MEETING IN THE ALAMEDA.
Señor Julio Murillo reclined on a comfortable couch in the large
reception-hall on the second floor of the Governor’s stately mansion, to
await the return of Juan.
“I see,” he mentally commented, “the end of this revolution which has
just begun. If those who precipitated the mad act were told now what the
final would be, they would have no faith in what was told them being
true, and would leave nothing undone to carry out their present
intentions. There is no way of dealing with those who have no knowledge
outside of physical self, except by physical force. It is a lamentable
condition of affairs to those who cannot see the end. To me it is of no
concern whatever, except that I hate to see the suffering of humanity.
There is always a certain sympathy, which the initiated have with those
who do not know the Law. The spread of Free Thought during the last
century, caused by scientific investigations, particularly in the spirit
realm, has been wonderful. Such a very great decrease in crime has never
been known, or at least has never been recorded since the beginning of
time, as that shown during the last fifty years. The wane of the power
of the priest and the pastor, and the great diffusion of scientific
truths concerning the realm of the hidden is accountable for it. I will
not do my duty if I fail to relieve the sufferings of those who do not
_know_, of those who can only see the things seen by the eye. Here comes
Juan, poor fellow. I wish he could see the hidden. He is on the road and
will soon know, however. Is it he? Are my physical eyes failing me? It
cannot be; the figure is too large and does not move like a domestic;
still, Juan has much spirit. It is Señor Guillermo Gonzales. Ha! ha!
what a start he gave me.”
He started to rise to greet the person coming toward him whom he thought
to be his scientific coworker, when he uttered a startled exclamation
and fell quietly back in the deep shadows, amongst the pillows on the
couch.
“It approaches with the caution and tread of Macbeth. It is not a
spirit. It is of flesh and blood, and is here for no good purpose. To me
it will be amusing from this moment on, to watch the many nefarious
people who will try to end this physical existence of the good and great
Governor. If they knew what I know, they would certainly save themselves
the trouble. The light in the early morning is very uncertain, yet the
outlines of face and figure I cannot discern with the physical eye, is
plain through the eye of intuition. And I see the much-disguised figure
of Marriet Motuble, the invincible. I must not be discovered here, or
half the pleasure of knowing the object of her early call will be lost.
From a physical sense of view, to follow her over the house will be
interesting. Ah, where is she going now? She stops. She listens. I
wonder what she hears? Can it be that she hears my breathing, or feels
the vibrations of my thoughts? I hope not; for if either be the case,
this interesting scene will be denied me. She goes toward his Honor’s
private bedroom. The lay of the rooms are well defined in her mind. What
is it she carries in her right hand? Now she raises it. The door is
opening. She will not waste a shot, I am quite sure. When she finds the
Governor is not in his apartment, she will be disappointed, and hurry
out for fear of being discovered, but not by this door; the more private
one at the end of the suite will suit her purposes, I fancy, much
better. I will have Juan follow and catch her if possible. I will have
him fasten all the doors securely and bar the windows. She will lead him
a lively chase; but then he will be otherwise occupied than studying and
worrying over the absence of his Honor. Here he is now.”
Juan placed the breakfast on a table near the couch, and said: “Fifteen
minutes is a long time to spend in preparing so simple a meal. I hope, I
hope I have not tired your patience.”
“It makes no difference; in fact, I am glad I was detained. I have
another commission for you,” said Señor Julio Murillo. “You know the
large, aggressive señorita Marriet Motuble, do you not?”
“I do, sir; I do. She frightened me badly once. I will tell you about
it,” said Juan.
“At some other time, Juan,” replied Señor Julio Murillo. “We have no
time to lose. She is in the house at this moment, intent on no good
purpose. See that she does not get out of the house. Tell her you have
orders not to open the doors under twenty-four hours. Follow her, Juan.
She must not escape.”
“But you, sir. I cannot leave you unserved,” pleaded Juan, expressing
the hope that he might not have to follow Marriet Motuble.
“I need no more service, Juan. In ten minutes I will have completed my
breakfast and be gone. You have no time to lose; the house must be
securely fastened, for the señorita is as sly as a fox, and will escape
if double caution is not quickly secured. It is necessary to detain this
woman, from more points of view than one. I have nothing more to say,
Juan, except for you to go.”
Juan’s head fell low, and without a word he walked slowly in the
direction Marriet Motuble had disappeared.
Julio Murillo finished his meal quickly, descended the stairs
noiselessly, and in an instant had disappeared from the house.
Juan encountered the aggressive señorita sooner than he had calculated.
Evidently the many rooms and openings on the floor had confused her, and
she had lost her bearings. And now as she was retracing her steps, no
doubt in the hope of finding the private stairway which led to a door
opening onto the back lawn, she faced Juan before either was aware of
the presence of the other.
The invincible señorita was equal to the emergency, but Juan fell over
against a wall, trembling and frightened, and prayed that she would pass
him unobserved.
Again he was doomed to disappointment, for instead of passing him
unobserved, or if observed, hurrying by him in the hope of escaping
without being detected, the very instant she saw him she walked bravely
up, and slapping him on the shoulder, said:
“Hello, Juan. You seem to have been on guard all night, or else
something unusual has happened to get you up at this early hour. Come,
Juan, you are my friend; let me into your secret. I mean, of course, the
secret of the household.”
“Well,” replied Juan, with some spirit, as he pushed her hand off his
shoulder and moved away from her, “you seem to know more about this
house than I do.”
“Ha! ha! Juan,” laughed the señorita. “Ha! ha! there are tricks in all
trades, and by the time you have lived through five existences and
_remember_ everything in each life and take advantage of your learning,
you will know more about some things than some other people who do not
_remember_. Ha! ha! Juan, why don’t you drink some of your master’s
‘Memory Fluid’—a gallon or so, to start on? Ha! ha! That ‘Liquid from
the Sun’s Rays’ is wonderful! It could not be otherwise, as his Honor is
such a wonderful man. But come, Juan, tell me where he is. In which
room? And see, this is for your trouble.” She held up a twenty-dollar
gold coin, which shone brightly in the dim light of the early morning.
“A twenty-dollar gold coin cannot be picked up every moment, Juan. Do
you know a good thing when you see it?”
“See me; do you, miss, see me? Well, I will stand here until I starve to
death, or am killed, before I would tell you anything about his Honor’s
affairs, if you offered me ten times that amount of money. I don’t need
any money. I have plenty to eat and wear. But I haven’t time to stand
here in his Honor’s private bedrooms talking to a lady at this early
hour in the morning or at any other hour of the day.”
“Well, well, _amigo_, you are a loyal servant. I only wanted to know if
his Honor has recovered from the fright I gave him a few days ago. I
really do not recall to mind the exact date,” persisted Miss Motuble.
To which Juan replied: “The Governor is not so easily frightened as you
seem to imagine. _You_ never frightened him; you simply overpowered him
by means of your superior physical force.”
“Whew!” was the surprised beginning of Miss Motuble’s reply. “Whew!
think of this great logician living all these years in Chihuahua and
until this moment undiscovered. I have done humanity a great act of
kindness by coming up here, even if my original object in coming was
what the physical world calls villainous.”
“There has been more than one person here to-night for the same purpose.
But the Governor is alive and well, and will so remain until the end of
time.”
“Juan,” tantalizingly replied Miss Motuble, “you are fast becoming a man
of science. Association has done it all, Juan—done it all.”
At that moment a small figure in white appeared in the room where they
stood.
“It is the ghost of Catalina,” said Juan.
“It is no ghost. It is Catalina herself. She is a somnambulist. You do
not know what that word means, do you, Juan? It means she walks in her
sleep. Come; we will follow her,” concluded Miss Motuble. Catalina
walked quietly to the far end of the room in the direction she was
going, then, turning around, she retraced her steps and entered her own
room. She was closely followed by Marriet Motuble. Juan took advantage
of the occasion to slip away unobserved and to carry out the
instructions of Julio Murillo.
Catalina climbed upon her little bed, and to all appearances went to
sleep. Marriet Motuble wanted to speak to the child, yet hesitated.
Going close to the bed and gazing intently on her upturned face, she
said: “She is very much of a child, indeed. I will not speak to her.
Juan, show me over the house.” Juan made no reply, and turning around,
she discovered for the first time that he was not present. “That is a
cool way of treating a guest. I will report the actions of this domestic
to his Honor the first time I meet him. Think of it. I, Marriet Motuble,
in her sixth life, with a full and complete remembrance of each, being
left to pilot myself through the grand mansion of the great Governor of
Chihuahua. It seems that the manners of domestics, and some people who
are not domestics, to-day are as much out of order as they were in the
nineteenth century. The nonprogression of some people is not to be
accounted for; at least, I shall not occupy my mind trying to figure it
out. There are other things of more consequence. For instance, were the
revolutionists successful in killing his Honor, and his coworkers? If
so, where are their bodies? If not, where are the revolutionists? There
are no signs of any disturbers of peace having been here. I’ll make a
hasty search through the house, and quietly make my exit.”
No sooner had Marriet Motuble passed from the room, than Catalina sprang
from her bed, quickly put on a street dress, and in a few minutes was
out of the house. She passed on without attracting any attention.
The streets were alive with trades-people hurrying to their respective
places of business. In the great bustle, no one noticed the child.
Marriet Motuble, too, evaded the guardianship of Juan, and was soon lost
in the crowds on the streets. Everywhere there were large numbers of
policemen, and now and then small squads of soldiers hurried by, all of
whom evidently had a place in view which they were bent on reaching at
an early hour.
As she wandered on and on through one crowded street after another, she
met here and there a face whom she recognized as a revolutionary
sympathizer, many of whom had been amongst the crowd in the store room
the evening before, and heard her deliver a sympathetic speech,
disguised as a man. How none of them recognized her. How could they,
when no one had any suspicions that the speaker of the previous evening
was a woman in disguise. Marriet Motuble’s face wore a look of serious
disappointment.
Approaching a small group of men she inquired the hour, and on being
told it was five o’clock, she then asked if the morning paper was out
and what news there was about the persons intent on disturbing the
peace. Several expressed themselves as considering the condition of
affairs very alarming; while others who joined the crowd thought the
affair would be of no further consequence.
While the small crowd were talking, the cry of: “All about the
Revolutionists,” “Prisoners accused of Treason against the United States
of America,” from a hundred or more news-carriers, rang out loud and
long.
Every person present bought a paper, the great daily _Chihuahuan_.
Marriet Motuble opened her paper, and as she walked hurriedly toward the
Mexican Annex, read to herself:
“Seventy-five of the revolutionary party traced by detectives to the
home of Governor Lehumada, where all but a few, who escaped during the
trouble which occurred while the arrests were being made, are now lodged
behind the prison bars awaiting trial. The object of these fanatics was
to take the life of the Governor, which would precipitate the State into
a fearful excitement, and aid them in getting a hold upon the ignorant,
and in increasing their nefarious deeds. The promoters of the
revolutionary sentiments: Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, Father
Hernandez, and the Rev. J. T. Note, who were arrested and placed in jail
on a charge of treason against the Government, have escaped.”
“Escaped!” exclaimed Marriet Motuble. “Escaped, and I did not know it
till now. Well, I never will tell _The Chihuahuan_ where I got the first
knowledge of the affair. Ha! ha! I would bet on J. T. Note every time.
He was slick in the other life that I knew him. He was a foreign
missionary. He came down to this country, which was then a part of the
fastly waning Republic of Mexico, to teach the descendants of the Aztecs
and the Spanish conquerors the Protestant faith. He represented a large
body of proselytes who were jealous of the hold the Catholic Church had
on the Mexican Republic. He exhorted and pleaded with the poor,
downtrodden people, to believe as the Protestants believed; to renounce
their faith in catholicism. He without question wanted the _centavos_
the ignorant creatures stole and begged for, and he got them, many of
them at that. And he built himself a fine place of worship and clothed
himself and family in purple and fine linen, as the Bible expresses it,
and lived off the fat of the land from the sale of the _zarapas_ which
were donated for the use of the poor, ignorant peons whom he had
converted. Yes, he is slick. Now he is in the same boat that the priests
were in then. The faith in the teachings of the lazy creatures is
waning. There should be more corn-fields to plough and ditches to dig,
and everyone who subscribes himself priest or pastor should be compelled
to dig so many hundred feet every year, even if they missed part of
their prayers and confessions. Yes, J. T. Note will wiggle out of this
affair somehow, as he has out of jail. It may be, through the
instrumentality of the present _régime_ he and his associates will be
ebonized and put in a museum, where they will be of much interest to the
future generations.
“The treatise on ‘Uses of Ebony Fluid,’ which I found lying on the
Governor’s desk in his private office the first day I called there,
speaks of using it to preserve the body in its present shape, after the
spirit of life has passed out. The use of a few drops of ‘Ebony Fluid’
turns all such animal matter black as ebony, and preserves it through
all eternity. This gives me an idea. The copy of his treatise on ‘Mental
Fotography,’ which I took with me from the room, will enable me to
experiment with this lightning process of fotography known only to his
Honor, Messrs. Julio Murillo and Guillermo Gonzales, and to spring a
surprise upon them. Well, these meditations will save for another time.
What is this: ‘The Governor Spirited Away! He has not been seen at the
Mansion since eleven-thirty last night. Much fear is entertained that
foul play has been done. At this hour no news of his whereabouts can be
had. Much rioting and plundering by sympathizers from both the Catholic
and Protestant faith in many of the States. Those who are opposed to
free thought and the scientific demonstration of spiritualistic
advancement constitute a large body of the revolutionists.’”
Folding up _The Chihuahuan_, and placing it in her coat-pocket, after
the fashion of business men, she increased her pace.
“Ah!” she exclaimed, as she turned a corner which put her on the street
facing the Mexican Annex; “if there is not the child Catalina. Something
is taking place which I cannot ferret. She must not see me. I will hurry
to the Annex, disguise myself, and follow this child, who is wiser than
her years,” concluded the invincible Marriet Motuble, as she hurried on
with lightning tread.
Catalina Martinet walked slowly on, now and then glancing around as if
she expected some one. On reaching the Alameda she increased her steps
and walked up to the magnificent statue of George Washington. After
viewing it intently for a moment, she sat down on a rustic seat near by.
“I will sit here and watch for her. She must be punished in this life
for her misdeeds. She, as well as ‘The Plunger from Kansas,’ escaped in
the other life. She was a peace disturber then, and who can say she is
not a peace disturber now? Ah, here comes a person who makes one feel
like there is no ill in the world. Her presence has the same effect on
me, after seeing Marriet Motuble, that oil does on a deep burn. It heals
and cools the fever caused by evil thoughts. I love her; she is my angel
of light,” concluded Catalina Martinet, as she sprang from her seat in
eager excitement, and ran to meet the object of her love.
Helen Hinckley clasped her fondly in her arms, and exclaimed: “It is a
very early hour, sweet child, for you to be out and alone. I knew you
would be here; that is why I came this way.”
“I expected you, Miss Hinckley. You must help me as you did the
Governor, if I need help. He is safe, is he not?” said Catalina.
“You expected me, you say? Well, that is a coincidence. Yes, child, the
great Governor, author and scientific man is safe and unharmed. He is
beyond the pale of the revolutionists. No great harm can attend; the
great Divine Influence will protect him from physical destruction, but
often his existence physically will be in danger of annihilation. Come,
dear, tell me why you are out, and in what way I can serve you. We are
both working to accomplish the same result,” said the beautiful Helen
Hinckley, as she pressed the child’s soft white hands to her lips.
“I am out,” answered Catalina, “to look after several people; those who
should be compelled to repent of their evil ways in this life, that
others in a life to come may not be imposed upon by them.”
“So far,” said Helen Hinckley, “your answer is logical and full of
feeling. But who are the people about whom you have reached such a
conclusion?”
“The main person is ‘The Plunger from Kansas.’ He is in hiding and in
disguise. He lingers and lingers in this city; yet it is hard to get him
to the bar of justice.”
“That is true, child; there is a great mental magnet that holds him here
in spite of himself. And if by some means he becomes a _subject_, he
will walk up by his own free will and acknowledge the debt he owes to me
and others, and will proffer the money. The day of reckoning is sure to
come. Do not let the Plunger give you one moment of uneasiness, dear,”
added Miss Hinckley.
“I am not uneasy. I am only anxious to get out of the body again; and I
wish to serve his Honor all that is possible before I go,” was the
rather serious reply of Catalina.
“You are unhappy, child. Why is it, when you are surrounded by every
comfort, and are dearly beloved by his Honor? He could not love a child
of his own any more. Do not wish to leave. I will be lonely when you are
gone. And his Honor, I cannot say how badly he will feel. I do not like
to see a little girl so serious.”
Helen Hinckley took the strange child on her lap as she concluded, and
pressed her face to her bosom.
Catalina put her arms around her neck and as she kissed her fondly on
the cheek, said: “Before I remembered, I was not serious; but I took
spells of crying, and without any reason whatever I cried to be called
Catalina Lehumada. Then on the day I went to sell flowers and saw the
bad, bad man who caused me grief in the life gone by, I remembered.
Señor Julio Murillo says he put a small bottle of ‘Memory Fluid’ near
by, so I could not help inhaling the fumes, and that is what made me
remember. Then I knew why I felt as I did about not being his little
girl. It is enough to make any one serious to be born into a family in
which there is no harmony whatever with one’s life. When I see the
Plunger repentant, and hear Marriet Motuble confess her sins, and the
man who made me faint, mend his ways, I will go, and return, I hope,
into a sphere of harmony. There comes Marriet Motuble. I must follow her
instead of her following me.”
“Where is she, child? queer, interesting, lovely, spiritual darling that
you are, tell me, where is Marriet Motuble?” quickly spoke Catalina’s
companion.
“Do you see that large man dressed in steel-grey clothes, who walks like
a lawyer? Yes? That person is not a man. Marriet Motuble is the name of
the person. She is out for no good. Less than an hour ago she was in his
Honor’s mansion.”
“Impossible! How did she enter?” cried Miss Hinckley, as she arose to
watch Marriet Motuble, the friend of her other life, now parading
nervously before the great Mexican Annex.
“Stranger in this life than in the life she lived in the nineteenth
century. She is kind-hearted enough and true in a way. Her strange
actions are due to her inability to control her violent temper, on the
one hand, and to temper her jealousy, on the other.”
“It is her love for his Honor, and the assurance she has that he cares
not for her, that causes her strange actions in this life. She is
looking for you. She believes you know where his Honor is, and if she
follows you she will find him. Look, Miss Hinckley, look; a dreadful
fight is taking place yonder, I want to go. I may be needed,” cried
Catalina.
“Quite true, child. We will go. Listen to the reports of the guns. How
horrible to send one out of the body in such an uproarious fashion. Why
can’t they use the noiseless guns? This is simply barbarism.”
“I want to go,” impatiently cried Catalina. “I must go. Miss Hinckley,
come with me. I am impatient to finish my work here and go. I cannot
longer endure the family relations into which I was born. It is a living
death to me. Look at the crowd! His Honor may be there and in danger.
His work has only begun; he must not be retarded in it.”
Helen Hinckley took the strange child, strange to the uninitiated, by
the hand, looked intently into her sweet upturned face, which she kissed
fondly, and without a word they started briskly toward the street where
the fight was taking place.
“Oh, I wish I were there,” impatiently cried Catalina. “If I had wings I
would fly.”
“Stop, dear; put your right palm on my left palm and slip your left hand
under this strap. That is correct. We cannot fly like birds in the sky,
but we can sail along at a slow, steady rate, much faster than we can
walk; and if necessary, we can rise above the crowd and escape.”
“How splendid!” cried Catalina, as she felt herself rising from the
ground. “How splendid! Miss Hinckley, you are my angel. You will carry
me safely. His Honor cannot live much longer in this life unless you are
with him. My dear papa! I love him, oh, so much! He _will be_ my papa
some day, when I return.”
“He loves you now, as if you were his child, and so do I,” whispered
Helen Hinckley to Catalina.
“I will be _your_ child, too. _Yours_ and his _Honor’s_,” answered the
child, happy in the thought that she would have in a life to come
harmonious environments.
The crowd grew greater, and by the time Miss Hinckley and her little
companion reached the place where the trouble was occurring, ten
thousand people had collected themselves together, and from the threats
and cries against the Governor and his scientific coworkers, many
amongst them evidently were of the revolutionary party.
Miss Hinckley and Catalina quietly pushed themselves into the thickest
of the crowd, and had it not been for the fact that they could hold
themselves above the crowd, both would have suffered for the want of
pure, wholesome air.
At first no one paid any attention to them, but when Miss Hinckley saw
men fall back dying, she cried: “Stand back, gentlemen!” and everyone
looked at her in surprise.