extending his hand. The -friendship between the two men has long since leveled the wall of -official dignity. - -“I had no idea you wanted the job,” smiles the city editor. - -“Until to-day I had no desire to visit Cuba,” replies Ashley. “But at -present I want to go the worst way—or the best way. And my wish to reach -Cuban soil is not greatly influenced by personal reasons, either. I -expect some day to turn over to you a story that will cover a good share -of the first page and just now the trail is winding under the flags of -three nations—Spain, Cuba and the United States. But why Santiago, -instead of Havana?” - -“For the reason that, as you may see by a look over to-night’s -telegrams, the eastern province of Cuba is likely to be the principal -theater of the struggle for independence. You know the sort of stuff we -want. Statements of fact, above all. You may have some difficulty in -getting us the facts by wire, as the government controls the cables; but -there are the mails, and in addition to the usual grind you might send a -two or three column chatty letter every fortnight or so that would be -interesting reading. Spend all the money that is necessary. Get right -out into the fighting; there isn’t one chance in a million of your being -hurt. Above all, send us facts. We cannot pay too much for facts.” - -“Have you considered how I am to reach Santiago? You know there are no -steamer lines running to the island.” - -“That has been arranged. The bulletin was received early this evening -that the new cruiser America had been ordered to Santiago. The managing -editor used his influence, and permission to send a representative on -the vessel has kindly been granted. There is some value in being on the -right side of an administration. The cruiser sails the day after -to-morrow, the 18th.” - -Ashley and Ricker soon complete their talk and Jack starts for home in a -complacent condition of mind. Arriving at his rooms he slips into a -dressing-gown and stretches himself in an easy-chair for a smoke-lined -night-cap, and as the rings curl upward he sees in fancy the various -actors in the Raymond drama passing in review before a tropical -background of hazy blue hills and palm-shaded groves. - -Suddenly he utters an exclamation: “Jupiter! How is Barker to get to -Cuba? He must have shot off to Key West without reading the morning -paper, and he probably was not aware that there are no steamers running -from Key West any more than from New York or other ports. When he does -learn that fact his remarks will not be fit for publication. Well, I -suppose, he will get there somehow, even if he has to swim. But in all -probability I shall reach the island before him. - -“The trail is plain. It leads to Cuba, and somewhere in the gem of the -Antilles the threads of the Raymond murder mystery will touch and cross -and interweave.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI. - - THE FLAG OF CUBA. - - -“We shall have a race, Don Manada—a battle royal. The new United States -cruiser America has just steamed out of the bay ahead of us and we shall -soon be abreast of her.” - -“A race, Senor Van Zandt? Santissimo! We shall have racing enough before -we get to Cuba without challenging unsuspicious warships and courting -investigation.” - -Van Zandt laughs at the Cuban gentleman’s anxious tones. “I told you, my -friend, that once on the high seas nothing short of a cannon ball can -overhaul the Semiramis. Come on deck in an hour, senor, and I will prove -to you what may now seem an idle boast.” - -For excellent reasons Manada is keeping in the background as much as -possible. But he finds the luxurious cabin of the Semiramis much to his -liking, and he smokes and dreams of “Cuba Libre” while the Semiramis -steams down the bay and out upon the bosom of the Atlantic, and when he -goes on deck, wrapped in the long semi-military cloak which effectually -conceals his person, the sight which greets his eyes fills him with -apprehension, though challenging his liveliest interest. - -The battle of steam is well under way. The America is less than a dozen -lengths astern and presents a beautiful sight to the people on the -Semiramis. The glistening white hull plows the water at a speed which -dashes the spray high in air from the delicately carved cut-water, and -the triple funnels vomit great clouds of inky smoke. Manada’s eyes rove -to the United States flag whipping out in the breeze and he mutters a -favorite malediction as he thinks of the insurgent arms stored in the -hold of the Semiramis. - -But as he grows aware that the yacht of his strange friend is drawing -away from the American man-of-war he becomes the incarnation of -suppressed excitement. And when Van Zandt claps him on the shoulder and -shouts in his ear, “Well, senor, what do you think of the Semiramis?” -the Cuban shouts back enthusiastically: “El Semiramis es un diablo -verdadero!” - -Without the change of a muscle in his weather-beaten face, Capt. Sam -Beals paces the bridge of the Semiramis, while the exciting duel of -steam and steel continues, not a gesture or ejaculation indicating that -the beautiful yacht is literally steaming away from the cruiser—a vessel -heralded far and wide as the speediest craft among all the navies of the -world. - -But if the chief officer is apparently undisturbed, the same cannot be -said of any other person on board. The excitement of the race has roused -the owner of the yacht from his cold reserve, and as with sparkling eye -and eager step he hurries from the engine-room to the quarterdeck, -noting with each return the slowly but steadily lengthening space of -open water that separates the two vessels, Louise Hathaway mentally -retracts her decision that Phillip Van Zandt is cold and unsympathetic. - -As for Miss Hathaway herself, she is thoroughly imbued with the spirit -of the race. Securely sheltered from the fierce rush of wind which the -tremendous speed of the Semiramis causes to sweep over the deck, she -makes an attractive picture as she watches the race. The svelte form is -outlined in a gown of navy blue; the beautiful face is framed in a -golden aureole of wavy locks; the matchless blue eyes glisten with -unwonted excitement, and a delicate color tints her cheek. It is not -strange that Van Zandt divides his time between the race and his fair -passenger. - -Even pale, stern-faced Cyrus Felton has for the nonce became stirred by -the infectious excitement, and with a zest that he has not manifested -for years he watches the unavailing efforts of the warship to overhaul -the pleasure craft. - -“Isn’t there more and blacker smoke pouring from the America’s stacks?” -inquires Miss Hathaway, as the owner of the Semiramis returns from a -brief interview with the engineer, with the cheery assurance that the -engines are running as smoothly as if the yacht were moving at -quarter-speed. - -“She is surely making more smoke and, if I mistake not, more speed,” -answers Van Zandt, a shade of anxiety replacing his almost boyish -enthusiasm. “Mr. Beals, what think you of it?” turning to the executive -officer; “is she gaining on us?” - -“She has just put on her forced draught, sir, and is now running at her -top speed. She is gaining, now, but—” - -Without finishing the sentence the captain presses the electric bells -which communicate with the engine-room. It is soon apparent that the -yacht has not until now reached the limit of her speed. The regular -vibrations that mark the revolutions of the twin shafts become one -prolonged shiver, and the black hull is hurled through the water at -incredible speed. - -The effect becomes noticeable in short order. The white mass astern -grows “fine by degrees and beautifully less,” and as Capt. Beals closes -his glass with a snap he remarks, complacently: “She’ll be hull down in -an hour or two if she doesn’t blow out a cylinder head before that -time.” - -Just about this time Van Zandt and Manada go below and reappear a few -moments later with a closely rolled silken flag, which Van Zandt hands -to the captain with the command that it be hoisted to the breeze. -Without even examining the emblem, the imperturbable executive officer -bends the silken roll upon the halyards. A few hearty pulls by a -stalwart blue-jacket and the ensign reaches the masthead, where the -stiff breeze quickly breaks it out. - -As a singular flag, with a solitary star in a triangular field of blue, -is revealed to the wondering gaze of passengers and crew, Don Manada -reverently bares his head and his lips frame the words “Viva Cuba -Libre!” - -Suddenly there is borne to their ears, above the whistling of the wind -and the mighty pulsations of the machinery, the sullen boom of cannon. -All eyes instinctively seek the America. A puff of white issues from her -forward barbette, and as Capt. Beals returns his glass to its socket, he -tells Van Zandt: - -“She has saluted the Semiramis and dipped her ensign. She is bearing off -to windward and gives up the race.” - -“She saw the flag, do you think?” - -“Doubtless,” Mr. Beals replies, with a grim smile. “Shall we slacken -speed, sir?” - -“Only to natural draught. I wish to make our destination as soon as -possible. And by the way, Mr. Beals, you may haul down the flag. It has -served its purpose for the present,” pointing to the enraptured Don -Manada. - -Then Van Zandt conducts his passengers below and is prepared for Miss -Hathaway’s question: - -“Is that your personal emblem, Mr. Van Zandt?” - -“No, Miss Hathaway,” is the calm response. “That is the flag of the -Cuban Republic. You are now under the protection of the provisional -government of the gem of the Antilles. Permit me to introduce to you Don -Rafael Manada, minister of war of the infant republic. Long may she -wave!” - -Manada bows low and looks vastly gratified by the official title -jestingly conferred upon him. Cyrus Felton’s face, however, is darkened -by a frown and Miss Hathaway is not at all pleased. - -“Will you not take seats and make yourselves entirely easy?” Van Zandt -proceeds, unruffled by the cold demeanor of his passengers. - -“Perhaps I should have told you before you embarked,” explains Van -Zandt, with a glance at Miss Hathaway that does much toward reassuring -her, “that although we are bound for Cuba, our primary destination is -not Santiago. The Semiramis has a cargo of arms and ammunition which I -have undertaken to deliver to the Cuban revolutionists. Senor Manada is -the supercargo. Believe me,” he adds, as Miss Hathaway pales at the word -“revolutionists,” “there is absolutely no danger, not the slightest—and -least of all to you. Even if my yacht were apprehended—though I do not -believe there is a vessel on the waters of the globe that can overtake -her—you would be subject to no annoyance and but little inconvenience. -After we have discharged our cargo we will proceed at once to Santiago, -and you will be landed much earlier than if you had gone by a regular -steamer. And I am sure this vessel is fully as comfortable as any of -those stuffy, crowded craft.” - -“Then we are aboard a filibustering expedition,” declares Mr. Felton, -harshly. - -“Hardly that. You are on board an American yacht, manned by American -seamen, with just one Cuban patriot, a man as honorable and true as -yourself, Mr. Felton.” Van Zandt’s voice is stern and dignified. “I am -not a Cuban partisan, but liberty to me is as precious as the air of -heaven. Until a few hours ago there was no thought of the cargo now -beneath us. The arms were designed to go by another vessel. But at the -last moment the plans of the patriots were betrayed. Then it was that I -stepped in and offered the services of my yacht to convey the -much-needed aid to the down-trodden men of the Antilles.” - -“And meanwhile you have jeopardized the safety of Miss Hathaway and -myself,” Mr. Felton sneers. “Suppose we are intercepted by a Spanish -warship? Think you that they will not regard us—myself at least—as -members of this expedition? What then, Mr. Van Zandt?” - -The latter’s lip curls slightly. “Again I assure you that there is -absolutely no danger. I will answer for your safety on this voyage with -my life.” Then to Louise, with a look that brings a flush to her fair -face: “Have you no faith in the yacht, if not in her owner, Miss -Hathaway?” - -“I think that Mr. Felton is needlessly alarmed,” is that young lady’s -composed reply. “As for the yacht, I am quite carried away with it, -figuratively as well as literally. This is my first voyage, Mr. Van -Zandt, and if you will insure me against mal de mer, that dread bugbear -of the voyageur, I will try to brave, with becoming equanimity, the -perils of the Spanish main.” - -Cyrus Felton, however, is decidedly alarmed by Van Zandt’s admission of -the incidental errand of the Semiramis. A strong distrust of her owner -begins to grow in his mind; this added to the qualms of seasickness, -which have begun to make themselves felt, renders him thoroughly -miserable in spirit and body, and without raising another objection he -asks to be shown to his stateroom. - -It must be confessed that Van Zandt does not manifest heartfelt regret -at Mr. Felton’s unhappy condition, and even Miss Hathaway is somewhat -perfunctory in her expressions of sympathy. An unaccountable confidence -in the handsome owner of the Semiramis has replaced her early distrust, -and, happily exempt from the “dread bugbear of the voyageur,” she -accepts with pleasure Van Zandt’s proposition that they explore the -yacht. - -The Semiramis is fair to look upon, from capstan to rudder, and from -keelson to main truck. The Vermont maiden marvels at the comfort, -convenience and luxury on every hand. The palatial saloon, with its -unusually high ceiling, furnished in oriental magnificence and including -a superb upright piano, Miss Hathaway’s eye notes approvingly; the -commodious staterooms, arranged en suite, with the respectable appearing -stewardess in charge; the plain but ample and scrupulously neat quarters -of the crew; the engine-room, with its masses of highly polished steel -and brass—all possess elements of interest to the girl. - -That night, as she lays her head on her pillow, “rocked in the cradle of -the deep,” she suddenly starts as if from a dream. For there comes to -her ears again, from somewhere, that melody strangely sweet, yet filled -with subtle melancholy, the andante of her beloved sonata. - -Then a light goes up, as the Germans have the saying, and Miss Hathaway -understands now her blindly placed confidence in the master of the -Semiramis. For Don Caesar de Bazan is Phillip Van Zandt and—and— - -But what Miss Hathaway thinks about as Atlantic’s waves lull her to -slumber would certainly interest the young man who sits up far into the -night, chatting and smoking with the “minister of war of the Cuban -republic” while the Semiramis rushes on her eventful voyage to the -tropics. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII. - - THE FLAG OF CASTILE. - - -“Twelve hours from now, Miss Hathaway, you will have your first glimpse -of Cuba. Then, our business transacted, a quick and uninterrupted run to -Santiago, and to-morrow you will be on terra firma.” - -“It has been a remarkably short voyage, Mr. Van Zandt.” - -“Deplorably so. I never before regretted the speed of the Semiramis, but -now—would that she were as snail-like as the old West Indian tub we -overhauled yesterday. Can I prevail upon you, Miss Hathaway, to again -favor me with my pet Chopin nocturne? The electric fans render the -saloon as comfortable as the deck.” - -“My poor playing is always at your service, Mr. Van Zandt. I assure you -that I never expected to enjoy a voyage, to Cuba or elsewhere, as I have -this. Your kindness in granting us—” - -“My kindness was purely selfish,” interposes Van Zandt. - -It is easy to see that for two people on board the yacht the last few -days have swiftly sped. Van Zandt and Miss Hathaway have been much in -each other’s company. Confidences have been neither asked nor given, but -a mutual sympathy has taken root that might prove destructive to the -reserve of one and the “marble” of the other were the voyage to the -tropics to last many days longer. - -Cyrus Felton is restricted to his stateroom most of the time, a victim -of the malady of the sea and a gnawing, indefinable distrust of the -owner of the yacht. As for Don Manada, he divides his attention between -the huge cigars from which his fingers or teeth are never free, and a -careful outlook for any of the Spanish squadron that is supposed to -blockade the coast of the isle of Cuba. - -But the sensuous indolence of the tropic day and the glories of the -tropic night lure Van Zandt and Miss Hathaway into dreams of peace and -hope and fulfillment. The days spent on the quarterdeck, sheltered by an -awning from the rays of the sun, the speed of the yacht providing a -delightful breeze, glide gently into the brief twilight. The great stars -shoot out of the blue with quivering points of fire, and the wind sighs -musically through the rigging as the tireless steam drives the boat -through the phosphorescent waves. - -“Consider what the voyage would have been to me without your presence,” -continues Van Zandt, as he leads the way to the saloon. “With Don Manada -there, engrossed in Quixotic schemes for achieving the independence of -his beloved country, and Capt. Beals as communicative as a sphinx, your -society has saved me from myself—a synonym for dreariness. And now for -the nocturne.” - -While Van Zandt is telling Miss Hathaway that she is the only woman he -has ever heard play Chopin intelligently, and the latter is modestly -disclaiming such ability, the musical echo of the lookout’s call is -passed to the saloon: - -“Sail ho!” - -“Where away?” is the challenge. - -“On the weather bow. A large steamer, judging from her smoke!” - -Don Manada casts his cherished cigar to the waves and glues his eyes to -the telescope. - -As announced, the unknown vessel is directly on the weather bow and will -pass within half a mile of the Semiramis, if the two craft hold to their -present courses. - -The captain intently watches the approaching vessel. The Semiramis is -far beyond the five-mile limit of the Cuban coast, but if the unknown is -a Spanish cruiser she may become suspicious of the trim yacht. - -It therefore behooves the American steamer to insure the stranger a wide -berth if the latter displays the arms of Castile; to show a clean pair -of heels, in the vernacular of the sailor, if flight is necessary. - -Again are preparations made to force the Semiramis to her highest speed. -The awnings are removed, the boats once more unswung from the davits, -the force of stokers in the engine-room augmented by half a score of -sturdy seamen, and soon the roaring of the forced draught in the funnels -again drowns the hum of the engines. - -At rail or in rigging, from bridge or quarterdeck the people of the -Semiramis watch intently the approaching vessel, whose funnels and upper -works are now visible through the glass. - -The Semiramis bears gradually to the westward, to afford the stranger at -least three miles leeway. Suddenly Capt. Beals lays aside his glasses -and rubs his chin thoughtfully. - -“Do you care to show your papers to the Don?” he asks Van Zandt. - -“To the Don? Is she a Spaniard, sure? But we shall pass a comfortable -distance to windward of her and she will not attempt to interrupt us.” - -“She has already changed her course and is bearing directly across our -bows. See!” - -The unknown, now less than ten miles distant, seems to be steaming at -full speed for a point directly in the course of the Semiramis. Her -broadside is now visible to the anxious watchers on the yacht. She is -apparently an armored cruiser of perhaps 5,000 tons, her hull painted a -dull and featureless gray. No flag or emblem is as yet displayed from -her taut and business-like rigging. - -“She is painted and cleared for action. She is—ah! I thought so!” - -A flag is broken from the cruiser’s masthead, and Capt. Beals, as he -focuses his binocular upon the streaming emblem, mutters between his -teeth: “The flag of Castile!” - -“’Tis a Spanish warship, Senor Van Zandt!” exclaims Manada, who has been -studying the stranger. “Can your beautiful craft bear us from harm’s -way? I fear that yonder ship is the Infanta Isabel, the latest and most -formidable accession to the navy of our hated oppressors. She has been -detailed to intercept vessels supposed to bear arms and re-enforcements -to our friends, and especially to watch for and destroy our gallant -Pearl of the Antilles.” - -“Have no fears, Don Manada. Your cargo is safe. We will show the -Spaniard a trick or two; eh, Beals?” - -Capt. Beals does not reply in words to his employer’s confident -assertion, but an observant man might distinguish a slight relaxation of -the muscles about his mouth. - -The Semiramis holds steadily on her course. Only the increasing clouds -of smoke that pour from her funnels indicate that anything out of the -ordinary is expected of the yacht. - -Only six miles distant! Five! Four! - -A puff of white that rolls lazily from the forward deck of the cruiser -is succeeded by a dull roar. - -“Show the Don our colors,” Capt. Beals orders the second officer. - -While the smoke from the cannon yet lingers above the Spaniard’s deck -the glorious stars and stripes unfurl from the mainmast of the -Semiramis, and snap gayly, defiantly, upon the breeze. And still the -American yacht continues to steadily lessen the distance that separates -the two craft. - -Boom! - -Another puff of white, followed a few seconds later by the report; and -this time the watchers on the yacht can see the flash of the gun. - -Only two miles distant now, and the Spanish warship, apparently -convinced that the American understands and designs to obey the -peremptory summons to heave to, has slowed her engines until the cruiser -has barely headway on the long swells. - -Calmly pacing the bridge, as if a thousand miles separated the -vessels—nearly equal in size, but how dissimilar in destructive -power!—Capt. Beals has not indicated a slowing of the yacht’s engines, -although the bow of the Semiramis points at the steep side of the -Spaniard, directly amidship. - -Not half a dozen lengths away! - -The officers and men on the man-of-war are clearly visible to those on -the yacht. The captain and his subalterns are grouped on the -quarterdeck, the marines amidship, the blue-jackets crowding the rail -and adjacent rigging. The cruiser is stationary on the water. - -But with no sensible diminution of speed the Semiramis bears upon the -Spaniard, the white foam dashing high on either side of her bow. Capt. -Beals is fingering the electric buttons that regulate the speed and -course of the yacht. - -The Spanish captain nearly drops his speaking trumpet. What is El -Americano thinking of? He cannot stop in five times his own length at -such a frightful speed! Is he mad? Ah! Dios! Caramba! And a dozen more -Castilian expletives poured forth in a torrent of astonishment, rage and -chagrin. - -For with a sudden turn to the windward that causes the yacht to careen -until her white sides below the water line gleam for an instant in the -sunlight, with an accession of speed that sends her forward as a whip -would a nervous horse, the Semiramis darts by the stern of the Spanish -man-of-war, the smoke from her furnaces enveloping for a moment the -cruiser’s afterdeck. - -Two minutes later she is a mile astern of the warship, her long white -trail sparkling in the sunlight, and the red, white and blue still -snapping defiantly at the masthead. - -“I wonder if the Don can turn in five times his own length,” observes -the sententious Mr. Beals, as he watches the warship slowly getting -under way. - -Whether he can or cannot is not at this time to be demonstrated. The -cruiser makes no attempt to about ship, but another report booms from -the forward gun, followed a second or two later by one from the aft -barbette, and a solid shot ricochets along the waves astern of the -Semiramis and plunges beneath the water an eighth of a mile distant. - -Van Zandt grows grave as he realizes the significance of this last shot, -but a glance at the receding cruiser convinces him of the futility of -the cannonade. The Spaniard, too, appears convinced, and the cruiser is -soon lost to view in the expanse of ocean. - -The rest of the day the Semiramis holds unmolested her course for the -mountain-girth shores of Cuba. As night draws on the engines are slowed, -and, with fires banked and double watch posted, the yacht quietly rocks -on the bosom of the deep. A wavy outline on the horizon indicates the -southern coast of the revolution-racked isle and somewhere on that -outline is the sequestered little harbor of Cantero. - -It is a weary, an unnerving vigil, for Don Manada at least. For hours -his anxious gaze sweeps the horizon, while the Semiramis rides the -breasting waves as gracefully as a summer bird soars into the blue. - -As the first shafts of light radiate from the emerging disk, Louise -Hathaway, whom the unwonted excitement of the preceding day has driven -early from her pillow, cries out with a girlish enthusiasm that brings a -smile to the face of Capt. Beals: “Sail ho! Sail ho!” - -Every one springs to rail or rigging. “Where away?” is the quick -challenge of Mr. Beals. - -“Right there, sir,” is the unnautical response of Miss Hathaway, and she -indicates a point not five degrees north of the rising orb of day. - -With the glass at his eyes, the taciturn commander of the Semiramis -watches intently the speck on the glowing horizon that means much to the -excited Manada at his elbow and to the latter’s struggling -fellow-patriots on the isle whose outlines are now bathed in the flood -of sunlight. - -Is it another Spanish warship, or is it the looked-for Cuban cruiser, -the doughty Pearl of the Antilles? - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII. - - AN AFFRONT AND AN APOLOGY. - - -The Semiramis rests stationary upon the surface of the water, but there -are scenes of activity in the engine-room. The columns of smoke from her -stacks grow into thick black volumes, and the roar of escaping steam -drowns ordinary conversation. - -On deck, officers, passengers and crew are watching the rapidly growing -spot upon the horizon. That the approaching vessel is steaming very fast -is apparent. Her upper works are visible as Capt. Beals signals for the -Semiramis to steam ahead at full speed. The course of the latter is laid -to pass the stranger a mile or two to windward, if she does not change -her present course. - -Don Manada has possessed himself of the captain’s glasses and is -earnestly scanning the distant steamer. Suddenly, in a very paroxyism of -joy he embraces the owner of the yacht. - -“It is the Pearl!” he cries; “the Pearl of the Antilles! Santisima! Now -will you display the flag of Cuba Libre?” The English language fails to -express the sentiments of the Cuban patriot at this juncture, and he -launches a flood of Castilian that bewilders Van Zandt. - -At a nod from the latter, however, Capt. Beals causes the fateful emblem -of Cuba to be run up to the masthead. The silken banner is barely -unfurled by the wind ere there are signs of excitement on board the -strange steamship. A duplicate of the Semiramis’ ensign is displayed, -and then the course of the vessel is changed and she steams rapidly -toward the yacht. Don Manada is not mistaken. The steamship is the -famous Pearl of the Antilles. - -The Semiramis has slowed down her engines, and awaits the approach of -the insurgent cruiser. As the latter nears the yacht the resemblance of -the two steamships becomes more striking. The Pearl is almost precisely -the length of the Semiramis, and like her is rigged with two masts. Her -two smokestacks are set at the same angle as those of the yacht and like -the latter she is equipped with twin propellers. On deck, however, there -is a decided difference. The engines of the Pearl are protected by heavy -plates of steel, while on her forward deck a sort of turret has been -improvised, within which, the people on the Semiramis can readily guess, -is the famous “Yankee gun,” the dynamite cannon whose well-aimed -projectile sent the Spanish Mercedes to the bottom. - -Five lengths away the Pearl becomes stationary on the waves, while -through a speaking tube, the voluble Manada acquaints her commander with -the character and mission of the yacht. A boat is lowered from the -insurgent craft and is rowed to the side of the Semiramis, and a moment -later a distinguished-looking man in the undress uniform of an officer -of the Spanish navy is clasped in the arms of Don Manada. - -“Senor Van Zandt,” the latter says, “permit me to present to you Capt. -Gerardo Nunez, the commander of yonder vessel. Senor Van Zandt,” he -explains extravagantly to Capt. Nunez, “is the good angel who rendered -it possible for us to convey the much-needed arms and ammunition in our -hold to our struggling compatriots.” - -Capt. Nunez cordially grasps the hand of Van Zandt. “Senor,” he says, “I -am more than pleased to meet you, and join with Don Manada in expressing -the gratitude of our people for your services in the cause of liberty.” - -Van Zandt waves his hand. “’Tis nothing. My sympathies are with the -insurgents and being in position to help Don Manada out of a box”—the -Cuban flushes at the recollection of his last conversation with Mrs. -Harding—“I was only too glad to do it. But what is the latest news from -the seat of war?” - -Capt. Nunez’ eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Glorious!” he says. “Gen. -Masso has just achieved a victory over 3,000 Spanish troops in the -Puerto Principe District. El Terredo is receiving constant additions to -his forces and the outlook was never brighter. It is to equip El -Terredo’s army that these arms and ammunition will be used.” - -“El Terredo?” inquires Van Zandt. “Is he not attached to the Pearl of -the Antilles?” - -“He has been up to within a week, but is now on shore duty. By the way, -senor,” remarks the Cuban commander, casting a glance over the deck of -the Semiramis, “you have a magnificent yacht, and I doubt not she is as -speedy as she is handsome.” - -“Speedy!” breaks in Don Manada. “She is as swift as the wind! She sailed -away from the America, the fastest cruiser in the United States Navy, -and as for the Infanta Isabel—poof! She snaps her fingers at her!” - -Capt. Beals approaches the group at this moment and is introduced to the -Cuban captain. - -“I think, sir,” he says to Van Zandt, “if we are to transfer our cargo -it would be advisable to waste no time. There is no knowing when a -Spanish gunboat will show up.” - -This advice is manifestly so timely that no time is lost in following -it. The two hulls are laid side by side, the smoothness of the water -permitting the operation in safety and hundreds of brawny arms are -quickly at work transferring the cargo from the Semiramis to the Pearl. - -At last the work is completed and Van Zandt looks inquiringly at Don -Manada. - -“Will you continue with the yacht or accompany the cargo on board the -Pearl?” he asks. - -The Cuban emissary hesitates. “If I might add to the already heavy debt -of gratitude I owe you—” - -“Oh, that’s all right,” interrupts Van Zandt. “So you will remain with -us. I am glad of your company. We sail for Santiago and afterward”—he -hesitates a moment, his eyes wandering to Miss Hathaway, who is watching -curiously the motley crew of the Pearl—“well, eventually back to New -York.” - -Manada nods gratefully. “I am of more service to the cause in America -than I could possibly be in Cuba,” he says, apologetically. - -The adieus are said, the lines cast off, and the Semiramis and Pearl -move slowly apart. The latter shapes her coarse for the little harbor of -Cantero, where the arms and ammunition are to be landed. - -“We are but ten hours’ sail from Santiago, Miss Hathaway,” Van Zandt -remarks, as Louise idly watches the rapidly disappearing Pearl. “Then -you will bid adieu to the Semiramis.” - -“Regretfully, indeed, Mr. Van Zandt. The last few days have sped all too -quickly.” - -“‘We take no heed of time but by its flight,’” quotes Van Zandt. “How -long do you expect to remain in Cuba?” - -Louise turns a troubled face toward the owner of the yacht. “That I -cannot say. It depends upon Mr. Felton. He has business interests to -look after, and if the climate agrees with him we may remain several -months.” - -There is a silence for a little, the thoughts of both dwelling on the -coming parting at even. - -“Miss Hathaway,” says Van Zandt, suddenly. “I am but an idle fellow, -with nothing to call me hence but my own inclinations. Would it be -distasteful to you if I should attach myself to your party while in -Cuba? The country is necessarily unsettled during the war and perhaps I -might be of service. I am familiar with the Spanish language, which I -believe Mr. Felton is not, and I should like to see something of the -country. Please tell me frankly if for any reason I would be de trop?” - -Van Zandt’s luminous orbs are fixed on the fair face of Louise as he -awaits the answer to his question. For a moment her blue eyes return his -gaze. Then the golden-fringed lids fall and a soft blush mantles her -face. - -“I certainly should not be averse to your joining our party,” she -murmurs softly, “if—if it be your pleasure.” - -“Thank you,” Van Zandt returns, simply, and a moment after Miss Hathaway -retires to her stateroom. - -“Well, Manada,” remarks Van Zandt, slapping the Cuban upon the back, -“your first engagement as supercargo must be rated a success, eh? The -arms and ammunition—the biggest single consignment ever sent from the -States, I think you said—have been safely delivered into the hands of -the insurgents, without the loss of a single Winchester or cartridge. -Why this pensive look?” - -“Only thoughts of the past, senor. I was—” - -What were Don Manada’s thoughts will never be known, for the people on -the yacht are electrified by the hail from the bridge, “Ship ahoy!” -followed a second later by the additional information, “Dead ahead and -bearing this way!” - -“There is no special necessity for evading her now, whoever she is, I -presume, sir?” inquires Capt. Beals, removing his glasses from his eyes. - -“None whatever,” is Van Zandt’s prompt reply. “Our papers are straight -and we have nothing contraband, unless it be the Don there. Let them -look us over if they wish.” - -“She’s not a very large craft,” comments the taciturn executive officer -of the yacht, as the two vessels continue to lessen the distance between -them. - -“Probably one of the blockading fleet,” is Van Zandt’s surmise. - -He is evidently right, for the stranger at this point displays the -Spanish flag and at the same time the report of a cannon echoes across -the water. - -“Show our colors,” orders Van Zandt, and the flag of the great republic -is caressed by the soft southern breeze. Another shot is fired from the -Spaniard, and as the Semiramis slows up a third cloud of white floats -from the side of the war vessel, followed by the sudden boom of a -heavier gun. - -As the Semiramis steams slowly toward the Spaniard, now distant less -than a mile, a fourth report is heard. - -“Shotted, by heaven!” ejaculates Capt. Beals, his eyes glued to the -glass; “and the Don has changed her course and is standing off to pepper -us. He is one of those tin-clad gunboats, only half our tonnage, and -pays no attention to our flag.” Still another shot is fired, and a solid -shot skips over the waves, barely two lengths astern of the yacht. - -“Shall we ram him, sir? We can send him to Davy Jones’ locker in ten -minutes, and not harm the yacht, either.” - -Van Zandt’s eyes glance aloft at the Stars and Stripes standing out -clear and free from the maintop, and then his eyes turn to the Spanish -gunboat. - -“Steam toward him full speed,” he says at length, “and if he fires on -the American flag again”—the white teeth shut with an ominous click—“ram -him full amidship, let the consequences be what they may.” - -But the flag is not fired upon again. The Spaniard has once more laid a -new course and is now bearing down full on the yacht. The two craft are -quickly within hailing distance, and from the gunboat comes the inquiry -in Spanish as to the name and character of the yacht. - -“The Semiramis, pleasure craft, New York for Santiago,” is Capt. Beals’ -reply. - -The Spanish captain is profuse in apologies for firing on the yacht. She -closely resembles a rebel craft, he explains, and the gunboat was sure -she was that vessel, even if she did fly the American flag. Would the -Semiramis accept his most humble apologies? His gunboat, La Pinta, was -about to proceed to Santiago for orders; and if it please los Americanos -they might sail thither in company, which would insure the stranger -against the annoyance of being overhauled by some of the other numerous -Spanish vessels blockading the ports. - -Van Zandt consults with Capt. Beals. - -“He wants to make sure we don’t land anything,” remarks the latter. “It -might save some trouble to accompany him to Santiago.” - -Yes, the Spaniard is informed, the American accepts the apology and the -escort of the gunboat to Santiago. - -Before the brief southern twilight has drifted into night the Semiramis -is lying at anchor in the harbor of Santiago, under the guns of the -Spanish gunboat La Pinta. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV. - - A SPANISH BILL OF FARE. - - -“I want some soft-boiled eggs, but I don’t suppose you know a -soft-boiled egg from a gas stove, eh?” - -The waiter at the hotel Royal, in Santiago, regards Jack Ashley with an -expression as blank as a brick wall. - -“Don’t get the idea, I see,” remarks Ashley. “Well, let me think. -‘Huevos’ means eggs, I know that much, but what the deuce is -soft-boiled? I believe ‘blondo’ is soft, and soft eggs might express the -idea. ‘Blondo huevos,’” he tells the waiter, and the latter, though -apparently puzzled, disappears. - -For the next ten minutes Jack is occupied in receiving and sending back -orders of eggs—eggs cooked in every conceivable style except -soft-boiled. Finally in despair he selects a dish nearest to his wants, -and gets along all right until he decides to have some chicken. An -examination of the bill of fare fails to discover anything that looks -like chicken, and the case appears hopeless. - -“If I only had my phrase book with me I might do some business,” he -reflects. “As it is, I don’t see any way out of it except to draw a -picture of a chicken. Hold on; ‘gallina’ means hen, unless I have -forgotten my studies, and if there is anything consistent in the -linguistic diminutives of the Spanish language, ‘gallinoso’ must be the -equivalent for chicken.” So he orders “gallinoso” with a complacence -born of a problem happily solved. - -The waiter simply stares and waits patiently. - -“‘Gallinoso’ doesn’t go, then.” Ashley looks the bill of fare over -again. The most attractive item is “salchichas con aroz,” but he does -not dare risk that. Finally a happy thought occurs to him. - -“Todos!” he orders. “Todos! Todos!” The waiter, with a grin of -intelligence, hurries away and Ashley heaves a sigh of relief. “Great -word, ‘todos,’” he soliloquizes. “Most significant word in the -language.” - -It is effective, at least, for the waiter arrives with a little of -everything that the kitchen affords and Ashley manages to make out a -meal. - -Meanwhile he has noticed that his efforts at Spanish have vastly -entertained a gentleman who sits at the table beyond and facing him. -Particularly broad was his smile when the order for “gallinoso” was -given. As Jack leisurely sorts out the most appetizing-looking of the -array of greasy viands, he remarks: “If you were as hungry as I, senor, -my attempts to secure a breakfast might strike you as being more tragic -than humorous.” - -“I meant no offense,” replies the senor. “You would yourself smile if -you knew what ‘gallinoso’ is.” - -“So? What may it be, an octopus or a mule?” - -“Almost as bad as either. It is a turkey buzzard.” - -“Ah, yes; they were probably just out of turkey buzzards. Oh, well, I’ll -get the hang of the language before I leave Cuba.” - -“Undoubtedly. It is easy of acquisition. You have, I assume, provided -yourself with a phrase-book.” - -“A magnificent affair. It contains every possible phrase except the ones -I have occasion to use.” - -The two finish their repast about the same time, and as they stroll out -upon the veranda to enjoy the long, strong cigar that inevitably follows -a Cuban breakfast the senor remarks: - -“You are an American, I judge.” - -“New York,” is the terse response. - -“Have you been in Cuba long?” - -“About two hours.” - -“Indeed? I was not aware that any steamers arrived to-day.” - -“Because of the blockade, eh? But I dropped in on the cruiser America.” - -“You are of the service?” - -“No; I am just a plain American citizen.” - -“Well, senor, this is hardly a desirable time for Americans or others to -visit Cuba.” - -“An eminently proper time for one in my line of business,” replies -Ashley. “I am a newspaper correspondent.” - -The senor looks the young man over critically. “Your profession is not -regarded with especial favor at present by the Spanish Government,” he -says. - -“I understand so,” drawls Ashley. “Newspaper men have an unpleasant -habit of stating facts, something the government is not particularly -anxious to have abroad.” - -A flush of annoyance mounts the senor’s face, and on the left cheek -Ashley for the first time notices a small, crescent-shaped scar. - -“Aha!” he thinks. “This gentleman rather answers my friend Barker’s -description of the party who left New York with the fair Mrs. Harding.” - -“The Government has no desire to conceal facts,” asserts the senor, with -some warmth, “but it naturally seeks to prevent the dissemination of -false, exaggerated or malicious reports. What journal do you represent, -senor?” - -Ashley tenders his card. The senor glances at it and smiles -half-derisively. “The Hemisphere! I had that very journal in mind,” he -says. - -“My paper must be excused from feeling flattered, then.” - -“It was only a week or so ago,” continues the senor, “that I read in -your paper a sensational interview with a visionary enthusiast, which -was a little more exaggerated and absurd than the average.” - -“That was before you left New York, probably,” ventures Ashley, and the -senor shoots a glance at him from a pair of keen black eyes. “You refer -to the interview with Don Manada,” goes on Ashley. “I had the pleasure -of placing the distinguished Cuban’s views before the public.” - -“I am not surprised,” comments the senor, with quiet sarcasm. - -“In other words you consider me a man who would deliberately put forth -false, exaggerated or malicious reports.” - -“I did not say so, senor. I presume you are typical of your profession.” - -“And I believe I am. Our journal, like every other decent paper, prints -the news. If it were to investigate every dispatch that comes to it day -by day there would be precious little information for the reader who -turns to it each morning. If an injustice is occasionally done, the -paper is ever willing to rectify its error and make all proper amends. -You must naturally expect the American newspapers to favor the -dispatches received from insurgent sources.” - -“Why, pray?” - -“For the reason that little dependence can be placed upon the statements -of the opposition. In fact,” smiles Ashley, “the situation approximates -somewhat the condition intimated in a joke now going the rounds of the -press. A Spanish captain in surrendering to superior numbers or prowess, -craves one boon at the hands of his conqueror. ‘What is it?’ asks the -latter. ‘Please announce the fact,’ requests the Spanish captain, ‘that -I have won an overwhelming victory.’” - -The senor fails to see anything amusing in the jest. “Do you intend to -remain at Santiago?” he asks. - -“For the present. The fighting appears to be principally at this end of -the island. Later I may push on to Havana.” - -“There has been more than one instance of expulsion of foreign -correspondents, senor.” - -“So I am told. Well, I shall do my duty, as well as I know how. I -naturally sympathize with the Cubans, but I shall not permit my -sympathies to lead me to color any reports of the war’s progress. If a -battle occurs to-morrow and the government forces are victorious, the -simple facts in the case will be forwarded, without further comment than -is required to make the story interesting. And if the Cubans win, the -same impartiality will characterize my dispatch. I expect the same fair -play that I extend. Is that not reasonable?” - -“Well, at any rate, I like your frankness,” says the senor, with -something approaching good humor. “I also like America and admire its -people. Do your duty as you understand it, Senor Ashley, and should your -zeal as a correspondent lead you into difficulty perhaps I may be of -service to you.” - -“Thank you,” acknowledges Jack. “But with my present limited means of -identifying you, I should be more likely to be garroted or shot before I -could send you word.” - -The senor smiles. “I am Gen. Murillo,” he says. “Adios, Senor Ashley.” -And with a courtly bow the Spanish gentleman takes himself off. - -“So,” muses Ashley, looking after the retreating figure. “Gen. Juan -Murillo, the chief of staff attached to the captain-general, is the -patron of the beautiful Harding. I remember the Hemisphere noted his -presence in New York. My lady’s services must be booked for something -out of the ordinary spy business. Murillo is in Santiago; so probably is -she, but if this city is her base of operations she is likely to sail -pretty close to the wind. - -“Now, where on earth is Barker?” wonders Ashley. “Probably at the other -end of the island, while the objects of his quest are at this end. The -Semiramis rests serenely on the bosom of the bay, and Miss Hathaway and -Messrs. Felton and Van Zandt are either aboard of her or are somewhere -about the city. I believe I’ll go out to the yacht and settle the -question in my mind.” - -And he does. He is rowed out over the blazing sea by a sun-cured -barquero and climbs to the deck of the Semiramis. - -“Mr. Van Zandt?” repeats Capt. Beals, in response to Ashley’s inquiry. -“Left yesterday, sir: Where? Havana, I believe the destination was.” - -“And his passengers?” ventures Ashley. “I am a friend of theirs,” he -explains to Mr. Beals. - -“His passengers went with him,” the latter tells him. - -Ashley is about to return to shore when he hears an exclamation and he -sees coming toward him Don Rafael Manada, the distinguished member of -the Cuban revolutionary society. - -“Dios mio! Senor Ashley, I am delighted to see you,” exclaims the -volatile Manada, embracing him warmly. “What brings you here?” - -“Business, my dear Don Manada, I am at present officiating as a war -correspondent. Will you not come ashore and take dinner with me?” - -“A thousand thanks, Senor Ashley; but,” with a smile intended to be -significant, “I believe it would be wise for me to remain here for the -present.” - -“By the way,” says Ashley, “you recollect that interview at the Fifth -Avenue hotel a week or so ago?” Manada nods smilingly. “Well, I met a -gentleman to-day who spoke rather slightingly of the views which you -therein expressed. Perhaps you know him. Gen. Murillo.” - -“Murillo!” cries the Cuban. “Ha! Is he in Santiago?” - -“He was half an hour ago.” - -“Was he alone? That is, was he not accompanied—” - -“By the fair Mrs. Harding?” supplies Ashley. - -Manada’s face flushes. “Ah, you know her?” he says. - -“Slightly,” returns Jack. “No; Mrs. Harding was not with the general, -though she may be in the neighborhood. They left New York together. Now, -Don Manada, having imparted some information to you, I should esteem it -a great favor if you would reciprocate.” Ashley glances about and -notices that they are out of hearing. “I will not ask you why you happen -to be on the Semiramis, as I have no disposition to pry into your -affairs, but I should like to know how Mr. Felton and Miss Hathaway came -to be aboard of the yacht?” - -Manada shrugs his shoulders. “I have not an idea,” he says. “An hour -before the Semiramis sailed they were driven to the pier in company with -the owner of the yacht. Where they came from I cannot say.” - -“Did they appear to be well acquainted with one another?” - -“Very nearly strangers, I should say. Senor Felton kept his stateroom -during nearly all the voyage and seemed to avoid Senor Van Zandt.” - -Ashley is now getting some information of decided interest. “And Miss -Hathaway? Did she appear to share the distrust or dislike?” - -“Quite the contrary. They were together about all the time.” - -“Now, Don Manada, there is one query I should like to put to you.” - -“Come,” smiles Manada, “I can guess what your question is to be.” - -“I will save you the trouble and ask it. As a man of years and -experience, of keen discernment and calm conclusions, what should you -say were the precise relations existing between Phillip Van Zandt and -Louise Hathaway?” - -Manada appears to reflect deeply. Then he says, with a gravity belied by -the twinkle in his eyes: “Serious, my dear Senor Ashley; very serious.” - -“Thank you,” responds Ashley. “Well, I believe I’ll go ashore and get -better acquainted with the natives. I hope to see you again, Don -Manada.” - -“I shall probably be here until the yacht leaves, senor. Adios.” - -As Ashley is borne shoreward he digests the information extracted from -his Cuban friend. - -“So far as Miss Hathaway’s tender regard is concerned, I appear to be a -rank outsider,” he soliloquizes. “But I have the consolation of knowing -that I did not permit myself to fall in love with her. Rather a -melancholy consolation, but philosophy was invented for just such cases -as this. - -“And Van Zandt. Well, Barker can doubt as much as he pleases, but I will -stake my reputation as a soothsayer that Van Zandt and Ernest Stanley -are one and the same man. And if Phillip Van Zandt is not a Nemesis, -stalking on the trail of his prospective victim or victims, then I am -indeed a prophet unworthy of honor in ‘mine ain countree’ or in the -world at large.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV. - - A CAFE QUARREL. - - -“I suppose this is the Madison Square of Santiago,” remarks Jack Ashley, -as he notes approvingly the brilliant spectacle which the plaza affords, -now that the tropic night is atoning for the enervating heat of the -tropic afternoon. Santiago, like all Cuban cities, wakes up measurably -early, bustles about for three hours or so, and then dozes or fans -itself until the sun drops into the sea and night comes with scarcely a -shadow of twilight. - -And then Santiago wakes again with a start, and for a few more hours -laughs and chatters, promenades and flirts until about 10 o’clock, when -the curtain falls, not to rise again until the sun is well up the -morning sky. - -The nightly gathering on the plaza has been tersely described as “a -scene of shoulders, arms, trains, jewels and cascarilla.” - -The women monopolize the plaza and the men the cafe, the latter a simple -interior, a mere loafing-place for the Cuban, whose capacities as an -idler are the result of many years’ practice in the gentle art of doing -nothing. - -Into one of the cafés that border the panorama of gayety strolls Ashley. -The place is crowded, but over in the farthest corner he sees a table at -which only one person is seated. Toward this he threads his way, but -when almost there his progress is impeded by a party of four who are -taking up more space than the law of equality allows. - -“Pardon me,” remarks Jack, as he brushes past the chair of an -unamiable-appearing individual in undress military attire. The latter -moves reluctantly and growls something which Ashley suspects is not -complimentary, and as he drops into a seat he asks the gentleman across -the table: “Do you speak English, sir?” - -“Occasionally,” is the brief rejoinder. - -“Then would you oblige me by translating the remark of the chap whose -repose I just disturbed?” - -“It’s of no consequence,” replies the other. “An impertinence upon -Americans. The feeling against that people is very bitter in Santiago -just now. The United States is suspected of encouraging practically as -well as morally the present insurrection.” - -“Perhaps I had better go over and punch his head,” observes Ashley. “His -suspicions might be better grounded.” - -“It would be a waste of time and perhaps lead to a general row. He is -only a Spanish captain who has invested his title with more importance -than would suffice for the entire service. Spanish captains are as -plentiful as Kentucky colonels.” - -“You speak by the card,” laughs Ashley, as he orders a glass of jerez -and a cigar. “Your English, too, is as pure as a New Yorker’s—or perhaps -I should say as un-foreign. Pure English is not a drug in the New York -market.” - -“I have resided in New York, as well as other parts of the United -States. But after a short residence on this island a man drifts into the -indolence and shiftlessness of the natives and loses much of his -identity.” - -“He does not lose his Americanism, I hope.” - -“No; the same thrill comes over him when he sees the most beautiful of -all flags streaming out on the breeze, and with it is increased his -sense of the outrageous wrongs which the Cuban has suffered from -generation to generation.” - -Ashley has been looking his acquaintance over with much interest, and -the result of his “sizing up” is as follows: - -Age, about Ashley’s own; above the medium height, athletic of build, and -straight as the proverbial arrow; general air denoting decision, dash, -and a bit of recklessness. His garments are dark and somewhat -travel-worn, and on his head, pulled down well over his eyes, he wears a -soft hat that borders on the sombrero. - -Just now he is scowling at the party of four near by, who are making -merry apparently at the expense of the two young men. - -“As I said before,” observes Ashley, “if you will kindly translate the -remarks of yonder chaps it will afford me considerable satisfaction to -call them to order. Ah, if I could only tell them in Spanish what I -think of them in English,” he adds, recollecting an old opera-bouffe -jest. - -Ashley’s acquaintance is evidently making an effort to keep his temper, -but his resentment is apparent in the flash of his eyes and the red spot -in each cheek. - -“By Jove!” suddenly reflects Ashley, “perhaps our military friend -understands English. I’ll try him.” Then to the apparent leading spirit -of the quartet, who has just delivered himself of a sally that vastly -amuses his companions, Ashley leans over and drawls: “Pardon me, senor, -am I the subject of your mirth?” - -The Spaniard may understand, but he makes no sign. The quartet set down -their glasses and stare at the self-possessed young man who has risen -and walked to their table and whose mild blue eyes run over the party in -calm inquiry. And the young man notes that the time-killers for many -tables around have ceased their chatter for the moment and are watching -curiously the progress of the colloquy. - -“I have reason to suspect,” goes on Ashley, “that you are making a -beastly nuisance of yourself, and unless you are anxious for a good -American thrashing I would advise you to keep a civil tongue from now -on. If you don’t understand that I’ll knock it through your head in -short order.” - -The reply is a volley of red-hot Castilian, but Ashley is saved the -trouble of attempting to comprehend it. For at this moment a long arm -reaches by him and the Spanish captain is dealt a slap across the mouth -that transforms his teeth for an instant into castanets. - -Then there is confusion. The quartet spring to their feet and one of -them seizes a bottle. But Ashley grips the uplifted arm with a wrist of -steel and remarks in tones that carry conviction: “Easy, my friend, or -I’ll throw you through the side of the house.” - -The idlers in the cafe crowd about the combatants and the proprietor -rushes up and protests against the disorder. - -The Spanish captain and Ashley’s friend glare at each other, and the -latter, after pronouncing the words “Hotel Royal” with a significance -appreciated by his antagonist, slips his arm through Ashley’s and draws -him from the cafe. - -“Whither?” queries Jack, as they proceed down the street. - -“To the Hotel Royal. I am stopping there for the night. And you?” - -“Same cheerful hostelry. Is it the worst in Cuba?” - -“The worst and the best. They are all off the same piece.” - -“Will you come up to my room?” asks he of the black eyes, when the hotel -is reached. “We shall doubtless be waited upon presently.” - -“By our Spanish friend?” - -“By his representative, more likely.” - -“But how is he to locate you?” questions Ashley. “No pasteboards were -exchanged.” - -His companion smiles sardonically. “Capt. Raymon Huerta and I are not -strangers,” he says. - -Even as he speaks there is a rap at the door and as it is thrown open in -strides one of the Spanish quartet. - -“Well, Senor Cardena,” says the young man with the black eyes, glancing -at the bit of pasteboard in his hand, “what is your pleasure?” - -“What, Senor Navarro, you may expect,” replies Cardena, declining -stiffly the proffered chair. “Capt. Huerta demands satisfaction for the -insult offered to him.” - -“Not only offered, but delivered,” mutters Ashley, and he returns in -kind Cardena’s impertinent glance. “So my unknown friend’s name is -Navarro,” he thinks. - -“You may convey to Capt. Huerta my willingness to afford him the desired -redress,” says Navarro. “How will sunrise, on the beach below the city, -answer?” - -“I am authorized to make the necessary arrangements. What you have -proposed will be satisfactory. And the weapons?” - -“Pistols, I suppose; I am provided with one.” - -“Hold on,” puts in Ashley. “I have just the article. Excuse me a moment, -gentlemen.” Repairing to his room he extracts from his trunk two superb -Smith & Wesson 38-caliber revolvers, and these he submits to Cardena and -Navarro. Senor Cardena professes himself to be satisfied with the -weapons and, with a perfunctory “Adios,” he withdraws. - -When he has gone Navarro tosses his arms impatiently and murmurs: “What -a fool I am.” - -“All men are or have been at some period,” Ashley assures him. “But what -gives rise to your present self-accusation?” - -“The thought that I permitted my temper to play the mischief with my -judgment,” is the gloomy reply. “A man has the right to risk his own -life, but not the life, or what is dearer than life, of those whose -interests he is intrusted with.” - -“See here,” Ashley gently protests, “if there is any fighting to be done -why not let me have the job? I began the row—” - -“And I finished it. No, my friend, this affair must go on to the bitter -end. Although, as you rightly suspected, you were the ostensible object -of the remarks of the party at the cafe, they were in reality directed -toward me. It was inevitable that Capt. Huerta and I should cross, -though I might have to-night avoided a meeting which would better be -left to the future. May I request you to second me in the meeting?” - -“Assuredly, Senor Navarro. That is your name, I judge?” - -“Yes; Emilio Navarro—quite Spanish, you see,” with a peculiar smile. -“And your name?” - -“Jack Ashley; residence, New York; occupation, newspaper man; paper, the -Hemisphere; ever heard of it?” - -“The newspaper is not a stranger to me. Pardon me a few minutes,” says -Navarro, and he occupies himself in writing a somewhat lengthy letter, -which he seals, without addressing, and hands to Ashley. - -“Ashley, you are a man of honor,” he says, laying one hand upon the -newspaper man’s shoulder. “Promise me that if anything happens to me -to-morrow you will deliver that letter to a name I will whisper to you.” - -“I shall do so with profound regret, sir. The name?” - -“Don Manuel de Quesada. He resides in the Pueblo de Olivet, on the edge -of Santos, four miles west of Santiago.” - -Ashley places the letter in his pocket. “I will not fail you, if the -occasion for my services should arise. But unless Huerta is more -familiar with the American revolver than I believe him to be, I shall -have the happiness of returning this document to you after you have -filled him full of leaden satisfaction. How are you on the shoot, -anyway?” - -Navarro smiles grimly. “I have hit a playing card at fifty yards,” he -says. - -“Oh, well; that’s close enough marksmanship. I am beginning to feel -sorry for Huerta.” - -“Save your sympathy. I shall not kill him. And now, friend Ashley, I -believe I’ll go to bed. I have been riding all day and I am as tired as -a dog. At daylight we start.” - -“At daylight it is. It is not too late to accept my offer to exchange -places with you. I can’t hit a playing card at fifty yards, but at least -I am alone in the world, and, barring a few excellent friends, would not -be especially missed. It is as much my quarrel as yours, you know.” - -“My dear Ashley,” says Navarro, with much emotion, “I am deeply sensible -of the goodness of heart that prompts your offer, but, I repeat, this -affair must proceed as it has begun.” - -“Well, good-night to you, then,” says Ashley, and he goes off to bed, -wondering what manner of man is he who speaks of a thrill at the sight -of the most beautiful of all flags streaming out upon the breeze, and -yet claims the distinctly Spanish name of Emilio Navarro. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVI. - - JUANITA. - - -The sun is creeping up the range of hills when Ashley and Navarro leave -the Hotel Royal and set forth at a smart pace for the meeting with Capt. -Raymon Huerta. Ashley is in his usual good spirits, and the enlivening -influence of his society is appreciated by Navarro, whose thoughts are -plainly of a dejected nature. - -Half a mile or more down the beach that stretches east of the city three -men are in waiting. Two of them are Capt. Huerta and Senor Cardena; the -third is evidently a surgeon. - -The preliminaries for the exchange of shots are quickly arranged. -Ashley, with the fifty-yards range in mind, proposes the comfortable -distance of twenty-five paces, and Cardena assents. Then the revolvers -are handed out and carefully scrutinized, and Huerta and Navarro face -each other on the sands. - -“How’s your nerve, old man?” Ashley asks Navarro, as he gives the -latter’s hand an encouraging squeeze. - -“Steady,” is the response, in low tones. - -“Good.” - -“Remember the letter,” admonishes Navarro, and as Ashley nods and steps -back the duelists signal that they are ready. - -A minute later two shots startle into flight a flock of sea gulls that -have been hovering along the shore. - -With the echoes Capt. Huerta staggers and is immediately taken in charge -by the watchful Cardena and the medico. - -“Not scratched, eh?” Ashley inquires of Navarro. - -“No; but the lead passed close enough for comfort. Unless my aim was -poor, Huerta is not seriously hurt. To have killed him would have been -to invite serious entanglement.” - -Nor is the Spanish captain in any immediate danger of parting with -existence. The bullet has plowed through the right shoulder, causing a -ragged wound and a great flow of blood, but a few days will put him on -his feet again, the surgeon reports to Cardena. Wounded honor is -satisfied by the physical wound, and after a brief announcement of this -fact and a stiff “Adios” the Spaniards drive away, and Navarro and his -American friend are left upon the beach. - -“Any trouble with the authorities likely?” Ashley queries, as the two -turn cityward. - -“I think not. Huerta is a thorough-paced scoundrel, but he has never -been accused of being a coward or an informer.” - -A great change has come over Navarro. His eye is bright and his step -elastic and he tells Ashley, as they stride along in the cool air of the -morning, that he is terribly hungry and would appreciate a good -breakfast. - -As good a meal as Cuba affords is forthcoming, and as Ashley suddenly -recollects the now happily unnecessary letter to Don Quesada, Navarro -tears it into fragments and says abruptly: - -“Ashley, amigo, have you ever seen the Pearl of the Antilles?” - -“No; I haven’t been in Santiago quite twenty-four hours yet. You mean -the insurgent cruiser?” - -“Ah, no; I mean the most beautiful girl in Cuba. She is the daughter of -Don Manuel de Quesada, and is at once the joy and the despair of half -the unmarried jeunesse doree of Santiago. Would you like to meet her?” - -“By all means. Next to a good horse and a trim yacht, I know of nothing -that interests me more than a beautiful woman.” - -“Good. I am going out to La Quinta de Quesada. Hunt up a horse and -accompany me.” - -Navarro is already provided with a steed, a magnificent black animal -that interests Ashley far more than the prospects of the acquaintance of -the Pearl of the Antilles. “Came into my possession yesterday,” Navarro -tells him. “Isn’t he a beauty?” - -“He is that,” is Jack’s appreciative reply. “If you run across his mate -put me in the way of acquiring him and I will do my war correspondence -in the saddle.” - -Ashley succeeds in chartering a fairly presentable beast for the day, -and the two young men set out for Santos in the best of spirits. They -are in no hurry and the ride of something over four miles through El -Valle de Bosque Cillos, the wooded valley, occupies an hour. - -Passing through Santos, which is one of the smallest of villages, -embracing only a jail, a church and a score of dwellings, the travelers -take the road to La Quinta de Quesada, which is located in the center of -the Pueblo de Olivet. - -The Quinta is a square, two-storied affair and the principal material in -its construction is coral stone. The inevitable and grateful veranda -stretches around three sides and an air of quiet luxury is evident in -the spacious house and its attractive surroundings. - -As Navarro and Ashley ride slowly up the shaded carriage way and turn -suddenly in sight of the quinta, the first objects that greet Jack’s -vision are two young people in one of the hammocks on the veranda. A -young man’s arm encircles a young lady’s waist and the attitude of the -pair suggests either the relations of lovers or of brother and sister. -They start up in some confusion upon the advent of a stranger and come -forward to greet Navarro. When the latter dismounts the young man -embraces him warmly and Navarro, as he rests one arm affectionately -about the youth’s shoulders, says to Ashley: “My younger brother, Don -Carlos.” Then he turns to the young lady: - -“Juanita, I want you to know my friend, Senor Jack Ashley of New York. -Senor Ashley, La Senorita de Quesada.” - -Ashley has slid from his horse and his acknowledgment of the -introduction is rather less debonair than usual; because, as he -confesses afterward to himself, he is somewhat confused by the beauty of -the young woman, who gives him her hand and tells him that the quinta -has no friends more welcome than Don Emilio. - -And here is an outline of Juanita de Quesada, the Pearl of the Antilles, -as sketched rapidly but indelibly upon the tablets of Jack Ashley’s -memory: - -She is 20 or thereabouts, and is considerably below the medium height. -The proportions of her slender yet full form are as perfect as nature -ever molds. Her face is oval, and her complexion a soft, creamy olive. -Evidences of her race are in the lead-black hair, the dark, dreamy eyes -of liquid fire, the rather large, tremulous mouth, with its scarlet -lips, and the completing perfection of Cuban loveliness, the dainty -little feet with the incomparable arches. All Cuban women are not -beautiful, but as Ashley looks upon the present picture he decides that -the imperfections of her sisters are amply compensated for by the -dazzling loveliness of the Senorita de Quesada. “She is glorious,” he -thinks; and then: “I wonder if she knows anything.” - -Hardly less striking, though dissimilar in character, is the beauty of -Don Carlos Navarro. He is a slender youth, with dark-brown eyes and -curly hair, and if it were not for the effeminacy of his regular -features he would receive the critical approval of the New Yorker. As it -is, Ashley confesses that Juanita and Don Carlos are the handsomest -young pair he ever set eyes upon, and he wonders what may be the -relationship existing between them. For Carlos is no more Spanish in -appearance than his brother Emilio. - -“Where is Don Quesada?” asks Navarro, when the party have disposed -themselves upon the veranda. - -“With his books and papers, as usual,” replies Carlos, with a -significant glance at his brother. “Come, I will take you to him. He -will be overjoyed to greet you. It is nearly two weeks, Emilio, since we -last saw you.” - -“And it may be much longer than two weeks ere you see me again,” says -Navarro, as he follows Carlos into the house. - -Ashley finds himself vastly interested in the young lady with whom he -has been left tete-a-tete. He learns that she has not a near relative -save her father (Carlos must then be her lover); that she is no stranger -to the United States, having resided in New York two years; that she -loves America and everything American; that, were it not that her -father’s interests necessitated a residence in Cuba, she would like to -live always in America; and much more information, imparted in a quiet, -dignified manner which Jack is positive was acquired by her short stay -in the land of the free and the home of the enterprising. - -All too soon comes the interruption of luncheon, and Ashley is presented -to Don Manuel de Quesada. Jack takes a good, square look at the tall, -spare, elderly man who grasps his hand warmly and tells him that he is -always proud and happy to meet an American. - -Don Quesada is a typical Cuban in appearance; his bearing is -distinguished and his manner partakes of the dignity and repose of his -daughter. But there is a certain weakness about the mouth that Ashley at -once notes. - -However, Don Quesada is cordiality itself, and after lunch the three men -adjourn to the library for a smoke, Carlos and Juanita taking themselves -off for a ramble through the park. - -The conversation drifts naturally to a discussion of the patriotic -uprising which has almost attained the proportions of a revolution that -promises to be as successful as the struggle for independence of the -American colonists. The talk is general, and Ashley surprises his -companions by remarking abruptly: - -“By the way, Don Quesada, before I left America it was hinted to me by -an influential member of the Cuban revolutionary society that the -President of the Provisional Republic of Cuba is a resident of -Santiago.” - -“Ah?” says Quesada, inquiringly. - -“That is, I suppose Santos may be considered a part of Santiago.” - -Quesada and Navarro look at each other meaningly. - -“In other words, that this President is none other than yourself, Don -Quesada,” continues Ashley; and without waiting for a reply to this -direct speech he goes on: - -“I tell you only what, as I say, was intimated to me in the strictest -confidence. I shall not ask for a confirmation or a contradiction; I am -not thinking of interviewing you. I am an American and the -representative of an American newspaper. As such, I am supposed, while -in Cuba, to maintain a neutrality. I had intended, before I met Don -Navarro, to call upon you in a professional capacity, but now I find -myself your guest. It is for you to say what is your pleasure in the -matter.” - -Don Quesada studies keenly the face of the war correspondent, but reads -only sincerity in the frank blue eyes. Then he looks at Navarro and the -latter extends his hand to Jack. - -“Ashley, I believe we understand one another,” he says. “There is no -need of further explanations. If there is any interviewing to be done, -you can operate on me. I believe Don Quesada will willingly allow me to -submit to the ordeal.” - -“I will be merciful,” smiles Ashley. “But before I proceed further, -permit me to present the vouchers for my discretion and reliability,” -and he passes over a letter which relieves Don Quesada of any possible -distrust of his acquaintance of a few hours. - -It is late in the afternoon when Navarro announces that he must depart. -Ashley is courteously invited to enjoy for as long a time as he may care -to the hospitality of the quinta, but duty demands his presence at -Santiago until he gets his affairs into shape. However, he promises to -call frequently while he is in this part of the country, a pledge he -anticipates much pleasure in fulfilling. And as he rides away with -Navarro his usually cool head is disturbed by speculations as to the -probable relations between Don Carlos Navarro and Juanita de Quesada. - -“By the way, Navarro,” he says, suddenly to his companion, “is there any -likelihood of my ever chancing upon El Terredo, the mysterious -revolutionary leader whom we were discussing this afternoon?” - -“Possibly,” is the reply. The travelers have reached a fork in the road, -about half-way between Santos and Santiago. - -“My path lies yonder,” says Navarro, pointing to the north. “We must -part here.” - -“Well, take care of yourself,” remarks Ashley, gripping the extended -hand. - -Navarro rides slowly away, but he has not gone five yards when he checks -his horse and turns in his saddle. - -“Would you like to see El Terredo?” he asks, with a smile. - -“It would satisfy my curiosity,” is Ashley’s prompt response. - -“Then, my friend, take your first look, and the last for many days, if -not forever. For I am El Terredo!” - -Waving his hat with a graceful sweep Navarro rides away to the -mountains. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVII. - - ONE WAY TO GET TO CUBA. - - -“Whew!” For the nineteenth time John Barker gives utterance to the -expressive exclamation, as he mops his perspiring forehead. - -The detective is seated in the parlor car of the Florida express, which -has just left Jacksonville, and is being whirled along toward Tampa Bay. - -He soon indulges in a nap, while the train rumbles on, by the scattered -negro huts, with their ebon-hued occupants drawn up in solemn array to -watch the flying cars, through the dense forests of moss-entwined trees, -across the trestle-spanned marshes and mud-colored rivers. - -Barker is dreaming of a hand-to-hand encounter with Cyrus Felton, -wherein the latter has succeeded in clasping the handcuffs about his -(Barker’s) neck and is slowly but surely rendering futile his breathing -apparatus, when the porter’s voice calling out “Tampa Bay” recalls him -to his senses. - -The single hotel at Tampa Bay, Barker subsequently finds, is not a -half-bad institution, judged by the midnight inspection, and -ascertaining from the clerk that the steamer for Key West does not sail -until 3 o’clock the following afternoon, the detective retires in the -confident belief that he has overtaken Mrs. Harding at least. - -Barker is right in his surmise. He has nearly finished his breakfast the -next morning, when the striking figure of Mrs. Harding enters the -dining-room and is escorted by the obsequious waiter to the table at -which the detective is seated. The latter lingers long over his coffee -and muffins, while he improves the opportunity of studying his -vis-a-vis. - -“Handsome as a queen,” is his conclusion, as the glorious black eyes -glance idly into his. But there is a tinge of melancholy in her face, a -preoccupation in her manner, that does not escape the observation of the -detective, and at which he wonders. - -“It cannot be that the military chap has given her the go-by,” he -thinks. - -He has not, for at this moment the soldierly form of the Spaniard enters -the room and he is directed to a seat beside Mrs. Harding. - -“Nothing very lover-like in their greeting,” ruminates Barker, as the -two exchange salutations. “Since they are to be fellow-passengers on the -boat to Key West and Havana I will postpone my interview until then.” -Barker strolls out upon the hotel veranda. - -“How long does it take to run to Havana?” he inquires, casually, of the -porter. - -“About a ten hours’ sail from Key West, when the steamers are running,” -he is told. - -“When the steamers are running? Are they not running now?” - -“No, sir; they run only as far as Key West now, since the blockade was -declared.” - -Barker paces slowly up and down the veranda. - -“Well, I must be hoodooed,” he mutters; “that does settle it. Here I’ve -raced 1,700 miles to head off my game, only to be foiled by a measly -blockade. I can’t stand it to charter a ship, and it looks mightily as -if Cyrus Felton was going to slip through my hands. But how are my lady -and the Spanish-looking chap to get there? I will go to Key West at any -rate. There may be some way to cross the channel from there.” - -The detective is not in cheerful spirits as he boards the steamer, but -he feels a shade of satisfaction while noting Mrs. Harding and her -cavalier ascend the gang-plank just before the signal for departure is -given. - -“We will have a little tete-a-tete by and by, my lady,” he murmurs. But, -greatly to the detective’s disappointment, Mrs. Harding does not emerge -from her stateroom until the steamer has sighted the yellow stretch of -sand that marks the entrance to the harbor of Key West. - -“Well, we shall either be fellow-voyagers again, or ‘on a tropical isle -we’ll sit and smile,’” reflects Barker, philosophically. - -Determined that he will not lose sight of the charming Mrs. Harding -again, Barker loiters about the steamer until she trips across the -gang-plank, the last passenger to disembark. Her traveling companion has -preceded her nearly half an hour, and Barker wonders again if they have -parted company. Their baggage, he observes, is still on the pier, and -even as Mrs. Harding steps ashore Barker sees the Spaniard coming -rapidly toward her. He conducts her to the opposite side of the wharf, -where is moored a neat little steam launch, manned by a number of -sailors in the uniform of the Spanish navy. The baggage upon which -Barker’s watchful eyes are fixed is quickly conveyed aboard the launch, -Mrs. Harding follows, still escorted by the military-appearing stranger, -and a moment later the little craft shoots out from the dock and makes -for a man-of-war lying at anchor in the harbor and flying the Spanish -colors. - -Mr. Barker’s last opportunity for a tete-a-tete with “my lady” has -vanished. - -The detective watches the launch until it vanishes behind the bow of the -warship, but words fail utterly to express his feelings. He mechanically -picks up his grip and suffers himself to be conducted by an enterprising -Bahaman to the American hotel, picturesquely surrounded by tropical -shrubs and plants. - -“Well, Barker,” the detective communes with himself, “it looks decidedly -as if my lady possessed a slight advantage in having a man-of-war at her -call. But with all that fleet of boats in the harbor it does seem that -there should be one bound for Cuba. How to hit that particular one is -the question.” - -He strolls down the broad street to the harbor front, and from a wharf -wistfully gazes at the Spanish man-of-war now nearly hull down on the -horizon bearing away his fair fellow-voyager. A tanned and -weather-beaten son of Neptune is making fast a small sloop, whose name -Barker notes with idle curiosity is emblazoned in generous letters on -her stern, “Cayo Hueso.” - -“Say, my good fellow,” he says, “you don’t happen to know of any way to -reach Havana, do you? Are any of these vessels likely to sail for that -port within a day or two?” - -He of the weather-beaten face finishes making fast the little sloop -without answering, and then slowly turns and looks at Barker. The gaze -is a long and searching one, but apparently it is satisfactory. - -“There’s one way to reach Cuba, I reckon,” he says, with a pronounced -nasal twang. “That is, if you are sailor enough to stand that sloop and -wise enough to keep your mouth shut on occasions.” - -Barker surveys the little craft doubtfully. She is of perhaps five tons’ -burden, and looks old and risky. - -“I could stand the sail if the boat is seaworthy, and I am anxious to -reach Havana,” he finally says. “When do you sail?” - -“At 6 o’clock. The Cayo don’t go clear to Cuba, only about half-way -across the channel. But we can put you aboard another craft that will -land you in Havana. Got any baggage?” - -Barker meditates a moment. “How long will it take to make the passage?” -he inquires. - -“Wall, if this wind holds you ought to be in Havana by to-morrow night. -It will cost you—say, $25.” - -Barker’s decision is made. “I’ll chance it,” he says. “I’ll be here at 6 -o’clock.” - -On his return to the Cayo Hueso, the detective finds the crew of three -already aboard and his sailor friend preparing to cast off. He ruefully -surveys the small craft and thinks of the 120-mile trip, but there is no -alternative and he clambers aboard. - -As the sails are hoisted Barker is amazed by the rate at which the -little craft speeds out of the harbor. There is always a breeze on the -keys, the captain of the Cayo tells him. - -Soon the sea begins to growl a bit and Barker does not like it. As the -breeze freshens, the commotion beneath his vest increases. - -“Just the kind of a breeze for a run across, eh?” remarks the man at the -tiller, with a voice that sounds to Barker like the rasp of a new saw. - -“I dunno,” replies the detective, whose face is rapidly becoming -“sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought.” - -But the little vessel continues to spin over the waters, as darkness -settles upon the sea. - -The stars are paling in the heavens and the gray dawn is creeping -athwart the sloop, when Barker awakens from a troubled nap and struggles -into a sitting posture. He sees only the bare horizon, the ocean lying -black and leaden and wrinkled like an old man’s face. There is no boat -in sight, he thinks; they are not yet half-way to the Cuban shore. - -But there is a boat in sight. Hull down to the east, imperceptible to -his untrained eye, a delicate pearl shaft hangs like a pendant just on -the horizon. For a time it seems dim and visionary; then even Barker, -did he possess sufficient ambition to lift his head again, could see a -duplicate of the sloop lazily crawling toward her, and, within half an -hour, come alongside the Cayo Hueso. - -At once certain mysterious boxes and casks, chiefly the latter, are -transferred from one boat to the other. Then Barker laboriously and -disconsolately steps from the Cayo Hueso to the strange boat, while his -weather-beaten friend communes with the captain of the latter. His -destination is a matter of supremest indifference to the detective. He -manfully strives to hold up his head while the exchange of salutations -is made, fails and sinks passively into the bottom of the boat. - -The sun is gilding Maro castle as the little craft enters the harbor of -Havana. - -“A remarkably quick passage,” says the captain in Spanish, as the sloop -is being moored to a dilapidated wharf in an obscure portion of the -water front. - -Barker struggles to his feet. “Are we in Havana?” he inquires in -Spanish, a trifle rusty, but still intelligible. - -“Si, senor.” - -“Thank heaven!” is the pious ejaculation of the detective. “I’ll live -and die in Cuba before I’ll every trust myself in a cockleshell like -that again.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXVIII. - - A SOLDIER OF CASTILE. - - -“Heavens! They have just sized up my condition and sent an ambulance,” -Barker grunts, as his eyes rest for the first time on that marvel of -vehicular construction, a Cuban volante, which the good-natured captain -of the sloop has secured for his late passenger. - -But before he clambers into the conveyance the detective, whose -professional instincts are now awakening, ascertains from the driver -that the American steamer City of Havana has not yet arrived, although -due that morning. - -Barker begins to feel better. “Things seem to be coming my way at last,” -he thinks complacently. “I’ll take no chances this time. John Barker, -detective, will be the first to greet Cyrus Felton when that gentleman -steps on Cuban soil. Now for the hotel and a bath, a visit to the -American consul and then to the wharf of the Red Star Line, wherever -that is.” - -It is a very different individual from the woebegone passenger on the -little smuggler that three hours later lounges about the dimly lighted -freight sheds of the American Steamship Line, awaiting the arrival of -the overdue vessel. “Richard’s himself again,” he remarks; “or will be -when his long-neglected appetite is appeased. I hope the City of Havana -will not keep me up all night.” - -The night wears on—the longest, Barker assures himself, with one -exception, that he ever knew, and the sun is well above the horizon ere -his heart is cheered by the boom of a cannon on Moro castle, announcing -the arrival of a foreign vessel. It is the American liner, and by the -time the various custom officers, summoned by the signal gun, have -arrived on the wharf, the steamer is being moored to the pier. - -Barker has taken a position where he can command a view of the -gang-plank, and with a grim smile he awaits the disembarking of the -passengers. There are not many. A few Havana business men, a score or -two of Cubans, three or four Spanish officers and half a dozen Americans -cross the plank, and then there is a lull in the procession. - -Barker’s smile fades and there is a suspicion of anxiety in his -expression as the tall, slim form of Cyrus Felton does not appear. - -“Perhaps he is sick,” the detective thinks. “I will go aboard and -inquire of the purser.” - -No; there was no passenger on this trip named Felton, that officer -states, running his eye down the rather abbreviated passenger list. - -Barker stares vacantly at the purser. Rapidly there passes through his -mind the circumstances preceding his interesting journey to Havana—the -departure of Felton and Miss Hathaway from the St. James; his (Barker’s) -hurried trip to Key West; the unavailing effort to interview Mrs. -Harding; the voyage in the smuggler to Havana; last night’s long and -weary vigil. - -And Felton did not sail on the City of Havana after all! - -Without a word of thanks to the courteous purser, the detective slowly -turns and retraces his steps. He walks aimlessly from the wharf, his -disappointment for the time being too bitter for expression. - -But John Barker, whatever his errors of judgment, is a clear-minded, -persistent man, and after a half-hour’s walk in the enervating -atmosphere of a Havana midday he pulls himself up with a start. - -“Well,” he says as he wipes the perspiration from his face, “I’m euchred -this time, it appears, and must make the best of it. But this is the -deciding trick, and by heaven,” the detective grinds his teeth, “I will -track Cyrus Felton down if it takes the rest of my life! I have it! I’ll -see if the son, Ralph Felton, is actually here, as Ashley believes. If -he is, I will at least have something to show for my trip to this -awfully hot hole. Now for something to eat at the grand hotel Pasaje, if -I can find the way. It’s mighty lucky I know some Spanish.” - -The shadows are lengthening toward night when Barker awakens from the -sound slumber into which his “siesta” after a comfortable meal has -developed. He is feeling greatly refreshed and ready to pick up again -the tangled threads of the trail that he has followed so far. - -“Now for a little stroll about the city, to see what the place is like,” -he thinks, as he lights a cigar and saunters down the broad street. - -Half an hour later, Barker has strayed farther from the hotel than he -realizes and has unwittingly penetrated into the most disreputable -quarter of Havana. For a brief rest he enters a cafe, and seating -himself at a table in a corner of a room orders a light drink, -absent-mindedly speaking in English. - -Two dark-browed, yellow-skinned Cubans, who have been conversing -earnestly in low tones at a table adjoining Barker’s, glower at the -newcomer, but as he gives his order to the waiter in English they resume -their interrupted conversation. Barker idly sips his jerez and wonders -what Jack Ashley will say on receiving the letter he left for him in New -York. - -Suddenly the word “Americano,” hissed by one of the two Cubans, arrests -his attention and he strains his ears to hear in what connection the -word was used. The pair are talking in low tones, but the detective’s -trained sense is able to comprehend the tenor of the conversation. - -The Cubans are discussing the assassination of some person, an American, -and presumably that American is John Barker! - -The detective slips his hand around to his hip pocket, and as his -fingers close over the butt of a 38-caliber pistol his pulse resumes its -calm and even beat and he proceeds to make a mental inventory of the -prospective assassins. - -“Absolutely the most villainous-looking brace of cutthroats I ever saw,” -he sums up. “But why should they plot to lay me out? Do they take me for -a New York millionaire in disguise, and think I carry a million or two -around in my pocket? Ah, so you were not the distinguished individual -picked out by the precious pair, Barker. It’s some other American. But -who? And how can I manage to warn him of his danger?” - -Barker rapidly revolves the situation, while covertly watching the -Cubans. He suddenly starts, as from words uttered by one of them, as -they arise to leave the cafe, he becomes aware that the cold-blooded -crime planned within his hearing is to be carried out within the next -hour or so. - -“There’s nothing for me to do but to shadow the pair,” he mutters, as he -steps again into the now moonlit street. - -It is a simple matter for the experienced detective to keep the Cubans -in sight, especially as they never once take pains to glance backward. -They have traversed several streets, when the detective observes that -they have halted and are apparently loitering near a larger and rather -more elaborate cafe than the majority. - -“So the American is in that cafe,” reflects Barker; “now, which is the -better plan, to go in and endeavor to pick out my fellow-countryman and -warn him, or keep in the rear of these chaps and swoop down on them at -the proper moment? The latter I guess is the safer. We’ll see what we -will see.” - -The wait is not a long one. Evidently the Cubans are familiar with the -habits of the person they are seeking, for within fifteen minutes a -rather tall young man emerges from the cafe, stopping a moment to light -a cigar, and then starts down the shadowy street. Barker, after the -first glance, pays little heed to the newcomer, for his quick eye notes -that he wears the undress uniform of a Spanish officer. To his surprise, -however, he perceives that the two Cubans are stealthily following the -man. - -“So it is not an American after all,” thinks Barker, as he steals -silently along. “But I can’t stand back and see a human killed in cold -blood, whatever his nationality, and I won’t!” - -It is nearly 10 o’clock now and the street is deserted. As the form of -the officer emerges into a clear patch of moonlight, Barker perceives -that the Cubans have narrowed the distance that separates them from -their prey, and he hastens to close up the gap between himself and the -trio. - -He is not too soon. When less than two rods from the Cubans he sees the -flash of steel in the hand of the foremost of the pair. - -“Look out!” Barker’s voice rings out in English, loud and clear, and -with the words he springs forward with a speed that rivals his sprinting -in his football days. - -“Tackle low!” The whimsical thought flashes through his brain as he -clears the intervening space. And he does. The nearest Cuban goes down -with a bone-breaking thud, the moonlight glitters for a second on -something bright in Barker’s hand, there is a sharp click, and the -detective springs to his feet. - -But there is no further need for his services. The other Cuban is -speeding like the wind down the street. - -“I owe you one for this, my friend,” says the cause of the exciting -episode in excellent English, as he strides up to Barker and warmly -presses his hand. “But for your timely shout I should now be lying face -downward there with the stiletto ornamenting my back. But what have you -done to this scoundrel? He lies like a log.” - -“Oh, he’ll be all right in a few moments,” replies Barker, carelessly -glancing down at the prostrate figure. “He went down so hard the wind -was knocked out of him. Then I handcuffed him. Are there any policemen -handy? If so, we can notify them and have him arrested.” - -“Never mind the police. The soldiers will take care of this cutthroat,” -returns the other. “But come to my quarters while I endeavor to express -adequate thanks for your service to-night. They are near by and I will -send a detail of men for this rascal.” - -“Oh, never mind the thanks,” Barker replies carelessly. “It was nothing. -I happened to overhear the pair planning to knife some one, and I -followed to see the fun. Only I must admit I thought from their talk -that their intended victim was one of my own countrymen, an American.” - -“So I am, or was, by birth. But I am now an officer in the Spanish army, -Capt. Alvarez, of the staff of his excellency, the captain-general.” - -It is as well that a fleecy cloud at the moment dims the moonlight, for -Barker, trained to control his emotions though he is, cannot avoid a -sudden start. - -Alvarez! the man beside him is Ralph Felton! - -“Ah, here we are,” continues the self-expatriated American, as he stops -before a large mansion facing the plaza. “Excuse me a moment while I -send a man or two to look after your handcuffed friend.” - -Alvarez hurries to the rear of the building and returning shortly -conducts Barker to a comfortably furnished room on the first floor. “My -sleeping-room,” he explains. “Now, tell me how you happened to overhear -that precious pair planning to assassinate me.” - -Barker briefly details the events leading up to the attack on Alvarez, -the latter listening with knitted brows, but without comment. - -“Well, now of yourself,” he says, when Barker has concluded. - -Barker hesitates a moment, the while studying the face before him. -“Cyrus Felton’s son, or his double” he thinks. Then he takes a sudden -resolution. “I am a soldier of fortune,” he laughs. “I came down here to -see the country and a little fighting maybe. My name is Parker; -residence, the world. What are the chances for a commission in the -Spanish army?” - -“Hardly good for a commission. But”—Alvarez looks Barker over -shrewdly—“I should like to do you a service, and may. What do you say to -becoming my orderly?” - -Barker’s eyes flash. He appears to deliberate for a moment, and finally -says: “I would like nothing better.” - -“Good! To-morrow, then, will see you enrolled as a soldier of Spain!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIX. - - ASHLEY TAKES THE FIELD. - - -The big, white moon that rolls through “heaven’s ebon vault” and pales -the glow of the southern cross looks down upon two young people on the -veranda of El Quinta de Quesada. They have retired to the shadows for -purely healthful reasons, of course, as a baleful influence is -attributed to the direct rays of the tropic moon. - -“You leave Santiago to-morrow?” asks Juanita, in tones of real regret. - -“At the first streak of daylight,” Ashley replies, lighting the -inevitable Cuban cigar. - -“And when shall we see you again?” - -“Ah, quien sabe? I attack Spanish quite boldly now you see. As a matter -of fact, I have no definite idea as to when I shall return. Sniffing the -battle afar off has become monotonous. I am impatient to hear the rattle -of musketry and the swish of the machete.” - -“You will not expose yourself!” cries the senorita. - -Ashley laughs softly. “I shall not lead any desperate charges,” he says. -“For my position demands a show of neutrality, no matter how much I may -sympathize at heart with the patriots. There is fighting all along the -line between here and Havana, and I want a chance to describe a Cuban -battle from personal observation. Besides, I like a good fight, and I -shall probably itch to sail in and help the under dog, if said dog -happens to be on the same side as my sympathies.” - -“But when such a chivalrous feeling seizes you, restrain it; think of -your friends, if not of yourself,” adjures Juanita, gravely. - -“Ah, well, they would be the only mourners if I stopped a Spanish -bullet. I haven’t a relative in the world except an amiable aunt in the -western states, who threatens to some day turn over to me the -squandering of her small fortune.” - -“No relative except an aunt?” repeats Juanita, sympathetically. “No one -to weep for you?” - -“Oh, the boys in the office would wear crepe for a week, and—” - -“Don’t talk so lightly on such a dreadful subject,” reproves Juanita. “I -am sure I should feel a great deal more distress than ‘the boys in the -office,’ and I have known you only a fortnight.” - -“Thank you, senorita. You may feel sure that I shall studiously avoid -being borne off a Cuban battleground upon my shield.” - -“You will keep on through to Havana?” - -“Unless circumstances bar my way, I shall follow along the line of the -railroad, stopping wherever night overtakes me, and resuming my journey -whenever I feel like it. I have no definite plans. And, now, senorita, I -believe I will say Adios. It is getting along toward 9 o’clock, and the -proprietary genius of my hotel looks upon belated guests somewhat -askance. I have made my adieus to Don Manuel and Don Carlos, and it only -remains to express my regret at saying farewell to you, senorita.” - -Juanita watches him while he untethers his horse, and as he turns, -bridle in hand, to lift his hat, she comes from the veranda and puts her -hand in his. - -“You will surely return?” she asks. - -“As surely as a bad penny.” - -“Then I will not say farewell.” - -“Au revoir it is, then,” says Jack. He lifts the little hand to his -lips, and then with rather unnecessary abruptness he mounts his horse -and rides away in the moonlight. - -“Hang it!” he mutters, when out of sight of the quinta; “that makes at -least half a dozen times that I have pulled myself together just in -season to avoid making a fool of myself. Perhaps my vigilance would be -relaxed if I could ascertain the precise relations existing between -Juanita and Carlos. I never saw two persons more wrapped up in each -other, and yet Juanita—” He stops and repeats the name, dwelling upon -each syllable. “Pshaw! I believe I am getting soft in my head! G’lang, -old nag, or we won’t get to Santiago before midnight.” - -It is the 5th of April. Ashley has been in Santiago two weeks, and -during the fortnight he has, in one way or another, kept his paper well -supplied with news. He has also found many opportunities to run out to -the quinta, and the welcome has always been so warm, and the adios so -sincerely regretful, that he has begun to wonder whether his interest in -the beautiful daughter of Don Manuel de Quesada is not lapping over the -shadowy line that separates friendship from a sentiment which poets -contend to be more powerful and philosophers regard as infinitely -weaker. - -Ashley has seen Murillo several times since his arrival, and between the -Spanish general and the newspaper man something of friendship has grown. -Murillo left for Havana two days before, to join the captain-general, -who, it is reported, proposed to transfer his headquarters to Santiago. - -When Jack reaches his hotel he is informed that a horse has been left -for him at the stables. - -“For me?” he inquires in surprise, as he goes out and looks upon a -magnificent iron-gray beast fit for a king on coronation day. - -For Senor Ashley, he is assured. It was brought during the afternoon. -Jack looks the acquisition over, and then, turning to the trappings -which hang near by, he discovers a bit of paper attached to the saddle. -On it is written the single word “Navarro” and the mystery is cleared. - -“By Jove! This is generous,” he says. “But I’m blessed if I know where -to send my thanks.” - -Dawn finds Ashley in the saddle and he makes quite a brave appearance as -he rides away. He is clad in a suit of dark corduroy, with long riding -boots and white-cloth helmet and as he looks his costume over -complacently he remarks: “If my boots were a bit newer and shinier I’d -make a good running mate for the war correspondent in ‘Michael -Strogoff.’ It is a manifest libel to christen this horse Rozinante,” -patting affectionately the neck of his sleek charger, “but as he is a -Spanish steed he must suffer from recollections of Cervantes. So -Rozinante it is.” - -Before the sun has become too aggressive to admit of riding in comfort -Ashley has covered some twenty miles and has passed through two -villages, wretched little settlements that have ever existed in their -present squalor for generation upon generation. At the second of these -he stops for breakfast. The meal is no worse than he expected, and after -he has finished his coffee he hunts up a shady spot on the outskirts of -the town, and, hitching his horse, he smokes and dozes until the late -afternoon breezes from the gulf suggest a resumption of his journey. At -night he tarries at the house of a farmer. They call them “farmers” in -Cuba. They burn charcoal, raise a few vegetables and peddle milk and -eggs. - -The next day is very much like the first, except that Ashley introduces -the variation of sleeping all the afternoon and riding the greater part -of the night. And when weariness finally overtakes him he camps on the -edge of a vast canefield. - -The third day is equally monotonous. He begins to think that his -expedition is to be utterly devoid of adventure. He has seen no signs of -either insurgents or Spanish soldiery, nor have the natives along his -route. As evening approaches he rides into the decent-sized town of -Jibana, on the line of the railway between Havana and Santiago. - -Somewhat to his surprise he learns that the only hotel in the place is -kept by an American. Landlord Carter proves to be a decent sort of chap -and his hostelry is clean and inviting. After a really good supper -Ashley turns in early; he is thoroughly tired, having ridden farther -than on either of the previous days. - -He wakes moderately early and has a brief ante-breakfast chat with -Landlord Carter. - -“Have I heard of any fighting around here?” repeats Carter, in response -to Ashley’s inquiry. “No, but I expect to see some most any day. There -is a report that a large number of insurgents are encamped in the -mountains within a score of miles of Jibana and the natives hereabout -are becoming restless. A rebel victory or two would send the whole of -this part of the province into the insurgent fold. By the way, a party -of three Americans arrived last evening after you had gone to bed.” - -“So? What are they doing here and who are they?” - -“They are going out to some sugar plantations near here to-day. I -haven’t learned their names yet, as—” - -At this moment the newspaper man hears a familiar feminine voice exclaim -in tones of the utmost astonishment. “Why, Mr. Ashley!” and he turns to -see Louise Hathaway standing in the hotel doorway. - -Though somewhat dazed mentally, Jack lifts his hat and remarks, as if he -had seen her but yesterday, “Good-morning, Miss Hathaway. You are an -early riser.” - -“You don’t appear a bit surprised to see me,” says the young lady, as -she gives him her hand; “while I am completely bewildered at meeting an -American friend in the midst of this wilderness.” - -“Oh, this is a very small world,” remarks Ashley. - -“Now, do tell me how you happen to be in Cuba. I am dying with -curiosity,” declares Louise. - -“Then I will explain in all haste. You should be able to guess from my -military bearing and the fierce aspect which this helmet gives me that I -am a war correspondent. I have been in Cuba a little over a fortnight. I -arrived at Santiago three days after the Semiramis dropped anchor and -was told that you had gone to Havana.” - -“But how did you know we sailed from New York on the Semiramis? My note, -left at the St. James hotel, stated that we were going to Cuba on the -steamship City of Havana.” - -“Exactly. And I supposed that you had, until I saw you on the deck of -the Semiramis when the yacht was running away from Uncle Sam’s cruiser -off Sandy Hook.” - -And now Miss Hathaway relates the effort which she and Mr. Felton made -to reach the pier before the City of Havana sailed from New York. When -she tells Ashley of the adventure of the blockade on West Broadway and -of the subsequent appearance of Phillip Van Zandt and his offer to place -the Vermonters on Cuban soil, Ashley twists his mustache reflectively. - -Miss Hathaway’s story is interrupted by the announcement of breakfast, -and five minutes later Ashley makes one of a party of four at a table in -the cozy dining-room. - -Cyrus Felton greets the newspaper man with grave surprise, and Jack’s -keen eyes note that the ex-president of the Raymond national bank is -looking bad. He is paler even than when he saw him last, in New York -about a month ago, and in the gray eyes has settled an expression of -vague unrest. - -Phillip Van Zandt acknowledges the introduction with his accustomed -reserve, and for an instant the eyes of the two young men meet in a -searching gaze of mutual inquiry. - -From the conversation that ensues, Ashley gathers that most of the time -which the trio have spent in Cuba has been passed in and about Havana, -and that they are now en route to Santiago, stopping off at Jibana to -visit a sugar plantation in which Mr. Felton has an interest. And, what -is more to the point, Ashley learns that the Semiramis is not to leave -Santiago for at least another fortnight. This information comes from Van -Zandt. Mr. Felton and Miss Hathaway do not appear to have any definite -plans. - -For his part, Ashley tells them that he intends to push on to Havana, -and knows not when he will return to Santiago, if at all. - -But as he watches Mr. Felton, Van Zandt and Miss Hathaway set forth, -after breakfast, for the sugar plantation, which lies east of the town, -he tells himself that he will return to Santiago before many days. - -“I must keep my eye on those two gentlemen,” he mutters, “and trust to -Providence to throw Barker in my way, if indeed he has not already -struck the trail. By the stars that shine, but there is a strangely -assorted trio, unless I am clear off my reckoning. Nemesis is trailing -his inevitable victim with said victim’s father, and sooner or later -they must meet. What is the town beyond here?” Ashley asks Landlord -Carter. - -“Cadoza,” the innkeeper informs him. - -“I believe I’ll jog along to that point, anyhow,” Jack decides; “and if -nothing turns up in the line of excitement within twenty-four hours, -then back to Santiago.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XL. - - THE APPEARANCE OF THE SERPENT. - - -Half a dozen hours from the time that Jack Ashley mounts his newly -acquired Rozinante and rides forth from Santiago on his journey into the -west, a visitor arrives at Le Quinta de Quesada. - -The Don and his daughter are seated on the veranda, the former dreaming -of the day when Cuba shall be free, the latter of the blue-eyed young -man who at the moment is many miles on his journey toward Havana and is -expressing his opinion of Cuban roads in comical apostrophes, rivaling -the natural extravagance of Spanish conversation. - -“A visitor,” remarks Quesada, as the crunching of carriage wheels sounds -in the driveway, and Juanita’s day dreams are abruptly terminated by the -appearance of a vehicle, not a Cuban every-day volante, but a -four-wheeled affair, the best that Santiago can provide. - -The carriage draws up before the quinta, the driver opens the door with -a profound obeisance, and out steps a lady whose radiant beauty rather -dazzles the Cuban gentleman, who advances with easy grace to meet her. -For Don Quesada, though well past the meridian of life, is not without -susceptibility to feminine charms. - -“I have the pleasure of addressing Don Manuel de Quesada, I believe?” -says the fair visitor in English. - -“The pleasure is mine, madam.” - -“I am under the embarrassment of introducing myself,” with a smile and a -glance from a pair of liquid black eyes that instantly win for her the -good-will of the master of the quinta. She tenders a bit of cardboard, -and as the Don receives it with a bow, she explains: “When I left New -York I had a letter of introduction from a gentleman who has the honor -of your acquaintance”—she glances at the coachman standing near, and -lowers her voice—“Don Rafael Manada.” - -“Ah!” murmurs Quesada, regarding his visitor with new interest. - -“But I must have left it among my effects at Santiago. I certainly have -not lost it, as I was too thoroughly instructed as to the importance of -keeping its contents a secret,” the lady finishes, with a meaning smile. - -Quesada extends his hand and presses slightly the dainty palm laid -therein. “Any of Don Manada’s friends are welcome here,” he says. “I am -happy to place the quinta at your disposition, and its occupants are -yours to command, madam.” - -Quesada leads the way into the house, whither Juanita has retired to add -a few touches to her toilet. - -“You are an American, Mrs. Harding,” ventures the Don, as they pass -through the long, wide corridor to the gallery at the rear of the quinta -and the lady is provided with the easiest of chairs. - -“My accent told you that immediately,” is the smiling response. “Yes; I -am the widow of an American ship-owner, who left to me, among other -possessions, a sugar plantation somewhere in this fair isle. I had the -pleasure of Don Manada’s acquaintance in New York, and when he heard -that I purposed visiting Cuba to view my possessions, he desired that I -seek you, giving me at the same time the letter of introduction which, -as I have said, I have unfortunately left at my hotel in Santiago. But -perhaps the password which he whispered to me, ‘Cuba Libre,’ will do as -well. For the cause of Cuban liberty has no warmer sympathizer than -myself, Don Quesada,” she adds, earnestly, and the Don’s countenance -lights with pleasure. - -“Don Manada could have conferred no greater pleasure,” he replies, “and -I trust that you will honor my daughter and myself by becoming our -guest, for a few days at least.” - -Isabel’s dark orbs snap with triumph not easily repressed, but she -answers hesitatingly: “Thank you, but I do not see how I can trespass -upon your kindness. I have not the pleasure of an acquaintance with the -senorita, and—” - -“Permit me to remove that objection at once,” interposes Quesada, as -Juanita at the moment stands in the doorway. “Juanita, mi querida, this -is Mrs. Isabel Harding, an American lady and a friend of Don Manada, -whom you met in New York. I have invited her to remain with us for a few -days, or as long as our hospitality may prove attractive. Will you not -add your request to mine?” - -The more mature and voluptuous beauty of the older woman attracts the -impulsive Cuban girl, and she seconds her father’s invitation with a -sincerity that would have won even a lady who had not come to the quinta -with the deliberate purpose of securing such a proffer of hospitality. - -And so the carriage is sent back to Santiago and Isabel Harding is -installed at the quinta, the surroundings of which she finds much to her -liking. Juanita is much charmed with her American friend, who fascinates -the impressionable Cuban girl with her brilliant beauty, her wit and her -knowledge of the great world amid whose pleasures and palaces Juanita -lived for two years, and which she hopes some day to see again. The two -women quickly become inseparable and naturally Juanita tells Mrs. -Harding of her other recent New York friend, Jack Ashley. But Isabel, -although she enjoys, or otherwise, an acquaintance with that industrious -young man, does not know his name, and the adventuress has not even the -fear of his reappearance to disturb her present serenity. - -But if the Don and his daughter are charmed by their guest, not so Don -Carlos, and it is with difficulty that that gentle youth conceals his -dislike. An instinctive distrust of the beautiful American takes -possession of him, and to avoid exhibiting this distrust, which he -admits to himself is unfounded, he spends most of his time in solitary -walks about the vast pueblo or in long rides upon the back of his -favorite pony. - -Late in the afternoon of the 7th of April, two days after the arrival of -Mrs. Harding at the quinta, that lady, her elderly host and his daughter -are seated on the veranda, enjoying the light breeze from the gulf which -renders life in Cuba endurable and even attractive for a few hours. - -An interruption to the conversation comes in the person of a courier, -who rides up to the quinta, delivers to Quesada a small packet of -papers, and, after a glass of wine, departs as hastily as he came. - -The Don excuses himself and retires to his study. A few moments later he -reappears and calls to Carlos, who is coming up the lawn. Young Navarro -bows to Mrs. Harding and follows the Don into the study. - -“I have just received important news,” says the latter. “Capt. Guerra -sends word that a big supply train was dispatched by the captain-general -from Havana for Santiago this morning or last night. Is it not to-day or -to-morrow that Navarro was to be at or near Jibana?” - -Carlos nods. “He should certainly be there now.” - -Quesada paces the room, his brow knitted in thought. “If word could be -got to him at once,” he says, “Dios! The train might be captured. But -how to send him word—there is the obstacle.” - -“How far is Jibana from Santiago?” asks Carlos, into whose mind has come -a sudden thought that causes his cheeks to alternately flush and pale. - -“A full day’s journey by rail. No; I fear word could not be sent him in -time.” - -“But if a courier were to leave on the early morning train, could he not -reach Jibana in season to find Emilio?” - -“Perhaps. It will take several days for the supply train to make the -trip, but it will also take us too long to find a trustworthy -messenger.” - -“Do you not consider me trustworthy?” - -“You!” cries Quesada, looking at the slender youth in astonishment. - -“Yes, Don Manuel; I will be the courier.” - -“No, no; I cannot permit it. What would Emilio say?” - -“He will be too overjoyed to see me to think of scolding you. There is -no danger. Simply the discomfort of the journey. I will start in the -morning.” - -Against his better judgment, Quesada consents, and as Carlos throws open -the study door the vision of Mrs. Harding flits by. - -Over the teacups half an hour later Isabel tells Don Quesada that, if -there is a conveyance to be easily procured at Santos, she believes she -will run into Santiago for a day’s shopping. And Quesada informs her -smilingly that if she cares to arise with the sun she may find a -conveyance in waiting, as Carlos is going to the city on business and -will undoubtedly be charmed with her society on the short journey. - - * * * * * - -At Havana on the morning of the 8th of April. - -With contracted brows and frowning face, the captain-general of Cuba -scans a mass of official documents that lie upon his desk. Gen. Truenos -is plainly displeased with the condition of affairs on the island. When -he sailed from Cadiz it was to “put down the rebellion in three months,” -as the Spanish press boastfully asserted, but Truenos realizes that it -is not now a matter of weeks or months, but of years, ere the red and -yellow of Spain will wave again unchallenged over the gem of the -Antilles. - -In the meantime, Gen. Truenos gathers from the papers before him that -some of the matured plans of the Spanish have been checkmated through -treachery in some quarter, and he is not enchanted with the glimpses he -has obtained of the manner in which his subordinates conduct a campaign. - -An officer enters the room with a dispatch and the captain-general -reaches impatiently for the missive. - -“Caspita!” he growls, as he glances over the contents. “Murillo at least -is alive to what is transpiring under the very noses of my generals. I -wish that I had more like him.” Then to the officer: “Send Gen. -Velasquez to me at once.” - -As the latter answers the summons, Truenos hands him the dispatch, with -the query: “Has the supply train left for Santiago?” - -“It left last night, your excellency.” - -“It must be stopped. As you will see by Murillo’s dispatch, the rebels -have learned of the train’s departure and a courier is now en route from -Santiago to notify that infernal El Terredo. If that courier is not -intercepted, the supply train must be recalled or held. The dispatch -contains a description of the rebel messenger. Now, then, to action.” - -Truenos unfolds a large map of the island, and as he runs his finger -along the line which indicates the railroad, another dispatch is handed -in. The captain-general tears it open and reads: - - “Reported that El Terredo is encamped near Jibana, with a large - force of insurgents. - - Alvarez.” - -“Ah,” remarks Truenos. “This is dated Cadoza. And Cadoza,” he consults -the map, “is less than a dozen miles from Jibana. Bueno! For once -matters are dovetailing to my wishes. The courier cannot reach Jibana -before nightfall, and when he does Alvarez shall arrest him. Let the -supply train proceed, Velasquez, and immediately wire Alvarez to arrest -the rebel messenger at or below Jibana. Send the description of the -young man given in Murillo’s dispatch and have Alvarez wire back that he -understands. Quick! There is no time to be wasted.” - -It is to be an exciting night at Jibana. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLI. - - THE MEETING AT CADOZA. - - -It is something like ten miles to Cadoza, another and smaller railway -town, and Ashley arrives about noon. There is no American hotel here. -Instead, a lazy Cuban keeps a shiftless hostelry to which only necessity -would drive a man. A party of soldiers are gathered at the inn and the -yard is filled with their horses. - -Ashley tethers his horse at a spot which he can overlook, as Rozinante -is an animal that would tempt a man even more upright than a soldier in -time of war. As he gives the bridle an extra hitch, a hand is dropped on -his shoulder and a familiar voice whispers: - -“Jack Ashley, by all that’s holy!” - -Ashley turns and cries out: - -“Hello, Barker, old man! Where’d you get your uniform?” surveying the -detective’s distinctly military attire. - -“Hist!” cautions Barker, glancing over his shoulder. “Buy a drink at the -hotel and then ride up the road a piece. I’ll join you there.” Saying -which the detective walks away and Ashley enters the hotel. - -The drinking-room is filled with Spanish caballeria, who glance -curiously at the American; after procuring a glass of wine and a cigar, -Ashley mounts and rides leisurely up the road. A quarter of a mile from -the hotel he finds Barker waiting, and he remarks, with a grin: “Barker, -you’re a fashion plate. Where on earth did you get those togs?” - -“Hang it! Will you be serious ten minutes,” growls Barker. “Let me tell -you that the commanding officer of the gang at the hotel is Capt. Julio -Alvarez, who is none other than our old friend Ralph Felton.” - -“So? And to trail him you turned trooper, eh?” - -“Exactly. Through him I expect to find the other Felton, his father.” - -“I can tell you a quicker way.” - -“Ah!” - -“Push along to Jibana, ten miles east of here. I left Cyrus Felton, -Phillip Van Zandt and Louise Hathaway there this morning.” - -“Quick! Tell me all you know,” demands the detective, aroused by the -information imparted to him by his co-worker. - -Ashley supplies the needed details, and Barker asks: “You are reasonably -sure that Felton and Van Zandt will remain in Santiago for a fortnight?” - -“I think you can depend on that.” - -“Then affairs are shaping themselves advantageously for our purpose. Our -command will go to Jibana this evening, but I don’t want any collision -there. See the position of the game. Van Zandt, if he is Stanley, is -tracking the son through the father, and I am trailing the father -through the son, intending to bag both of them, as I have an interesting -bit of what may prove strong evidence against Ralph Felton. But I can’t -do anything with them at Jibana, and if Van Zandt runs afoul of young -Felton to-day he is likely to kick over all my plans. Santiago is the -place to play the last hand in this interesting game.” - -“I get the idea,” remarks Ashley. “But what is this new evidence against -young Fenton?” - -“This: That I believe he is wearing about his neck at the present time -the locket that was removed from Roger Hathaway’s watch-chain the night -of the murder and bank robbery.” - -Ashley whistles softly. “That’s interesting,” he says. “But how did you -learn this? And while you are explaining kindly give an account of -yourself from the time you jumped New York.” - -The detective complies, and when the interesting tale is completed, -Ashley says earnestly: “Barker, old chap, my confidence in you has been -increased tenfold in the last month.” - -“Thank you,” responds the detective, though he suspects some raillery in -the newspaper man’s remark. - -“Yes. There was a time when I doubted you a bit. And when you made -arrangements to arrest Cyrus Felton I about concluded that the case was -to prove after all an ordinary affair. But you have redeemed yourself, -Barker. You have proved that the detective I have long admired in the -pages of fiction is not a myth, but has his prototype in real life.” - -“Indeed?” grunts Barker. “Go on.” - -“Yes; just before you descended upon your victim with a triumphant -swoop, said victim gave you the slip. Undaunted by such a trifling -discouragement, you struck a bee line for Havana, and there—” - -“Come, stow your chaff. I’d like to know whose tomfoolery prevented -Felton’s arrest in New York. By thunder, if I could have got your ear a -moment after I discovered Felton’s departure for Cuba, I’d have given -you a dressing-down that would have knocked some of the self-sufficiency -out of you.” - -“Well, you can consider yourself forgiven,” says Ashley, soothingly. -“What’s up at Jibana? Anything special?” - -“Yes; a rather important bit of work. This morning Capt. Alvarez, to -give him the name he chooses to sail under, learned that a large force -of insurgents under El Terredo were encamped somewhere between Cadoza -and Jibana. He wired the fact to Havana and not ten minutes later -received instructions to intercept a courier for the rebels who was on -his way from Santiago to Jibana, presumably with dispatches to El -Terredo. Although only his orderly, I am pretty close to Alvarez. The -chap has taken quite a fancy to me, and to give him his due he is a -devilishly clever fellow, with more pluck and fighting blood in him than -a dozen Spaniards. American blood will tell, my boy.” - -“Well, what’s the plan for the night?” - -“This: We are to flag the train about a mile below Jibana and do the -trick quietly, as the feeling about here is pretty strong against the -Spanish; arrest the courier, secure the papers, and wire Havana that the -road is clear, as I understand the dispatches relate to the big supply -train which is on its way from the capital to Santiago. Truenos, you -know, is shifting his headquarters to the latter city.” - -“Then the supply train has already left Havana?” - -“Presumably. The rebels at the Santiago end of the line got wind of the -shipment, and have sent Don Carlos to put El Terredo onto the fact.” - -“Don Carlos!” repeats Ashley, with a start that Barker does not notice; -“and what disposition will you make of the prisoner?” - -Barker shrugs his shoulders. “He will probably be honorably shot.” - -“Unhappy youth!” murmurs Ashley. - -“It is rather tough,” remarks Barker, coolly. “But it is the fortune of -war.” - -Ashley’s forehead is wrinkled in thought. “I’d like to take a hand in -the fun to-night,” he remarks carelessly. “I’ve been journeying through -the desert for more than three days, with not a sign of adventure. I -don’t suppose it would do for me to show myself to Alvarez. How many men -has he with him?” - -“Twenty, including himself.” - -“Does he intend to take the entire command with him to hold up the -train?” - -“No; the affair is to be transacted in the quietest manner. Alvarez, -myself and four more men are to leave the hotel about 9 o’clock—the -train is due at Jibana at 10—and proceed down the track a mile or so. A -few swings of the lantern and the train will stop, Don Carlos be removed -and the train signaled to go ahead. If the arrest were made publicly, -word might get to El Terredo, and the government’s plans for a safe -passage of the supply train would be frustrated.” - -“Your business completed at Jibana, I suppose you will push directly on -to Santiago?” - -“Yes, and you?” queries Barker. - -“I shall probably follow at a respectful distance. I have been stopping -at the Hotel Royal in Santiago, and you will probably find me there if I -am in the city.” - -“How is Felton looking?” asks the detective. - -“Badly; I shouldn’t wonder if he had a presentiment that some sort of -disaster was impending.” - -“And Miss Hathaway?” - -“Superb as ever. There is apparently a tender regard existing between -her and Van Zandt.” - -“Strange, strange are the workings of fate,” philosophizes Barker, and -with a sly grin he adds: “How are your studies in statuary progressing, -Jack?” - -“Suspended for the present, most sympathetic Barker. Just now I am -interested in a study of the life.” - -“Ah; some dark-eyed Cuban senorita?” - -“The most beautiful woman in the world,” is Ashley’s enthusiastic -tribute. - -Barker laughs good-humoredly, then suddenly exclaims: “Hello! There’s -the trumpet call. I must be off. By the way, I’ve changed my name to -Parker.” - -“Parker! Why don’t you get a name to match your clothes?” - -“Go to thunder!” retorts the detective. “So long. I’ll see you at -Santiago.” Barker plunges into the woods beside the road and returns to -the hotel by a circuitous route. - -“You’ll see me again before you reach Santiago,” soliloquizes Ashley, -gazing after his friend’s retreating form. “If Navarro is in these -mountains I’ll search him out, and we’ll have a hand in the game at -Jibana to-night that will remind Capt. Alvarez of a certain little -straight flush he ran up against once upon a time. And if Navarro is not -to be found, then, by George, I’ll play the hand alone!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLII. - - “EL TERREDO.” - - -Ashley waits until he believes that Capt. Alvarez and his men have got -fairly on their way toward Jibana; then he mounts Rozinante and rides -back to the hotel. - -Half a mile to the eastward, the landlord tells him, a trail leads off -into the mountains. Ashley remembers passing it in the morning. -Fortifying himself with a dinner, he sets forth. - -After he strikes the mountain path, his progress is slow and painful. It -is a dreary road, steep and treacherous. About him nothing but rocks, -red clay, cactus and bog and a stunted growth of trees. - -Ashley left the hotel in the vicinity of 1 o’clock, and by 3 he has -hardly covered four miles. “If I do not secure reinforcements within the -hour I must ’bout face and ride to Jibana,” he reflects. “A man could -never find his way out of this howling wilderness after nightfall! Jove! -It must have been a matter of urgent importance that necessitated the -dispatching of Don Carlos to Jibana. Poor little chap!” he mutters, and -as he thinks of young Navarro lying under the stars with a bullet -through his heart, he urges Rozinante at a dangerous pace. - -Another half-hour goes by. Ashley is now in the mountains, and yet no -living being has he seen to break the depressive solitude. Suddenly -there rings out the command: - -“Alto, ahi!” - -Ashley checks his horse, looks about him and discovers that he is the -center of a circle of leveled muskets, the owners of which are hidden -from view. - -“All right, gentlemen, I’m out,” announces Jack, cheerfully, as he -removes his eye-glasses and wipes the dust and moisture from them. - -Forth from the bushes steps a gaunt Cuban, in a tattered uniform and -with feet that have long since parted association with shoes. Throwing -his musket across his arm, he hurls an inquiry at Ashley. - -“You’ve got me there,” states the correspondent, and smiling around the -ominous fringe of musket barrels. - -Finally, giving up all idea of a conversation with the dark-featured -mountaineers, “El Terredo!” he cries, “El Terredo! Endonde El Terredo? I -don’t know whether that’s right or not, but it’s the best I have in -stock.” - -The mountaineer appears to grasp the idea. He shouts something to the -men in the bushes, and a dozen lusty fellows, white and black, come -forth. The leader makes a sign to Ashley to go ahead, and the latter -obeys. - -For a mile or more the little cavalcade proceeds, when suddenly the -leader of Ashley’s silent escort emits a shrill whistle. An answering -signal is faintly heard, and then the march is resumed. Five minutes -later Jack rides into a clearing and hears a welcome voice ring out: -“Welcome, Senor Ashley!” - -“Glad to see you, Navarro,” says Ashley, heartily, as he drops from his -horse and grips the insurgent leader’s hand. “Is this part of your -army?” - -“Yes; hardy fellows, every man of them,” replies Navarro, signalling his -followers to fall back. “What on earth brings you into the mountains?” - -“Thought I’d drop round and return thanks for your generous gift.” - -“Ah, say nothing of that. I should have been glad to have sent you a -stable of horses.” - -“One was enough. But this is incidental. You expect dispatches from -Santiago to-night?” - -“No; that is, no special ones.” - -“Some are on their way, nevertheless, in the keeping of Don Carlos.” - -“Don Carlos!” cries Navarro, turning pale. - -“Ay; but that is not all. The errand of Don Carlos has become known at -Havana and orders have been wired to Capt. Alvarez, who is now on his -way from Cadoza to Jibana, if he is not already there, to intercept the -courier, and secure the dispatches.” - -Navarro staggers as if dealt a blow. “My God! They will shoot him like a -dog!” he groans, his face white as death. “When—where is Carlos to -arrive?” - -“At Jibana, at 10 to-night.” - -“Ho! Then all is not lost,” flashes Navarro. “By heaven! I’ll wipe -Jibana and every Spaniard in it from the face of the earth!” - -“Easy, my friend,” counsels Ashley, grasping the infuriated man by the -arm. “If Don Carlos is to be saved, and also the dispatches—keep those -in mind—you will need your wits more than a thousand men. Now, listen to -me a moment. There is time enough. - -“Yesterday, or the day before, or sometime within the week, a big supply -train left Havana for Santiago. Information of its dispatch must have -been received by Don Quesada, and, knowing your whereabouts—did he know -them?”—Navarro nods—“he has sent Don Carlos to notify you, that the -train may be captured. This morning Capt. Alvarez was at Cadoza. He -heard it rumored that a large force of insurgents were encamped in these -mountains. He wired Havana to that effect, and ten minutes later -received orders to intercept Don Carlos. I learned this while at Cadoza, -and realizing the danger that threatened your brother, I set off for the -mountains, trusting to Providence to run across you or some of your men. -On my way hither I devised a plan by which you can outwit Alvarez and -later capture the ammunition train—and I do not believe in doing things -by halves. But first, how far is it to Jibana?” - -“About six miles, as the crow flies.” - -“That means eight or ten by these awful bridal-paths, then. You have a -score of men here at least. They will be more than enough. Now, I will -outline my plan and we can perfect it on our way to Jibana.” - -Navarro listens without interruption while Ashley talks. When the -programme for the night has been sketched, Navarro’s dark eyes moisten -and he seizes Jack’s hands in a grip that makes the latter wince. -“Ashley, you’re a hero!” he cries. - -“Nonsense,” laughs Jack. - -“I can never repay the debt of gratitude I owe you.” - -“Don’t try. Suppose we push along to Jibana. We can talk matters over on -the way.” - -“Good. We will start at once,” says Navarro, and he communicates an -order to his men. - -“How many men have you back in the mountains?” Ashley inquires of -Navarro as they ride side by side through the desert of rock and -chaparral. - -“Two thousand. Accessions have been coming every day. But they are not -directly under my command. My part in the revolution has been a rather -peculiar one. Up to a fortnight or so ago, when I parted with you on the -Santos road, my identity was as much a mystery as that of the president -of the provisional republic. Unsuspected as a leading factor in the -struggle for independence, I mingled with the Spanish and listened with -a smile to the stories told of the prowess of the cruiser Pearl of the -Antilles and her mysterious commander, El Terredo. At the time the -Mercedes was sunk I did command the Pearl and with my own hand aimed the -dynamite gun that sent the Spanish battleship to the bottom. But most of -my time has been spent on land. I have done more planning than fighting, -and while I rejoice not in a single title except that of El Terredo, in -a land where titles are cheap, my authority is unlimited, my orders are -implicitly obeyed, and I could ruin Cuba Libre with a single command.” - -“Are you not fearful of being recognized during some of your trips into -the camp of the enemy?” asked Ashley, looking at the young man with -undisguised admiration. - -Navarro smiles. “There will be no further exposure. When I left the -quinta with you it was to take the field, not to leave it until Santiago -falls. After the capture of the ammunition train, if luck favors us, I -leave here for the coast,” pointing westward. “In a harbor yonder rides -the Pearl of the Antilles, and when I take command of her it will be the -opening of a campaign that Spain’s navy will long remember.” - -“Until Santiago falls?” repeats Ashley. “You look for the capitulation -of that city?” - -“Within a fortnight Gen. Masso will hurl 10,000 men upon it. The troops -back in these mountains will form part of an army against which 20,000 -Spanish will not avail. Unless you insist upon reporting the siege for -your paper amid the bursting of shells and the roar of artillery, keep -away from Santiago—at Santos, for instance. The Spanish squadron is -already on its way to Santiago, and when the city falls into the hands -of the patriots the battleships will open fire.” - -“Then I believe I will return to Santiago at once—or after our night’s -work is finished. Shall we reach the edge of Jibana before nightfall?” - -“Probably not, but in season for the work in hand. It will be a night -that Capt. Alvarez will long remember if memory lasts beyond this -world.” - -“By Jove! That will never do,” exclaims Ashley. Navarro looks at him -inquiringly. - -“Alvarez must not be injured,” declares Jack. “I have particular reasons -for keeping Alvarez alive for some time to come.” - -“Rather awkward,” laughs Navarro. “I don’t see but that you will have to -overlook the job to-night, and sort out your friend, for I expect it -will be necessary to kill one or two of the gang.” - -Ashley reflects a moment. “You should be able to identify the leader,” -he says, and he adds to himself: “As for Barker, I shall have to prevent -his taking part in the affair. It’s a ticklish job all round.” - -“Well, your wishes shall be respected,” says Navarro. “Capt. Alvarez -shall live. He is fortunate in having so influential a friend at court.” - -“Some of the most worthless of men are more valuable alive than dead. I -have no friendship for Alvarez, but his demise just at present would -complicate certain matters in which I have a large interest.” - -The moon is creeping up over a crest of the range, when, at a signal -from the guide, Navarro calls a halt. After a whispered consultation, he -tells Ashley that they are some little distance below the Jibana hotel -and railway station. - -“Two hundred rods beyond us lies the road,” he says; “and fifty yards -farther is the track. We will hitch here.” - -“Very good,” declares Ashley. “Here, then, we separate. It is now nearly -8 o’clock,” consulting his watch by the glow of his cigar. “Good luck, -old man. The signal for my reappearance will be the old rallying cry of -‘Santiago.’” - -The men exchanged a hearty handclasp. Then Ashley dismounts, and headed -by the guide, leads Rozinante through the brush to the road. Here he -vaults into the saddle again and canters toward the town. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLIII. - - THE FIGHT IN THE MOONLIGHT. - - -“Didn’t expect you back so soon,” declares Landlord Carter, answering -Ashley’s halloa without the Hotel Americano at Jibana. - -“I am a little ahead on my own calculations,” is the reply. “Are the -Americans still here?” - -“No, sir; left this afternoon for Santiago.” - -“Full house, though, I judge,” motioning toward the windows of the -reading-room, from which emanate snatches of song and the clink of -glasses. - -“Yes; gang of Spanish troopers. Noisy devils. Stop overnight, I -suppose?” - -“Sure. I want some supper in a hurry and a room at your leisure.” - -The landlord shouts to the hostler, who leads Rozinante away to his -well-earned grain, and Ashley follows Carter into the hotel, with the -remark: “I do not care to have those chaps in there see me, or know who -I am.” - -“All right, sir. This way. The troopers are all in the drinking-room and -they haven’t moved out of their chairs for an hour.” - -Supper over, Ashley is shown to his room and the landlord is about to -make his exit with a cheerful “good-night,” when Ashley remarks: - -“By the way, have you an old coat and hat of any description?” - -Carter scratches his head reflectively. “I have an old Grand Army -uniform that I brought with me from the states. I was a member of the -13th Massachusetts volunteers, and after the war joined the Chelsea -post, when—” - -“That will do very nicely,” interrupts Ashley. “I want to borrow the -uniform for a few hours.” - -“All right, sir. I’ll get it out in the morning.” - -“But I want it to-night.” - -“Very good, sir. I’ve been too long in this business to ask questions. -Used to run a small hotel in Boston,” grins Carter, as he vanishes. He -returns shortly with the clothes, and Ashley, after a glance, pronounces -them satisfactory. - -“One more request, Carter. You noticed, perhaps, among your guests a -rather short, thick-set party, with a dark, closely cropped mustache.” - -“Smokes a short, black pipe and looks like an Englishman?” - -“That’s the chap. Send him up, but don’t attract the attention of his -companions.” - -Carter nods and disappears, and a few minutes later the good-natured -countenance of John Barker is thrust into the room. - -“Buenas tardes, Senor Parker,” is Ashley’s salutation. “Come in and shut -the door.” - -“Where the devil did you come from?” demands the detective, dropping -into a chair. - -“Up the road a piece. I got tired of journeying through the desert, and -concluded to take the back track. Fill up your pipe and make yourself -sociable.” - -“Can’t stop. It is nearly 9 o’clock and we start at that hour.” - -“Oh, yes; on the business you were telling me of this noon. You haven’t -changed your plans, then?” - -“No; there was no occasion to.” - -“Well, it is not absolutely essential that you should accompany Alvarez, -is it?” - -“That was his wish. With the exception of Alvarez and myself and the -four men who were to supplement our little party, the command knows -nothing definite of the evening’s work. Alvarez doesn’t fraternize much -with his followers.” - -“Why not send a man in your stead?” - -“I am afraid it is too late to make any changes in the plans. Most of -the men below are half-shot now.” - -Ashley takes a turn about the room and drops his hand on his friend’s -shoulder. “Barker,” he says, “it was only this noon that you requested -me to be serious for at least ten minutes on a stretch. I never was more -serious than I am now, when I say to you, don’t accompany Alvarez on his -errand to-night.” - -“What the deuce are you so interested in the affair for all at once?” -queries the detective. - -“Well, remain here, and I will enlighten you.” - -At this moment the impatient shout, “Ho, Parker!” floats up from the -hotel yard, and with the remark, “I’m off; see you later, Jack,” Barker -bounds from the room. - -“Hang it! I ought to have told him at the outset how the land lay,” -mutters Ashley. “Now, I suppose I shall have to direct my undivided -efforts to preventing his slaughter at the hands of Navarro’s men.” - -Ashley slips off his coat and gets into the faded uniform of the -landlord, dons the Grand Army hat and pulls it down over his eyes; -examines his revolvers to make certain that they are in proper working -order, and then, blowing out his lamp, seats himself by the open window, -where he can command a view of the road. - -Shortly after 9 o’clock he sees six forms cross the band of moonlight -into the shadows beyond. He waits ten minutes and then glides softly -down the stairway and out into the night. - -Alvarez and his men leave the hotel afoot and instead of taking the -railroad track, proceed down the highway. Alvarez rode over the ground -during the afternoon and selected a point about a mile and a half below -the village as the place for holding up the train. Here the road crosses -the railway and beyond is a long stretch of straight track. - -The six proceed silently to the appointed spot, and then, there being no -further occasion for secrecy, they fall to smoking and chatting. The -train is due at Jibana at 10 and there is yet half an hour to wait. - -Twenty minutes of it go by, when Alvarez discovers that his party is -short two men. - -“Ho! Sancho! Francisco!” he calls, and repeats the shout, there being no -response. “Whither went they, Parker?” he asks, turning to his orderly. - -“They were here a few minutes ago, captain. I last noticed them -strolling toward the road.” - -Alvarez utters an impatient growl. “Search them out, Pedro, and thou, -too, Juan. The train will be here in five minutes.” - -As the two troopers addressed take themselves off in quest of their -companions Alvarez lights a lantern and hands it to the orderly. - -“By the way, what disposition is to be made of the prisoner?” asks the -latter. - -“We shall have to shoot him, I expect,” is the cool response. “We can’t -very well take him with us, and we certainly cannot turn him loose.” - -“It seems a rather cold-blooded piece of business. It savors of murder.” - -At the word Alvarez shivers slightly. The nights in Cuba are damp and -chilly. - -“Ten o’clock,” he mutters, holding his watch to the lantern. “Where the -devil are my men? We shall likely have to go in search of the second -pair. Ha, the train!” - -The whistle of the Havana express is heard in the distance and the men -leap to their feet. - -“Down the track with you,” orders Alvarez. “As for you,” turning to four -forms that are approaching from the shadows of the highway, “el diablo! -What sort of men have I in my command?” - -The troopers make no reply to the angry query of their leader. - -The orderly swings his lantern and an answering blast comes from the -train, which draws up upon the crossing. - -“I have an order for the arrest of one of your passengers,” Alvarez -informs the conductor. “Watch the train and see that no one leaves it,” -he tells the four troopers, and, followed by the orderly, he boards the -first coach. - -Within this is the object of their search. Don Carlos Navarro is -reclining wearily in a seat about midway of the car. He starts when the -soldiers enter and the color flows from his cheeks when they stop before -him. - -Alvarez consults a paper, and, glancing from it to young Navarro, -remarks: “The very chap. I have a warrant for your arrest, sir.” Then to -the orderly: “Remove the prisoner, Parker.” - -“By thunder, he’s fainted,” mutters the orderly, as he bears the limp -form from the car. - -“Search him,” commands Alvarez, signaling to the conductor to go ahead. - -As the train rumbles away the orderly goes through the coat pockets of -the prisoner, but without finding any sign of papers, rebel dispatches -or otherwise. Then he tears open the unconscious youth’s shirt, and the -next instant utters an exclamation of astonishment. - -“By heaven! It’s a woman!” he mutters, as he deposits his burden -tenderly on the ground and straightens up to acquaint his chief of the -surprising bit of intelligence. - - * * * * * - -The moon swings high above the range when Ashley leaves the hotel and -proceeds down the railroad track, the route he naturally supposes -Alvarez and his party have taken. - -As the newspaper man, revolver in hand, moves slowly and cautiously -along, his eyes on the alert for a glimpse of Alvarez’ party, the danger -of his situation suddenly occurs to him. If the Spaniards have already -stationed themselves at some point along the rail he is likely to -stumble upon them at any minute. - -At last he sights the party of troopers. Then he remembers that the road -is close by, and stealing through the brush, he proceeds softly along -the highway until the hum of conversation greets his ear. - -He crawls at a safe distance to a position beyond the group, not twenty -feet distant from the spot where Alvarez and Barker are seated. - -The brush is dense and he has nothing now to do but keep perfectly -still. He has seen or heard nothing of El Torredo or his men, but he -knows that secreted somewhere in the waste of chaparral around him are -stout hearts and strong arms waiting for the cry of “Santiago!” to rouse -them to swift action. - -He watches Alvarez light the lantern, and, as the rays fall upon the -orderly’s features Ashley thinks: “If I could only get within whispering -distance of the old man I’d give him a quiet tip to make himself -exceeding scarce.” - -But at this instant the whistle of the express is heard and Ashley -raises himself on his elbows. He sees Barker start down the track, and -his impulse is to follow. But to do so he will have to cross a broad -belt of moonlit open, and at this moment the four troopers come up. - -The train comes to a standstill, Don Carlos is removed, the cars rumble -away, and Ashley notes with satisfaction that the search for the papers -is being conducted by the orderly. “He will not be harmed should -Navarro’s men open fire, if he keeps close to Carlos,” he thinks. - -But where is Navarro? The situation is becoming strained for the young -man in the Grand Army uniform. - -Jack is watching Barker. He hears him utter an ejaculation of -astonishment as he lays the unconscious form of Carlos upon the ground. -And then he hears a hoarse bellow of rage and sees one of Alvarez’ -troopers whip out his sword and spring upon the orderly. - -Less than a dozen feet separate Ashley and Barker. With a cry of -warning, Jack dashes forward and catches the descending arm just in time -to avert the certain destruction of the detective, who is wholly off his -guard. As it is, the edge of the falling blade catches Barker across the -forehead, half-stunning him and cutting a gash that means a scar to -recall this night in years to come. At the same instant Ashley -recognizes El Terredo in the wielder of the sword, and he whispers, -“Easy, Navarro,” in time to check a slash at his own head. - -Meanwhile the remaining three troopers have hurled themselves upon -Alvarez and Barker. It all occurs in a flash and before Ashley recovers -from his surprise at the unexpected turn of events a shrill whistle from -Navarro has summoned nearly a score more of men from the surrounding -shadows. - -Navarro raises Don Carlos in his arms and the youth, who has recovered -consciousness, clasps his arms about his brother’s neck and bursts into -tears of joy. - -“There, be a man,” soothes the latter. “Remain here a few minutes while -I look after your Spanish friends.” - -Navarro picks up the lantern and flashes its rays into Alvarez’ face. - -“What’s this?” he cries. “By heaven, Captain Alvarez, I think we have -met before.” - -As the two men confront each other in the moonlight, there is no need of -the lantern for each to see the other’s countenance. - -An exclamation of surprise and rage escapes Alvarez’ lips, and he -struggles in the grasp of the two men who pinion his arms. - -“Curse you!” he grits, in a voice choked with passion; “I’d give half my -life for five minutes of fair play now!” - -“Fair play?” sneers Navarro. “You do not know the meaning of the phrase. -You are a thief, a blackguard, and a traitor!” - -Alvarez wrenches free by a mighty effort and with a fearful oath hurls -himself upon Navarro. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLIV. - - THE METAMORPHOSIS OF DON CARLOS. - - -“Stand back!” commands Navarro, as his men start forward to the enraged -Alvarez, whose fingers have twined about the insurgent leader’s neck. -“Back, I say! I can handle this gentleman without assistance.” - -Alvarez is as a child in the steely arms of El Terredo. The latter tears -the clutching fingers from his throat, sweeps the Spanish captain off -his feet and dashes him to the ground. - -Half-stunned and crazed by passion, Alvarez struggles to his knees and -whips out a pistol. It is knocked from his grasp before his arm -straightens, as half a dozen watchful Cubans pounce upon him. - -“Away with them!” orders Navarro, with a sweep of his arm, and as -Alvarez and Barker are hustled off in the darkness he turns to Don -Carlos, who has been a silent and trembling witness of the conflict. - -“In heaven’s name, my brother, what brings you on this errand? Don -Manuel must be mad.” - -“Ah, Emilio, do not blame Don Manuel,” gently protests Carlos, as he -embraces Navarro. “The matter was urgent, a courier was required, and I -myself suggested that I be that courier. To see you again I would have -dared the perils of the journey, even were nothing more at stake.” - -“Brave heart,” murmurs Navarro, brushing back the ringlets from his -brother’s brow. “But let this be your last commission, Carlos. I would -not jeopardize your life for a thousand Cubas. But come, is the news you -bring me verbal or written?” - -For answer Carlos places a letter in Navarro’s hands, and the latter -reads it by the light of the lantern. It is brief, and as he thrusts it -into his pocket Jack steps forward. - -“Ah, Ashley,” cries Navarro, grasping him by the hand; “the trick was -quickly done, eh? Carlos, it is to our American friend that you owe your -present safety and perhaps your life. It was he who warned me of the -plot for your arrest.” - -“Spare me any praise,” protests Ashley, as Carlos is about to express -his gratitude. “By good fortune I became acquainted with Alvarez’ -design, and further luck cast me in your brother’s way.” - -“After you rode for miles into the mountains in search of me,” -interposes Navarro. - -“Yes,” laughs Jack, “for I had a suspicion that, single-handed, I should -not have been a match for the Spanish captain and his men. Now, will you -tell me, my friend, how you circumvented Alvarez so cleverly?” - -“It was an accident. The Spaniards came down the road instead of the -railroad track. When they located themselves at the crossing we -established our party about 200 yards from them, to wait the coming of -the train. The watch growing irksome, I and two of my men set forth to -reconnoiter. We had scarcely proceeded fifty yards, when we stood face -to face in the moonlight with two of the troopers. - -“Instantly we threw ourselves upon them and stifled their attempts to -sound an alarm. They were dragged back to our ambush, bound hand and -foot, and pistols placed to their heads with orders that they be -instantly shot at the first outcry. I rightly assumed that their -companions would institute search for them, and shortly after two more -troopers came up the road. These we took from the rear and when all four -were safely secured the idea of exchanging our dress for theirs and -rejoining Alvarez naturally suggested itself. The rest you know.” - -“Yes, and I also know that only by a fraction of a second did I prevent -your glittering sword blade from carving in twain the head of a very -warm friend of mine.” - -“How? The fellow who was holding Carlos?” - -“The same. He is an American, like myself, but it suits his purpose for -the present to masquerade as a soldier of Castile. At the moment I -interfered you were about to slaughter the man to whom Carlos primarily -owes his escape to-night, for it was through him that I learned of the -plan to arrest the messenger to El Terredo.” - -“San Pedro!” cries the impetuous Navarro, in tones of sincere regret. “I -should never have forgiven myself. But I will at once set him at liberty -and add the poor consolation of an honest apology.” - -“That is exactly what I do not wish you to do. It was to avoid -recognition that I rigged out in this uniform, and I am confident that -Alvarez did not recognize me. Barker, that is my friend’s name, may or -may not have discovered my identity when I cried out to you at the -moment I clutched your arm. At any rate, I shall not attempt to -ascertain. The principal point I wish to insist upon, if you will permit -me, is that Alvarez and Barker shall not be separated; further, that -they be permitted to proceed to Santiago within forty-eight hours.” - -“Your wishes shall be respected, my dear Ashley,” says Navarro. - -“Where have you had the prisoners taken?” asks Jack. - -“To the ambush I spoke of, about 200 yards up the road.” - -“And your further plans?” - -“I intended to have marched the Spaniards back to the mountains as -prisoners of war. Within the hour I shall send a courier to the -revolutionary camp with orders to forward two hundred men with which to -capture the supply train. They should arrive early to-morrow forenoon.” - -“Good. That work successfully accomplished, you can then permit Alvarez -and Barker to depart in peace.” - -“If you so desire. And now suppose we rejoin my men.” - -As the two move away Ashley’s eye is caught by the glitter of a small -object upon the ground. He picks it up and discovers that it is a locket -attached to a broken bit of chain. As he turns it over in his hands and -seeks to examine it in the pale light of the moon, Navarro calls to him -from the road: “Still surveying the battlefield, Ashley?” - -“Coming,” says Jack. He drops his find into his hip pocket and proceeds -to forget all about it. - -“What is to be done with Carlos, now that he is here?” he inquires as he -rejoins the Navarros. - -“Carlos must return to Santiago at once,” declares El Terredo. “If I -might add to the already large debt of gratitude, I would ask that you -accompany him.” - -“Gladly, Navarro. My intentions were to make Santiago at all speed. You -will not have Carlos return by rail?” - -“No; by horse.” - -“There is a possibility of running into trouble upon his arrival at the -city.” - -“True; and to obviate that I have conceived a plan, not startlingly -original. Carlos must disguise himself in feminine attire.” - -“Ah, then I pose in the role of a knight errant escorting a beautiful -maiden over the desert sands to her ancestral halls.” - -Navarro laughs softly. “Is the part distasteful to you?” he asks. - -“Nay. My only regret will be that Carlos is not the beauteous maid she -will represent.” - -“But he will look the part to perfection, I promise you. Half a dozen of -my men will act as escort and conduct Carlos to the quinta. But I want -the assurance of your active head and arm the greater part of the -journey.” - -“Thank you. And the female toggery—where is that to be procured?” - -“That is a more difficult matter to adjust. Do you think the same -wardrobe that fitted you out to-night could be called upon in this -emergency?” - -“It is possible,” replies Ashley. “There are women folks about the Hotel -Americana, else the house would not present its unusually neat -appearance. And there being women some of them probably have a dress or -two to spare. I will endeavor to negotiate with the landlord for a -suitable costume for your brother.” - -“Excellent. I will await you here.” - -The village is quiet as a churchyard when Ashley reaches the hotel. -Lights are visible, however, and a few raps upon the portals bring forth -the landlord. - -Carter receives back his Grand Army habiliments without comment, but his -face is a study when Ashley broaches the idea of a feminine rig. - -“By gum,” he exclaims; “you’re the funniest customer I’ve run up against -in all my Cuban hotel business, and I have met some queer ones, too.” - -“My dear Carter,” confides Ashley, “as a matter of fact, I am not -altogether right in my head. I am seized at frequent periods with the -most absurd notions. Fortunately, I always have money enough to gratify -my freakish ideas.” - -“I am not so soft as I look,” remarks Carter, dryly. “I’ll see what I -can do for you. How soon do you want the clothes?” - -“As usual, at once. And while they are being hunted up I wish you would -have my horse saddled, as I must take the road within the hour. It is -getting along toward midnight. Where are the troopers—drunk or asleep?” - -“Both, most of them,” is the laconic response, as the boniface takes -himself off to consult with his wife upon the subject of providing a -costume for a slender young man about five feet in height, as Ashley -describes the prospective wearer of the garments. - -Landlord Carter has a daughter who rejoices in the possession of three -dresses. This alone should constitute her the belle of Jibana. For a sum -sufficient to double her wardrobe the young lady is induced to part with -the best of her three outfits and a bargain is consummated. - -Miss Carter is not at all pleased at being routed from her slumbers, but -she is a rather pretty young woman, and after five minutes of Ashley’s -persuasive eloquence the landlord’s daughter beams with good nature and -laughingly inquires: “Do you want a complete costume?” - -“To the last ribbon,” declares Jack. “By Jove!” he adds, mentally, “if -Carlos proposes to impersonate a young lady, he shall not lack -verisimilitude through any neglect on my part.” - -“A thousand thanks, Miss Carter,” says Ashley, when the clothes are -finally tied in a big bundle and given into his possession. - -“Isn’t this too much?” demurs the young lady, glancing at the gold coin -which he places in her hands. - -“Not a bit,” replies Jack. “If it is”—he glances around, sees that papa -Carter has disappeared, and snatches a kiss from the young lady’s red -lips—“if it is, will you permit me to balance the debt?” he finishes. -Miss Carter blushes furiously, but she does not reprove the audacity. -Good-looking young men, alas, are few in Jibana. - -Half an hour later Ashley turns the bundle of apparel over to Navarro -and receives the latter’s warmest thanks. “At what time do we start?” -Jack inquires. - -“At daybreak. You will need a few hours’ rest before then.” - -“I can use them all right. But suppose Alvarez’ men come nosing around -after their absent leader?” - -“They will not find him. Follow me and I will lead you to our camp for -the night. I shall send with you as a guide a man who knows the country -well.” - -With the dawn the little party is under way. Ashley stares in -astonishment at the metamorphosis that has been effected in the person -of Carlos. And as Carlos raises his veil and returns Jack’s stare with a -glance in which amusement is mingled with blushing diffidence, the -newspaper man laughs outright. - -“I told you he would look the part to perfection,” remarks the elder -Navarro, as he comes forward to say adios. “Take good care of him, -Ashley, mi amigo. He is very dear to me.” - -“For your sake I will guard him with jealous care,” replies Ashley. -“Good-by, Navarro. I hope to see you again before many days.” - -“Most heartily do I echo the wish. But who can say what the future has -in store?” murmurs the insurgent leader. He watches the little cavalcade -until it disappears down the forest trail and then turns toward the -mountains with a heavy sigh. - -Ashley drops to the rear of the little procession, lights a cigar and -relapses into a reverie. Suddenly he bethinks him of the locket which he -picked up on the scene of last night’s struggle. - -Although his eyes never before rested upon it, as he looks at it now the -locket has almost a familiar appearance. He is somewhat prepared for the -surprise which follows his pressing of the spring. - -The locket formerly contained two miniatures. One has been removed. That -which yet remains is an exquisite portrait of Louise Hathaway. - -As Ashley stares at the gold ornament with its broken bit of chain he -realizes that he is looking upon the locket supposed to have been -removed from the watch-chain of Roger Hathaway the night the aged -cashier came to his death in the Raymond National Bank. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLV. - - THE DOVE AND THE SERPENT. - - -“Whoa, Rozinante! If thou art as weary of this road as I, good beast, a -rest will not go against thy grain, or grass. What say you to a halt of -half an hour within the shade of this royal palm?” - -It is the afternoon of the third day since Ashley’s return to Santiago, -and, having parted with Don Carlos and the escorting party on the edge -of Santos, this is the first opportunity Jack has had to ride out to La -Quinta de Quesada and pay his respects to Don Manuel’s beautiful -daughter; for the last three days have been busy ones for the newspaper -man. Truenos has arrived with his fleet from Havana, and the next week -promises to be big with the fate of Cuba Libre. - -Ashley left Santiago an hour ago, and at the rate he has been -traveling—the heat precludes a gait faster than a moderate amble—he -judges that he has covered three of the four miles to Santos. - -Hitching the amiable Rozinante, he throws himself upon the turf beneath -the foliage-massed branches of the royal palm, and lights a cigar; as he -smokes he grows thoughtful. And from rumination he drifts into -moralizing, addressing himself to Rozinante. - -“Look here, Rozinante; if you have any horse sense that you’re not using -you might assist your master to extricate himself from somewhat of a -quandary. As you know, I came to Cuba principally on business for my -paper, incidentally to trail down a murder mystery and again -incidentally to follow a fair face belonging to the beautiful Louise -Hathaway. A good many chaps in my place would have fallen hopelessly in -love with Miss Hathaway at first sight, but I—well, that is not the -cause of my quandary. If it were, I could easily dismiss it with a -philosophical ‘there is no accounting for the tastes of most women.’ Ah, -no, Rozinante; it is something far more serious; for what I want to ask -you, Rozinante, is whether you believe that I, in my old age, have been -so indiscreet as to fall in love?” - -But Rozinante, being a well-bred equine, declines to poke his nose into -young people’s affairs and continues his grass-cropping. - -“See how the case stands, Rozinante,” continues Jack, tossing a pebble -at his four-footed companion to enforce attention. “On the one hand is -the Senorita Juanita de Quesada, the acknowledged Pearl of the Antilles, -the adored of all the beaux in Santiago; Juanita, the beautiful, the -accomplished, and the only child of the wealthy and elderly Don Manuel -de Quesada, who is likely to become the president de facto of this -cheerful country if the yellow fever continues to wilt the imported -flower of the chivalry of Spain. On the other hand, Rozinante, look at -me.” - -At this moment Rozinante lifts his head and blinks comically at Ashley, -who grins back in the best of humors. - -“Oh, I know what you are thinking about, Rozinante. You are saying to -yourself: ‘What a presumptuous fellow! But he is just like all -Americans.’ Well, you are not far from right, Rozzy. We Americans are a -bit fresh. But that is a digression. To return to our subject, which is -the always agreeable one of myself. Now, I am not a bad-looking chap. -You can see that, Roz, with one eye. And I am fairly bright and all -that. But hang it! I haven’t a bank account bigger than three figures, -and it will require nerve, my grass-eating friend, to step up to the -wealthy Don Quesada and say: ‘Don, old boy, I love your daughter. May I -ask your blessing?’ No one ever accused me of lacking in nerve, but have -I enough to supply the demand of such an occasion? Of course, if Don -Quesada becomes president of the republic of Cuba, and makes me his -cabinet-premier, I might buy a sugar plantation and become enormously -wealthy. But that, Rozinante, as you are probably aware, is a -twenty-to-one shot. - -“The most perplexing feature of the whole affair is the fact that I have -no good reason to suppose that the dark-eyed Juanita returns in the -slightest degree the deep interest which I feel in her personal welfare. -I know that she likes me—why shouldn’t she?—but her maidenly reserve I -do not seem to be able to successfully penetrate. Again, my equine -friend, I am not so certain that she is not hopelessly in love with that -effeminate, downy-cheeked, pink-and-white and milk-and-water Don Carlos. -And how any woman can—But, pshaw! What is the use in quarreling with the -chap? And what is the use of my lounging longer here, talking at an -unappreciative audience? Ah, Juanita, if you would but encourage me a -bit I would soon solve my perplexity. Just a draught from this spring -back in the bushes, Rozinante, and then we will jog along toward -Santos.” - -As Ashley bends over the spring the grating of carriage wheels sounds in -the road. - -A volante flashes by at what seems reckless speed; but the Cuban volante -cannot upset. Two ladies are in the vehicle, and as they sweep by they -glance curiously at the tethered horse. An instant later they are gone, -and the young man who emerges hastily from the bushes and looks down the -dust-veiled road emits a long, low whistle. - -“Juanita! And unless my usually correct vision is deceived, her -companion is my old friend Isabel Harding. The dove and the serpent! -What the deuce is the meaning of this unholy intimacy? By heaven, -Rozinante,” mutters Ashley, as he untethers his horse and vaults into -the saddle, “the presence of Isabel Harding at Santos augurs no good to -the house of Quesada. Don Manuel must be warned at once.” And kicking -Rozinante’s ample sides Ashley forces that amiable beast into a violent -canter. - -The remainder of the journey is quickly covered, and as Jack reins up at -La Quinta de Quesada, Don Manuel comes out and greets him cordially. - -“Welcome, Senor Ashley. You are quite a stranger. We had begun to fear -that the Spanish press censors had suppressed you.” Then, dropping his -voice to a cautious undertone: “Any news from the field?” - -“Yes, and rather good news. It is reported in Santiago that your yacht, -the Pearl of the Antilles, engaged a Spanish ship of war yesterday, and -that El Terredo, after lying alongside, fought a desperate and winning -battle on the decks of the enemy’s vessel.” - -“Bueno!” Don Quesada’s eyes light up with pleasure. “Ah, Senor Ashley, -there is a fighter after your own American heart. If we had a thousand -such men we should drive the Spanish into the sea and off our loved -island forever.” - -“I was passed on the road from Santiago by your daughter,” remarks Jack, -as he sits down in front of a brimming glass. “Will she be absent long?” - -“For the entire evening. Surely you have not overlooked the grand ball -to be given to-night by the new captain-general; a gathering of beauty -and of chivalry, to express his supreme contempt of the insignificance -of the Cuban cause,” says Don Quesada, with faint irony. - -“By Jove! I had overlooked it. The senorita was accompanied by another -lady. May I inquire her name?” - -“Certainly. She is Mrs. Isabel Harding.” - -“I thought so,” mutters Jack. Then: - -“What is her business here?” - -“Mrs. Harding is my guest,” replies Don Quesada, rather curtly. - -“She has been here long?” - -“About ten days.” - -Jack stares and bites his cigar viciously. “You will pardon my -questioning, Don Quesada. Believe me, I am not actuated by idle -curiosity.” - -The Don bows and Jack leans over and asks, earnestly: - -“During Mrs. Harding’s stay here has she learned anything that would -lead her to suspect that you are identified with the movement to free -Cuba?” - -“Naturally. She is one of us,” replies the Don, dryly. - -“One of us!” repeats Jack, in astonishment. - -“Yes. An American, like yourself; she is an enthusiastic adherent of the -Cuban cause and is enabled to do us much service.” - -“Then you have trusted her with some secrets?” - -“She is at this moment the bearer of important dispatches to Captain -Francisco Guerra.” - -“Great Scott!” Jack jumps to his feet. Don Quesada rises with him and -demands: - -“What do you mean?” - -“I mean that I believe Mrs. Harding to be a spy in the employ of the -Spanish government, and that you have signed and given into her hands -your own death warrant and the utter ruin of your friends!” - -It is a cruel blow. Don Quesada staggers under it and sinks helplessly -into his chair. Jack pours him out a draught of wine and then paces to -and fro on the veranda, his active mind intent on some path of escape -from the desperate situation. - -“At what hour does the ball begin?” he demands. - -“At eight, I believe,” replies Don Quesada, faintly. He is completely -crushed. - -“It is now nearly six,” muses Jack, glancing at his watch. “And Guerra? -Where was he to receive the dispatches?” - -“At the ball.” - -“Quick! Pen and paper,” requests Jack. And as Don Quesada hurries away -to comply the young man murmurs: “There is only one chance in a -thousand, but I must take it.” - -When the stationery is brought Jack inquires: “In what form were the -dispatches sent?” - -“In a plain envelope, such as you have there.” - -“Good.” Jack writes hurriedly a few moments, passes what he has written -over to Don Quesada, and commanding simply, “Copy that,” busies himself -over another letter. - -Don Quesada follows the directions without question, but as he writes a -little of hope comes into his pale face, and he looks admiringly at -Jack, with the remark: “Can you do it?” - -“Quien sabe? It’s a desperate chance.” Jack glances approvingly at the -letter which the Don has sealed, places it in his pocket and then -addresses and seals the second letter, which he gives to the Cuban -president. - -“You must leave here at once. Where is Don Carlos?” - -“He is here.” - -“He must accompany you. You must make your way with all haste as -secretly as possible to Santiago and go aboard the United States cruiser -America. This letter will explain all, and make you welcome. Once under -the stars and stripes you will be safe when the storm breaks.” - -“But my daughter!” cries the Don, suddenly recollecting the beautiful -Pearl of the Antilles. Jack’s eyes grow tender, and, gripping the older -man by the hand, he says proudly, as their eyes meet. - -“Don Quesada, I love your daughter. I will answer for her safety with my -life. And now, I’m off. Remember—to Santiago at once. Adios!” - -And without waiting to ascertain how his declaration of love affects the -father of his loved one, Jack springs into the saddle and clatters away. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLVI. - - PLAYING FOR HIGH STAKES. - - -Scarcely has a third of the distance to Santiago been covered when horse -and rider realize that the pace set is no longer compatible with the -Cuban climate. As Rozinante settles into a walk, Ashley pulls vigorously -on a fresh cigar and revolves the situation in his mind. - -“Credulous fool!” he grumbles, thinking of the betrayed Don Manuel de -Quesada. “Played right into the enemy’s hands. But wiser and greater men -have been cozened by the smiles of a beautiful woman. Besides, he is -Juanita’s father. That covers a multitude of shortcomings. Ah, Juanita, -I must indeed love thee when I would willingly risk my valuable life in -thy behalf. I am not a hypocrite, and I confess that an absorbing -interest in my personal welfare has ever been one of my glittering -characteristics. - -“Those papers must be recovered. But how? But I have a mighty big job on -my hands, even if Truenos is not a Richelieu. Well, it is the pen -against the sword, and may heaven maintain the vaunted mightiness of the -pen.” - -It is something after seven o’clock when Ashley arrives at Santiago. The -first acquaintance he meets, after he has put up his horse and proceeded -toward his hotel, is General Murillo. - -“Of course you are going to the ball?” remarks Ashley, as they shake -hands. - -Most assuredly General Murillo will be there. It will be a grand affair. -Senor Ashley must attend, by all means. - -Senor Ashley means to be there, and he thanks General Murillo for an -offer to introduce him to a score of the prettiest maids in Cuba. And -when the general insists upon his American friend dining with him, the -latter quickly accepts. He has no time to waste, he tells himself, but -he is much relieved when, in reply to his query, “And Truenos, is he at -the palace?” General Murillo informs him that the captain-general has -been called to Mentos, ten miles distant, on business of an important -nature, and will probably be late in arriving at the festivities, which -will not, however, be delayed. - -The first flash of hope comes to Ashley at this intelligence, and he -dines with a lighter heart. After half an hour of chat on commonplace -topics, he manages to ask with well-played indifference: - -“At what time did Truenos leave for Mentos, general?” - -“Early this afternoon.” - -Ah, then it is not yet too late. Ashley breathes easier. - -“Well, general, you are a loyal adherent of Spain and I am an -out-and-out American. There is no chance for an argument between us. Let -me fill your glass and we will drink a toast to all honest men and -women, whether Spaniards or Cubans.” - -“With pleasure, Senor Ashley. To all honest men—and women.” - -“Which does not include your amiable friend, Mrs. Harding,” thinks -Ashley, as he raises the glass to his lips. - -The dinner finished, the two men separate, while Ashley exchanges his -travel-worn garments for an evening dress. Half an hour later he and -General Murillo leave for the palace. - -“I have a vague suspicion that I am booked for an exciting evening,” -muses Jack, as he enters the brilliantly lighted sala of the palace and -is duly presented by Murillo. - -The dancing has already begun, but Terpsichore is the last goddess he is -desirous of wooing on this particular evening. His gaze wanders -solicitously about the crowded room and rests at last upon her whom he -seeks—Juanita. - -“She is simply stunning to-night,” he mutters, nervously tugging at his -mustache. - -And indeed Juanita is radiantly beautiful. Her dark loveliness is set -off by a bewitching gown of white; she is fanning herself with that -lazily graceful motion which the Saxon cannot imitate successfully, and -at the moment that Ashley discovers her she is telling Captain Ramon -Huerta, who has requested with Spanish extravagance “the exquisite honor -and incomparable delight of a figure with her,” that she really does not -care to dance this evening. At which Captain Huerta looks disappointed -and scowls a trifle. But he continues to inflict upon her a presence -which is palpably unwelcome. - -Juanita’s eyes light up with unfeigned pleasure when Ashley arrives upon -the scene and she greets him with unreserved cordiality. She presents -him to Captain Huerta, who bows as stiffly as he holds his revolver arm. -Ashley returns the salute with a suspicion of exaggeration, and grins -maliciously when the Spaniard takes himself off, after bestowing a -glance of unmistakable enmity upon the American. - -Juanita gazes after the retreating form with distinct aversion. “I have -a strange fear of that man,” she confides to Ashley, who smiles -reassuringly and tells her that while she is in his vicinity there -should be no such word as fear in her bright lexicon of youth. - -Juanita rewards this gallant speech, which from anyone except Jack -Ashley would sound boastful, with a glance that sets the American’s -blood tingling. But he has no time to-night for love-making, whether his -suit be favored or hopeless, and as he drops into a chair beside the -Pearl of the Antilles he asks casually: “Where is your friend, Mrs. -Harding?” - -“Ah, you know Isabel?” - -“You passed me this afternoon on the road to Santos, whither I was -proceeding to pay my most humble respects.” - -“Then that horse by the big royal palm was yours?” - -“Even so. I was close by, but your volante swept past at such a pace -that I hardly recovered from my surprise at seeing you before you were -gone.” - -“I am sorry we started away so early,” Juanita says, regretfully. - -“So am I,” Ashley thinks, grimly, but he does not tell her why. - -“I have seen nothing of Mrs. Harding since I arrived,” he remarks. - -Juanita’s glance wanders about the room. “There she is,” she indicates, -“over by the staircase, the object of the devoted attentions of Count -Gonzaga.” - -“Who the deuce is Count Gonzaga?” wonders Ashley, and he intimates as -much to his companion. - -“Have you not met the count? General Jacinto de Gonzaga is his military -title. He is some sort of an assistant secretary of war and is -representing the home government in Cuba for a short time. He seems -desperately smitten with Isabel. She is very handsome, do you not think -so, Senor Ashley?” - -“Yes, very,” replies Jack, absently. He is watching the pair by the -staircase, and wondering what sort of a game Isabel Harding is now -playing. - -“She is coming this way,” says Juanita. “Have you met her?” - -“I have not had that pleasure,” Ashley replies, unblushingly. “Not -lately,” he mentally adds. - -He turns away to admire some flowers and soon he hears Juanita’s voice: -“Isabel, allow me to present Mr. Ashley to you. Mr. Ashley, Mrs. -Harding.” - -Ashley turns calmly and the two are face to face. She acknowledges the -introduction with a composure equal to Ashley’s own, and that young man -permits a trace of admiration to mingle with the expression in his eyes -which plainly says to the woman before him: “I know your game, my lady.” -And the answering flash from the midnight orbs is: “You have more than a -match in me, Mr. Ashley. Beware!” - -“We shall see,” thinks Ashley, and then, led by Juanita, who sees -nothing of the mutual recognition, the conversation drifts into the -usual chatter of the ball-room. - -“You remember, Isabel, that big horse we saw lunching so contentedly by -the road this afternoon?” prattles Juanita. - -“Yes, dear, and how we wondered whether its owner was enjoying a siesta -in the bushes.” - -“Well, it was Mr. Ashley’s horse.” - -“I saw you flit by,” supplements Ashley, “but I was back drinking at a -spring and your volante was out of sight before I had recovered from my -surprise at seeing you.” He is looking directly at Mrs. Harding and that -lady smiles, a bit ironically. - -“And I presume that when you saw the principal attraction of El Valle de -Bosque Cillos being borne toward Santiago, you mounted your horse and -sadly followed,” ventures Isabel. - -“No; I knew the senorita was in good company,” Jack responds, dryly, “so -I continued on to Santos and spent a profitable hour with Don Quesada.” - -“Ah!” Mrs. Harding regards him narrowly from between her half-dropped -eyelids. - -“I say profitable,” continues Ashley, “as I did not know, until so -informed, that Don Quesada numbered the charming Mrs. Harding in his -list of acquaintances.” - -“Of course you congratulated him.” - -“Most assuredly.” - -The half-veiled contempt expressed in Isabel’s face exasperates Ashley. -Hidden somewhere in that corsage, against which beats the falsest heart -in Cuba, are papers that mean the ruin of the innocent girl at his side. - -He must have time to think, think, think. So he excuses himself and -leaves the crowded ball-room for a walk in the cool air of the garden. - -In one corner of the spacious inclosure he finds a little arbor, and in -this nook Ashley sits and smokes and thinks, but no plan for the -confusion of the adventuress suggests itself, unless, as he growls -vindictively, he abducts or chloroforms her. - -His meditations are disturbed by voices close at hand. Two gentlemen -have, like himself, forsaken the heated ball-room for the outer air, and -they pause in their stroll within a few feet of Ashley’s retreat. - -Jack pays no attention to them until by their voices and conversation he -realizes that one of them is Captain Julio Alvarez and the other is -Count Gonzaga. “That’s a happy combination,” he laughs softly. “They -ought to get a few more of Isabel’s friends and hold a reunion.” - -“You are an excellent judge of beauty, Count Gonzaga,” he hears Alvarez -remark, with a faint sneer. “I have been noticing your devotion to the -handsome Mrs. Harding, the widow of the enormously wealthy ship-owner.” - -“Ah, amigo, is she not beautiful?” the count replies, enthusiastically. -He appears to be in rare spirits. “I must ask you to congratulate me, -Captain Alvarez.” - -“I have—on your excellent taste.” - -“On more, amigo. The beautiful American has consented to become the -Countess Gonzaga.” - -“The devil!” - -“You are surprised.” - -“Rather. I am surprised that a gentleman of Count Gonzaga’s position -should think of linking his name with a lady of her character.” - -“Por Dios! Your meaning?” cries the count, with a flash of Castilian -wrath that causes Captain Alvarez to curse his hasty words, which must -have emanated from jealousy or something deeper. Ashley wonders what. - -“Oh, nothing,” Alvarez replies, carelessly. “You must pardon my -unthinking remark, count. Believe me, I—” - -“You will explain yourself to me, and at once, senor,” declares Gonzaga, -with frigid emphasis. - -There is a silence, which Alvarez, who sees that he is in for it, -finally breaks with: “Very well, count, but I warn you that you will -regret your insistence. You will have to excuse me now, as I have -promised to dance this next figure. Meet me at this place a quarter of -an hour hence, and I will endeavor to satisfy you.” - -“Very good,” grits Gonzaga. “I will be prompt,” and the men separate. - -“The fair Isabel is a star, surely,” soliloquizes Ashley. “Who would -have dreamed that she was playing her cards for the role of a countess? -Alas! Gonzaga will be brutally undeceived by Alvarez. The latter has put -his foot in it and there is only one way out. Jupiter!” - -Ashley leaps to his feet, for the inspiration of his life has come to -him. - -“By George, I have it! But will she do it?” he cries. “She must do it. -It is not her nature, still it’s a chance, and if the fates are on the -side of right Don Quesada and the senorita are saved!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLVII. - - THE PEN WINS. - - -Upon his return to the ball-room Ashley is taken to task by General -Murillo. “I have been searching for you for over half an hour,” the -general assures him. “Come over here while I introduce you to the -prettiest girl in Cuba.” - -“Confound his kindness,” grumbles Jack, mentally, who has no time to -squander in talking nonsense with dark-eyed senoritas. There is work to -be done. But he follows Murillo over the floor and is amused to find -himself being introduced to Juanita de Quesada, who is the center of -attraction of a group of young Santiago swells. - -“Oh, Senor Ashley and I are old friends,” cries Juanita, smiling at -General Murillo. - -“Are you, indeed?” remarks the general, favoring the American with a -keen glance. “Well, I will leave you together with my blessing,” and the -warrior takes himself off. - -“I have much to tell you to-night, senorita, but at another moment,” -Ashley says, as he makes his excuses for terminating a conversation that -has hardly begun. “I have work to do, and it means much to you,” he -explains to the pouting young lady, and leaving her somewhat mystified -and not at all pleased, he goes off to hunt up Isabel Harding. - -He finds the latter alone. For excellent reasons Count Gonzaga is -holding himself aloof. Captain Alvarez is not in sight. - -“Don’t you find the atmosphere of the room close?” he inquires, as he -reaches Isabel’s side. - -“Not at all. I am entirely cool,” she responds. - -“But it is ever so much pleasanter in the garden,” persists Ashley, as -he twists his mustache and meets her curious glance with a smile that is -amiability itself. Without another word she rises and accepts his -extended arm. - -“How delightful it is out here under the stars,” rattles on Jack, as -they emerge into the garden. “These glorious nights almost repay one for -the sweltering days. Ah, here is an ideal summer house. You will find it -as cozy as a society darling’s boudoir. Won’t you take a seat?” - -Mrs. Harding laughs, a trifle ironically, as she sinks upon the wooden -bench that runs around the interior. - -“Now, Mr. Ashley,” she remarks, “will you be good enough to inform me -what you have brought me out here to tell me?” - -“With pleasure, madam,” responds Ashley, dropping back into his old -deliberate self. - -“If you will let your thoughts stray back about six weeks, Mrs. Harding, -you will perhaps remember that on a certain evening I had the pleasure -of relating to you a fairy tale, to assist you in dissipating the -monotony of an attendance upon the French ball. The fairy tale lacked -the closing and most interesting chapter, you will recall, and I -requested that you supply it. ‘Not to-night,’ you protested, but you -kindly promised me an interview upon the following forenoon. - -“That promise, I regret to say, you broke with as little ceremony as one -would—” - -“I presume,” interrupts Mrs. Harding, “that it will be unnecessary for -me to assign my reason for failing to keep my promise.” - -“Quite. It would not mend matters. Now, suppose, as the novelists say, -we take up the thread of our narrative, which was broken when I left -your box at the garden.” - -“Suppose we do? What do you desire of me?” - -“I wish to possess myself of certain information in your keeping.” - -“Relative to that Vermont affair?” - -“Precisely.” - -“I can tell you nothing.” - -“Excuse me. Perhaps you mean you will tell me nothing.” - -“As you please, sir.” - -“I think you will,” Jack says, calmly. “Will you pardon a cigar, Mrs. -Harding? Perhaps the smoke will keep these inquisitive mosquitoes at a -distance.” - -Isabel laughs unpleasantly. “Do I understand you to intimate that you -will resort to force?” she inquires, sarcastically. - -“Assuredly; although I don’t fancy the word ‘force.’ ‘Induce’ is the -better term.” - -“A truce to your euphemism, Mr. Ashley. I am curious to learn what -possible lever you can possess.” - -“I shall not delay the information. I have in mind a lever whose potency -you can readily appreciate. I refer to the Count de Gonzaga.” - -“Good heavens! What do you mean?” In awed, whispered tones. - -“I think you grasp my meaning,” Jack returns, coolly. “Or will it be -necessary for me to relate another fairy tale, concerning a beautiful -woman who posed successfully for a time as the widow of an enormously -wealthy American ship-owner?” - -“You would not dare—” - -“I would dare do several things, if the occasion for unusual trepidity -seemed to arise. Besides, the vaunted brotherhood of man—” - -“The vaunted brotherhood of man would lead you to betray a defenseless -woman—one who never did you aught of harm, would it?” pants Isabel. - -“My dear Mrs. Harding, consider how easily you may avert such an -unfortunate denouement. I don’t care a rap about Count Gonzaga. -Conceding your natural charms, which are legion, the count’s affections -are undoubtedly centered in your supposed fortune. That is usually the -principal item in the matrimonial calculations of European nobility that -seeks alliance with American beauty. As a matter of fact, I should -rather enjoy seeing Gonzaga thrown down, if you will excuse the slang. -Come. A bargain is a bargain!” - -There is a silence. Isabel is presumably weighing the situation -carefully, and she disappoints Ashley by rising and remarking: “I think -I will return to the ball-room, Mr. Ashley, if you will kindly escort -me.” - -“One moment,” detains Jack. Isabel resumes her seat. “Have you carefully -considered the probable result of your silence?” - -“Perfectly.” - -“You must have some powerful reason for sealing your lips on that -Raymond affair,” comments Jack; and then he growls under his breath: -“Why in thunder don’t they come?” - -“We may as well terminate this interview. Do your worst, Mr. Ashley.” - -“That is rather theatric, Mrs. Harding,” banters Jack. “Clever woman, -this,” he thinks. “She knows I would not be such a beastly cad as to -tell her story to Gonzaga. Ah!” - -Footsteps are heard approaching. They stop just without the summer -house. - -“Stay!” Ashley whispers in Isabel’s ear. “The count is here.” - -She starts to ask, “how do you know it is he?” but remains mute. An -instant later the new arrival is joined by another. - -“Captain Alvarez!” breathes Jack, gripping Isabel’s arm. “Not a word!” - -Isabel sinks into a seat. Ashley can feel her tremble. He tosses away -his cigar and remains standing. The silence that broods over the garden -nook is broken by Captain Alvarez, who is so near the listeners that -they could reach out and almost touch him. - -“While I can find no objection, Count Gonzaga, to satisfying your -unfortunate demand, I would advise that you drop this matter where it -is. No good can come of wittingly injuring your amour propre. Believe -me—” - -“Captain Alvarez,” interrupts the count, frigidly, “you made a distinct -accusation against the character of the lady whom I have honored with an -offer of my hand. I demand that you retract your statement and apologize -for its utterance, or prove its truth.” - -“I am willing to recall my hasty words, count.” - -“Then you lied?” - -There is a short but eloquent silence. “Very well,” says Alvarez. “I -perceive that you are determined to be wholly undeceived as to the -imposition which has been put upon you. Know then that the wealthy -American widow, Isabel Harding, is neither wealthy nor a widow.” - -“Not a widow?” repeats Count Gonzaga. “Caramba! What, then, is she?” - -“What you will,” replies Alvarez, indifferently. “What usually is an -adventuress?” - -“But the proof? Dios! The proof?” demands the count. Perchance Alvarez -is lying to him. - -A low, unpleasant laugh from the latter. “I had the honor of being at -one time the very good friend of madam,” he says. - -“Scoundrel!” grits Ashley in Mrs. Harding’s ear. The critical moment is -at hand. “Victory!” murmurs Jack, as Mrs. Harding, who has risen and is -twisting her lace handkerchief into shreds, gasps once or twice as -Alvarez finishes his brutal story, and then faints in Ashley’s arms. - -“El Diablo!” the latter hears the count ejaculate, and with the -mortification in his voice is mingled much of mental relief. - -“Rather indelicate, but when a life is at stake delicacy must go by the -board,” mutters Ashley. - -“Ah, the precious papers! Now, my lady, we will part company.” - -The fanfare of trumpets in the ball-room announces that the -captain-general has at last arrived to grace the festivities with his -presence. - -“Have you quite recovered?” Ashley asks Isabel, with as much solicitude -in his voice as he can command. - -“Yes, thank you. You see I am yet a woman,” she says bitterly. And she -adds in tones of intense hatred: “The cur! The coward! But come, let us -return to the ball—” - -They have reached the entrance of the ball-room. Mrs. Harding stops and -favors Ashley with the kindest look she has ever bestowed upon him. - -“Mr. Ashley, you are no friend of mine. In fact, you are the only man I -have ever feared. But I know you would not have been the coward that -Capt. Alvarez has proved.” - -Ashley’s response is an enigmatic smile. He remarks, lightly: “I have -the honor of wishing you a very good-evening, Mrs. Harding.” - -He watches her disappear in the crowd and sees her a few moments later -in the long line that is passing the “reviewing stand.” As she pauses an -instant before the captain-general Ashley notes the latter incline his -head slightly. Some words are spoken and Mrs. Harding continues on. - -A triumphant smile flits over Ashley’s face; he thinks exultingly: - -“The pen wins this time! Now for Juanita!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLVIII. - - THE SWORD TRIUMPHANT. - - -“You are in unusually good spirits this evening, Senor Ashley.” - -“I am always happy when I am near you, senorita,” is Jack’s fervent -response. At which speech, the warmest she has ever heard from his lips, -Juanita grows as rosy as the morn and does not appear displeased. - -“Is that dreadfully important work which has occupied so much of your -time this evening yet finished?” - -“Very nearly.” - -“And you can devote a little time to your friends?” - -“I am ready to devote the remainder of my existence to one of them, -senorita.” - -“Oh, what unselfishness! When do you expect to begin?” - -“Whenever I have reason to believe that such devotion will be rewarded -by—” - -“Reward? Then it is not a bit unselfish and does not deserve -encouragement,” interrupts the young lady, with a toss of her head. - -“You are cruel, senorita,” murmurs Ashley, but his voice does not betray -a great deal of grief. - -“I am just,” declares Juanita. “While I have been sitting here at the -mercy of a lot of frightfully stupid men, you have devoted your time to -the entertainment of Mrs. Harding. Perhaps that was the devotion you -alluded to a moment ago,” ventures the young lady, with a pretty frown. - -“Hardly,” laughs Jack. “You do not know Mrs. Harding, senorita.” - -“Perhaps not as well as you, Senor Ashley. My opportunities have not -been so good. I saw you come in from the garden. One would hardly judge -that you had met her only half an hour ago.” - -“Oh, the fair Isabel and I are old friends,” Ashley remarks, serenely. - -“Indeed? Yet you told me—” - -“I will tell you more, senorita.” - -“I don’t want to hear any more,” opposes Juanita crossly. “You have -deceived me once and I—” - -“Deceived thee? Ah, Juanita—” Jack checks himself as he notes the flush -of annoyance in her cheeks. - -“Hello! There’s the chap I’ve been looking for,” suddenly remarks -Ashley, as he catches a glimpse of Capt. Guerra over by the big -staircase. “Will you pardon me just a moment, senorita? That will -complete my evening work, and then if a lifetime of devotion will—” - -“Stop! I shan’t hear another word,” breaks in Juanita, imperiously. “And -you need not hurry back,” she adds irritably, provoked by Ashley’s -serenity. - -Meanwhile Ashley is telling himself that he must be progressing in his -wooing, since Juanita has betrayed symptoms of jealousy. “Devotion? She -little knows how much need she has of a clear head and strong arm,” he -thinks. “Ah, Capt. Guerra,” he remarks, pausing before a -distinguished-appearing gentleman who is idling by the staircase, “will -you be good enough to follow me into the garden?” - -Ashley passes out and Guerra follows him curiously. When they are alone -and unobserved Ashley takes an envelope from his pocket and presses it -into the captain’s hand. - -“Read that and then destroy it,” he directs. - -“Your meaning, senor?” - -“No explanation is necessary. I am ignorant of the contents of the -documents further than that their publicity would be deuced awkward for -you and incidentally for myself.” - -“Wonderful! How came you by them?” - -“That is my affair, senor. Had I not rescued them they would now be in -the hands of Truenos. Adios!” And Jack leaves the mystified Spaniard to -his own devices. - -Meantime a little scene that would afford Ashley the keenest delight to -witness is taking place in one of the rooms of the palace. Gen. Truenos -is seated at a table littered with maps and papers and Gen. Murillo and -Isabel Harding have just been ushered into the apartment. - -“You have succeeded?” Truenos asks as Mrs. Harding approaches. - -“Beyond expectation. Quesada may not be the head and front of the -offenders, but he is certainly one in whom there has been placed some -authority.” - -“Quesada is now a fugitive,” asserts Truenos. - -“Indeed?” This is news to Isabel. “Ashley’s warning,” she thinks. “When -did you learn this, general?” - -“To-day. He has taken refuge on board the United States cruiser. I have -strongly suspected Quesada, but have not particularly feared him. -Quesada is a figurehead. What I want is proof of conspiracy on the part -of men any one of whom is more troublesome than a dozen Quesadas—men I -suspect to be conspiring against the government even while pretending to -serve it.” - -“Would certain dispatches from Don Quesada addressed to Capt. Francisco -Guerra furnish the necessary evidence?” asks Mrs. Harding. - -“Ah! You have intercepted such?” - -“Better. I am the bearer of them.” - -Truenos regards his spy admiringly. “Bueno! The papers at once!” he -cries. - -“And my reward?” suggests Isabel, as she takes from her bosom the -precious envelope. - -“Anything that you may ask—in reason,” replies the captain-general, -reaching impatiently for the documents. “Why, how is this? This letter -is addressed to me.” - -“To you?” exclaims Isabel in astonishment. “Surely—why—there must be -some mistake.” - -“Evidently,” rejoins Truenos, as he breaks the seal. - -Isabel watches him anxiously as he scans the document. A pale sickly -light is beginning to break upon her bewilderment. - -Ashley! The papers have been tampered with! It was for that he led her -to the garden. How did he know, before they spoke, who were the two men -whose meeting had interrupted their conversation in the summer house? -And, oh, how weak she had been! She sees it all now and she swears she -will be revenged. Aha! She knows where to wound him, to repay him in -awful torture for the trick he has played upon her. - -While these dark thoughts are flitting through her mind the -captain-general has finished his brief examination of the letter, which -he tosses over to her. She picks it up mechanically and reads: - - “To His Excellency, Honorato de Truenos: Indisposition prevents - my attending the grand ball to-night and offering my - congratulations upon your safe arrival at Santiago. Under the - directions of such a general there should be no difficulty in - quickly subduing the insurrection, which I believe to be nearly - at an end. - - Manuel de Quesada.” - -“I have been tricked, Gen. Truenos,” says Isabel, crushing the paper in -her hand. - -“It would seem so,” remarks the captain-general. It is apparent that he -is vastly disappointed. “Come, tell me of your stay at the quinta, all -you know concerning Quesada and his movements.” - -There is much of importance to relate, and when Mrs. Harding has -finished her story Truenos summons Capt. Huerta. - -“Take a dozen of your men and repair at once to La Quinta de Quesada. -You know where it is?” Capt. Huerta knows perfectly. “Ransack the house -thoroughly and fetch me every scrap of writing upon the premises. Gen. -Murillo, do you follow in the morning and look over the place. Go!” to -Huerta. - -The latter bows and leaves the room. Mrs. Harding follows. “One moment, -Captain Huerta,” she says. - -A short but earnest conversation ensues. Isabel talks in rapid whispers, -and the Spanish captain listens eagerly, while surprise, anger, hope and -malicious joy are mirrored in succession upon his swarthy countenance. - -“Within ten minutes,” he breathes, and hurries away to execute the -commands of the captain-general. - -“I told you it would be better if you delivered the papers to me during -the afternoon,” General Murillo tells Mrs. Harding, after Truenos has -gone. “Who has been the cause of your undoing?” - -Isabel tells him of her suspicions, which she has come to regard as -virtual facts, and Murillo is inclined to agree with her. - -“The game is not yet played out, general,” flashes Isabel. - -“Well, take care, take care,” admonishes Murillo, as they separate. - -“Ah, here is the very man now,” frowns the general, as he re-enters the -sala grande and is greeted by Ashley, who has just left Captain Guerra. - -“My dear Senor Ashley,” he observes dryly, “let me give you a piece of -advice.” - -“With pleasure, general. I am always open to kindly counsel, although I -do not always follow it.” - -“Do not let your interest in a young lady lead you into mixing with the -affairs of a country toward which you are expected to maintain a strict -neutrality,” is Murillo’s blunt remark. - -“I don’t think I catch your drift, general,” drawls Jack. But he does, -and the gleam of quiet triumph in his blue eyes irritates Murillo. - -“I have warned you,” says the latter, and turns on his heel. - -“So I am suspected,” thinks Ashley. “I imagined the fair Isabel would -like to know to whom to ascribe her confusion. And now to undeceive -Juanita.” - -But Juanita is not to be found. There are few guests remaining in the -sala and she is not among them. - -Ashley explores the garden, with like success. Then he questions the -line of volante drivers drawn up before the entrance to the palace -grounds. Have any of them seen Senorita de Quesada? None that he -interrogates have had that pleasure, and the Pearl of the Antilles is -known by sight to nearly all of them. Ashley is in despair. - -“The Senorita de Quesada?” queries one of the Cuban jehus, who has just -joined the group. “The senorita and another lady were driven away in a -volante not ten minutes ago.” - -“In what direction?” demands Ashley. - -“To Santos.” - -“To Santos? Heavens, man, they cannot go to Santos at this hour of night -unescorted!” - -Unescorted? Is not Captain Huerta and his men all the escort that one -could desire? - -This intelligence is a frightful strain upon Ashley’s composure, as he -thinks of Juanita, Isabel, Captain Huerta and the deserted La Quinta de -Quesada. - -“Quick! To Santos!” he cries, springing into a volante and tossing a -handful of coin to the driver. “To Santos as fast as your horse will -travel!” - -The man leaps to his seat, cracks his whip and they are off. - -As they clatter through the streets of Santiago and swing into the road -which Ashley traversed only a few hours before, Jack shouts impatiently, -“Faster! Faster! Great Scott! This is no funeral! Though it may be, -before I’m through with it,” he adds, savagely. - -“But senor, we will dash the volante to pieces,” protests his -charioteer. - -Inwardly chafing, but realizing the futility of impatience, Ashley -forces himself to be calm. It seems an age before the distance to Santos -is traversed, but finally the outlines of the few buildings which the -hamlet boasts are seen against the starlit sky. - -The driver reins up his steed for further directions. - -“To La Quinta de Quesada,” orders Ashley, and they rattle on. - -Suddenly rings out the command, “Alto!” and the volante stops with a -suddenness that nearly unseats its passenger, directly in front of El -Calabozo de Infierno, the local carcel. - -“What in the devil’s name—” begins Ashley, but he is seized and dragged -roughly from the volante, a pistol clapped to his head and the command -hissed in his ear: “Callese!” - -Lights appear about the entrance of the carcel, and as Ashley is hustled -toward the gloom beyond he sees, standing near the passageway and -watching the strange proceedings with a troubled face, the aged priest -whom he noted at La Quinta de Quesada a few days before. - -Ashley is hurried through the patio and along the ill-smelling corridor -beyond to an open cell. Into this he is pushed and his ungentle captor -tells him: - -“En la manana muere V. sobre el garrote!” - -“Thank you,” says Ashley. His stock of Spanish is just sufficient to -enable him to comprehend the nature of the cheerful intelligence, which -is to the effect that he is to die by the iron collar to-morrow. - -“Will you leave the light?” he requests. - -The smoky lantern is set upon the floor. Then the door clangs to, there -is a rattle of chains and the echo of departing footsteps and he is -alone. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER XLIX. - - EL CALABOZO DE INFIERNO. - - -An ordinary man, suddenly placed in the position in which Jack Ashley -finds himself, would perhaps exhaust his strength in useless -imprecations upon his oppressors, and finish by sinking into utter -hopelessness as to his fate. - -But, as was intimated when the reader first made his acquaintance, Jack -Ashley is not an ordinary man. The practice of self-restraint has -enabled him to retain to a remarkable degree his self-possession at more -than one exciting moment, and his sublime confidence in himself is never -wanting. - -Clearly his arrest has been arbitrary and unofficial. He has not even -been searched. His watch and money, his papers, even his revolver, are -upon his person. - -“And best of all, they have not deprived me of this incomparable -solace,” he says, as he draws a cigar from his pocket and lights it at -the smoky little lantern in the cell. Then he throws himself on the -wretched straw couch, to think of some way out of the snare into which -he has stumbled. - -Isabel Harding has undoubtedly imparted to Truenos all she knows, all -she suspects. But suspicion is not proof. And the strongest suspicion -would not have warranted, much less likely have caused, such an outrage -upon a citizen of the United States. - -Plainly there is some private villainy back of it all. Then a light -flashes through his brain. - -Juanita! In his selfish though natural consideration of his own -unpleasant position he has forgotten for the nonce the Pearl of the -Antilles, the one woman who has ever stirred his light heart to a love -that, once given, means all of life to him. - -He sees it all now. Don Quesada gone, his daughter unprotected, worse -than unprotected as the companion of Isabel Harding, and at the mercy of -Captain Raymon Huerta, who has haunted her for weeks and forced his -unwelcome attentions upon her! The only man who could lend a defending -arm locked fast in a Cuban jail, with the prospect of being garroted -before another sun goes down! - -It is infamous! Ashley leaps to his feet and paces the cell like a -raging lion, and shakes the iron door with impotent energy. - -“Pshaw!” he cries, and laughs recklessly. “What is the use in wasting my -strength and nerves in this manner? Courage, Jack. If the senorita is to -be saved, and yourself incidentally, you will need all of your strength -and nerve. Let’s take an account of stock.” And he falls to meditating -again. - -How come Captain Huerta and his men to be at Santos at this hour of the -night? Sent by Truenos, who perhaps has ordered Don Quesada’s arrest, -or, if he knows of the latter’s flight, has ordered the quinta to be -searched. How came Juanita to leave for home without bidding him adios? -She could not have been so piqued by jealousy or by his good-natured -banter that she would have left the palace without even a cold farewell. -Isabel’s work, without a doubt. Why has he been set upon by a horde of -ruffians and thrust into a cell? Because his presence at Santos would -interfere with some devilish plans afoot. Again Isabel’s work, assisted -by Captain Huerta. - -But what vile plot is maturing outside the walls of El Calabozo de -Infierno while he lies helpless here? As he thinks of Juanita he grits -his teeth in suppressed fury and chews his cigar to a pulp. - -As for his captor’s gratuitous information, that he is to be executed in -the morning, nonsense! That is what an American would term a cold bluff. -They would not dare to proceed to such an extremity. They have gone to -dangerous lengths already. - -At this moment his meditations are broken in upon by a key being -inserted in the cell door. The door swings open and closes behind Father -Hilario, the venerable padre of the little church of San Pedro. At sight -of the priest, Ashley’s composure returns. - -“Good-morning, father,” is his salutation. “I noticed you at the -entrance to my lodgings for the night, and I should have spoken, but my -friends rather insisted on my maintaining a strict silence. I believe -‘callese’ means keep your mouth shut, or something of that sort, does it -not?” - -“I have but a short time to remain,” says Father Hilario, surveying with -some wonder the composed face of the young man before him. - -“Well, whatever your errand may be, I am indebted to you for this -visit,” remarks Jack. “It’s confoundedly lonesome here. I will not -apologize for my apartment, as it is not of my own selection. Now, what -can I do for you, father, or what can you do for me?” - -“My son, you are not of the faith of Rome, but I have called to offer -you the consolation which a clergyman can extend in your last hours.” - -“Is it as bad as that? Really, I don’t take any stock in this garroting -business. I believe that is thrown in for theatrical effect.” - -Father Hilario shakes his head. “Captain Huerta is a desperate man,” he -avows. “There is nothing to prevent his wreaking his enmity upon you.” - -“Oh, is there not? Thank you, father, for the offer of your -ministrations, but really, I do not believe I shall need them. Do not -misunderstand me,” Ashley adds, quickly, as a pained expression passes -over the kindly face of the priest. “What I mean is that I have too -healthy an interest in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to -pass many hours in such a stuffy, ill-smelling donjon as this.” - -Father Hilario holds up a warning finger. “There are listeners about,” -he says. - -“Let them listen. If their stock of English is equal to my collection of -Spanish they will be vastly entertained by my remarks.” - -“You will attempt to escape?” queries the priest, in a cautious whisper. - -“At the first opportunity.” - -“The attempt will fail.” - -“It will succeed,” retorts Ashley. - -“No; it will fail,” repeats Father Hilario. “The carcelero, always -watchful, will be doubly vigilant to-night. He has probably been -bribed.” - -“But a larger bribe—” - -“Is out of the question. His life would pay the penalty.” - -“I don’t believe it. But enough of that,” says Ashley, impatiently. “Now -tell me, father, of the Senorita de Quesada. Have you seen her -to-night?” - -The priest is silent. In his muteness, Ashley finds the confirmation of -his worst fears. - -“Speak, man!” he cries impatiently. “Do you know that the life and -happiness of the senorita are more to me than my own existence? Speak!” - -“She is in the church of San Pedro.” - -“In whose company?” - -“She is alone.” - -“Alone in the church of San Pedro after midnight? What mean you?” - -“She is a prisoner.” - -“A prisoner? Ten thousand devils!” rages Ashley, striding to and fro in -his narrow cell. - -“Calm yourself, my son,” remonstrates Father Hilario. “Nothing can be -accomplished by such wild outbursts.” - -“Oh, yes; I’ll be calm!” grits Ashley. “By heaven, I’d give ten years of -my life for ten minutes of liberty!” - -“Come. Time flies, and the carcelero will soon be here,” admonishes -Father Hilario. “Is there aught I can do for thee, my son?” - -Ashley forces a tranquillity of mind that he little feels. “How came you -to learn of the senorita’s imprisonment?” he asks. - -“I was returning from a midnight summons to a deathbed and had nearly -reached my house when Captain Huerta and his men entered the town, -escorting a volante. Suddenly the party were attacked in the darkness.” - -“By Huerta’s own men?” - -“That was doubtless part of the plot. The two women in the volante were -separated. The senorita was borne fainting into the church and then -quietness reigned again. I lingered about the scene, and was a witness -of your arrest not many minutes afterward. I begged permission to see -you, and the carcelero, in granting it, bade me roughly to tell you that -you die on the morrow.” - -“A merry knave,” remarks Ashley. “Well, father, you can be of great -service to me. Will you not bear a message from me to General Truenos? -Or, no; hang Truenos. To General Murillo, then. You know him. My -detention here is without his knowledge, of that I am assured. It is a -vile outrage that he would not brook.” - -The priest shakes his head. “It would be useless,” he says. “From the -instant I leave this place I shall be watched, shadowed every step of -the way to my house. An attempt to leave Santos would be at once -frustrated.” - -“You believe so?” - -“I am positive of it.” - -“But the senorita. Can you communicate with her.” - -“Ay; and without the knowledge of Captain Huerta.” - -“You can?” cries Ashley, eagerly. “But you said you would be watched.” - -“Ah,” says the priest, with a faint smile, “there is an entrance to the -church that Captain Huerta knows not of—an entrance from my house -through the little garden intervening.” - -“Good. Excellently good,” remarks Ashley, into whose active brain has -flashed an inspiration. “Father Hilario, I have a plan. You must join -the senorita and myself in marriage.” - -“Marry you? Impossible!” exclaims the astonished padre. Have the -American’s troubles driven him insane? - -“Impossible nothing. Easiest thing in the world if the lady is willing,” -is Ashley’s cheerful response. “Now, listen to me, father. Don Quesada -is a fugitive, and his daughter, being a Cuban, is amenable to the laws -of this country. From the Spanish government she would not likely -receive much earnest protection or reparation for any wrongs she might -suffer. But when she becomes Mrs. Jack Ashley,” says Jack, dramatically, -working up to a mild enthusiasm, “she is then an American citizen and as -such she will be under the protection of a flag that the Spaniard dare -not affront with impunity. You get the idea, eh?” - -“Impossible, impossible, I tell you,” repeats Father Hilario. “You are -not a Catholic, Senor Ashley; the senorita is. Besides, the consent of -her father—” - -“This is no time for quibbling over technicalities. Would you see a -woman, your friend’s daughter, insulted, perhaps murdered, when a few -words from your lips would save her?” - -“I would do my duty,” replies the priest, calmly. “The idea is madness. -I cannot bring the senorita here, and you cannot reach the church.” - -“Oh, I’ll be there in season,” is the cool response. “Just leave the way -from your house to the church open to me.” - -“If you have any message to send the senorita, you must make haste,” -adjures the priest. “The carcelero is approaching.” - -“It will be brief,” replies Ashley. Then hurriedly: “Go to her at once. -Comfort her. Pray with her. And tell her that I will be with her before -the sun rises. Say nothing about the marriage. I prefer to do my own -proposing. But, above all, remain with her until I come.” - -Then, in a different tone, as the cell door is swung open by the -carcelero: “Many thanks, dear father, for your kindly visit and -spiritual solace. I have made my peace with heaven, and to-morrow I will -show these Spanish gentry how an American can die—when he gets ready,” -he adds, under his breath, as the iron door clangs to and he is once -more alone. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER L. - - AT BAY IN THE CHURCH OF SAN PEDRO. - - -As the echo of Father Hilario’s footsteps dies away adown the gloomy -corridor Ashley glances at his watch. It lacks a quarter of two o’clock. - -“The trick must be done within two hours, or all is lost,” he mutters. -Then he extinguishes the light and throws himself down upon the pallet -of straw. - -Ten, fifteen minutes pass. The tread of the carcelero on his rounds -sounds from the corridor and a light is flashed into the cell. A -counterfeit snore from Ashley greets him and he passes on with a -muttered “Dios! He sleeps as if to-morrow were his wedding day.” In five -minutes, his round of inspection completed, he repasses the cell door -and continues on, until silence again enshrouds the prison. - -Then Ashley arises, takes out his jack-knife and opens one of the -blades, a finely tempered steel saw. - -“Thank heaven for that much Yankee inventiveness!” he murmurs, as he -sinks on one knee beside the iron door of his cell and applies the saw -blade to the lower end of one of the rusty bars. - -As the steel slowly but surely eats its way into the corroded iron and -finally slips entirely through, Ashley again, aided by a match, consults -his watch. It is nearly three o’clock. Scarcely had he extinguished the -lucifer than the approach of the carcelero is heard, and he retreats to -his pallet, to again feign an audible slumber. - -All still once more, and he attacks the upper end of the bar. When -almost severed he seizes it with both hands and exerts all his strength. -The iron snaps, and as Ashley falls back the bar slips from his hands -and drops to the floor of the cell with a loud clang. - -Jack inwardly curses his carelessness. Such a tremendous noise would -alarm the sleepiest of guards. He must act, and act quickly. - -To squeeze through the space made in the door is the work of some -moments, and it is not accomplished an instant too soon. A light -approaches. - -Ashley remembers that opposite his cell is another, the door to which is -ajar. With the iron bar in his hand he gropes his way across the -corridor and into the open cell. A moment later the carcelero, lantern -in hand, stands before the now tenantless pen, and stares stupidly at -the wreck of the iron door. - -Before he can utter an outcry the bar in Ashley’s hand descends upon his -head with crushing force and he drops like a log. - -“I hope I didn’t kill the poor devil,” thinks Jack. He drags the -unconscious man into the open cell, and, tearing and tying his -handkerchief into a gag, he makes assured the silence of the carcelero. -Then he extinguishes the lantern and is soon standing at the entrance of -the prison. - -To his left is life and liberty. To his right—ah, something dearer than -life—Juanita de Quesada, locked in the little church of San Pedro, the -outlines of which stand boldly against the star-gemmed heaven. - -Within that little sanctuary the altar lamp sheds a soft light over a -strange picture. Juanita is lying upon the steps of the altar, her head -buried in her arms, and near by stands Father Hilario, his arms folded, -gazing compassionately upon her. - -“Why does he not come?” moans the girl, lifting her head and looking at -the priest with tear-stained eyes from which hope has not yet fled. - -Father Hilario is silent. The American does not come because, forsooth, -he cannot leave his prison. But why undeceive the girl? Let her hope on -to the end. - -The opening of a door behind them causes both to start. Jack Ashley -stands upon the threshold, a smile upon his face. - -With a glad cry Juanita runs to him and takes both his hands. “I was -expecting you,” she says, simply. - -“Thank you. And you?” asks Ashley, turning to Father Hilario. - -“I bore your message. I did not expect you,” replies the priest, -regarding the young man with mingled wonder and admiration. - -“Then you must have a more flattering opinion of the security of Cuban -jails than I. And now, senorita, tell me how you come to be in this -unhappy position.” - -The story is brief, but interesting. - -“Five minutes after you left me in the ball-room at the palace,” -narrates Juanita, “Isabel came to me and declared that we should leave -for Santos. She explained that Captain Huerta and his men were going to -Santos at once, and would escort us, and that the ride would be -enjoyable after the heat and excitement of the ball. At the mention of -Captain Huerta I know I looked displeased, and Isabel remarked -disagreeably: ‘Perhaps you would prefer the escort of Mr. Ashley.’ I -replied that I should certainly prefer it to that of Captain Huerta, and -she declared that you would not be likely to offer it, as—” - -“As what?” asks Ashley, as Juanita pauses in confusion. - -“She gave me to understand that you had proposed to her that night and -that she had refused you.” - -“And you believed her?” - -“I don’t know what I believed. But I agreed to Isabel’s proposition and -we left for Santos at once. On our arrival there we were set upon by a -party of men. All I remember is being lifted from the volante by Captain -Huerta. Then I fainted, and when I recovered consciousness I was in the -church, alone with Captain Huerta. He told me that he loved me. I -replied that I hated him, and when he attempted to put his arm around me -I struck him in the face. Then he swore frightfully and told me I would -regret the blow. ‘My father—’ I began. ‘Your father is a fugitive,’ he -sneered. ‘You are wholly in my power.’ ‘Then I will kill myself,’ I -cried. ‘Oh, no; you will come to your senses in a few hours,’ he said, -tauntingly. ‘I shall expect to find you in a better humor when I -return.’ Then he went away, locking the church door behind him. - -“When he had gone I piled all the furniture of the church against the -door and then threw myself down before the altar and prayed. The opening -of a door aroused me. I lifted my head, expecting to see again the hated -face of Captain Huerta. Instead, to my great joy, I beheld Father -Hilario. When he told me of your arrest I cried out in terror. Then he -gave me your message and hope came to me.” - -“And Satan came also,” quotes Ashley. “I fear your barricade would not -withstand a very earnest assault,” surveying the rude defense -critically. - -“It was all I could do. But tell me of yourself,” urges Juanita. “What -is the meaning of your violent arrest?” - -As Ashley unfolds the black plot, beginning with the first appearance of -the adventuress at La Quinta de Quesada, the Cuban girl grows very pale, -and she realizes how much she owes to the blue-eyed young man who -finishes his story with the smiling quotation: “And now, senorita, if a -lifetime of devotion—” - -“There, do not remind me of my folly,” she protests, choking back a sob. -“I will never doubt you again.” - -Thus encouraged, Ashley takes both of Juanita’s hands and whispers very -tenderly: - -“In this darkest hour before the dawn I have found the courage to tell -you what has been in my heart for—for nearly three weeks,” he finishes -with a smile. Even amid the dangers that surround them, the humor of his -declaration impresses him. - -A wave of crimson spreads over the girl’s face, and in the big black -eyes Ashley sees the light of a great love. - -The young people’s eyes meet in mutual understanding. He draws her to -him, and the first kiss of love is exchanged. It must be followed by -many others, for Father Hilario, after waiting what he considers a -reasonable length of time, turns to the pair with an uneasy: “Well, what -is all this leading up to?” - -“A marriage, I should say,” replies Jack, cheerfully. “That is usually -the logical outcome of such a situation.” Father Hilario bites his lips -impatiently. - -“The church and the pastor are here, and I think the bride is willing,” -continues Jack. The young girl gives the priest an anxious look. - -“It is useless to argue that matter further,” is the firm reply. “My -duty to the church forbids.” The priest’s face convinces Ashley that the -debate on the matrimonial question is closed. - -“Then we must seek elsewhere for a clergyman,” he remarks, coolly. -“Come, Juanita.” And he leads her toward the little door by which he -entered the church. - -“This is madness!” cries the priest, barring the way. “The town is -overrun with your enemies. It is nearly day and the place is already -astir. Hark! Do you not hear the tread of feet in the street?” - -“Spanish or no Spanish, I don’t propose to remain here and be trapped -like a rat,” declares Ashley. “We can at least make a break for liberty. -I do not—” - -The sound of a key being tried in the church door cuts short his words. - -“It is Captain Huerta,” whispers Juanita, and she trembles like a leaf -in Jack’s arms. - -“Quick, father!” commands the latter. “You reconnoiter and see if the -way through the garden and your house is clear.” The venerable padre -hurries away and Ashley improves the opportunity to shower kisses upon -Juanita’s cold and unresponsive lips. - -“What a man you are!” she murmurs. “I believe you would make love on -your way to execution.” - -“I should if the opportunity was offered,” laughs Jack, softly. “What -could more brightly illumine the last moments of a condemned man than to -hold in his arms, if but for a few minutes, so much loveliness?” - -At that moment Father Hilario reappears. “There is no hope,” he reports. -“Suspecting all was not right, Captain Huerta has surrounded the church -and grounds with his men.” - -“Then fasten that door,” says Jack. “An attack at one end is all I care -to look after.” - -The bolt is shot into place, and with the click comes the sound of -muttered oaths from without, followed by a savage kick at the barricaded -portal. - -“Ho, there, within!” demands an impatient voice. - -At the sound of the hateful tones Juanita shudders and throws her arms -about Ashley’s neck. “Save me from that man!” she whispers. - -For answer Jack takes another reef in his confidence-restoring arm, and -draws his revolver. - -“Don’t move, dear,” he murmurs, solicitously. He rather enjoys the tight -embrace of those soft arms, to which terror has lent a delightful -fervency. “You need not fear Captain Huerta so long as there is light -enough to shoot by.” - -It is a strange tableau that the altar lamp dimly shows. The three -figures stand immovable, as if carved in stone. Ashley is calm, -resolute, and his eyes are fixed upon the barricaded door. The -resignation of despair is depicted in the beautiful face of the Cuban -girl; her eyes seek those of her lover, her head upon his breast. They -will at least die together. Near by stands the aged priest, his arms -folded, his eyes turned heavenward and his lips moving as if in prayer. -The tread of soldiery and the rattle of steel sound from the street. - -The stillness within the church is broken only by a sharp click as -Ashley’s revolver is brought to half-cock. - -The seconds drag by. Every one of them seems an hour. - -Then there is the sound of a rush of feet without, followed by a loud -crash, as the church door is hurled from its fastenings and piled upon -the debris of the barricade. - -The gap thus made throngs with Spanish soldiery, at their head, sword in -hand, Captain Raymon Huerta. At sight of the picture within the church -he starts back with a cry of surprise and a choice assortment of -Castilian imprecations. - -“You here, dog of an Americano? Who opened to thee the doors of the -carcel?” And the Spanish captain glowers around upon his followers. - -“I am indebted to no one except myself for my escape from your infernal -den,” replies Ashley; and he adds, sternly: - -“Hark ye, Captain Raymon Huerta. I am here to protect this young woman -from your deviltry, to protect her with my life. I warn you that any -violence to her will cost you yours.” - -“Your life is already forfeited,” sneers Huerta. Then to his followers: - -“Ho, there, men! Seize the Americano and leave the girl to me!” - -Ashley’s arm comes up. - -“Halt!” he thunders. “This woman is my wife and as such she is an -American citizen. Another step, and, by the stars and stripes, I’ll send -your leader to perdition!” - -The streak of dawn that struggles in through the little window above the -altar glints upon the polished barrel of a revolver pointed straight at -the heart of Captain Raymon Huerta. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LI. - - UNDER THE RED, WHITE AND BLUE. - - -“You lie!” shouts Captain Raymon Huerta, white with rage. - -Ashley retorts calmly. “I repeat, Captain Huerta, what I have asserted. -As my wife, this woman is an American citizen. An order from you to your -men to fire upon or seize us, will be the last words you will utter in -this world!” - -“The marriage? Impossible! The proof? The proof?” cries Huerta, foaming -with passion. - -Ashley points to Father Hilario. “The proof is the word of yonder man of -God, by whom we were wedded not an hour ago!” - -Captain Huerta glowers upon the priest. “Speaks the Americano truly?” he -fumes. - -Father Hilario is silent. His eyes wander from the lovers to the -rage-distorted countenance of the Spanish captain. - -Ashley holds his breath. He has made a superb bluff. Will the priest -fail him at this supreme moment? - -“Speak, vile dog of a priest!” snarls Huerta, the padre’s silence adding -fuel to his rage. - -At the brutal epithet Father Hilario’s cheek flushes. Then he speaks, -slowly and deliberately: - -“It is true. They are man and wife in the sight of God, and around them -are the protecting arms of the church of Rome.” He raises his arms as if -pronouncing a benediction, and murmurs under his breath a pious: “May -God forgive me the deception!” - -Captain Huerta bites his lip till the blood comes. One word to his men -would mean the destruction of the heroic trio. But over the shining -barrel of Ashley’s revolver, pointed straight at his heart, the Spanish -captain reads, in a pair of flashing eyes, a grim resolution that means -his death if he but raises his sword. - -The situation is critical. The strain is beginning to tell on even -Ashley’s steel nerves. - -At this moment a commotion is noted in the throng of soldiery that bars -the entrance to the church. - -Pushing them right and left, a tall, distinguished-looking military man -strides into the sanctuary. - -Don Huerta dashes his sword back into its sheath and sullenly awaits -developments. - -General Murillo, for the arrival is he, glances from one of the party to -the other, and then addresses himself to Ashley: - -“Senor, may I ask the meaning of this warlike demonstration?” - -Ashley lowers his revolver. “It means, general, that your arrival has -averted an international episode.” - -General Murillo turns to Huerta. “Withdraw at once,” he commands. “I -will see you anon.” - -When Captain Huerta and his men have left the church Murillo asks: - -“And now, Senor Ashley, will you be good enough to explain this peculiar -affair?” - -“Willingly. But first, general,” says Jack, with a faint grin, “allow me -to introduce you to the prettiest girl in Cuba.” And for the first time -since the storming of the church door he removes his arm from about the -waist of the Pearl of the Antilles. - -Murillo bows with Spanish profundity. “I have the honor of the -acquaintance of the Senorita de Quesada,” he remarks. - -“Who is now plain Mrs. Jack Ashley,” corrects the newspaper man. “Pardon -me one moment, general,” and he whispers to Juanita: - -“Father Hilario looks very disconsolate; go and comfort him. And now, -general,” to Murillo, “I am at your service.” - -Ashley recounts briefly the exciting events that took place from the -hour he left the ball-room until the arrival of his auditor. He says -nothing of Mrs. Harding. - -As the recital progresses Murillo’s face darkens. - -“I am convinced,” declares Ashley, in conclusion, “that my arrest was -wholly the work of that scoundrel Huerta.” - -“And what do you propose to do now?” asks Murillo. - -“Well, I have no special plans beyond settling accounts with Captain -Huerta.” - -“I will do the settling with Captain Huerta,” observes the general, -dryly. “As for you—you must leave Cuba.” - -“My duty to my paper will not permit me to leave at present. And even -were I free, general, I should not desire to be understood as running -away.” - -Murillo makes a gesture of impatience. “Just like you Americans. You -would all want to fiddle like Caesar while Rome was burning.” - -“Your pardon; but I believe Nero was the soloist on that red-letter -occasion.” - -The general frowns. “Come with me,” he says; “I will furnish to you the -necessary papers and you may proceed without interruption to Santiago. -The cruiser America sails for Key West to-morrow. You must take passage -on her. I do you a service, Senor Ashley, and I do it gladly, as I have -a friendship for you. But I warn you that any delay in leaving Cuba may -subject you to much annoyance, to use no harsher term. The government -suspects you of secretly aiding the insurrection.” - -“The government is mistaken.” - -Murillo glances at Juanita, and smiles ironically. “Senor Ashley,” he -says, “I am not so easily deceived. The instrumentality that saved the -senorita from annoyance is the same instrumentality that placed the -traitor Quesada in his present safe retreat. But what I as a man might -applaud, I cannot as a loyal adherent to Spain condone; nor would the -government take a sentimental view of the matter. You will see the -wisdom of my advice. Come.” And Murillo leads the way from the church. - -Before he leaves the scene of his new-found happiness Jack Ashley -presses warmly the wrinkled hands of Father Hilario. “Father, you’re a -brick,” he says, and adds solicitously: “Will not Captain Huerta seek to -revenge himself upon you?” - -“I fear him not,” replies the priest, raising his head proudly. Then, -placing the hand of Juanita within Ashley’s, he lays a hand on the head -of each, and in a voice choked with emotion says: - -“My children, I have sinned for your sake, but I trust that God will -condone the offense. Heaven bless and keep you and when you are happily -sheltered in your northern home think sometimes of Father Hilario, of -the little church of San Pedro.” - -Imprinting a kiss upon the brow of the Cuban girl, the aged priest turns -away and sinks upon his knees before the crucifix over the altar. - -It requires but a few minutes for General Murillo to make out the -necessary passports and as he hands them to Ashley, he remarks: “You -will follow my advice?” - -“I will follow it to Santiago, at least, general.” - -The general shrugs his shoulders. “Do as you please. I have warned you,” -he says, and turns away. - -Ten minutes later Ashley and Juanita are en route for Santiago in a -volante. - -The young lady is sad. The natural reaction has set in. - -“I am thinking of my father,” she replies to Jack’s attempt to rally -her. - -“Your father is all right,” he confidently assures her. “In an hour or -two you will be in his arms, and I shall have the pleasure of asking him -for the hand of the dearest girl in the world. Or, stay, I am -progressing too rapidly,” he muses, in mock concern. “It has occurred to -me,” he goes on, “that—oh, well, of course a proposal of marriage must -naturally be regarded more conservatively now than—” - -“Jack!” - -“Yes, senorita.” - -“What are you talking about?” - -“Of you, senorita. Ah, something in your eyes tells me that I may be -presumptuous enough to hope.” - -“What nonsense! There, I knew you were joking,” declares Juanita, as she -catches a stray twinkle in Jack’s eye. “You foolish boy, you know I love -you. I have loved you ever since—I met you.” - -“Three whole weeks ago,” muses Ashley, as he draws the blushing face to -his and kisses it. - -“Do you know, I have been insanely jealous of your friend Don Carlos all -along,” confesses Jack, after a long, happy silence, during which the -pair quite forget the volante driver. - -“Jealous of Don Carlos? Oh!” cries Juanita, bursting into merry -laughter. - -“I admit it is highly humorous, in the light of recent developments,” -says Jack, who sees nothing to laugh at in his remark. “What is there so -amusing in it all?” - -“Oh, you dear, foolish Jack,” exclaims the girl, throwing her arms -around his neck. “To be jealous of Don Carlos! Why, Don Carlos is a -girl.” - -“I am aware that, to the public gaze, Don Carlos is at present a young -lady,” returns Ashley, loftily, “but you must remember that I knew Don -Carlos before he exchanged his customary attire for his present feminine -toggery.” - -“Oh, how superiorily wise you look,” banters Juanita. “But I tell you -that Don Carlos has always been, is now and always will be a girl!” - -“What!” - -“And you never suspected it—you who are so penetrating?” mocks the young -lady. - -But Jack makes no reply. His mind is attempting to digest this -surprising bit of information. Then a light begins to break upon him. - -“Her real name—what is it?” he asks, suddenly. - -Juanita becomes serious again. “I must not divulge it, Jack, dear. I -should not have told you what I have, but you looked so comical when you -told me you had been jealous of Don Carlos. There, please don’t -catechise me further.” - -“I shall not,” replies Ashley. “Besides, it will be unnecessary for you -to betray her identity.” - -“Then you know—” - -“I think I do. As I more than once remarked, I have an excellent memory -for faces, although I am sometimes a dev—a diablo of a while in -recalling the names that go with them.” And Ashley relapses into -meditation. - -“Well, here we are at Santiago,” announces Jack. “In a short time you -can bid a temporary adieu to the soil of Cuba; and the sooner the -better.” - -And indeed, the streets of Santiago are in apparent possession of a -riotous mob, swarming in and out of the cafes. - -Ashley and Juanita find no obstacles in their path; half an hour later -they are aboard the America, under the red, white and blue, and Juanita -is in her father’s arms, relating breathlessly the thrilling incidents -of the last few hours. - -Ashley leaves them to their exchange of confidence and affection, and -goes off to talk with Captain Meade. When he sees Don Quesada again that -gentleman takes his hand and assures him that he is honored by his -prospective entrance into the family. - -“As for Cuba,” declares the Don, his eyes lighting with a trace of their -old-time fire, “the cause of the patriots was never brighter. To be -sure, I am a fugitive, and El Terredo yesterday suffered a severe -defeat, the Pearl of the Antilles having been destroyed in an unequal -engagement with three Spanish cruisers and gunboats. But General Masso -is advancing upon Santiago, with 10,000 revolutionists, and the fall of -the city is looked for within forty-eight hours. Already the Spanish -warships are gathering preparatory to shelling the place should it come -into the hands of the patriots, and foreign vessels are preparing to -leave the harbor.” - -“I believe I will take Murillo’s advice for the present,” reflects -Ashley, “but I shall return to-morrow with the cruiser and be in at the -death.” Then he goes in search of Juanita. - -“Now,” says that young lady, “if you have finished squeezing my hand -before all these officers and seamen, come below and I will introduce -you to—to ‘Miss Carlos’.” - -“All right, sweetheart,” replies Jack, gayly. “Let me see. I believe you -remarked early this morning that you would never doubt me again.” - -“Yes?” responds the young lady, inquiringly. - -“Then, after you have introduced me to ‘Miss Carlos’ will you leave us -alone for a short time?” - -“What a strange request! But it is granted.” - -“Good. And now let us go below.” - -The interview, whatever its nature, has a peculiar effect upon Ashley. -Upon returning from it he is saying to himself, sotto voce. - -“By Jove! This case has taken a turn that I little looked for. I’d give -four dollars to see John Barker, detective, at this moment.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LII. - - THE ENCOUNTER AT THE CAFE DE ALMENDRAS. - - -“You have settled your business interests in this country -satisfactorily?” - -“Perfectly so. Much more profitably, indeed, than I expected.” - -“Then there is nothing further to keep you here except sight-seeing?” - -“Nothing—except sight-seeing.” - -Cyrus Felton, Phillip Van Zandt and Louise Hathaway are seated on the -veranda of the little Cafe de Almendras, on the outskirts of Santiago. -They have returned this morning from a short jaunt to the interior and -are not impressed favorably with rural Cuba. So they gladly return to -the contemplation of that view which is ever welcome, no matter where -one may roam—old ocean. - -“And you, Miss Hathaway—have you any Cuban ties that you will sever with -regret?” inquires Van Zandt. - -Miss Hathaway is more thoughtful than the occasion would seem to -require. “None,” she replies, slowly. “Unless,” she adds quickly, “the -pleasure of your society for the last month may be regarded as a Cuban -tie.” - -“Thank you,” rejoins Van Zandt, with a glance that brings a blush to the -face of the Vermont maiden. - -“No; I am utterly, uncompromisingly disappointed with Cuba,” she says. -“And the people! But I have been here but a few days, so I shall not -place my opinion upon record.” - -“And yet your brief impression of Cuba, Miss Hathaway, would not be -likely to change much for the better if you were to spend a dozen years -here. The country is uninteresting. The Spaniard cannot be changed. The -Cuban—that is, the Cuban we see about us—does not deserve freedom. He -lets the blacks and his brothers of the chaparral do all the fighting, -and hardly dares, except in private, to express his cordial hatred of -his ancient enemy. Do you know, Mr. Felton, I rather fancied that you -had relatives in Cuba.” - -“Relatives in Cuba?” The little color suddenly recedes from Mr. Felton’s -face. - -“Yes,” says Van Zandt. “The day before I had the pleasure of meeting you -and Miss Hathaway I was reading in a New York paper an interview with a -member of the Cuban revolutionary society. In speaking of the -diversified character of the Spanish officers in Cuba, the gentleman -mentioned that attached to the staff of General Truenos was a young -American, a former sugar planter. His name was Felton, but he changed it -to Alvarez. When I first discovered your name and learned that you were -en route to Cuba I unconsciously associated you with this young sugar -planter so friendly to the Spanish cause.” - -During Van Zandt’s speech, delivered in apparently careless tones, Mr. -Felton succeeds in mastering a strong emotion. Louise is regarding him -somewhat nervously, but Van Zandt quickly refills Miss Hathaway’s glass -with jerez and passes it to her with a smiling comment on the quality of -the wine. - -The rather awkward silence is broken by Mr. Felton. - -“Mr. Van Zandt, and to you, Louise, I may say that I believe I have a -son in Cuba, and that he is the young man alluded to in that newspaper. -One reason why I have come to Cuba is to find that son. I supposed he -was operating the sugar plantation that we visited last week. I did not -know that he had joined the Spanish service.” - -“I regret,” remarks Van Zandt, “that my idle remark should have stirred -you to speak of a matter on which you might have preferred to have -remained silent.” - -“The subject is a painful one, it is true, but once started I may as -well go on to the end. It is nearly a year ago—the 1st of June—that -Ralph left home, and since then I have heard from him but twice, and -vaguely each time.” - -Both Mr. Felton and Louise are gazing seaward, else they would note the -swift look of surprise that passes across Van Zandt’s face. - -“The 1st of June,” he repeats, as if attempting to recall some incident -of the past. “Did not something peculiar occur in Raymond—that is the -name of your town, is it not?—about that time?” - -Mr. Felton shoots a quick, inquiring look at Van Zandt’s face, but reads -nothing there except disinterested curiosity. - -“Something very peculiar occurred two days before that date,” he -replies, gravely. “On the night of Memorial day Roger Hathaway, Louise’s -father, the cashier of the Raymond National Bank, was found dead in his -office at the bank, and the institution was discovered to have been -robbed of a large amount of money. The murderer has never been -discovered and presumably never will be.” - -An expression of self-reproach is visible in Van Zandt’s face as he -turns to Louise. - -“Forgive me, Miss Hathaway; I was not aware—” - -“There is nothing to forgive, Mr. Van Zandt,” Louise replies. “But I do -not share Mr. Felton’s opinion that the veil of mystery enshrouding the -tragedy will never be lifted. Something within me tells me that one day -the slayer of my father will be brought to justice.” - -Miss Hathaway again turns her eyes, now wet with tears, toward the sea. -Mr. Felton is very pale and it is apparent that he would welcome a -change in the conversation. Van Zandt, however, continues: - -“Now, that you speak of it,” he says, knitting his brows, “I recall that -I read something about the case in the papers at the time. Was no one -suspected?” - -“Three persons were suspected—two of them unjustly. Derrick Ames”—with a -quick glance at Louise, who flushes scarlet and bites her lips—“was one -and my son the other. You may be surprised at my stating this,” in -response to Van Zandt’s questioning gaze, “but you will understand -better why I am so anxious to find Ralph. He had some motive for leaving -Raymond as he did, and until that motive is discovered and his name -cleared I shall be one of the most unhappy of fathers.” - -“And the third party suspected? You have mentioned only two,” says Van -Zandt. - -“The third? Oh, yes; the third was a young man named Ernest Stanley. He -was the only stranger in Raymond, so far as known, on the day of the -tragedy. This young man had been liberated from state prison on Memorial -day, after serving two years of a three years’ sentence for forgery.” - -“Then there was fairly good reason for suspecting him?” comments Van -Zandt, with an enigmatic smile. “Give a dog a bad name, you know. But -tell me about the fellow. I confess I am rather interested in him. Was -his forgery a very serious affair?” - -“A matter of $1,000. Mine was the name he forged.” - -“Indeed. How did you trace it?” - -“That was a peculiar feature of the case. Stanley presented the check at -the bank of which I was president.” - -“Rather a blundering piece of business, should you not say? But may he -not have been innocent?” - -“The forgery was proved.” - -“Ah! Stanley admitted it?” - -“No; he told a fanciful story of the check having been given to him in -New York, in payment of a gambling debt.” - -“Nothing impossible in that story, Mr. Felton. I will tell you why. A -night or two before we left New York I was seated in Madison Square -garden, listening to a concert, when a party of sporting men sat down at -the next table, and one of them entertained his companions by relating a -reminiscence of a game of draw poker in which he had played a part two -or three years before. I will not repeat the story, but perhaps you will -understand the point I am trying to make. Four men were playing and -during the course of one hand the betting had narrowed to two of them. A -held what he believed to be a well-nigh invincible hand. Flushed with -confidence, and irritated by his opponent’s insinuation that he had no -more money to wager, A took a check-book from his pocket, wrote a check -for $1,000 or some such sum, and tossed it upon the table. The bet was -covered, the hands shown down, and A lost. Now,” finishes Van Zandt, “A -might not have had a dollar in the bank. He might have put a worthless -check upon the table, knowing, as he thought he knew, that there was not -one chance in a thousand of a necessity for its payment arising. That -being the case, what mattered it whose name was on the check, his own -or—well, say his father’s? I am only theorizing on what might naturally -occur some time, you know.” - -Cyrus Felton’s face has become ghastly and he appears to be on the verge -of collapse. Miss Hathaway regards Van Zandt with wonder and -apprehension. The latter seems unconscious of the effect his words have -produced, and he remarks carelessly: “But I will not discuss the matter -further, as I suspect it bores you.” - -At this instant the clatter of hoof-beats sounds from the road, as a -detachment of Spanish caballeria ride up, tether their horses and hurry -boisterously into the cafe. The Americans are established on a quiet -veranda at the rear of the building, where they may be free from just -such interruptions. - -“Are you ready to depart?” says Van Zandt to his companions. - -“I am anxious to return to Santiago as soon as possible,” declares Mr. -Felton. - -Van Zandt raps upon the table for the waiter, but no response is made. -Host and helpers are busily occupied with their noisy guests. - -“Pardon me a moment. I will step within and settle the account,” says -Van Zandt, as he rises and enters the cafe. - -The drinking-room is crowded with the boisterous soldiery, disporting -themselves as if war were an amusement and the curtain nearly down on -the farce of revolution. - -The presumptive leader of the troopers is a tall, rather handsome young -fellow, who sits with his back against the wall and a glass in his hand. -There is no one within a dozen or twenty feet of him except one -caballero, with a scar across his forehead, who sits by himself at a -table. - -As Van Zandt enters and closes the door behind him the Spanish captain -glances up and their eyes meet. - -“Great heavens! Am I dreaming,” mutters Van Zandt. And then he stands -with white face and clenched fists, staring at the man before him. - -The latter returns the stare. “I trust you will know me again senor,” he -remarks, ungraciously, as he sets down his glass and strikes a match to -ignite a cigarette. - -“I believe I have had the misfortune of meeting you before,” Van Zandt -replies, folding his arms and regarding the other with blazing eyes. - -The Spanish captain shrugs his shoulders. “May I ask where?” he inquires -coolly. - -“In the United States.” - -“The senor is mistaken. I have never been in the states.” - -“You lie!” - -“Curse you! What d’ye mean?” demands the Spanish captain in the purest -of English, as he drops his hand upon his sword hilt. The man at the -table near by lays down his paper and turns a pair of interested eyes -toward the young men. - -“You lie!” repeats Van Zandt, moving not a step. Then he says in a voice -passionate with hatred and ringing with the exultation of a Nemesis -about to strike: - -“So, Ralph Felton, I have found you at last!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LIII. - - A WOMAN’S VENGEANCE. - - -The cigarette falls from the Spanish captain’s nerveless fingers and his -face turns gray. - -“Who are you?” he gasps. - -“My name is Phillip Van Zandt. I don’t wonder, Ralph Felton, that you -fail to recognize me by that name, though it is my true one. But you -will understand why I have sought you and why I exult in now standing -face to face with you, when I breathe the name of Ernest Stanley!” - -“You are Ernest Stanley?” - -“I was Ernest Stanley. Now, I am his avenger. Listen to me,” commands -Van Zandt, as Felton strives to speak. “When the doors of that New -England prison closed upon me, nearly three years ago, I swore that I -would be avenged upon the scoundrel who put me there. Until a month ago -I did not know his name. Until to-day I was not sure that the father was -an accomplice to the villainy of the son. But when I did learn who the -coward was for whom I suffered I told myself that this world, vast as it -is, was too small to hold him and me. Do you understand? You cur! Do you -understand?” - -Felton glances about the cafe. The soldier at the table near by has -again picked up his newspaper and is absorbed in its columns. But any -one who might take the pains to investigate would discover that he is -not reading the paper. The score or more of others are occupied in their -drink, jest and song. - -Felton has regained his composure and lights a cigarette with a steady -hand. - -“Are you aware, Senor Van Zandt, that at one word from me my men would -cut you to pieces?” he sneers. - -“I know that one such word will mean your instant death,” is the stern -response. - -“Well, I shall not utter it,” says Felton, coolly. “I am competent to -take care of myself. A moment ago you called me a coward. I will prove -to you that I am not. You seek satisfaction?” - -A bitter smile flits over Van Zandt’s face. “Satisfaction!” he murmurs. -“Ay, I demand satisfaction for two years of utter misery and, by -heavens, I shall have it!” - -“You shall! I swear it!” - -“Ah! And when?” - -“At once. This is my only opportunity to accommodate you at present, as -I am ordered to Cienfuegos to-morrow. Come, I will wait for you -without.” So saying, Felton turns on his heel. - -Van Zandt regards him with a look in which suspicion is mingled with a -trace of admiration for his sang froid. - -“You will attempt no treachery?” he says, sternly. - -“I tell you, sir, I am not a coward,” answers Felton, haughtily. - -“That he is not,” mutters the soldier with the scarred forehead, and he -adds, as if addressing the newspaper in his hand: “This is a devilish -unfortunate affair. I must have a hand in it. Hello! Was not that a -woman’s scream?” He rises and, throwing open the door leading to the -rear of the cafe, steps out upon the veranda. An instant later he dashes -the door shut with an ejaculation of amazement. - -Standing at the further end of the veranda, terror depicted in her -colorless cheeks, is Louise Hathaway. A dozen feet from her is one of -the troopers, who has strolled out upon the veranda, and, while much the -worse for liquor, has plainly insulted the American girl. When the -new-comer arrives on the scene, he sees the caballero wiping the blood -from a long, deep scratch across his rage-contorted face. Between -insulter and insulted Cyrus Felton interposes a feeble barrier. - -With a muttered malediction the baffled Spaniard turns and re-enters the -cafe, followed by the scarred soldier, whose timely arrival has -doubtless saved Miss Hathaway from further affront. - -“Jove! I shall have my hands full for a few minutes,” that individual -soliloquizes. “Ah, one moment,” as Van Zandt attempts to brush by him. -“You have some friends out here, senor.” - -“Well?” demands Van Zandt, with a stare. - -“Get them away at once, or these devils in here may make it hot for -them.” - -“I do not understand.” - -“You have no time to listen to a lengthy explanation. Do as I direct. -Send your friends to the consul’s and have them avoid the main road. -There is a path through the garden, and beyond that a trail down the -hillside to the beach. It is but a mile to the consul’s residence by -that route. They’ll be safe at the consul’s.” - -All this is delivered in low, rapid tones and as Van Zandt moves away -the soldier turns and sees the drunken cavalier standing within a few -feet of him, a malicious smile upon his evil face. “Hello! What the -devil are you playing the spy for?” cries he of the scar, and passes on -with the muttered thought: “I wonder if the chap understands English.” - -When Van Zandt rejoins Mr. Felton and Louise he finds the old man as -white as death and his head sunk upon his breast, while Miss Hathaway is -in a semi-hysterical condition. - -“I’m so glad you have returned,” says the latter, as she comes forward -to greet him and she tells him of the encounter with the Spaniard. - -“The scoundrel!” grits Van Zandt, starting toward the cafe. But he -remembers that he has more serious business on hand than thrashing a -drunken trooper, and he turns gravely to his companions: - -“Miss Hathaway, and you, Mr. Felton, I must ask you to proceed -immediately to the residence of the American consul. I have a little -matter that demands my presence here for another half-hour, and -meanwhile it will not be safe for you to remain. Nor will it be well to -go by the main road. The city is in the hands of a mob. The scoundrel -who insulted you is a fair example. I was warned by one of the men -within—an Englishman, I should judge from his voice and manner.” - -Mr. Felton and Miss Hathaway regard Van Zandt apprehensively, and Louise -wonders at the pallor of his face and the strange look in his eyes. - -“You know where the residence of the consul is. You must follow yonder -path through the garden, and strike the trail down the hillside to the -sea; it is only a short walk. I will rejoin you there within the hour—if -I live,” says Van Zandt, with a significance not understood by his -auditors. - -Without a word Cyrus Felton rises and, followed by Miss Hathaway, starts -off through the garden in the direction indicated by Van Zandt’s -outstretched arm. - -While all this has taken place Ralph Felton has been leaning in the -doorway at the front of the cafe. He looks up when Sanchez, the besotted -subaltern, comes in from his encounter with the American girl, and -signals to him. - -“Sanchez, I have a little affair of honor to settle within the hour,” he -says. “If I do not return, you are second in command. You understand?” - -“Is it ‘a la mort’?” inquires Sanchez. - -Felton nods and turns away, and Sanchez goes back into the cafe in -season to hear the last words of the warning extended to Van Zandt by -the soldier with the scar. - -Felton lights another cigarette and awaits indifferently the appearance -of his implacable foe. - -“I am ready, sir,” says a stern voice at his elbow. - -“And I have been ready for some minutes. Come.” And Felton leads the way -across the road and into a path to the woods. - -The soldier with the scar walks out into the dooryard and watches the -disappearing figures. “That duel must not take place,” he says. “But how -on earth am I to prevent it? Hello! What’s this?” - -His attention is attracted by an ejaculation within the cafe. Two men -are whispering by the window next the entrance. - -“What deviltry is this?” he scowls, bending his head. And as he listens -the scowl deepens on his face, and his fingers clutch at his pistol -stock. “By heavens! I must prevent that duel now,” he mutters. - -Simultaneous with a command given to the half-intoxicated Sanchez, he of -the scar hears the sound of a shot over in the woods. - -“Treachery!” he exclaims, and bounds away in the direction of the -report. - - * * * * * - -Felton and Van Zandt proceed silently into the thicket. A short distance -from the entrance to the woods is a cleared spot. - -“This will probably suit our purpose,” remarks Felton, and, coolly, he -measures off ten paces. - -“That will be distance enough, will it not?” he asks. Van Zandt nods. - -“Will you give the word, Mr. Van Zandt?” - -“As you please. We will fire at the word ‘Three.’” Both men draw their -revolvers. - -“One moment,” interrupts Felton. “In the event of a second fire?” - -“There will be no second fire,” is the grim rejoinder. “I shall kill you -with the first.” - -“And I will endeavor not to waste mine. Well, sir, I am waiting.” - -“One!” Two arms are raised, and not a tremor in either. - -“Two!” The pistols click. - -The word “Three” is trembling on Van Zandt’s lips, when a shot rings out -from the thicket. Felton clasps his hand to his abdomen, with an -exclamation of pain, sways a moment and pitches headlong to the earth. - -The bushes part and a woman, heavily veiled, steps forth, smoking pistol -in hand and walks to where Felton lies. - -She looks upon the body for a moment in silence, and hisses: - -“You cowardly hound! Your end is fitting!” Then, throwing back her veil, -she reveals the face of Isabel Harding. - -“I have saved you, Phillip,” she says, with a calmness that is very near -madness. - -“You have cheated me of my vengeance,” he replies, looking gloomily upon -the body of her victim. - -“My wrongs called for greater vengeance than yours,” cries the woman, -her eyes glittering feverishly and her voice breaking hysterically. “I -followed him here. I saw through the cafe window your meeting with him, -and I exulted that I was in time—in time to save the man I loved! -Phillip! Phillip,” sobs Isabel, sinking on one knee beside him, “I told -you that some day you would realize how much I loved you!” - -But Van Zandt, with a shudder and expression of utter aversion, turns -away. - -“Ah, I see I am too late,” remarks a quiet voice, and Van Zandt looks up -to see the friendly soldier with the scar. - -“To the consul’s if you would save the American girl,” says the latter. -“I’ll look after these obsequies. Come, be off,” as Van Zandt stares at -him in surprise. “A plot is afoot, headed by that precious Lieut. -Sanchez, and you have no time to lose.” - -“But the consul—” - -“The consul was at his office in the city two hours ago, and is -doubtless there yet. Ah, you are too late.” The clatter of departing -hoof-beats is borne upon their ears. “No; you can reach the consul’s -ahead of them, by the short-cut down the hillside. Here! Take my -revolver! You may need more than one. And mind, don’t waste any -ammunition,” shouts the soldier, as Van Zandt dashes off. - -Then he turns to the scene of the tragedy. He kneels beside Felton’s -body and makes a brief examination. Then he straightens up. - -“Go!” he says sternly, to Mrs. Harding. “Your work is done!” - -She stares at him a moment, with her glittering eyes; then, with a -little shudder, tosses the revolver into the bushes, turns and walks -slowly away. - -The caballero watches her out of sight and again turns to the body of -the Spanish captain. - -“Humph!” he grunts, as he lifts the limp form from the ground. “He is -worth a dozen dead men, or my name isn’t John Barker.” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LIV. - - AT BAY IN THE CONSUL’S HOUSE. - - -“There is something very odd in Mr. Van Zandt’s actions,” remarks Miss -Hathaway, as she and Mr. Felton follow the winding trail down the -hillside to the sea. The latter offers no explanation. He has aged -fearfully in the last half-hour, and it is now a bowed, feeble, old man -whom his companion more than once has to assist over the obstacles in -their rough path. - -“To the consul’s. To the consul’s,” is all he says, and the journey is -finished in silence. - -The residence of William Atwood, United States consul, is situated about -two hundred yards back from the shore, about a half a mile below the -mole at Santiago. The nearest neighbor is a quarter of a mile away, -toward the city. It is a plain, square, two-storied structure. A broad -veranda fronts both stories and ivy very nearly conceals three of the -walls of the building. An innovation, to the Cuban view absurd, is an -electric door bell, put in by the consul himself. It is this bell that -Mr. Felton presses, with the remark: “I begin to feel at home already.” - -The summons are answered by a porter who tells them that the consul is -gone. - -“Gone? Gone where?” demands Mr. Felton, with a start of uneasiness that -is inexplicable to Miss Hathaway. - -The consul is at the city. Where, quien sabe? Probably at his office in -the city. - -“We can do nothing except await his return or the arrival of Mr. Van -Zandt,” Louise says, as they step into the hall. - -At the right of the entrance is the library. On the desk is pen and -paper, and here Cyrus Felton seats himself and writes, while Louise -stands in the doorway and watches him with troubled eyes. - -Suddenly she hears the sound of footsteps hurrying up the walk. The door -is thrown open, and Van Zandt, breathing hard from the exertion of his -run, stands before her. - -“Thank God, you are safe!” he cries, fervently. - -“What danger threatens?” asks Louise, laying one hand upon Van Zandt’s -arm. - -For answer he leads the way out upon the veranda. “Look!” he says; and -Miss Hathaway beholds the Semiramis, resting quietly upon the still -bosom of the bay. - -“We must reach that yacht, or I fear we may not leave Cuba alive!” he -tells her. - -Louise gazes at him in questioning dismay. - -“Ah, there comes the enemy,” says Van Zandt, pointing up the beach -toward the city. A small troop of horsemen is approaching at a lively -canter. - -“What is all this mystery? Why do you fear those men?” asks Louise, as -they re-enter the house. - -“It is not for myself that I tremble,” replies Van Zandt, who is -critically examining his pistols. - -“Then it is I whom they seek. Your silence answers yes,” says Louise -quietly. She is very white, but her voice does not tremble. Like a true -heroine she has grown calm in the face of danger. - -“By heaven!” Van Zandt bursts forth; “my life stands between you and -those Spanish devils, and gladly do I place it there. As for you,” -turning to Cyrus Felton, who has risen from the library table and stands -near them, “I would not lift a finger to save your worthless existence. -For the wrongs which I have suffered, for the misery which you and your -son have caused me, I meant to have exacted a bitter reparation, but -fate has otherwise decreed. Ah, you know me!” - -“Spare me your reproaches,” says the old man, lifting his hand in -protest. “I know you. You are Ernest Stanley. What I have dreaded, yet -for nearly a year expected, has come at last. My sin has found me out.” - -“Ah, that it has. But you are safe from my hands now, and maybe from -that of the law before this day is ended. Out of the way, unless you -wish your miserable life cut short by a Spanish bullet. Miss Hathaway, I -must ask you to step into the library, as our visitors have arrived.” -And, throwing open the door, Van Zandt stands upon the threshold, -waiting. - -Lieutenant Sanchez and his men rein their horses within a dozen paces of -the house. The leader dismounts and comes leisurely up the walk, -apparently oblivious of the presence of Van Zandt, whose watchful eyes -are covering every movement of the scoundrelly band. - -“One moment,” commands the American, holding up his hand. But the -Spaniard pays not the slightest attention. - -“Halt!” - -This time Sanchez pauses and strokes his mustachios with exasperating -calmness. “I would advise the senor to make no opposition if he values -his life,” he says. - -“What is your errand here?” - -“The American senorita, to whom I am indebted for this token.” Sanchez -indicates the long, dull-red scratch upon his unamiable visage. “I have -no time or inclination to parley with you, senor. Out of the way, or I -shall order my men to fire upon you.” The troopers half-raise their -carbines. - -Van Zandt tears down a worn edition of the stars and stripes that decks -the wall above his head, and as he throws it across his breast and -shoulder his voice rings out defiantly: - -“Fire upon the American flag, if you dare!” - -The answer is a volley that splinters the woodwork about him and brings -down the glass above the door in a shower. Van Zandt feels a sharp -twinge in his left arm, and with an exclamation of rage and pain he -lifts his revolver and fires. - -Lieutenant Sanchez falls dead in his tracks and there is an instant -scattering out of range on the part of his followers. - -As Van Zandt closes the door and slips the bolt he turns to see Cyrus -Felton lying upon the floor, a stream of blood flowing from a wound in -his side. - -“Fool! I cautioned him to keep out of range,” he exclaims, as he bends -over the old man. - -“Is he badly hurt?” asks the voice of Louise. - -“I fear so. We must retreat upstairs, as we may expect an assault at any -instant. Quick!” - -As Louise ascends to the floor above, Van Zandt follows with his -unconscious burden. In the rear room is a sofa, and upon this Mr. Felton -is laid. - -“I have but a few minutes to live. Forgive me,” he gasps. - -“God may forgive you,” replies Van Zandt, turning bitterly away. Louise -takes his hand in hers. - -“Surely, Mr. Van Zandt, you can forgive the past in this awful moment,” -she says, softly. “Remember, he was a father and he loved his son.” - -At the contact of that little hand Van Zandt feels a thrill creep over -him. - -“You know now who I am,” he says, dully. The blue eyes meet the dark -ones unwaveringly. - -“I know that I believe in your innocence and that I trust you,” is the -quiet response. “Listen, he is speaking again.” They bend their heads to -catch the sinking man’s last words. - -“In my—coat—papers,” gasps Mr. Felton, with his fast-glazing eyes fixed -on Van Zandt. “They—will—clear—your—name,” he finishes and sinks back, -exhausted by his effort. - -“Cyrus Felton,” says Van Zandt, gravely, “if any forgiveness of mine -will afford you an iota of comfort on your journey to the other world, -it is yours.” - -The dying man acknowledges the absolution with a glance. An instant -later his spirit passes to his Maker, to be judged by his deeds in this -world of sorrow and sin, of hope and happiness. - - * * * * * - -Again the Cafe de Almendras. The boisterous troopers are gone and in -their place a dozen or so quiet-appearing men in civilian dress are -grouped about the tables, drinking little and talking less. - -It has been a noisy day, the patron tells a tall man with black eyes and -fierce mustachios, who lounges in the doorway and sweeps the street with -his keen gaze. - -But the tall man heeds not the chatter of the patron; his gaze is fixed -curiously upon an approaching soldier, who bears across his shoulder the -limp form of a man in the uniform of a Spanish captain. The face of the -latter is hidden. - -Barker brushes by into the cafe with the body of Ralph Felton, and meets -the contemptuous glance of the tall man with a searching look that the -latter does not fancy. - -“Ho, there, patron! A room and a doctor at once!” orders the detective, -and he gives the patron a handful of coin and effectually silences his -grumbling protest about making a hospital of the place. - -Having deposited his burden above stairs, Barker returns to the -drinking-room and astonishes the tall man with the black eyes by tapping -him on the shoulder and remarking: - -“I think I have met you before.” - -“The mischief you have!” is the curt rejoinder. - -“Now I am sure of it,” grins Barker. “Your voice has not changed, but -your mustachios do not fit you. Pardon me,” he adds, just in season to -prevent an outbreak, “I am indebted to you for this slash,” indicating -the scar across his forehead, “but I do not lay up any hard feelings. -I’ll call it quits if you will lend some friends of mine a helping hand. -I have got my hands full upstairs. Listen.” Barker briefly recounts the -episodes narrated in the previous chapter. - -As the tall man listens his brow grows black as night, and when the tale -is finished his voice rings through the cafe in a sharp command: - -“Haste, my comrades! To the American consul’s to save my friends!” - -The quiet-appearing civilians about the tables leap to their feet as one -man, and, leaving the unpaid patron standing in hopeless astonishment -amid the ruins of the glassware he has dropped, the little band sweeps -out of the cafe. - -“There will be music at the consul’s this afternoon, unless I am greatly -mistaken,” mutters Barker, as he looks down the dust-veiled road. “And -now for my patient. If he dies with his secret unrevealed I’ll never -forgive him!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LV. - - A SIGNAL FROM MACEDONIA. - - -Van Zandt and Louise stand, hand in hand, gazing sorrowfully upon all -that is mortal of Cyrus Felton. A crash is heard below, as the front -door is burst from its hinges. - -Van Zandt leaps to the head of the staircase just as the feet of a brace -of ruffians are on the lower step. Twice cracks his revolver and his aim -is true. One of the Spaniards falls and the second drops back with a cry -of pain. Then, as Van Zandt throws himself to one side, there is a flash -of fire below, and the bullets whistle harmlessly by. - -As he judges, there is no immediate second rush by the attacking party, -so he proceeds to examine his surroundings and the result is far from -satisfactory. There is no serious danger of the besiegers attempting to -carry the staircase by storm. The Spaniard is not lacking in courage, -but it requires a considerable amount of sand to lead the way to certain -death. But the room to which they have retreated was not built for a -fortress and he realizes that the end must come when the enemy will gain -access to the second floor—by the veranda or by the rear entrance to the -building. - -Suddenly his eyes rest upon a ladder at the other end of the short -hallway. - -“Quick!” he whispers to Louise, as he points the way to temporary -safety. - -A minute later and they are on the roof of the building, the ladder -pulled up, and the scuttle fastened down. Over them floats, from the -flagstaff, the glorious banner of their native land, and above that -bends a sky of heaven’s deepest blue. - -“Fairly outwitted!” says Van Zandt. Suddenly he feels a weakness come -over him and he sinks upon the sun-baked roof. Then for the first time -Louise notices that he is wounded, and she kneels beside him with a very -white face. - -“It is nothing,” he reassures her. With her assistance he removes his -coat, tears open the left sleeve of his shirt and discloses a bullet -hole in the fleshy part of the arm. It looks more serious than it really -is and Louise feels an inclination to faint. But she resists it and -proceeds to bind up the still bleeding wound with strips torn from her -own silken petticoat. The golden head is very close to the brown one, -and as the fair surgeon bends to tie a knot, the soft sweep of her hair -steals away all of Van Zandt’s well-guarded reserve, and his right arm -encircles her in a passionate embrace. - -“I love you! I love you!” he whispers. - -And Miss Hathaway, being a sensible young woman, who knows what she -wants, does not remark upon the “suddenness” of the declaration of love, -but presses her red lips to his and tells Phillip that she has loved him -ever since she knew him. - -But the lovers are brought back to earth by a chorus of yells and -picturesque profanity sufficient to supply the captain of a whaling bark -for an entire voyage. - -“They have discovered our retreat,” whispers Van Zandt, as he lifts the -scuttle and listens to the tumult below. But he drops it as a bullet -crashes through a few inches from his head, and moves out of such -dangerous range. Then, as his eyes rest upon the flag above him an idea -seizes him—a veritable inspiration. He steps to the flag-staff, detaches -the halyards and the stars and stripes come fluttering down to his feet. - -“What are you doing with the flag?” asks Louise. - -“Giving utterance to the old Macedonian cry,” he calls back, and up goes -old glory again, this time with the union jack down. “Pray that my crew -may see the signal,” he adds, fervently. And Providence assists his -effort, for a puff of wind streams the flag straight out upon the -breeze. - -Capt. Beals is on the bridge of the Semiramis at this moment, looking -toward the shore, and his curiosity is excited. - -He sweeps the roof top with one glance through his powerful glance and -then issues a command that echoes to the farthest corners of the -Semiramis. - -A few moments later Van Zandt sees two boats cut shoreward through the -blue waters of the bay as fast as muscle can send them. - -“Thank heaven!” he exclaims, as his heart bounds within him, and he -proceeds to hug Louise in a manner that vastly entertains Capt. Beals, -who is still an interested though distant spectator. And if the bluff -old sea dog could have made himself heard he would have shouted a -warning, for he discerns what Van Zandt cannot see—a ladder placed -against the side wall of the consul’s house and three men ascending it, -while back a short distance, with carbines raised, stand the rest of the -scoundrelly horde. - -The attack bids fair to be successful, but suddenly rings out the cry of -“Santiago!” and the little band of patriots from the Cafe de Almendras -dashes upon the scene. - -The Spaniards now have all the fighting they can attend to. Van Zandt -and Louise watch from the rooftop the progress of the battle royal. The -fight is won. No quarter is given, and those of the Spaniards who have -the ability to flee are in full retreat, and as they disappear down the -beach they shout: - -“El Terredo! El Terredo!” - -Van Zandt sees a strange transformation in the appearance of the leader -of the rescuing party. During a hand-to-hand struggle with one of the -troopers his fierce mustachios have been knocked off, and it is a -handsome, beardless youth, with flashing black eyes, who looks about him -and remarks: “Well, my merry men, the victory is ours, but where are the -Americans?” - -“Coming,” sings out Van Zandt, from the upper air. “We will be with you -in a minute.” And as he turns to Louise that young lady proceeds to -faint in his arms. It is a logical reaction from the strain which she -has borne with wonderful fortitude. - -By this time the boats from the Semiramis have arrived, and in them -enough fighting Yankees to handle twice their number of Spanish -soldiery. A ladder is placed against the consul’s house and the besieged -are assisted to earth, one unconscious and the other with an arm tied -up. - -While revivifying operations are under way Van Zandt hears a startled -exclamation at his elbow. It comes from El Terredo, who is gazing upon -the marble countenance of Miss Hathaway with astonished and troubled -eyes. - -Without replying to Van Zandt’s questioning look, El Terredo picks up -his mustachios from the sand and again affixes them to his face. Then he -turns calmly to Van Zandt. - -“The third of your party? I was told there was an old gentleman.” - -“He is dead. Killed at the first fire,” Van Zandt tells him, and he -leads the way into the house. - -As the two men look upon the body, which has not been disturbed by the -troopers, El Terredo shudders, and murmurs: “My God, what does all this -mean?” - -“It means much to me,” replies Van Zandt, gravely, as he takes from the -dead man’s person a packet of papers. - -Without speaking El Terredo steps to the sofa and assists Van Zandt to -bear the remains from the house. - -The body is laid in the bow of one of the boats, reverently covered, and -preparations are made for the return to the Semiramis. When all but -himself and the rescuing party from the cafe have embarked Van Zandt -turns to El Terredo, who, with folded arms, is gazing abstractedly -toward the law-and-order deserted city. “You are going with us, are you -not?” he asks. - -“No; I shall remain here.” - -“Your safety lies with yonder yacht.” - -“Safety? Ah, senor, somewhere on this isle is one dearer to me than -personal security.” And the young man turns away to hide his emotion. - -“But you can gain nothing by remaining here now. The survivors of the -late scrimmage have recognized you and in half an hour the whole town -will be at your heels. Aboard my yacht you will be safe and I will -gladly land you at any point on the island you may designate. Besides, -the papers—” - -“Say no more, senor,” exclaims El Terredo, extending his hand. “I accept -your generous offer.” - -Dismissing his faithful followers, with the assurance that he will be -with them again ere many days, the revolutionary leader steps into one -of the waiting boats. - -As they are about to push off a soldier whose horse is flecked with foam -comes dashing down the beach, and as he leaps from his well-nigh broken -steed, he calls out cheerily: - -“Got room for one more?” - -“Ah! My friend of the cafe,” cries Van Zandt. “You are very welcome, -senor.” - -“And just in time,” remarks John Barker, detective, as with a hearty -thwack he sends his horse riderless down the beach and clambers into the -boat. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LVI. - - THE FATE OF THE SEMIRAMIS. - - -“And now, what?” - -The boats have reached the Semiramis. Louise Hathaway has been tenderly -assisted to the deck by Van Zandt, followed by Navarro and Barker, and -the dead form of Cyrus Felton has been reverently conveyed aboard. - -A sort of council of war is being held on the quarter-deck of the yacht, -participated in by Van Zandt, Navarro and Capt. Beals. The master of the -Semiramis looks inquiringly at the insurgent leader as he utters the -words quoted above. - -“For me personally there is but one course,” replies Navarro. “I must -land somewhere in the night and make my way to Gen. Masso’s camp. That -will not be a difficult matter. It is your own situation that I am -considering. The American man-of-war, is she still in the harbor?” - -Capt. Beals shakes his head. “She sailed an hour ago for Key West, for -supplies and instructions. She will not return for at least two days.” - -Navarro’s face grows grave. “Then you are not safe from molestation even -in this vessel and under that flag,” he says, pointing to the red, white -and blue floating from the masthead. “Without a man-of-war to protect -you, the Spaniards, knowing that El Terredo is aboard, will search your -yacht, possibly confiscate her and subject you to no end of annoyance, -even though they should not find El Terredo. They respect no flag, no -emblem, no rules of civilized nations, unless they are absolutely -compelled to by superior force. You saw how they treated the American -flag above the consul’s own residence. There are now three Spanish -gunboats in the harbor. Within the hour I fear your yacht will be -surrounded.” - -“Then there is but one thing to do,” promptly replies Van Zandt. “Capt. -Beals, have steam got up at once and weigh anchor. We will follow the -America to Key West.” - -There is silence on the quarter-deck for a few moments. Miss Hathaway -has retired to her former stateroom immediately upon setting foot upon -the yacht, and Barker is intently watching the shore from the bridge. -For the time being Van Zandt and Navarro are alone. Suddenly the former -breaks the silence. - -“You are not a Cuban,” he says. “Why are you enlisted with the -nondescript army of the insurrectionists?” - -Navarro flushes at the word nondescript, but does not reply at once. -Finally he says quietly: “No, I am not a Cuban. I am, like yourself, an -American. But my ancestors were Cuban, back more than six generations. -Until ten months ago,” continues Navarro, in a less-impassioned tone, “I -was a careless, happy-go-lucky American youth, without any specific aim -in life. But when the Cuban insurrection broke out, I was consumed with -an overmastering desire to help free Cuba from the accursed yoke of -Spain. I have sacrificed everything to that end, and now I am known to -the Spaniards as ‘El Terredo,’ the terror. I believe I have been of some -service to the struggling natives, and so I shall continue until Cuba is -free, or–” - -Navarro does not complete the sentence. While he was speaking the smoke -has been pouring out of the chimneys of the yacht in steadily increasing -volume, and now the clank of the steam windlass announces that the -vessel is getting under way. Without replying to Navarro’s words, Van -Zandt hastens below to inform Miss Hathaway of the destination of the -yacht. Capt. Beals has taken his station on the bridge and the graceful -vessel steams slowly toward the narrow entrance to the harbor of -Santiago. - -Navarro watches intently the three Spanish warships by which the -Semiramis must pass within half a mile. As the yacht draws nearer, the -watcher notes with anxiety a boat hastily putting out from the -government wharf and evidently making for the flagship of the fleet, the -Infanta Isabel. He communicates his discovery to Van Zandt, who has -returned from below, with the comment: “They are evidently notifying the -cruiser to have her stop this vessel. Rather than that she fire on the -yacht and endanger the lives of those on board, including the young -lady, you must surrender me. Then they may permit you to go unmolested.” - -“No man leaves this ship for a Spanish prison or the garrote,” replies -Van Zandt, his eyes burning with excitement, “as long as there is a -timber of her afloat. It is less than six miles to the entrance to the -harbor, and once outside we can snap our fingers at a whole fleet of -Spanish cruisers. Besides, with all the various craft scattered about -the harbor, they will not dare to fire on us.” - -Navarro shakes his head skeptically, but does not reply. The boat has -reached the side of the war vessel. The Semiramis is now nearly abreast -of the latter and distant less than half a mile. Suddenly a puff of -smoke rises from the forward deck of the Spaniard, followed by the sharp -crack of a rifle. - -“There! She has signaled you to heave to,” remarks Navarro. “As I told -you, you must surrender me.” - -“This is my answer,” replies the owner of the Semiramis, drawing his -revolver and firing two shots in the air. Then to Capt. Beals on the -bridge he sings out: “Full speed ahead!” - -Smoke is now pouring from the stacks of the warship, and it is evident -that she is preparing to pursue the American yacht, but she does not, as -Navarro predicted, fire on the latter. Before the cruiser gets well -under way the Semiramis is within four miles of the channel that marks -the entrance to the harbor. - -Van Zandt smiles at Navarro. “We will lead him a merry race if he thinks -to catch the Semiramis,” he remarks. “This yacht can go two miles to his -one. And if he hasn’t improved in his marksmanship I will risk his guns. -Ah, there goes the first one!” - -The Spaniard has succeeded in getting within range of the yacht without -endangering any of the other craft, and the roar of his forward gun is -heard as Van Zandt speaks. - -“An eighth of a mile to windward,” observes the latter, as he watches -the solid shot skip over the water. “He can’t race and shoot, too.” - -Evidently the pursuer has come to the same conclusion, for he fires no -more guns, but doggedly plows the placid waters of the harbor after the -great black yacht. - -And now the latter is less than half a mile from the cleft in the -precipitous coast line. Capt. Beals has slowed down the engines and the -yacht is picking her way by the reefs that guard the channel. - -“Ship ahoy!” suddenly rings out from the lookout forward. All eyes are -turned ahead. A steamer, inward bound, has just come into view in the -channel. - -“Permit me,” Navarro takes the glasses and focuses them upon the -stranger. “It is the Spanish dispatch boat Pizarro,” he says. “When the -cruiser recognizes her she will doubtless signal her to intercept the -yacht, and in the narrow channel she can make serious trouble, I fear.” - -The report of another cannon, followed by two more in quick succession, -shows that the man-of-war has indeed recognized her compatriot almost as -soon as the American. An answering gun from the dispatch boat also shows -that she has heard and understands. - -Capt. Beals looks inquiringly at Van Zandt. “We must continue straight -on and take our chances in the channel with that craft,” the latter -says. Then to Navarro: “Do you know what her armament is?” - -“Oh, she is not a fighting ship. She has no armament, merely one gun for -saluting purposes, and her crew cannot number over fifty.” - -“Then we are all right. If she gets in our way she must take the -consequences.” - -But the dispatch boat evidently does not intend that the American shall -pass. She has taken a position in the narrowest part of the channel and -lies stationary, presenting her broadside to the oncoming yacht. - -“Signal that we propose to pass to port,” Van Zandt says to Capt. Beals, -“and if the Spaniard gets in our course run him down.” - -Capt. Beals nods and a second later the hoarse whistle of the Semiramis -echoes over the waters. The signal is answered with a rifle shot from -the Spaniard’s forward deck and the dispatch boat moves forward two -lengths, so that she lies fair and square in the announced course of the -yacht. - -But there are no signs of slackening on the part of the latter, and her -black hull looks threatening indeed to the officers of the dispatch -boat. - -Caramba! Surely she will not run down the royal vessel! Yet it looks -very like it! But they will not dare! Still—the Spanish commander -hesitates no longer. He signals his vessel to back at full speed. - -Too late! - -The Pizarro has moved less than half a length when the American yacht -crashes into her. There is a grinding shock that brings Louise Hathaway -in terror to the deck of the Semiramis, and then the yacht continues on -her course, apparently unharmed. Van Zandt catches a glimpse of a great -jagged hole in the bow of the Spaniard, into which the water is pouring -in a cataract; of a panic-stricken crew rushing frantically for the -boats; and then he turns to Miss Hathaway. It is nothing, he assures her -tenderly; a slight collision, but the yacht is all right and perhaps she -had better return to her stateroom for the present. Later on—and Louise -smiles, a little sadly, but permits Van Zandt to conduct her to the -saloon. - -Capt. Beals is awaiting Van Zandt as the latter bounds up the steps a -minute later. “We are badly stove forward,” he reports, “and are making -water quite rapidly. With the steam pumps going, we may keep afloat -three or four hours, but the yacht is doomed.” - -Van Zandt is so startled at the news that for a moment he is speechless. -His eyes rove back to the Spanish warship, and then at the nearly -perpendicular cliffs by which the Semiramis is steaming. - -He looks for the dispatch boat, but it is not in sight. “The Spaniard?” -he inquires, mechanically. - -“Gone to the bottom,” laconically replies the captain. - -“Then there is no hope for us but to keep on and try to land by the -boats somewhere on the coast,” Van Zandt says. “The Spaniards will treat -us all as enemies, now that we have sunk one of their boats. How long -can we keep up this speed?” - -“Perhaps an hour, perhaps more. The water will put out the fires.” - -“Well, have the boats quietly prepared and keep within reach of land. Do -you think the Spaniards will continue the pursuit?” - -“Undoubtedly. They will stop only to pick up the crew of the Pizarro, -and then will keep on after us. If there was some little bay near here -where we could beach the yacht, but there isn’t.” - -The noble craft continues to plow the waves and her injured bow still -tosses the foam on either side, but her speed is sensibly diminishing. -All on board have recognized the fact that the yacht is doomed, but -there is no confusion, no manifest anxiety. The boats have been prepared -and each member of the crew has secured in a little package his most -valued possessions. On the quarter-deck Van Zandt, Navarro, Barker and -Louise Hathaway are silently watching the Spanish warship. The latter is -gaining now, for the Semiramis is steadily settling. - -Navarro, his hat drawn over his eyes and his coat wrapped about him so -that his countenance is partially veiled, has carefully avoided Louise. -When she returns to the deck he walks over to where John Barker is -leaning against the rail and remarks in Spanish: - -“If you do not desire to be shot as a deserter I should advise you to -borrow a suit of clothes from our friend, the owner of the yacht.” - -The detective starts. “I guess you’re right,” he replies in English, and -turns to Van Zandt. Five minutes later he emerges from the cabin attired -in a fashionable suit of gray. - -“The water is within two inches of the boilers,” reports the engineer, -and Van Zandt sighs heavily. - -“Well,” he says, “we may as well take to the boats. Come.” He leads -Louise to the steamer’s launch. - -“And he?” Louise points to where the body of Cyrus Felton lies, covered -by its winding sheet of canvas. - -“He will go down with the Semiramis. He could have no nobler tomb.” - -Boom! The roar of the Spanish gun is the salute the people of the -Semiramis hear as the boats pull away from the doomed yacht. The cruiser -is within range and though her commander must be aware that the American -vessel is sinking he is firing on her. - -“The coward!” grits Van Zandt. “But the Semiramis will not strike her -flag. She sinks with the stars and stripes flying.” - -“Pull hard!” shouts Capt. Beals. “Pull hard! She’s going down!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LVII. - - AN INTERNATIONAL EPISODE. - - -“Ashley, we will give you something to write about,” remarks Capt. -Meade, as the America steams out of the harbor of Santiago. - -“What’s that, captain? A thrilling description of a voyage from Santiago -de Cuba to Key West?” - -The commander of the cruiser smiles good-naturedly. “More excitement -than that, and something that will cause the little senorita to cling -frantically to your arm.” - -“Ah, then, you may open the ball at once.” - -“Not yet; not for an hour. In short, we are going to burn some powder by -and by. A little target practice, and if you have never seen anything of -the sort you will be rather interested.” - -“Confound his target practice,” Jack mutters disgustedly, as Capt. Meade -bustles away. “The only powder-burning I want to see is the shelling of -the dingy old city of Santiago by the Spanish fleet.” - -But Ashley’s temporary annoyance is soon forgotten in the pleasure of -assisting Juanita up and down the steep ladders, of explaining the -machinery, the guns, the great searchlight and the thousand and one -interesting features of the cruiser. - -The target practice, he also finds, is a decidedly interesting affair, -after all, which conclusion may have been influenced by the manifest -delight of his sweetheart over the novel experience. - -But the last gun is fired, the buoy mark is demolished, and, within -forty-eight hours, Capt. Meade tells Jack, the America will be lying at -anchor in the harbor of Key West. - -“And she will return to Santiago, when?” the correspondent inquires. “I -must be back at the finish, if the insurgents capture the city and it is -shelled by the Spanish fleet.” - -Capt. Meade shakes his head. “That depends on instructions received at -Key West. I suppose though, that the cruiser would be ordered directly -back to Santiago after coaling.” - -Just then the captain is summoned to the bridge, where it is evident -that some unusual occurrence is engrossing the attention of the -officers. - -Jack observes that the captain has his glass turned toward the -northwest, and he also looks in that direction. Trails of black smoke -low down on the horizon, evidently from two steamers, are all that -reward his gaze, but he notices that the course of the America has been -changed and that her speed has been materially accelerated. - -“What is in the wind?” he inquires, casually, of the youthful ensign. - -“That’s just what we’re going to find out,” is the reply, and Ashley -follows Capt. Meade to the bridge. - -“Nothing special that we know of,” is that official’s response to Jack’s -query as to the cause of the change of course. “Some stranger, probably -a Spanish gunboat, is in pursuit of another steamer, and as it is not -much out of our course I concluded to run up nearer the scene.” - -The white cruiser is now rushing along at a speed that reminds Jack of -his first memorable trip upon her, and is rapidly reducing the cloud of -smoke on the horizon to the outlines of a formidable man-of-war. - -“The Spanish cruiser Infanta Isabel,” is the conclusion of Capt. Meade, -after a long and careful study of the distant steamer. “But the craft -she is in pursuit of I cannot quite make out. She is a large steamship -of some sort and the Don is overhauling her hand over fist. We shall be -there just in time to see the fun.” - -The America’s course is converging toward that of pursuer and pursued. -Capt. Meade’s keen eyes are alternately riveted on the Spanish warship -and the unknown vessel. - -“If that steamship did not set so low in the water,” he remarks, -thoughtfully, “and was going about two-thirds faster, I should say that -she was our old friend, the big black yacht Semiramis. But—great heaven! -The steamer is sinking! That’s what’s the matter with her! She is -steadily settling!” - -All eyes on the cruiser are now directed toward the crippled stranger. -She is, as Capt. Meade says, slowly sinking while yet the waters are -dashing on either side of her bow like mountain streams. - -“A game struggle, but all in vain,” is the comment of the captain, -shaking his head. “Probably the Spaniard hulled him below the water line -early in the struggle, and he has been slowly making water ever since. -He can’t last much longer. The water must be near the fires now. Ah! I -thought so!” - -For the strange steamer has apparently lost headway. The black smoke -that a moment before poured from her chimneys now mingles with a white -cloud of steam. - -“Her fires are out,” Capt. Meade explains to Ashley. “She will go down -in twenty minutes, if she doesn’t blow up before.” - -The boom of a heavy cannon startles the watchers and they turn quickly -to the Spanish man-of-war. A curling wreath of smoke from her forward -deck tells the origin of the report, and their eyes return to the -sinking vessel. A puff of wind lifts for a moment the flag hanging limp -at her masthead, as if in mute defiance of the Spanish shot. Capt. Meade -starts as if he had received an electric shock. - -“The American flag!” he thunders, “and fired on by the Spaniard!” Then -to the executive officer: “Signal for the forced draught and bear down -on the steamer. We will pick up her boats and then investigate the -outrage on the flag.” - -Another shot, and still another, comes echoing over the water from the -Infanta Isabel, her target the fast-filling steamer. - -Suddenly Ashley is electrified by the command in the stentorian tones of -Capt. Meade: - -“Clear the ship for action!” - -A second later the trumpet’s harsh notes and the sharp rattle of drum, -mingling with the shrill whistles and rough voices of the boatswain, -mates and the noisy clanging of the electric gongs, call the sturdy crew -of the America to “general quarters.” - -Then, indeed, is the blood of the newspaper man stirred by the scenes -about him. The decks throb with the rush of hurrying feet as the men -hasten to their stations. The gun crews are casting loose the great -guns, the murderous rapid-fire cannon and the secondary batteries. Some -are hastily donning equipments, others filling sponge-buckets and still -others stripping themselves of all superfluous clothing, laying bare -their brawny forms. - -Hatches are covered, hose laid and pumps rigged, ladders torn away, and -decks turned topsy-turvy, in the twinkling of an eye. Rifles, cutlasses -and revolvers come out from the armory in quantities that amaze Ashley. -The marine guard falls in and topmen are scrambling nimbly aloft to -secure anything movable there. - -Down come the rails, out come davits and awning stanchions—everything -movable is stowed away or secured. The magazines are opened and the -tackle rigged over the ammunition hatches ready to hoist shot and shell -for the guns. - -“The grim panoply of war,” Jack thinks, as he hastens to conduct the -wondering Juanita below. Even here, he observes to his great surprise, -the captain’s sacred cabin has been invaded “on the jump” by the crews -of the after guns. - -As Ashley returns to the quarter-deck he notes that the America is -bearing hard down almost at right angles on the Spanish warship, now -distant less than a mile. - -“Evidently here is an excellent opportunity for an international -episode,” he thinks, as he glances at the stern face of “Fighting Dave” -Meade on the bridge. Then his hand involuntarily goes to his ears and he -catches at the rail for support, as the forward gun of the American -cruiser thunders forth and an eight-pound solid shot skims over the -waves across the bow of the Spanish cruiser. - -Before he recovers from the shock of the concussion there is a murmured, -“She’s going!” from the officers on the quarter-deck and Jack looks -quickly in the direction of the sinking steamer. But the black hull has -already disappeared beneath the waves and he sees only the fluttering -red, white and blue ere the whirling eddies reach their eager arms for -the beautiful emblem. - -The gun from the America does not have the anticipated effect on the -Spaniard, for he continues full speed toward the spot where the steamer -sunk. But it has evidently had effect in another direction. With the aid -of his marine glasses Ashley observes four boats, which had hitherto -escaped his notice, pulling toward the white cruiser. The purpose of the -Spanish vessel is thus apparent. She designs to cut off the fleeing -boats before they may reach the America. - -Again the white cruiser careens to one side and a second deafening -report, this time the gun from amidship, roars out in language not to be -misunderstood by the on-rushing Spanish man-of-war. - -It is not misunderstood. - -There is a rapid gush of escaping steam, the stacks cease to vomit forth -their black clouds and the Infanta Isabel turns her course and steams -slowly toward the America. - -Ashley watches curiously the flashing oars of the coming boats, and when -the forward one is almost within hail he lifts the glasses to his eyes -and scans her passengers. - -“Thunder and Mars!” he exclaims, “if there isn’t John Barker in the bow -and—yes, it must be Louise Hathaway, Van Zandt, and—who the devil is -that chap with the ferocious mustachios? El Terredo, or I’m a sinner!” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LVIII. - - THE END OF THE TRAIL. - - -When the first boat is alongside the America, Barker is the first man to -clamber to the deck, and the first individual he gets his eye on is Jack -Ashley. - -“Hello! Well met,” remarks that young man, extending his hand. “I was -expecting you any minute.” - -Barker gives Jack’s hand a perfunctory clasp and passes on with a gruff -“Hello!” - -“I am not yet forgiven. I see,” thinks Ashley, as he turns to the rest -of the party coming aboard. He greets Miss Hathaway warmly and Van Zandt -genially, and grips Navarro’s hand with a pressure of strong friendship. - -There is no present opportunity for mutual explanations, as a serious -interruption is apparent in the shape of a boat that has put out from -the Spanish man-of-war and is rapidly approaching the America. - -With a shade of anxiety the people of the Semiramis await the arrival of -the boat. They note the preparations to receive with due honor the -representative of the Infanta Isabel, the marines drawn up in double -file beside the gangway, the officers of the America in position on the -quarter-deck. But there is no time for speculation or conjecture. Eight -pairs of dripping oars are simultaneously raised, the boat glides softly -to the side of the cruiser, and a moment later the Spanish officer is -bowing profoundly to the commander of the America. - -His excellency, Admiral Sanchez of his majesty’s man-of-war Infanta -Isabel, presents his compliments to the commander of the United States -cruiser America and begs to say that the passengers, officers and crew -of the steamer just sunk, who have sought asylum on the American vessel, -are rebels, in arms against his majesty the king of Spain; that their -vessel, just sunk, has within the last three hours destroyed the royal -Spanish dispatch boat Pizarro. Wherefore his excellency respectfully -asks that the said officers, passengers and crew of the rebel ship be -delivered to the representative of her majesty’s ship Infanta Isabel as -prisoners of war. - -Captain Meade listens patiently while the Spanish officer delivers his -message, his brow knitting slightly at the reference to the destruction -of the dispatch boat. Then he turns to Captain Beals: - -“What have you to say to this statement and why were you flying the -American flag, if you were in command of an insurgent vessel?” - -“We are not insurgents and we did not destroy the dispatch boat,” is the -reply. “The pleasure yacht Semiramis of New York, Van Zandt owner, was -in collision with the Pizarro in the harbor of Santiago. The Pizarro -stood directly in our course, notwithstanding our signals that we -proposed to pass to port. We should have gone aground if we had not -fouled her. We did not stop, as the Semiramis was badly stove and -subsequently sunk, as you have seen. Further, our officers and crew and -the passengers are without exception American citizens. As such, I -appeal to the commander of an American vessel for protection.” - -“And you shall have it,” murmurs Captain Meade under his breath. To the -Spaniard he says: “Present my compliments to his excellency, Admiral -Sanchez, and say that the commander of the America finds upon -investigation that the officers and crew of the late steamer Semiramis -are American citizens, who claim the protection of the American flag; -that her captain and officers maintain that the destruction of the -Pizarro was an accident for which they are in no wise responsible. -Therefore I am constrained to decline to grant the courteous request of -his excellency.” - -The Spanish officer bows respectfully and continues: “His excellency -also desired to convey to the commander of the United States cruiser -America the information that among the persons lately on board the -sunken steamer was one Cuban rebel, denominated El Terredo, whom his -excellency has every reason to believe has sought refuge on board this -ship. He respectfully requests that said El Terredo be delivered to the -representative of his majesty’s ship.” - -Captain Meade’s eye strays over the little group, but before he can -speak Navarro steps forward and says in English: “I have been designated -as El Terredo, but I am an American citizen.” - -“I can testify to that statement,” supplements Ashley. - -Captain Meade waves his hand. “That is sufficient. Inform his excellency -that all of the persons picked up in the boats from the lost steamer are -American citizens. As such, I cannot surrender them.” - -Again the officer bows, and his errand performed, he salutes and returns -to the boat. What will be the effect of his report? Will Admiral Sanchez -resent with force Captain Meade’s decision, or will he gracefully bow to -the inevitable? The latter apparently, for a few moments after the -officer ascends the side of the man-of-war the Spanish flag is dipped in -salute to the America and the Infanta Isabel steams slowly back in the -direction of Santiago. - -“Again is Providence on the side of the heaviest guns,” murmurs Ashley, -as he walks over to where Barker is leaning against the rail, and claps -him on the back. “John, I am powerful glad to see you,” he declares -heartily. - -“I don’t know whether I can say the same or not,” rejoins the detective, -sulkily. “For a man whose infernal meddling with affairs that did not -concern him nearly cost me my life, you appear pretty cool and -unconcerned.” - -“My dear friend,” says Ashley, “if I had not been at Jibana half a dozen -days ago you would never have forgiven yourself for the part you played -as a soldier of Castile. Do you know who Don Carlos was?” - -“I know he, or she, was a woman.” - -“Oh, you do?” - -“Yes; and if you had shown yourself after the scrimmage, instead of -sneaking off to Santiago, I might have told you of my discovery.” - -“Ungrateful wretch!” cries Ashley in mock reproach. “I admit that I got -you into the scrape, but I also got you out of it. The fiery El Terredo -would have strung you to a telegraph pole had I not begged for your life -and liberty. Yes; Don Carlos was a woman, and she was Helen Hathaway.” - -“Then El Terredo?” marvels the detective, who is beginning to see -daylight. - -“Was Derrick Ames, of course. Anyone except a detective would have -discovered that long ago.” - -“Indeed,” retorts Barker. “When did you find it out?” - -“Early this morning,” laughs Ashley. “But let us be serious. Where are -the Feltons, father and son?” - -“One dead, and the other perhaps so,” replies Barker, and he tells -Ashley the story of an exciting day at Santiago. - -“It must be done,” the detective is saying, concluding his narrative. -“Your sympathies naturally stand in the way, so I will relieve you of -all active participation in the affair. All you will have to do is to be -a silent witness. One thing you must do, though. You must see Mrs. Ames -and have her pledge that she will not let her husband know that she has -told you her story. I must handle the affair gently, as Ames is as -flashy as gunpowder. You will see Helen, then?” - -“Yes; I will fix it immediately. When do you occupy the center of the -stage?” - -“To-morrow. I will let you know in due season.” - -“All right, old chap. I will be glad when it is all over. So long.” - -There are many happy hearts on the America this night. The meeting -between the sisters, Helen and Louise, was a dramatic one, and after -affectionate confidences had been exchanged each sought the man she -loved best. - -But a shadow of sadness hovers about the four as they sit on the -quarter-deck and watch the big white moon rise out of the sea. Now that -all the excitement is over Van Zandt has dropped back into his old -reserve, and the consciousness of his odd relations to Louise Hathaway -reverts to him with unpleasant keenness. Ames is moody and abstracted -and only the incessant flow of spirits of Jack Ashley, who joins the -group with Juanita, keeps the little party alive. - -But bedtime comes early, for everyone is thoroughly tired, and the party -disperses with many a fervent “Good-night, and pleasant dreams.” - -And as Van Zandt prepares to go below he feels a touch on his arm and -turns to see John Barker. “Mr. Van Zandt, will you grant me a few -minutes before you retire?” requests the detective. - -“Certainly,” is the reply. “Come to my stateroom.” - -Ashley rises early the next morning and as he smokes his after-breakfast -cigar Barker joins him. - -“I shall want you at ten o’clock, promptly,” says the detective. “Meet -me in the private cabin, or whatever it is called on shipboard. I have -secured exclusive use of it for an hour.” - -“Very well,” replies Jack, abstractedly. - -Promptly at ten, Ashley repairs below, and as he enters the cabin he -finds Ames and Van Zandt there. They look at him questioningly, but -before he has opportunity to say more than “Good-morning,” Barker -enters, closes the door and locks it. - -Ames flushes angrily. “So,” he says, “it is at your request that I am -here?” - -“It is,” replies the detective, calmly. - -“What do you mean, sir, by inviting me to this place and locking the -door upon me?” - -“I simply do not wish to be disturbed,” is Barker’s unruffled response. -“The cruiser America is now United States territory. I have business -with you, Mr. Ames. Gentlemen, will you not be seated?” - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CHAPTER LIX. - - “WRITTEN BY THE HAND OF FATE.” - - -“You are a detective,” murmurs Derrick Ames, as he drops back into his -chair. - -“I am,” answers Barker. “For nearly a year I have been on the track of -the murderer of Roger Hathaway, being ably seconded in my quest by my -friend Jack Ashley. The trail has been a tangled one, and has wound -under the flags of three countries, but for the past fortnight the end -has been clearly in view. By a remarkable combination of circumstances -affairs have been so precipitated that to-day nearly all the living -characters in the Raymond drama are upon this vessel, the United States -cruiser America. My work is done. I have only my story to tell. I shall -begin, Mr. Ames, by asking you a few questions,” resumes Barker. - -“Well?” queries the object of his remarks. - -“At what hour did you enter the Raymond National Bank on the evening of -Memorial Day of last year?” - -“I cannot say exactly. I judge that it was in the vicinity of 7:45.” - -“Will you be good enough to state what took place there between you and -Roger Hathaway?” - -Ames scans the detective’s face keenly for a moment, then replies to -Barker in deliberate tones: - -“I went to the bank to ask Mr. Hathaway’s consent that his daughter -Helen might become my wife. I was confident that my errand was useless, -as he had twice before scorned my suit. Helen and I had been idling all -the afternoon on the hillside below the town. As evening drew on I left -her at the bars and went to the bank, as she stated that she had -understood her father to say that he should spend the evening at work -upon his books. It being Memorial Day the streets were deserted, and, -barring one acquaintance, a chap named Sam Brockway, I did not meet a -person on my walk up the main thoroughfare. As I crossed the bridge I -saw Mr. Hathaway standing on the steps of the bank, delivering a note to -a boy, and when he re-entered the building I followed him. - -“‘What do you want?’ he demanded, almost fiercely. I told him, and he -broke into a torrent of abuse. Naturally hot-tempered, I answered his -railings in kind, and I know not what might have happened had not Mr. -Hathaway suddenly ended the dispute by seizing me by the shoulder and -pushing me through the bank door to the street, threatening, as he did -so, to have the law on me if I continued my attentions to his daughter. -Through the glass panel in the door I watched him walk rapidly away in -the darkness of the interior; saw him as for an instant his form passed -into the lighted office in the rear of the bank. Then the door to that -room closed. I never saw Roger Hathaway again.” - -“That is sufficient,” says Barker, as Ames pauses. “Your further -progress up to to-day is known to me.” - -“Indeed?” - -“Yes. And I may say that from the outset neither Mr. Ashley nor myself -believed you guilty of the murder of Roger Hathaway. At the most, we -considered that you might have been a witness to the tragedy. But your -testimony is the last link in the chain. I am now prepared, gentlemen, -to relate what in all human probability happened in Raymond on the -evening of Memorial Day last year.” - -“Pardon me, Mr. Barker,” Van Zandt breaks in, abruptly. “I regret to -tell you that the trail which you have so patiently followed has led you -to what I should judge, from your preliminary remarks, to be a false -conclusion.” - -“What!” cries the detective, starting from his chair. - -“You think Cyrus Felton killed Roger Hathaway. So did I once. We were -wrong. If Cyrus Felton was responsible for Hathaway’s death it was only -indirectly, and the Raymond tragedy was the cause of more misery to him -than any human being should be compelled to bear.” - -Barker is too astounded to reply for an instant, and Ames and Ashley -stare questioningly at Van Zandt. - -“Let me relate briefly that much of my story which bears directly upon -the tragic events in Raymond,” says Van Zandt, quietly. - -“On the afternoon of Memorial day of last year I was released from the -State prison at Windsor, Vermont, after serving two of a three years’ -sentence for forgery, which, in reality, was committed by Ralph Felton. -I took the afternoon train for Raymond, arriving there at 7:45. I went -directly to Cyrus Felton’s residence, and reached it at 7:55. As I was -about to ascend the porch I heard footsteps behind me, and, thinking -they might be those of the man I sought, I stepped into the shadow of -the porch. The new arrival had apparently called to see Felton on -business. I heard the housemaid tell the visitor that Felton was not at -home; that he might be at his office in the bank building. As the man -walked away I followed leisurely. - -“When I reached the entrance of the bank building a man, presumably the -caller at Felton’s, came down the stairs and walked down the street. -Then I went up the stairs and proceeded down the corridor until I -reached a door with Felton’s name upon it. But the door was locked and -the office was dark. As I retraced my steps and stood again at the -entrance of the block a man passed by hurriedly, ascended the steps to -the bank, opened the door and went in. - -“I remained where I was for five minutes, and then walked to the bank -door and glanced through the glass panel. The interior was dark, save -for a ray of light that issued through the partly opened door to the -cashier’s private office. Perhaps Felton is within, I thought, and -pushing open the front door, which was ajar, I walked softly toward the -shaft of light that slanted across the bank floor. - -“What my errand to Felton was, gentlemen, it is not necessary for me to -now state. Enough to say that when I threw open the door to the -cashier’s office I looked upon a sight that froze the blood in my veins. - -“Lying upon the polished floor, which was stained with his life-blood, -was the body of Roger Hathaway, and standing over him was Cyrus Felton, -a revolver clenched in his right hand. - -“When I made my appearance upon the threshold of the office Felton -turned his head and our eyes met for an instant that must to each have -seemed an age. Then I closed the door, and a moment later stood at the -entrance of the bank, gasping for air. Can you not imagine the horror in -my soul? My one impulse was to flee from the fearful scene. I had -looked, as I thought, into the face of Roger Hathaway’s slayer, and that -was the man to whom, incidentally at least, I owed the two past years of -misery. Falsely imprisoned for one crime, might I not be accused of -another and greater one? All this and more flashed through my brain, and -I hurried to the railway station. There I learned that no train was due -for hours. I staggered away from the station and plunged down the track -into the night. - -“How I made my way over mountain and through forest to southeastern -Vermont and rode to New York on the trucks of a freight car; how I read -in a New York paper of the crime that startled Vermont and of my -supposed connection with the affair; how in that same paper I saw a -personal advertising that if Phillip Van Zandt, who left Montana over -two years ago, would communicate with Ezra Smith, lawyer of Butte, -Montana, he would learn of something to his advantage; how I, being the -much wanted Van Zandt, proceeded to Montana and discovered that I was -sole heir to the immense fortune of my uncle, a silver king in that -State, from whom I had foolishly parted in anger two years before—all -this and more I will relate at another time, gentlemen, if you care to -listen. - -“Not until late last night,” continues Van Zandt, “did I have the -opportunity of examining the papers given in my possession by Cyrus -Felton just before he died in the consul’s residence at Santiago.” - -As he speaks Van Zandt takes from his pocket a packet of papers, selects -one of them and tosses it across the table to Barker. “Read that,” he -says. “Read it aloud.” - -The detective unfolds the document and reads: - - “Santiago de Cuba, April 15.—This is written by the hand of - fate. I shall not live to see to-morrow’s sun rise. I know it. - The presentiment of my end is so irresistible that no effort of - will can shake it off. And I am glad that it is so. I could not - endure another day such as this has been. I should go mad. - - “To-day I saw the detective. I have felt that for months he has - been pursuing me. And I have looked again into the eyes, the - glittering, pitiless eyes, that stared at me nearly a year ago - across the corpse of Roger Hathaway—the eyes of the man whom, to - shield my son, I cruelly wronged. From the hour, a month or more - ago, that I met Phillip Van Zandt I feared him. A nameless dread - took possession of me. To-day I recognized him and I read - hatred, contempt and menace in his eyes. He thinks I killed - Roger Hathaway, and what manner of vengeance he has in store I - know not. - - “But Roger Hathaway killed himself. Together we wrecked the - Raymond National Bank. It was the old story of unfortunate - investments, and the blame was chiefly mine. But when the crash - was imminent Hathaway proved the hero and I the coward. He - killed himself and saved both his name and mine. And yet with - that bullet he put an end to all his troubles, while I—I have - suffered for months the tortures of the damned. - - “With this I inclose his letter, which he left on his desk for - me the evening of Memorial Day. It has been on my person since - that fatal night, and it has seared my very soul. I have not - dared to destroy it or to leave it where it might be found, for - it is at once the proof of my guilt and of my innocence. If it - becomes necessary to clear— - - “Ah, he is coming. - - Cyrus Felton.” - -Barker mechanically unfolds the inclosure, three sheets of letter paper -crumpled and worn. The stillness within the cabin is deathlike as the -detective reads: - - “Before your eyes rest upon these lines the hand that pens them - will be cold in death. I have taken the only alternative. For - myself I care not, but that the finger of scorn should be - pointed at my defenseless children; that their young lives - should be blighted and they shunned and avoided as lepers - because their father betrayed his trust and cruelly wronged his - friends and neighbors, I cannot bear it. The banks, both of - them, are irretrievably involved. The funds deposited by the - county to pay the bonds have been used to meet pressing - obligations. The crash would come to-morrow. It cannot be staved - off another day. I have thought it all out. For the sake of my - children and the name they bear I am about to take my own life. - But they nor any other living person save you must ever know - that I did not die by the hand of the assassin. I have arranged - that it will appear as if the bank has been robbed and the - cashier murdered. As I write this room bears evidence of a - fearful struggle. The vault is open and the securities in - confusion. Thus will our crime be hidden from the eyes of all - save God. Your personal account overdrawn I have fixed by the - removal of pages from the ledger, so that when the examination - of the bank’s affairs is made there may be no suspicion of - irregularity on your part or mine. You will be the first to find - my lifeless body. The weapon by which I die you must secure and - secrete. - - “And now, farewell. That the sacrifice I am about to make may - not be in vain I adjure you guard well the secret of my death. - Care for my children. Watch over them, cherish them. By our hope - of heaven and forgiveness, by our life-long friendship, by the - bitter sacrifice to which duty points the way, by all these - things I charge you, Cyrus Felton, fail not at the peril of your - good name. - - Roger Hathaway.” - -As Barker concludes the reading of the remarkable epistle each of the -four men is busy with his thoughts. No one offers any comment on the -message from the dead. Finally Ames breaks the silence. - -“And Ralph Felton?” he queries, turning to Barker. - -“He had nothing whatever to do with the death of Roger Hathaway,” -returns the detective. “He refused to answer the coroner’s question at -the inquest as to where he had spent his time between 7:45 o’clock and -8:30 on the evening of Memorial Day because he did not wish his -association with Isabel Winthrop, or Harding, to become known when he -had been a suitor for the hand of Helen Hathaway. But that was not his -principal reason for leaving Raymond as suddenly as he did. As -bookkeeper of the savings bank he had embezzled a portion of the -funds—not a sensational peculation, only sufficient to keep pace with -his expenditures, which were in excess of his income. Fearing that his -offense would be made public when the bank’s affairs were overhauled, he -fled. It was with difficulty that I extracted from him yesterday -afternoon a confession of his reason for leaving Raymond. - -“As to the locket supposed to have been removed from Hathaway’s watch -chain the night of the tragedy, and which Mr. Ashley picked up a few -nights ago, I supposed until yesterday that it had been dropped by Ralph -Felton. But it seems that it was torn from Mr. Ames’ neck when Felton -hurled himself upon him on that memorable evening at Jibana. Mr. -Hathaway had detached it from his chain the morning of Memorial Day, as -the spring was broken, and had given it to Helen to convey to the -jeweler’s to be repaired. It left Raymond with her, and when she and her -husband took up their Cuban life the miniature of the younger sister was -removed, for obvious reasons, and Mr. Ames wore the locket about his -neck, attached to a long gold chain.” - -Another silence, which this time Van Zandt breaks. - -“Now that the facts in the case are in your possession, Mr. Barker, I -presume you will feel it your duty to report them to the proper -authorities.” - -The detective does not reply. He glances curiously at Ashley, and the -latter passes over a cigar, which the detective bites in meditative -fashion. - -“And you?” Van Zandt queries, turning to Ashley. - -“It would make a capital story,” drawls Jack, who has already told -himself that the big bunch of “copy” in the pigeonhole of his desk in -the Hemisphere office will never greet a compositor’s eye. - -“No doubt,” says Van Zandt, gravely. “But, like many capital stories, it -would be a source of endless pain to two estimable young ladies. It -would render nil the sacrifice which Roger Hathaway made to preserve his -family name from disgrace, and would make a hollow mockery of the simple -epitaph which you tell me marks the marble shaft above his -grave—‘Faithful Unto Death.’” - -The detective lights his cigar. - -“Is there any likelihood, Mr. Barker, of the state of Vermont paying the -$1,000 reward which was offered?” continues Van Zandt. - -“None,” replies Barker. “The reward was for the arrest and conviction of -Roger Hathaway’s murderer.” - -“And the additional $4,000 offered by the bank?” - -Barker smiles sardonically. - -Van Zandt takes from his pocket a folded slip of paper and passes it -across the table to the detective. - -“There is a check for $5,000,” he says. “It is not a bribe. It is only -your just dues for the labors that you have expended on the case. -Personally, I am under deep obligations to you. As to whether the -Raymond mystery shall remain a mystery, I leave it to your own sense of -duty.” - -Barker folds the check slowly, and, as he slips it into his vest pocket, -he remarks, with a glance toward Ashley: - -“If my partner consents, the Hathaway case may as well remain as now -fixed in the coroner’s records in Raymond, Vermont.” - -“Your partner came to that decision some time ago,” is Ashley’s quiet -response. - -“Thank you, gentlemen,” says Van Zandt, as he rises. “And now, my -friends, suppose we rejoin the ladies. They will begin to think that we -have deserted them.” - - - THE END. - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - ● Transcriber’s Notes: - ○ The spelling of some words were corrected if they appeared likely - to be typographic errors; otherwise they were left as written. - ○ At the end of Chapter X there was an image of the note Cyrus - received. The the image was almost illegible so only the text was - included. - ○ The word “clue” is consistently spelled “clew” throughout the - book. It appears in older dictionaries. - ○ Accent marks were omitted in all but one Spanish word (café) that - would normally require them. - ○ Missing or obscured punctuation was silently corrected. - ○ Typographical errors were silently corrected. - ○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only - when a predominant form was found in this book. - ○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - Text that was marked bold is enclosed by equal signs (=Now!=). - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -[Illustration] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK UNDER THREE FLAGS *** - -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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