A WEEK had passed since the Alcalde's ball, when Appleby awakened late
one night from a restless sleep at the hacienda San Cristoval. He had
shut the lattices of his window because the moonlight streamed in, and
it is not advisable for white men to sleep under that pale radiance in
the tropics; and the room was almost insufferably hot, which Appleby
surmised was the cause of his awakening. He was, however, anxious to get
to sleep again, for his post was no sinecure, and he usually rose in the
early morning.
Cuba was in a very unsettled state just then, steeped in intrigue and
overrun with spies, while among Loyalists and Insurgents alike faction
plotted against faction. Both were divided by internecine jealousies,
and the mixed population of native-born Cubans of Iberian blood,
Spaniards from the Peninsular and the Canaries, Chinamen, negroes, and
mulattoes, appeared incapable of cohesion. Stability of purpose is not a
prominent characteristic of the Latins, and while the country drifted in
discord towards anarchy, a similar state of affairs existed on a smaller
scale at the hacienda San Cristoval. The men who by the favor of the
military rulers were allowed to take Harding's pay apparently disdained
continuous effort, and desisted from it to discuss politics on every
opportunity; while knives were not infrequently drawn in defence of
their somewhat variable convictions.
It was with annoyance he found he could not sleep, and resigned himself
to pass the weary hours waiting for daylight as he had frequently done
before. The perspiration dripped from him, and there was a pain in his
joints, for the insidious malarial fever he had contracted in the swamps
troubled him now and then, and finding no relief in any change of
posture lay rigidly still. A mosquito hovered about him with a thin,
persistent droning--and one mosquito is occasionally sufficient to drive
a sleepless man to frenzy--but the building was very silent. Appleby
could see the faint gleam of moonlight deflected by the lattice on the
floor, but the rest of the room was wrapped in inky blackness. He was
glad of that for there was a dull ache at the back of his eyes, which he
surmised was the result of standing for most of twelve hours in the
glare of the whitewashed sheds the previous day. By and by, however, the
dead stillness which the droning of the mosquito emphasized grew
oppressive, and he found himself listening with a curious intentness for
any sound that would break it. He did not know why he did so, but he
obeyed the impulse with a vague feeling that watchfulness was advisable.
Five minutes passed, as it were, interminably, while he only heard the
strident ticking of the watch beneath his pillow, and then the stairway
leading to the veranda outside his window creaked softly. That was
nothing unusual, for the timber not infrequently groaned and cracked
under the change of temperature in the stillness of the night; but there
was something that stirred Appleby's suspicions in the sound, and he
raised himself softly when he heard it again. The room he slept in
opened into a larger one, which Harding had fitted up as an office,
where the safe was kept, but the door between it and the veranda was
barred, and Appleby had himself made fast the lattice of the window.
He could hear nothing further for a space, and was annoyed to feel the
hand he laid on the pillow trembling and his hair wet with perspiration.
Then it was with difficulty he checked a gasp, for the door handle
seemed to rattle, and the bolt of the lock slid home with a soft click.
The smooth sound was very suggestive, for Appleby had found the lock
stiff and hard to move. Somebody had apparently oiled it
surreptitiously, and it was evident that he would not have done so
without a purpose. For a moment he was almost dismayed. He was shut in,
and there were a good many pesetas in Harding's safe; but the unpleasant
nervous strain he had hitherto been sensible of had gone and left him
with faculties sharpened by anger. Then an inspiration dawned on him,
and his lips set in a little grim smile. The Latin has usually no great
regard for trifles, and it was not very astonishing that the man who
oiled and locked the door had overlooked the fact that the lattice was
fastened within.
Appleby was out of bed in a moment, and moving with silent deliberation,
slipped a duck jacket over his pajamas and softly pulled out a bureau
drawer. Here, however, he had another astonishment, for the pistol he
kept under his clothing had gone, and he stood still a moment reflecting
with the collectedness which usually characterized him in an emergency.
Harper slept in a distant wing of the building; the major-domo, or house
steward, in a room by the kitchen across the patio; and he could not
waken either without giving a general alarm, which did not appear
advisable. Appleby had no great confidence in any of his retainers, and
considered it likely that some of them were in the plot, and would in
all probability contrive the escape of the prowler in the confusion. He
must, it seemed, see the affair through alone, and, what was more to the
purpose, unarmed. Then he remembered the bar which, when dropped into
two sockets, locked the two halves of the lattice, and treading softly
made for the window. It was quite certain now that somebody was moving
about the adjoining room.
The lattice swung open with scarcely a sound, and if Appleby made any
noise crawling through the opening the intruder apparently did not hear
him. In another few moments he had gained the adjoining door which stood
just ajar, and dimly saw the black figure of a man who held a small
lantern bending over the American office bureau. This astonished
Appleby, who had expected the iron safe beside it would have claimed his
attention.
He pushed the door a little farther open, and stood close against it
with his fingers tightening on the bar, while the man whose face he
could not see flung several bundles of documents out of a drawer, and
held them near the lantern, as though he would read the endorsements
upon them, which Appleby remembered were in English. He had, however,
apparently no difficulty in understanding them, for he took up each
bundle and glanced at it before he laid it down, and then, pulling the
drawer out, thrust his hand into the opening.
Appleby started as he watched him, for that drawer was shorter than the
rest, and there was a hidden receptacle behind it. It was difficult for
any one to remain impartially neutral in Cuba just then, and Appleby had
surmised already that Harding only retained his footing there by the
exercise of skilful diplomacy, while communications reached him now and
then which he showed to nobody. He had, however, taken the contents of
the receptacle away with him.
It was a very slight movement that Appleby made, but the door he leaned
against creaked, and the man swung sharply round. Perhaps he was afraid
of the light of the lantern being seen from the windows opposite, for he
did not raise it, but stood still, apparently glancing about him, while
Appleby waited motionless with every nerve in his body tingling. It
seemed to him that there was a faint sound behind him on the stairway.
He fancied the almost intolerable tension lasted for nearly a minute,
and then the man, who failed to see him, turned again with a little
half-audible ejaculation, and opening another drawer bent over it with
his back to Appleby, who moved silently in his direction. He made two
strides and stopped, with his fingers quivering on the bar; but the man
was still stooping over the drawer, and he made another stride and
stopped again. He could almost reach the stranger with the bar, but
remembering the Cuban's quickness with the steel he decided it would be
advisable to make quite certain.
A board creaked as he made the next step, the man swung round again, and
there was a pale flash in the light of the lantern as he sprang
backwards. He was on the opposite side of the bureau and out of reach
when Appleby swung up the bar, but the latter, who recognized the fact,
stood between him and the door. They stood still for what seemed an
interminable space in the black darkness, for the faint blink of light
from the lantern was cut off by the displaced drawer, and then Appleby
moved a foot or two as the dim shadowy figure, which he fancied had
drawn itself together, sidled round the bureau. He surmised that his
adversary was bracing himself for a spring, and knew that unless he met
it with the bar he would be at the mercy of the steel. Still, he meant
at any cost to hold the position that commanded the door.
The two stopped again, a trifle nearer each other, and Appleby felt his
right arm tingle. Still, a rash move would probably prove fatal, and he
remembered even then that because silent endurance is not a
characteristic of the Latins his adversary was the more likely to yield
beneath the strain and do something that would equalize the advantage
his skill with the knife conferred upon him. The man with colder blood
could wait. He, however, found it sufficiently harassing, for in the
meanwhile he could feel in fancy the sting of the knife, and remembered
with unpleasant distinctness the feinting play with the steel he had now
and then seen his peons indulge in. One thrust, he fancied, would
suffice, for the Cuban knows just how and where to strike. He could feel
his heart beating, and the perspiration streaming down his face.
Then the door behind him was flung wide open, a blink of light flashed
into the room and shone upon an olive-tinted face; while, when Appleby,
uncertain what this boded, swung up the bar to force an issue, the man
flung down a knife.
"Carramba!" he said hoarsely. "It is too unequal."
Appleby glanced over his shoulder, and saw Pancho, his major-domo,
standing half dressed not far behind him with a lantern and a big
machete in his hand. He stooped, picked up the knife, and with a flick
of his fingers slid it into his sleeve. Then he held the lantern higher,
and Appleby recognized his adversary as a weight clerk in the sugar
mill. He blinked with his eyes, and the damp dripped from his face,
which showed haggard and drawn; but Appleby, who wondered if his own
wore that look, surmised that this was not due to cowardice, and
understood why the man breathed in gasps.
"Leave the light, and go for the Senor Harper, Pancho," he said, and his
voice sounded curiously harsh and uneven.
The major-domo, however, shook his head. "With permission, I will stay
here, senor," he said. "Ask him what he has come for."
The other man sat down somewhat limply on the table and essayed to
laugh. "The question is not necessary, Don Pancho," he said. "One has
always a use for silver."
Appleby glanced at the safe, which had not been tampered with, and
fancied as he did so that Pancho made a sign to him.
"You were looking for it in a curious place," he said. "One does not
keep silver loose in a drawer. At least, not in Cuba. It would be better
if you told us plainly what brought you here."
"To what purpose, when you do not believe me?" said the man, with an
attempt at tranquillity. "Still, the Senor Harding is only liberal to
his countrymen; and I have been unfortunate at the Casino."
Appleby saw the major-domo's smile of incredulity, and felt a mild
astonishment at the fact that he was quietly arguing with a man who
would, he knew, have killed him without compunction a few minutes
earlier had the opportunity been afforded him.
"Well," he said a trifle impatiently, "you can explain it to the
Alcalde. Will you go for the Senor Harper, and unlock the cellar next
the stables as you come back, Pancho? He would be safe there until to-
morrow."
The major-domo shook his head. "It would be better if you let him go,"
he said. "The law is troublesome and expensive in this country."
Appleby, who was already aware of this, reflected. He knew the
insecurity of his own position, and Harding had warned him especially to
keep clear of any complications with the officials; while he had
confidence in Pancho and recognized the significance of his tone. Still,
he was unwilling to let their captive go scot-free and gazed at him
steadily.
The man, who met his gaze, smiled a little. "It is good advice Don
Pancho has given you. I tell you so with all sincerity."
"Well," said Appleby, "you can go, but you will not get off so easily if
you ever come back again. Still, I want the pistol you stole from me."
The man raised his shoulders. "It is an unpleasant word, senor, and you
will find the pistol in the drawer beneath the one where you usually
keep it. It is too noisy a weapon to be much esteemed in Cuba. Still, to
requite a courtesy, you will take a hint from me. When a man is in
charge of a good many pesetas it is not wise of him to keep his pistol
in a drawer."
He slipped down from the table, asked Pancho for his knife, and took off
his hat with grave politeness when it was handed him. Then he went down
the stairway, and sitting down at the foot of it apparently put his
shoes on before he strode away along the tram-line. Appleby laid his
hand on the major-domo's shoulder.
"You came opportunely, comrade," he said. "I am grateful."
It was not by accident he employed the Castilian word which implies a
kindly regard as well as familiarity, and the man seemed to recognize
it, for he smiled curiously.
"It is nothing, senor," he said. "I did not sleep well, and saw the man
creep into the veranda from my bed, which is near the window. In not
sending him to the Alcalde you were wise."
"I am not sure that I was," said Appleby.
Pancho made a little gesture. "It is a turbulent country, and the man
who escapes trouble is the one who lives the most quietly."
He turned away, as though to avoid further questions, while Appleby went
back to bed, and, contrary to his expectations, slept until the morning.
It was some days later when he rode over to Santa Marta and, leaving the
mule at the "Four Nations," called at the banker's house, where he found
Nettie Harding sitting with her host and hostess on the flat roof. It
was, though still early in the evening, dark, and the after-dinner
coffee, the choicest product of Costa Rica, was set out in very little
cups on the table before them; while the banker, who was stout and
elderly, lay drowsily in a big chair. His wife had also little to say,
and Appleby drew his chair up to Nettie Harding's side. The lamp on the
table burned without a flicker in the still air, and a cloudless vault
of indigo stretched above the sun-scorched town. Beyond the rows of
roofs a band was playing in the plaza, and a hum of voices rose from the
shadowy streets beneath. It was a little cooler now, and a pleasant
scent of heliotrope came up from the patio.
Nettie Harding raised her head as though to listen to the music, and
then glanced at the stars above. "All this," she said, "is distinctly
Cuban, isn't it?"
Appleby nodded. "It's Spanish, which is the same thing. They're a
consistent people," he said. "Still, I'm not sure that I quite catch
your meaning."
Nettie laughed, and turned so that the lamplight touched her face. "Oh,
I talk quite casually now and then. I meant that being Cuban it couldn't
be English."
"That is apparent."
"Well, I was wondering if, bearing in mind the difference you were
content with it."
Appleby laughed. "I am, you will also remember, an adventurer, and the
country that feeds me is, as they say in yours, quite good enough for
me. A little to eat, a little sunshine, a comrade's smile, and enough
kindly earth to cover one at the last, is all, I believe, that one is
entitled to expect."
He had meant to answer lightly, but a curious little inflection crept
into his voice against his will, and he sat still a moment while the
memories crowded upon him, with a longing that would not be shaken off.
Once more he seemed to be gazing down on the red beech woods and palely
flashing river from the terrace at Northrop Hall, though he recognized
that in the meanwhile Nettie Harding was watching him with a gleam of
sympathetic comprehension in her eyes. It was significant that he did
not feel impelled to speak, for they had arrived at a degree of intimacy
which made silence admissible, and still were comrades, and nothing
more.
"If you had said that with a purpose I wouldn't have been in the least
sorry for you," she said. "It would have been cheap, but that's just why
I know you didn't. Still, are you quite sure there is nothing you long
for over there? I mean, of course, in England."
Appleby was on the roof in Santa Marta in body, and noticed that Miss
Harding made a very effective picture in her long white dress as she
glanced at him with the little smile, but he was at the same time dually
sensible of the crimson flush on the English beech woods and the meadows
streaked with wisps of mist, while once more the alluring vision he had
fought against glided into the scene. It was a girl with gray eyes and
ruddy hair, graver, deeper of thought and emotion, and more imperious
than Nettie Harding.
"Nothing that I am ever likely to get," he said.
Nettie laughed, but there was a faint ring in her voice, and long
afterwards Appleby remembered her words, which then appeared prophetic.
"Well," she said, "do you know that if I could I would get it you, and
there is very little an American girl can't get when she sets her heart
on it? Now that sounds bombastic, but I'm not sure that it is. Anyway,
I'm going to England presently."