of unusual interest had claimed the attention of the people.
Everywhere men were gathered in little groups, gesticulating,
laughing, frowning importantly, and at the hotel Roddy was surprised
to see, on the balcony leading from his room, Peter and the American
Consul. The sight of him apparently afforded them great satisfaction,
and they waved and beckoned to him frantically. Ignoring their last
meeting, the Consul greeted Roddy as though he were an old friend.
"Have you heard the news?" he demanded. "It is of great local
interest, and it should interest you. Last night," he explained,
"President Alvarez declared an amnesty for his political opponents
living in foreign countries. All exiles may now return to their
homes."
He pointed at the small passenger steamer lying at the quay directly
below the window. The _Blue Peter_ was at the fore, and her deck was
crowded with excited, jubilant Venezuelans.
"You see," explained Captain Codman, "they have lost no time."
In a tone that precluded the possibility of discussion, Peter briskly
added: "And _we_ are going with them. I have packed your bag and paid
the bill. We sail in an hour."
The news of the amnesty bewildered Roddy. The wonderful possibilities
it so suddenly presented thrilled him. They were so important that
with difficulty he made his voice appear only politely interested.
"And Senora Rojas?" he asked.
"I regret to say," answered Captain Codman, "she decides to take
advantage of the amnesty. As soon as she can arrange her affairs here
she will return to Miramar, her home in Porto Cabello."
To Miramar! Roddy turned suddenly to the window, and with unseeing
eyes stared at the busy harbor. By sight he knew the former home of
the Rojas family. In his walks he had often passed before its
yellow-pillared front and windows barred with intricate screens of
wrought iron. Through the great gates that had hung before Miramar
since it had been the palace of the Spanish Governor-General, and
through which four horses could pass abreast, he had peered at the
beautiful gardens. He had wondered at the moss-covered statues, at the
orchids on the flamboyant trees, with their flowers of scarlet, at the
rare plants, now neglected and trailing riotously across the paths,
choked with unkempt weeds. Not an hour before, when he had parted from
Inez, he had determined to make sentimental journeys to that same
house. For she had walked in those gardens, it was through those gates
she had swept in her carriage to take the air in the Plaza; at night,
when she slept, some high-ceilinged, iron-barred room of that house
had sheltered her. He had pictured himself prowling outside the empty
mansion and uncared-for garden, thinking of the exile, keeping vigil
in the shadow of her home, freshly resolving to win back her father to
health and freedom.
And now, by a scratch of the pen, the best that could happen had come
to him. The house would waken to life. Instead of only the fragrance
clinging to the vase, the rose itself would bloom again. Again Inez
would walk under the arch of royal palms, would drive in the Alameda,
would kneel at Mass in the cool, dark church, while, hidden in the
shadows, he could stand and watch her. And though, if he hoped to save
her father, stealth and subterfuge would still be necessary, he could
see her, perhaps, speak to her; at least by the faithful Pedro he
could send her written words, flowers, foolish gifts, that were worth
only the meaning they carried with them.
Feeling very much of a hypocrite, Roddy exclaimed fervently:
"How wonderful for Senora Rojas! To be near him again! Is she happy?
Does it make it easier for her?"
With a disturbed countenance the Consul nodded gravely.
"Yes," he answered, "she welcomed the change. She believes it means
for her husband better conditions. She hopes even for his pardon;
but--" The Consul shook his head impatiently, and with pitying eyes
looked down upon the excited men on the steamer below them.
"But what?" demanded Roddy.
"I suspect every act of Alvarez," the Consul explained. "This _looks_
like the act of a generous opponent. But I cannot believe it is that.
I believe he knows all that is being plotted against him. I believe
this act of amnesty is only a device to put the plotters where he can
get his hand on them. He is the spider inviting the flies into his
parlor."
As the little steamer passed the harbor mouth and pushed her nose
toward Porto Cabello, Roddy, with Peter at his side, leaned upon the
starboard rail. Roddy had assured Inez that Peter must be given their
full confidence, and he now only waited a fitting moment to tell him
of what had occurred that morning, in so far, at least, as it referred
to the tunnel.
The eyes of both were turned toward Casa Blanca, now rapidly
retreating from them. And, as they watched it, the mind of each
occupied with thoughts of its inmates, they saw a white figure leave
the house, and, moving slowly, halt at the edge of the cliff.
Roddy, his eyes straining toward the coast-line, took off his hat and
stood with it clasped in his hands. Peter saw the movement, and to
hide a smile of sympathy, looked down at the white foam rushing below
them.
"Roddy," he asked, "what sort of a girl is Inez Rojas?"
His eyes still seeking the figure on the rocks, and without turning
his head, Roddy answered with startling directness:
"What sort of a girl?" he growled. "The sort of a girl _I_ am going to
marry!"
More moved than he knew, and thinking himself secure in the excited
babel about him and in the fact that the others spoke in Spanish,
Roddy had raised his voice. He was not conscious he had done so until,
as he spoke, he saw a man leaning on the rail with his back toward
him, give an involuntary start. Furious with himself, Roddy bit his
lip, and with impatience waited for the man to disclose himself. For a
moment the stranger remained motionless, and then, obviously to find
out who had spoken, slowly turned his head. Roddy found himself
looking into the glowing, angry eyes of Pino Vega. Of the two men,
Roddy was the first to recover. With eagerness he greeted the
Venezuelan; with enthusiasm he expressed his pleasure at finding him
among his fellow-passengers, he rejoiced that Colonel Vega no longer
was an exile. The Venezuelan, who had approached trembling with
resentment, sulkily murmured his thanks. With a hope that sounded more
like a threat that they would soon meet again, he begged to be allowed
to rejoin his friends.
"Now you've done it!" whispered Peter cheerily. "And he won't let it
rest there, either."
"Don't you suppose I know that better than you do," returned Roddy
miserably. He beat the rail with his fist. "It should not have
happened in a thousand years," he wailed. "He must not know I have
ever even seen her."
"He _does_ know," objected Peter, coming briskly to the point. "What
are you going to do?"
"Lie to him," said Roddy. "He is an old friend of the family. She told
me so herself. She thought even of appealing to him before she
appealed to us. If he finds out I have met her alone at daybreak, I
have either got to tell him why we met and what we are trying to do,
or he'll believe, in his nasty, suspicious, Spanish-American way, that
I am in love with her, and that she came there to let me tell her so."
Roddy turned on Peter savagely.
"_Why_ didn't you stop me?" he cried.
"Stop _you_--talking too much?" gasped Peter. "Is that my position? If
it is, I resign."
The moon that night threw black shadows of shrouds, and ratlines
across a deck that was washed by its radiance as white as a
bread-board. In the social hall, the happy exiles were rejoicing
noisily, but Roddy stood apart, far forward, looking over the ship's
side and considering bitterly the mistake of the morning. His
melancholy self-upbraidings were interrupted by a light, alert step,
and Pino Vega, now at ease, gracious and on guard, stood bowing before
him.
"I do not intrude?" he asked.
Roddy, at once equally on guard, bade him welcome.
"I have sought you out," said the Venezuelan pleasantly, "because I
would desire a little talk with you. I believe we have friends in
common."
"It is possible," said Roddy. "I have been in Porto Cabello about four
months now."
"It was not of Porto Cabello that I spoke," continued Vega, "but of
Curacao." He looked into Roddy's eyes suddenly and warily, as a
swordsman holds the eyes of his opponent. "I did not understand," he
said, "that you knew the Rojas family?"
"I do not know them," answered Roddy.
Vega turned his back to the moon, so that his face was in shadow. With
an impatient gesture he flicked his cigarette into the sea. As though
he found Roddy's answer unsatisfactory, he paused. He appeared to wish
that Roddy should have a chance to reconsider it. As the American
remained silent, Vega continued, but his tone now was openly hostile.
"I have been Chief of Staff to General Rojas for years," he said. "I
have the honor to know his family well. Senora Rojas treats me as she
did her son, who was my dearest friend. I tell you this to explain why
I speak of a matter which you may think does not concern me. This
morning, entirely against my will, I overheard you speaking to your
friend. He asked you of a certain lady. You answered boldly you
intended to marry her." Vega's voice shook slightly, and he paused to
control it. "Now, you inform me that you are not acquainted with the
Rojas family. What am I to believe?"
"I am glad you spoke of that," said Roddy heartily. "I saw that you
overheard us, and I was afraid you'd misunderstand me----"
The Venezuelan interrupted sharply.
"I am well acquainted with your language!"
"You speak it perfectly," Roddy returned, "but you did not understand
it as I spoke it. The young lady is well known in Willemstad. Our
Consul, as you are aware, is her friend. He admires her greatly. He
told me that she is half American. She has been educated like an
American girl, she rides, she plays tennis. What my friend said to me
was, 'What sort of a girl is Senorita Rojas?' and I answered, 'She is
the sort of girl I am going to marry,' meaning she is like the girls
in my own country, one of our own people, like one of the women I some
day hope to marry."
Roddy smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"Now do you understand?" he asked.
The Venezuelan gave no answering smile. His eyes shone with suspicion.
Roddy recognized that between his desire to believe and some fact that
kept him from believing, the man was acutely suffering.
"Tell me, in a word," demanded Vega sharply, "give me your word you do
not know her."
"I don't see," said Roddy, "that this is any of your damned business!"
The face of Vega checked him. At his refusal to answer, Roddy saw the
look of jealousy that came into the man's eyes and the torment it
brought with it. He felt a sudden pity for him, a certain respect as
for a fellow-sufferer. He himself had met Inez Rojas but twice, but,
as he had told her, he knew now why he had come to Venezuela. This
older man had known Inez for years, and to Roddy, arguing from his own
state of mind regarding her, the fact was evidence enough that Vega
must love her also. He began again, but now quietly, as he would argue
with a child.
"I see no reason for making any mystery of it," he said. "I did meet
Miss Rojas. But I can't say I know her. I met her when she was out
riding with her groom. I thought she was an American. She needed some
help, which I was able to give her. That is all."
Vega approached Roddy, leaning forward as though he were about to
spring on him. His eyes were close to Roddy's face.
"And what was the nature of this help?" he demanded.
"You are impertinent," said Roddy.
"Answer me!" cried the Venezuelan. "I have the right. No one has a
better right."
He flung up his right arm dramatically, and held it tense and
trembling, as though it were poised to hurl a weapon.
"You were watched!" he cried hysterically. "I _know_ that you met. And
you tried to deceive me. Both of you. She will try, also----"
The moonlight disappeared before the eyes of Colonel Vega, and when
again he opened them he was looking dizzily up at the swaying masts
and yards. Roddy, with his hand at Vega's throat, was forcing his
shoulders back against the rail. His free hand, rigid and heavy as a
hammer, swung above the Venezuelan's face.
"Yesterday," panted Roddy, "I saved your life. If you insult that girl
with your dirty, Latin mind, so help me--I will _take_ it!"
He flung the man from him, but Vega, choking with pain and
mortification, staggered forward.
"It is _you_ who insult her," he shrieked. "It is I who protect her.
Do you know _why_? Do you know what she is to me? She is my promised
wife!"
For a moment the two men stood, swaying with the gentle roll of the
ship, staring into each other's eyes. Above the sound of the wind in
the cordage and the whisper of the water against the ship's side,
Roddy could hear himself breathing in slow, heavy respirations. Not
for an instant did he doubt that the man told the truth. Vega had
spoken with a conviction that was only too genuine, and his statement,
while it could not justify, seemed to explain his recent, sudden
hostility. With a sharp effort, Roddy recovered himself. He saw that
no matter how deeply the announcement might affect him, Vega must
believe that to the American it was a matter of no possible
consequence.
"You should have told me this at first," he said quietly. "I thought
your questions were merely impertinent."
Roddy hesitated. The interview had become poignantly distasteful to
him. He wished to get away; to be alone. He was conscious that a
possibility had passed out of his life, the thought of which had been
very dear to him. He wanted to think, to plan against this new
condition. In discussing Inez with this man, in this way, he felt he
was degrading her and his regard for her. But he felt also that for
her immediate protection he must find out what Vega knew and what he
suspected. With the purpose of goading him into making some
disclosure, Roddy continued insolently:
"And I still think they are impertinent."
Roddy's indignation rose and got the upper hand. He cast caution
aside.
"With us," he continued, "when a woman promises to marry a man--he
does not spy on her."
"We spied on _you_," protested Vega. "We did not think it would lead
us to----"
Roddy cut him off with a sharp cry of warning.
"Be careful!" he challenged.
"You met in the road----"
"So I told you," returned Roddy.
"You dismounted and talked with her."
Roddy laughed, and with a gesture of impatience motioned Vega to be
silent.
"Is that all?" he demanded.
The Venezuelan saw the figure he presented. Back of him were hundreds
of years of Spanish traditions, in his veins was the blood of
generations of ancestors by nature suspicious, doubting, jealous. From
their viewpoint he was within his rights; they applauded, they gave
him countenance; but by the frank contempt of the young man before him
his self-respect was being rudely handled. Not even to himself could
he justify his attitude.
"In my country," he protested, "according to our customs, it was
enough."
The answer satisfied and relieved Roddy. It told him all he wished to
know. It was now evident that Vega's agent had seen only the first
meeting, that he was not aware that Inez followed after Roddy, or
that the next morning by the seashore they had again met. The American
brought the interview to an abrupt finish.
"I refuse," said Roddy loftily, "to discuss this matter with you
further. If the mother of Senorita Rojas wishes it, I shall be happy
to answer any questions she may ask. I have done nothing that requires
explanation or apology. I am responsible to no one. Good-night."
"Wait!" commanded Vega. "You will find that here you cannot so easily
avoid responsibilities. You have struck me. Well, we have other
customs, which gentlemen----"
"I am entirely at your service," said Roddy. He made as magnificent a
bow as though he himself had descended from a line of Spanish
grandees. Vega's eyes lit with pleasure. He was now playing a part in
which he felt assured he appeared to advantage. He almost was grateful
to Roddy for permitting him to reestablish himself in his own esteem.
"My friends shall wait upon you," he said.
"Whenever you like," Roddy answered. He started up the deck and
returned again to Vega. "Understand me," he whispered, "as long as I'm
enjoying the hospitality of your country I accept the customs of your
country. If you'd made such a proposition to me in New York I'd have
laughed at you." Roddy came close to Vega and emphasized his words
with a pointed finger. "And understand _this_! We have quarrelled over
politics. You made an offensive remark about Alvarez; I defended him
and struck you. You now demand satisfaction. That is what happened.
And if you drag the name of any woman into this I won't give you
satisfaction. I will give you a thrashing until you can't stand or
see."
Roddy found Peter in the smoking-room, and beckoning him on deck, told
him what he had done.
"You're a nice White Mouse!" cried Peter indignantly. "You're not
supposed to go about killing people; you're supposed to save lives."
"No one is ever killed in a duel," said Roddy; "I'll fire in the air,
and he will probably miss me. I certainly hope so. But there will be
one good result. It will show Alvarez that I'm not a friend of Vega's,
nor helping him in his revolution."
"You don't have to shoot a man to show you're not a friend of his,"
protested Peter.
They were interrupted by the hasty approach of Vega's chief advisers
and nearest friends, General Pulido and Colonel Ramon.
"Pino seems in a hurry," said Roddy. "I had no idea he was so
bloodthirsty."
"Colonel Vega," began Pulido abruptly, "has just informed us of the
unfortunate incident. We have come to tell you that no duel can take
place. It is monstrous. The life of Colonel Vega does not belong to
him, it belongs to the Cause. We will not permit him to risk it
needlessly. You, of all people, should see that. You must apologize."
The demand, and the peremptory tone in which it was delivered, caused
the fighting blood of Roddy's Irish grandfathers to bubble in his
veins.
"'Must' and 'apologize!'" protested Roddy, in icy tones; "Those are
difficult words, gentlemen."
"Consider," cried Pulido, "what great events hang upon the life of
Colonel Vega."
"My own life is extremely interesting to me," said Roddy. "But I have
done nothing which needs apology."
Colonel Ramon now interrupted anxiously.
"You risked your life for Pino. Why now do you wish to take it? Think
of his importance to Venezuela, of the happiness he will bring his
country, and think what his loss would mean to your own father."
"My father!" exclaimed Roddy. "What has my father to do with this?"
The two Venezuelans looked at each other in bewilderment, and then
back at Roddy sternly and suspiciously.
"Are you jesting?" demanded General Pulido.
"Never been more serious in my life," said Roddy.
The two officers searched his face eagerly.
"It is as Pino says," exclaimed Pulido, with sudden enlightenment. "He
is telling the truth!"
"Of course I'm telling the truth!" cried Roddy fiercely. "Are you
looking for a duel, too?"
"Tell him!" cried Pulido.
"But Mr. Forrester's orders!" protested Colonel Ramon.
"He is more dangerous," declared Pulido, "knowing nothing, than he
would be if he understood."
He cast a rapid glance about him. With a scowl, his eyes finally
rested upon Peter.
"I'll be within knockout distance if you want me," said that young man
to Roddy, and moved to the rail opposite.
When he had gone, Pulido bent eagerly forward.
"Do you not know," he demanded, "what it is your father is doing in
our country?"
Roddy burst forth impatiently, "No!" he protested. "And I seem to be
the only man in the country who doesn't."
The two officers crowded close to him. In sepulchral tones, Pulido
exclaimed dramatically. He spoke as though he were initiating Roddy
into a secret order.
"Then understand," he whispered, "that your father supports Pino Vega
with five million bolivars; that Vega, whose life you are seeking, is
the man your father means to make President of Venezuela. Now do you
understand?"
For a long time Roddy remained silent. Then he exclaimed in tones of
extreme exasperation:
"I understand," he said, "that, if my father had given me his
telephone number, he would have saved me a lot of trouble. No wonder
everybody suspects me."
"And now," declared Pulido anxiously, "you are one of _us_!"
"I am nothing of the sort," snapped Roddy. "If my father does not wish
to tell me his plans I can't take advantage of what I learn of them
from strangers. I shall go on," he continued with suspicious meekness,
"with the work Father has sent me here to do. Who am I, that I should
push myself into the politics of your great country?"
"And the duel?" demanded Pulido.
"I am sure," hastily interjected Colonel Ramon, "if Colonel Vega
withdraws his offensive remark about President Alvarez, Mr. Forrester
will withdraw his blow."
Roddy failed to see how a blow that had left a raw spot on the chin of
Pino Vega could by mutual agreement be made to vanish. But if to the
minds of the Spanish-Americans such a miracle were possible, it seemed
ungracious not to consent to it.
"If I understand you," asked Roddy, "Colonel Vega withdraws his
offensive remark?"
The seconds of Pino Vega nodded vigorously.
"Then," continued Roddy, "as there was no offensive remark, there
could have been no blow, and there can be no duel."
Roddy's summing up delighted the Venezuelans, and declaring that the
honor of all was satisfied, they bowed themselves away.
Next morning at daybreak the fortress of San Carlos rose upon the
horizon, and by ten o'clock Roddy was again at work, threatening a
gang of Jamaica coolies. But no longer he swore at them with his
former wholeheartedness. His mind was occupied with other things. Now,
between him and his work, came thoughts of the tunnel that for half a
century had lain hidden from the sight of man; and of Inez, elusive,
beautiful, distracting, now galloping recklessly toward him down a
sunlit road, now a motionless statue standing on a white cliff, with
the waves of the Caribbean bending and bowing before her.
With the return of the exiles to Porto Cabello, that picturesque
seaport became a place of gay reunions, of banquets, of welcome and
rejoicing. The cafes again sprang to life. The Alameda was crowded
with loitering figures and smart carriages, whilst the vigilance and
activity of the government secret police increased. Roddy found
himself an object of universal interest. As the son of his father, and
as one who had prevented the assassination of Pino Vega, the members
of the government party suspected him. While the fact that in defense
of Alvarez he had quarrelled with Vega puzzled them greatly.
"If I can't persuade them I am with the government," said Roddy, "I
can at least keep them guessing."