|JOHN STUART WEBSTER'S agile brain was the repository of many
conflicting emotions as he bathed, shaved, and changed from his soiled
khaki field clothes to a suit of ducks before presenting himself before
Dolores.
Had Billy's courage forsaken him at the last minute, with the result
that he had gone back to the United States without having settled the
question of Dolores's future? Had he proposed and been rejected, or had
he proposed, been accepted, and had his plans for an immediate marriage
vetoed by Dolores?
In either event, why had Billy failed to leave a note for him at the
Hotel Mateo, or mailed him a letter to the Globo de Oro at San Miguel de
Padua, advising him of the change in the plan of action outlined for him
by Webster?
If Dolores had accepted him, then Billy Geary was just the sort of
impulsive youth who could not rest until he had advised Webster of his
luck; on the other hand, Billy was susceptible, in matters of love,
to the deep melancholia which is as distinct a characteristic of the
Hibernian nature as wit and light-heartedness, and in the event of
disappointment he would not be apt to rush to his partner with the news;
a feeling of chagrin would prompt him to keep his own counsel, to go
away and stay away until he had Smothered the ache and could return and
meet Dolores without restraint and embarrassment.
In the simplicity of his single-hearted devotion Webster was puzzled to
understand how any woman in her right mind could fail to fall in love
with Billy Geary. To begin, he was a fine-looking lad and would look
finer when the chills and fever had been eradicated; he was far from
being a runt, mentally or physically; he was gentle, well-mannered,
kind, with the gift of turning a pretty speech to a woman and meaning it
with all his heart and soul. A man he was, from heels to hair, and a man
with prospects far above the average. To Webster's way of thinking, the
girl who married Billy might well count herself fortunate.
Dolores greeted him with unaffected pleasure. “Well, Caliph!” she said.
Just that. It made Webster sensible of a feeling of having returned to
her after an absence of several years. “I'm so glad to see you, Miss
Ruey,” he replied, and added boldly, “particularly since I didn't expect
to.”
She knew what her reply would lead to; nevertheless, with that
dissimulation which can only be practised in perfection by a clever and
beautiful woman, she answered with equal boldness: “Indeed! Pray why?”
“Well, for a pretty good reason, I think. A few weeks ago, after
examining Bill's concession very thoroughly, I told him he was
a potential millionaire. Now, while I disclaim any appearance of
braggadocio, when John Stuart Webster, E.M., makes any mine owner a
report like that, he is apt to be taken very seriously. And having made
Bill a potential millionaire and arranged to give him three or four
months' vacation back home, I had a notion he'd present to you a very
valid reason why you should accompany him.”
“You are very frank, Caliph.”
“That's because I'm curious. You do not mind being equally frank with
an old cuss like me, do you, and telling me just why Bill's plans
miscarried? Because he had a certain dream, and told me about it, and I
did my little best to make it come true. You see, Miss Ruey, I'm a lot
older than Bill, and I've known him since he was eighteen years old; I
feel a responsibility toward him that is almost paternal.”
“I think I understand, Caliph. It would be very difficult, I think, for
anybody to meet Billy without being attracted toward him. He's one of
the dearest, most lovable boys in the world--and he did do me the signal
honour of asking me to marry him. So there!”
“Well, and why didn't you?”
She smiled at his blunt insistence on forcing the issue. “For a number
of excellent reasons, Caliph. In the first place, he wanted me to marry
him immediately--and I wasn't ready to leave Sobrante, while Billy was.
Indeed, it was highly necessary that he should leave immediately, for
the sake of his health, and I had Billy's interest at heart sufficiently
to insist upon it. You seem to forget that when a girl marries she must
make some preparation for the event, and if she has any close relatives,
such as a brother, for instance, she likes to have that relative present
at the ceremony. You will recall, Caliph, that I have a brother and that
you have promised to introduce me to him very shortly. Much as you
love Billy, would you insist upon depriving me of the joy of meeting
my brother on the day of his triumph--on the day of the triumph of our
family--just to please Billy by marrying him on ten minutes' notice,
and leaving on a honeymoon next day? That is what you would refer to as
crowding my hand and joggling my elbow.”
“By Judas, I never thought of that, Miss Ruey,” the repentant Webster
answered. “In fact, I wasn't thinking of anybody's interest in this
matter but Bill's.”
“Not even of mine, Caliph?” reproachfully.
“That goes without saying. Could I have done anything nicer for you than
fix it for Bill so he would be in position to marry you? Here you are,
practically alone in the world--at least you were when Bill met you
and fell in love with you--and I know that boy so well I was convinced,
after meeting you, that his future happiness and yours would best be
conserved if you married him. I hope you do not think I was presumptuous
in thinking this, or that I am presumptuous now in speaking my mind so
frankly. I realize this is a most unusual conversation----”
“Quite to be expected of an unusual man, Caliph. And I do not think you
were one bit presumptuous. It was wonderfully dear of you, and I am
profoundly grateful that Billy and I have such a true, unselfish friend,
whose first thought is for our happiness. I knew I was going to like you
before Billy introduced us--and I think more of you than ever, now that
I know you're a dear, blundering old matchmaker. Of course you realize
how badly I felt to think I couldn't accede to Billy's plan. Billy's
such a dear, it quite broke my heart to disappoint him, but a little
temporary unhappiness will not ruin Billy, will it? It makes me feel
blue to talk about it, Caliph.”
“Not at all, not at all, Miss Ruey. Bill is one of the impulsive,
whirlwind kind, up in the clouds today and down in the slough of despond
to-morrow. He'll survive the shock. Of course, it would have been pretty
nice if your affairs had permitted you to accompany Bill; I never had
a honeymoon myself, but it must be a great institution, and I was
all wrapped up in the notion of seeing Bill have what I'd never had
myself--a honeymoon and a wife and kids and money enough to enjoy
'em all the way that God intended a real man and woman to enjoy them.
However, I'm glad to know everything will come out all right. Seeing you
here gave me a momentary chill; thought a cog had slipped somewhere, so
I helped myself to Cupid's license and asked. A man cannot learn very
much from a woman unless he asks questions, can he? I mean on the
subject of love.”
She smiled a little, wistful, knowing smile. “No, Caliph,” she answered
seriously, “somehow the Master of Things ordained that on the subject of
love man must do all the talking.”
“Yes, but on the other hand, woman has the last word--as usual. However,
the only thing in your case and Billy's that worries me is the thought
that since Bill left his magnet behind he will be drawn back here before
he is in the kind of shape, physically, that I want him to be in before
he relieves me on the job so I can go away.”
“Do not worry on that point, Caliph. I am your ally there; between us
both I think we can manage him.”
“Fine business! Miss Ruey, if that boy Bill ever gets a notion in his
head that you haven't forgotten more than he'll ever know, I'll break
his neck. And with those few kind words we'll dismiss William until you
care to talk about him again, although if you're as deep in love as Bill
you'll not stay off the subject very long.”
“How is Don Juan Cafetéro, Caliph?”
“Coming out in the wash and without his colours running. I've sweated
the booze out of him, hiking him over the hills, and bullied him into
eating solids, and a few days ago I shut off the firewater forever,
I hope. However, I'll have to watch him very closely for a long
time yet--particularly in town. Out at the mine he'll be away from
temptation. Hard work is the best cure for Don Juan. There's a deal of
truth in the old saying that Satan will find mischief for idle hands to
do. I imagine you've been rather idle lately. Hope you haven't been into
mischief.”
“I haven't been idle. I've made several dresses for Mother Jenks and
done a lot of fancy work and begun the study of my mother tongue. If my
brother should become president of this country, it would ill become his
sister not be able to speak Spanish. By the way, Billy told me you were
going to remain up in the hills quite a while yet. What brought you back
to town so soon?”
“Expected I'd have some freight arriving shortly: besides, I wanted to
make certain the title to Bill's property didn't have any flaws in it.”
“How long will you remain in Buenaventura?” Considering the fact that he
was no longer subject to temptation, since the object of his temptation
was now definitely promised to his friend Billy, Webster suddenly
decided to remain until the political atmosphere should be cleared,
although prior to his conversation with Dolores he had cherished a
definite plan to go back to the hills within forty-eight hours. He
could not suppress an ironic grin, despite the pain and misery of his
predicament, as he reflected how often, of late, he had made up his mind
to a definite course of action, only to change it promptly at some new
whim of fate.
“I'm going back,” he replied soberly, “after I have kept my promise and
introduced you to your brother in the government palace. If I cannot
introduce him to you there, the title to our mining concession will be
clouded, in which event it will not be necessary for Billy or myself to
fuss with it further.”
He related to her the information gleaned from her brother two days
previously.
“It's no use for an individual to fight a government despot in courts
controlled by the latter,” he concluded. “Your brother must win and
depose the Sarros; then with the title to the property certified by the
government as without a flaw, I may dare to spend fifty thousand dollars
developing it.”
“And if my brother doesn't win?”
“I may never have an opportunity to present you to him. We mustn't be
squeamish about this matter, Miss Ruey. If Ricardo doesn't turn the
trick, he may go the way of his father, unless he can manage to get out
of the country.”
She was silent a minute, digesting this grim alternative. “And you?” she
queried presently. “What will happen to you? As I understand it, you are
existing now under a temporary license.”
“I shall endeavour to leave also--with dignity. I can always land a
pretty good job back home, and wherever I'm superintendent the next best
job belongs to Billy. The Lord is our shepherd; we shall not want.”
“As I understand it, then, Caliph, Ricardo hopes to win his revolution
when he strikes the first blow.”
“I think so. I dare say Ricardo hopes to take Sarros by surprise, bottle
the city garrison up in the _cuartel_ and the government palace and
there besiege them. Having secured nominal control of a seaport, he
can import arms and ammunition; also he can recruit openly, and at
his leisure hunt down the outlying garrisons. The Sarros crowd doesn't
suspect his presence in Sobrante, and by a quick, savage stroke he
should be able to jerk this one-horse government up by the heels in jig
time--particularly since the citizenry feel no loyalty toward the
Sarros régime and are only kept in subjection through fear and lack of
a leader. I'm going to play Ricardo to win, if he isn't killed in the
opening row, for I'm certain he'll lead his men.”
“I dare say he is greatly like his father--not afraid to die for his
country,” she replied presently. “I am glad to be here when he takes
that risk.”
“Oh, but you mustn't be here,” Webster protested.
“Why?”
“Because there'll be street fighting--probably of a desperate character,
and I understand your countrymen go rather war-mad and do things not
sanctioned by the Hague tribunal. If there's a steamer in port at the
time I'll put you aboard her until the issue is decided. She'll have
to remain in port because while the fighting goes on she cannot load or
discharge.”
“I could go to the American consulate,” she suggested.
“You could--but you'll not. That consul would give you up to the first
mob that called for you--and I'm not so certain that even the sister of
an archtraitor (for patriots and revolutionists are always traitors when
they lose) would be safe from the Sarros fury. However, I'm going to see
Ricardo tomorrow night and learn the details of his plan of campaign;
after that I'll be able to act intelligently.”