Although Mr. Underwood escaped the stroke which it was feared might
follow the excitement of his final interview with Walcott, it was soon
apparent that his nervous system had suffered from the shock. His
physician became insistent in his demands that he not only retire from
business, but have an entire change of scene, to insure absolute
relaxation and rest. This advice was earnestly seconded by Mr. Britton,
not alone for the sake of his friend's health, but more especially
because he believed it unsafe for Mr. Underwood or Kate to remain in
that part of the country so long as Walcott had his liberty. Their
combined counsel and entreaties at length prevailed. A responsible man
was found to take charge, under Mr. Britton's supervision, of Mr.
Underwood's business interests. The Pines was closed, two or three
faithful servants being retained to guard and care for the property, and
early in April Mr. Underwood, accompanied by his sister and daughter,
left Ophir ostensibly for the South. They remained south, however, only
until he had recuperated sufficiently for a longer journey, and then
sailed for Europe, but of this fact no one in Ophir had knowledge save
Mr. Britton.
During the last days of Kate's stay in Ophir she watched in vain for
another glimpse of her strange friend. On the morning of her departure,
as the train was leaving the depot, she suddenly saw the olive-skinned
messenger of former occasions running alongside the Pullman in which
she was seated. Catching her eye, he motioned for her to raise the
window; she did so, whereupon he tossed a little package into her lap,
pointing at the same time farther down the platform, and lifting his
ragged sombrero, vanished. An instant later the Senora came into view,
standing at the extreme end of the platform, a lace mantilla thrown
about her head and shoulders, the ends of which she now waved in token
of farewell. Kate held up the little package with a smile; she responded
with a deprecatory gesture indicative of its insignificance, then with
another wave of the lace scarf and a flutter of Kate's handkerchief,
they passed out of each other's sight.
Kate hastily undid the package; a little box of ebony inlaid with pearl
slipped from the wrappings, which, upon touching a secret spring,
opened, disclosing a small cross of Etruscan gold of the most exquisite
workmanship. In her first letter to Mr. Britton Kate related the
incident, and begged him to look out for the woman and render her any
assistance possible.
To this Mr. Britton needed no urging. Since his first sight of her that
night in Mr. Underwood's office he had been looking for her, for a
twofold purpose. For a number of weeks he failed to get even a glimpse
of her, nor could he obtain any clew to her whereabouts.
One night, well into the summer, he came upon her, unexpectedly,
standing in front of a cheap restaurant, looking at the edibles
displayed in the window. She was not veiled, her face was pale and
haggard, and there was no mistaking the expression in her eyes as she
finally turned away.
"My friend," said Mr. Britton, laying his hand gently on her shoulder,
"are you hungry?"
She shrank from him with a start till a glance in his face reassured
her, and she answered, with an expressive gesture,--
"Yes, Senor; I have had nothing to eat to-day, and but little
yesterday."
"This is no fit place; come with me," Mr. Britton replied, leading the
way two or three blocks down the street, to a first-class restaurant. He
conducted her through the ladies' entrance into a private box, where he
ordered a substantial dinner for two.
"Senor," she protested, as the waiter left the box, "I have no money, no
way to repay you for this, you understand?"
"I understand," he answered, quickly; "I want no return for this. Miss
Underwood wished me to find you, and help you, if I could."
"Yes, I know; you are the Senorita's friend."
"And your friend also, if I can help you."
"You saved his life that night, Senor; I do not forget," the woman said,
with peculiar emphasis.
"Yes, I undoubtedly saved the scoundrel from a summary vengeance;
possibly I might not have done it, had I known what the alternative
would be. Where is that man now?" he asked, with sudden directness.
"I do not know, Senor; he tells me nothing, but I have heard he went
south some time ago."
The entrance of the waiter with their orders put a temporary stop to
conversation. The woman ate silently, regarding Mr. Britton from time to
time with an expression of childlike wonder. When her hunger was
appeased, and she seemed inclined to talk, he said,--
"Tell me something of yourself. When and where did you marry that man?"
"We were married in Mexico, seven years ago."
"Your home was in Mexico?"
"No, Senor, my father owned a big cattle ranch in Texas. Senor Walcott,
as you call him here, worked for him. He wanted to marry me, but my
father opposed the marriage. We lived close to the line, so we went
across one day and were married. My father was very angry, but I was his
only child, and by and by he forgave and took us back."
"Do I understand you that Walcott is not this man's real name?" Mr.
Britton interposed.
"His name is Jose Martinez, Senor."
"But is he not a half-breed? I have understood his father was an
Englishman."
"His father was an Englishman, but no one ever knew who he was, you
understand, Senor? Afterwards his mother married Pablo Martinez, and her
child took his name. That was why my father opposed our marriage."
"I understand," said Mr. Britton; "but he claims heavy cattle interests
in the South; how did he come by them?"
"My father's, all of them;" she replied. "He and my father quarrelled
soon after we went there to live. Then we came away north; we lived for
a while in this State,"--she paused and hesitated as though fearing she
had said too much, but Mr. Britton's face betrayed nothing, and she
continued: "Then, in a year or so, we went south and he and my father
quarrelled again. My father was found dead on the plains, trampled by
the cattle, but no one knew how it came about. Then Jose took everything
and told me I had nothing. He went north again three years ago. A year
later he came back and told me I was not his wife, that our marriage was
void because it was not performed in this country. I became very ill. He
took me away among strangers and left me there, to die, as he thought.
But he was mistaken. I had something to live for,--to follow him, as I
have followed him and will follow him to the end."
The woman rose from the table; Mr. Britton rose also, and stood for a
moment, facing her.
"He is a dangerous man," he said; "how is it that you do not fear him?"