ARREST OF THE CONSPIRATORS.
The cab the four men in disguise were in took a circuitous route to the
necropolis.
Julio directed the motorman to keep far enough away to avert suspicion,
but not to lose sight of it at any cost. The Governor’s cab was not in a
place easily to be seen by Marriet Motuble and her assistants in the
little farce-comedy they were playing, when they entered their cab,
which stood in front of the Mexican Annex, and while it only now and
then followed directly back of them, there was one hawk-eye within the
cab that saw they were being followed.
Leo Leander was the occupant of the cab who saw they were being
followed, and knew intuitively that trouble would result unless some way
out of it could be invented quickly.
“Gentlemen,” the aggressive señorita in disguise said, “gentlemen, I
took the liberty to add another to our party to visit the ancient tomb—a
gentleman by birth, a gentleman by education and social environments; a
student and writer on anthropology, and a devotee to archæology.
Friends, it is he you see, the Rev. Isaac Tombstone, Señor Enrique
Arellano, and Don Jose M. Martinez.”
It was quite evident from the expression on the faces of the pretenders
introduced to Rev. Isaac Tombstone, that they would rather he were not
one of their party.
Leo Leander saw this, and very quickly remarked: “Brother Tombstone is
better informed than any other man alive on prehistoric Mexico; on the
written and unwritten history of Mexico up to the nineteenth century;
and from that time on he has been an eye-witness to everything that has
taken place upon the soil known as Mexico in the nineteenth century, and
he fully sympathizes with the descendants of the Latin race who lost
their country, their time-honored customs and religious stronghold.
Gentlemen, the Reverend Tombstone is true to principle; rely upon him.
He will fight to the finish to help down the present _régime_.”
The assertion that the Rev. Isaac Tombstone had lived through two
hundred years, and now sat before them a well preserved man, apparently
not over sixty years old, in full possession of all his senses, was the
only thing in the statements of Leo Leander which seemed incredulous to
the listeners. However, they congratulated the Reverend Tombstone on
being so hale and hearty at his great age and said they were delighted
that he had joined their party, and hoped in the near future that they
would become staunch friends. Leo Leander was delighted at the effect
his words had created, and smiled serenely to himself as he watched the
maneuvers of the Governor’s cab.
He was leading them a lively chase. So lively, in fact, that the
motorman of the Governor’s cab often was undecided just which way to
turn.
“We are discovered,” said Julio; “the aggressive señorita knows she is
being followed, and it will take more than the quick eye of a hawk to
keep her from eluding the law.”
“Her cab certainly is not capable of swifter movement than ours,” said
the Governor. “I do not think it possible for them to escape us.”
“We will not lose sight of the cab entirely,” said Julio, “yet it is
likely to lose one of its occupants on the way without our knowledge.”
Señor Guillermo Gonzales did not make any comment, but gazed with much
interest upon the remarkable panorama before him.
“We certainly are not going directly to the city of the dead,” said the
Governor.
“In most every other way but the direct road to the necropolis, we are
going. The fact is, your Honor, the person in yonder cab disguised as
Leo Leander suspects us of following them, and is going to ascertain if
such be the fact by this method,” concluded Julio.
In the meantime Leo Leander was formulating a plan for escape, while the
Rev. Isaac Tombstone discoursed upon various topics with the other two
occupants of the cab. He played his part well, to the great delight of
Leo Leander, who had no idea that the man had the learning he now
displayed.
“Yes,” he said, in answer to a question propounded by Señor Enrique
Arellano, “I am certainly grateful to the Father Divine who saw fit to
let me live throughout two centuries and more, and retain complete use
of my senses, and yet am in feeling a gay, healthy young man as well.”
“Upon what ground do you base your information concerning prehistoric
Mexico?” asked Señor Jose M. Martinez.
“Upon the fact that all light since the beginning of time has come to
man from the East. Knowing such to be the case, early in the nineteenth
century, then a young man eager for knowledge, I journeyed to Calcutta,
and from thence to the remotest of the Himalayas, where I studied with
the most learned of the Hindoos. They taught me from charts, maps and
sign-writings, that centuries before, a people had gone from Persia and
settled along the west and southwest coast-line of Mexico. But this new
country was like the ‘Vale of Siddim, full of lime-pits,’ and the
leaders of this tribe fell to fighting amongst themselves, after having
founded large cities. Excavating amongst the ruins of their once great
and populous cities, I discovered they had made great progress in
science, art and literature. Those of the Persian tribe left, fled to
the mountains and valleys of the interior, where they show evidence of
having united with different races, by whom they were afterwards
extinguished. These facts, friends, are of profound interest
ethnologically,” concluded the learned doctor of divinity.
“To be sure, to be sure,” repeated Don Enrique Arellano. “What a
wonderful fund of knowledge you have, Reverend Tombstone. Some day not
far distant I hope to have you at my house as a guest, when dear Mexico
is restored to us again and we are happy.”
“And my guest as well, when that good time comes,” joined in Señor
Martinez; while Reverend Tombstone mentally added: “Then I will never be
your guests, gentlemen. Ah, but this is a great comedy some others
besides myself are helping to play. These two men are a puzzle to me, as
well as Leo Leander. I was afraid not to accompany him because he
pierced my disguise. He said: ‘You are “The Plunger from Kansas.” Walk
right up, young man, and take your medicine. I need your help in the
little farce I am playing, and woe is your name, if you betray me.’
Well, I walked up, and here I am taking my medicine. Such seems to be
life in this the twenty-first century. I pulled through two other lives
without getting behind the bars, and they will have a lively chase if
they overtake and arrest me in this life, ‘Memory Fluid’ or no memory
fluid, notwithstanding the great advance there has been since my
previous life, in scientific investigations. Well, what is going to
happen now? The cab is stopping.” Then aloud he asked: “The cab stops;
is this the city of the dead?”
“No, your Reverence,” said Leo Leander, “this is not the necropolis.
However, I will leave you here and join you in a few moments at the
Motuble tomb. Here is the key to the tomb, Señor Jose Martinez. It
admits you to the tomb with one turn. If I am not there on your arrival,
enter at once—do not wait for me—and gaze upon the placid features of
Marriet Motuble seen through the glass on her metallic coffin. Gaze upon
her and envy her brave act, but pity those of us left without her
benevolent heart and sweet influence. Gaze upon her, friend, and do not
wait for me. I may overtake you, however. Good-bye; good-bye for a short
time,” he concluded, as the cab came to a standstill and Leo Leander
stepped from the carriage.
Almost instantly the cab with its three occupants bound for the city of
the dead moved rapidly on, and Leo Leander disappeared from sight.
“How unfortunate for us that Mr. Leander felt duty bound to leave us at
a time so propitious for seeing the ancient tomb,” said Señor Martinez.
“It is unfortunate for us,” calmly replied Rev. Isaac Tombstone;
“although the bad fortune does not fall upon us alone.”
“How is that, friend?” asked Don Enrique Arellano.
“He was in good company, I mean,” smiled the preacher; “in very learned
company, and with old friends; or I would better say, with those whom I
hope some day to be classed as old friends. Heigh-ho, here comes a
physician’s cab at breakneck speed,” concluded Rev. Isaac Tombstone.
“Some one is very ill, no doubt,” said Señor Martinez. “I wonder who the
patient is, that causes the physician’s cab to travel so swiftly. There
are three of us, witnesses to the fast travelling through a crowded
thoroughfare. See the people falling over each other nearly, to get away
from the path of the cab.”
“A fair example of the present rule of things,” said Don Enrique
Arellano.
“But I believe, my friend,” said Rev. Isaac Tombstone, “that exceptions
to the law are made, in cases of physicians going on missions of mercy.”
“How can anyone say that such is the case now?” asked Señor Martinez.
“Not I, for one,” replied Don Arellano.
“Nor I,” added the preacher.
“One cab is certainly chasing the other now. We must prevent it; such
doings are not lawful. We must prevent it. We must prevent it,” cried
Señor Martinez, rising to his feet and calling loudly to the motorman.
If he heard the cries of “Stop, Stop,” he paid no attention. The cab
fairly flew through the streets, and before anyone was aware of the
fact, they had arrived at the cemetery gate just behind the cab the
motorman had been trying to overtake.
Rev. Isaac Tombstone was not less surprised than his companions to see
the other cab stop at the Motuble tomb.
The three men alighted first, however. Mr. Martinez unlocked the tomb
and they entered, leaving the door wide open. The tomb was in the form
of an octagon at the base, the diameter being twenty feet; from the
center of the base to the highest point of dome measured one hundred
feet. The interior was of highly polished marble, in which were set
large mirrors. The small coffin in which rested the body of Catalina
Martinet stood in the center of the tomb on two marble pillars. A
silence fell upon the three as they read in bright gold letters on the
casket, “Catalina Martinet, age sixteen. Died of a broken heart.”
“By the gods, I will have revenge upon the man who caused her illegal
birth to be, and her untimely death to come. Marriet Motuble. Her Friend
through all eternity.”
“She is dead, but lives,” solemnly said Reverend Tombstone. “She is
dead, but lives.”
“Impossible,” angrily replied Don Arellano. “Impossible.”
Without making any reply the Reverend Tombstone stepped to the large
casket recently placed in the tomb, and said, looking in the glass face
plate: “The classic features of Marriet Motuble! She whom I knew in a
life long since past lies before me.”
“Don Arellano,” cried Señor Martinez, “we have been deceived. This man
is a believer in that accursed ‘Memory Fluid.’ The sooner we get away,
from this tomb, back to the city, the better for us.”
They each glanced nervously at the waxen face before them, and without
further comment started hastily to leave the tomb.
Rev. Isaac Tombstone made no sign that he heard them, but stood by the
head of the metallic coffin, his eyes riveted upon the face he there
saw.
As his two companions left the tomb, three men dressed as doctors of
medicine entered, and stood with uncovered heads around the coffin. The
cab in which the Reverend Tombstone and party had arrived stood in front
of the door of the tomb.
At the moment the two men were stepping into it three policemen stepped
forward, as the song of a bird rent the air, clapped iron bands around
their wrists, and said: “You are prisoners of law. Make no disturbance
or you will be roughly dealt with.”
Señor Martinez threw his head back haughtily, and asked: “Does the
present _régime_ permit the arrest of quiet, law-abiding citizens?”
“Certainly not, certainly not,” replied the officer. “It is not becoming
to your present disguise for you to ask such a question.”
Attracted by the noise outside, Rev. Isaac Tombstone walked to the door
of the tomb to see the cause of the disturbance.
Julio Murillo followed him and said, addressing the officer of the law:
“Bring the prisoners here, into the Motuble tomb.”
His orders were instantly obeyed. It was an opportune moment for Rev.
Isaac Tombstone, so he thought. He stepped aside to allow the law and
its trespassers to pass into the tomb. And as he bowed in a very
dignified manner to them, mentally exclaimed: “Now is my time!” and ran
to the end of the tomb, jerking off his false wig and beard and his
spectacles as he went. He turned his coat inside out, either side made
to wear outside, lit a cigar, and before anyone was conscious he had
left his place by the door of the tomb, his disguise was completely
changed, and at a bound he was in the cab.
At that moment the song of the bird was again heard, and the officers of
the law rushed out to make another arrest, but the cab was fairly flying
away from them, and they cried: “It is too late; the bird has flown. We
must have one more chance at the fellow.”
“Were it not necessary to examine the contents of this metallic coffin,”
said Julio, “which is supposed to contain the remains of one Marriet
Motuble, we would pursue this man in the physician’s cab.”
“One of my men,” said the captain of the force present, “can follow on
my air cycle, get assistance, and make the arrest in the city.”
“That is a splendid idea,” said the Governor; “a splendid idea. This man
is too valuable to science to be allowed to escape. His capture and open
confession is the only thing necessary for us to have to convince the
entire world of the truth of our wonderful discovery, ‘Memory Fluid.’”
“What do you, a common physician of the State, know of ‘Memory Fluid,’
that fake discovery of the Governor’s and his scientific friends?” asked
Señor Martinez, in a highly sarcastic tone.
To whom Señor Guillermo Gonzales replied: “We are not here to discuss
what his Honor knows about ‘Memory Fluid,’ but to fully examine the
corpse in this box. Stand close by, friends. I will make the first
incision.”
Aghast with horror, the two prisoners and the remaining officers of law
stepped back.
With an instrument that seemed to be made especially for the purpose,
Julio Murillo removed the glass plate from the coffin.
As he passed his hand over the face of the object before him, he smiled
to himself and the two men shivered.
“Now, my friend,” he said to Guillermo Gonzales, “now is your time.”
Unflinchingly the scientist pressed the sharp edge of the large knife
against the waxen-like neck of the object before him with the result he
expected. Instead of dissecting a corpse, Julio cut into a wooden model
over which was a thin coating of wax.
“See,” he said to the Governor, “see; the prophecy of Julio is true. The
aggressive señorita is surely not in the Motuble tomb.”
“Nor for that matter,” said the Governor, “in any other tomb. I am fully
convinced, and the law must take its course immediately. A model of wax
only occupies the Motuble tomb.”
Señor Guillermo Gonzales fastened the glass plate securely on; the
policemen led their prisoners out of the tomb; the Governor and Señor
Guillermo Gonzales followed, and Julio Murillo locked the tomb securely
and placed the key in his pocket. As an extra assurance that no one
could enter the tomb and carry away the proof of Marriet Motuble’s dual
action, the Governor ordered two extra policemen, who had arrived in the
cab ordered for the prisoners, to guard the tomb, and under no
circumstances to let anyone enter.
Strange to say, Señor Jose M. Martinez and Don Enrique Arellano entered
the policeman’s cab without any protest whatever, and at a rapid rate
were taken to the central police court when their disguises were at once
removed, and their names were entered as follows: Jesus Marie Hernandez,
occupation a priest, alias Don Enrique Arellano; Francisco R. Cantu y
Falomir, occupation a gentleman, alias Jose M. Martinez. After the above
registration was completed, they were placed in separate cells and left
to their own reflections.
The Governor and his two companions were quickly taken to his own
private home, where they soon learned that many callers had been there
during his absence, and several left, very angry, because he was not to
be seen.
The President had sent to the Governor, a few minutes before they
arrived, a large envelope which contained many sheets of paper closely
written.
The three men took supper together, and over their meal discussed their
experiences of the day, and at its close went straight to the Governor’s
private study to read the President’s statement. The Governor handed the
envelope to Julio, who opened it carefully and read as follows:
“FRIENDS AND COMRADES: A wonderful change has come over me within the
last eight hours. A change so delicious that no one but he who has
experienced the same feeling can begin to understand it. It is the
knowledge that comes to one of a previous existence.
“To be plain, my friends, I _remember_, thanks to your wonderful ‘Memory
Fluid.’
“I was in this city one hundred and fifty years ago, in the employ of
the United States Secret Service. I arrested, by the assistance of a
little girl—Catalina Martinet—a counterfeiter who had evaded the law for
years, all the while living in the Republic of Mexico in the guise of a
mining man.
“That arrest was a big feather in my cap. I was promoted and my salary
raised largely.
“I wish to thank you, my friends, for the great service you have done me
by bringing to my notice this wonderful discovery—the _most_ wonderful
scientific discovery of this or any other age. I could write on and on
and on, telling you about what I remember, but it is of no use to burden
you with so much reading.
“I will now return to my apartments at the Mexican Annex, at which place
I hope to see you privately before I leave the city, which will be at
twelve o’clock to-night.
“Yours fraternally and faithfully,
“JOSEPH MORTINGO.”
“He leaves to-night, at twelve. Ah, he returns to the capital; his plans
are changed since morning. I will go immediately; you will accompany me,
friends, I hope,” said the Governor.
“With much pleasure; we will make our toilet at once,” said Señor
Guillermo Gonzales, speaking for himself and Julio Murillo.
“I will in the meantime,” said the Governor, “speak to him. I will say
we will be there in half an hour.”
In a very short space of time the three scientists were on their way to
the Mexican Annex. The hour was ten P.M., yet people seemed to be
assembling there from all quarters of the city.
Several times before reaching the hostelry the three scientists heard
angry cries as they passed through the streets.
The Governor thought nothing of the matter until he was leaving his cab
to enter the hotel, when an angry crowd cried: “There is the traitor!
Kill him! Kill him!”
Many blows were aimed at the Governor, but were warded off by the timely
arrival of the soldiers and police.
“Come, Miguey, come. Enter by this private entrance. This mad crowd is
likely to make an end of all of us if we do not get out of sight,” said
Señor Guillermo Gonzales, as he hurried the Governor into the hotel.
“The uprising has begun,” said Julio, “and earlier than I expected. You
gentlemen go at once to the President’s rooms. I will see what news can
be learned in the rotunda. It is my opinion that the President should be
sent to the station to-night under heavy military guard. He must get out
of Chihuahua in disguise, and to-night at that. If I am not mistaken, we
have an ugly affair on our hands. This is no place to talk. I will go in
search of the latest news.” He hurried away amongst the surging crowd,
while the Governor and Guillermo Gonzales were shown to the President’s
rooms.
“This is a terrible state of affairs,” said the President, as he greeted
them on entering.
“The instigators of the uprising,” quietly spoke the Governor, “are
behind the bars, and when their sympathizers learn the fact, it will put
an end to the unlawful doings of the rabble.”
“My life has been threatened three times since my arrival at the hotel.
And see, gentlemen, the cipher despatches I have received from the
Capital.”
Señor Guillermo Gonzales took the despatches from the hands of the
President, looked them over curiously, and said: “Has the news of this
affair reached Washington?”
“It has more than reached the city. A fearfully large following has not
only been raised there, but in the metropolis and capital of every State
in the Union. Unless the militia and police force can quell the
disturbers in a few days, much trouble will follow,” said President
Mortingo.
The Governor extinguished the light in the room, and stepping to a
window, said: “See the mob in the street! What is it they are crying?”
Above the sounds of the mob, a voice cried: “That is his room; they are
all there. Shoot the pretenders down without a word!”
At that moment Julio Murillo entered the room quietly, and going close
to the two near the window, said: “His Excellency must be taken from the
hotel immediately; there is no time for delay.”
“But his life is in danger, if he be seen,” said the Governor.
“To be sure,” calmly replied Julio; “but not any more than your own.”
“They intend to harm every one who is a believer in ‘Memory Fluid,’”
said Señor Guillermo Gonzales.
“There is no time to be lost, gentlemen,” said Julio. “I have disguises
here for his Excellency and your Honor. Friend Gonzales and myself will
be lost in the crowd.”
The two men of national repute disguised themselves with the various
articles Julio brought with him, left the room unobserved by anyone but
the soldiers guarding the room, and were soon safely quartered with
those of the President’s party who had not left the city that morning in
a palace car ready to be hurried away to Washington.
The Governor and his two scientific friends returned to his residence,
but could only get within one block of it in the cab, for the rabble and
soldiers.
They left the cab and mingled with the crowd, and soon were safely in
the house by a private entrance.
In a sense they were safe; but how long safety would last they could not
say. All night the Governor and his two scientific friends in company
with many high officials of State, discussed the present state of
affairs and laid plans for immediate action should further trouble come.
The President had promised that United States troops would arrive at the
shortest notice possible and put an end to the uprising if the State
troops were insufficient.