move quicker. It boded well for the success of his plans, and filled
him with a fierce, hot gladness. But how the moments dragged!
General Alfarez entered the room amid a buzz of comment. Then, as he
greeted his rival, Garavel, with a smile and a handshake, a round of
applause broke forth. The members of the Commission sought them both
out, and congratulations were exchanged. At last the Garavel boom was
launched in earnest.
Mrs. Cortlandt expressed a desire to sit out the fourth dance.
"So, your engagement to Miss Garavel is broken?" she began, when she
and Kirk had seated themselves in two of the big rockers that lined the
porch.
"All smashed to pieces, running-gear broken, steering-knuckle bent,
gasolene tank punctured. I need a tow."
"You take it calmly."
"What's the use of struggling? I'm no Samson to go around pulling down
temples."
"Did you expect her to yield so tamely?"
"I didn't know she had yielded. In fact, I haven't had a chance to talk
to her."
"But she has. Mr. Garavel told me not an hour ago that as soon as he
explained his wishes she consented to marry Ramon without a protest."
"A refusal would have meant the death of the old man's chances, I
presume. She acted quite dutifully."
"Yes. If she had refused Ramon, I doubt if we could have saved her
father. As it is, the General withdraws and leaves the field clear, the
two young people are reunited, quite as if you had never appeared, and
you--My dear Kirk, now what about you?"
"Oh, I don't count. I never have counted in anything, you know. That's
the trouble with good-natured people. But is it true that Garavel is
practically elected?"
"General Alfarez couldn't very well step in after he had publicly
stepped out, could he? That would be a trifle too treacherous; he'd
lose his support, and our people could then have an excuse to take a
hand. I'm tremendously glad it's all settled finally, I assure you. It
was a strain; and although I'm sorry you got your fingers pinched
between the political wheels, I'm relieved that the uncertainty is
ended."
So far they had been speaking like mere acquaintances, but now Kirk
turned upon her a trifle bitterly.
"I think you worked it very cleverly, Mrs. Cortlandt," he said. "Of
course, I had no chance to win against a person of your diplomatic
gifts. I had my nerve to try."
She regarded him without offence at this candor, then nodded.
"Yes. You see, it meant more to me than to you or to her. With you two
it is but a romance forgotten in a night. I have pretty nearly outlived
romance."
"You think I will forget easily? That's not flattering."
"All men do. You will even forget my part in the affair, and we will be
better friends than ever."
"Suppose I don't choose to accept what it pleases people to hand me?"
"My dear Kirk!" She smiled. "You will have to in this case. There is
nothing else to do."
He shook his head. "I hoped we could be friends, Mrs. Cortlandt, but it
seems we can't be."
At this she broke out, imperiously, her eyes flashing.
"I ask nothing you can't give. I have never been denied, and I won't be
denied now. You can't afford to break with me."
"Indeed! Why do you think that?"
"Listen! I've shown you what I can do in a few months. In a year you
can be a great success. That's how big men are made; they know the
short-cuts. You are too inexperienced yet to know what success and
power mean, but you are beginning to learn, and when you have learned
you will thank me for breaking up this foolish romance. I don't ask you
to forget your manhood. I ask nothing. I am content to wait. You want
to become a big man like your father. Well, Runnels will be out of the
way soon; Blakeley amounts to nothing. You will be the Superintendent."
"So! That's not merely a rumor about Blakeley? Runnels is fired, eh?"
"Yes."
"If I choose not to give up Chiq--Miss Garavel, then what? It means the
end of me here, is that it?"
"If you 'choose'! Why, my dear, you have no choice whatever in the
matter. It is practically closed. You can do nothing--although, if you
really intend to make trouble, I shall walk inside when I leave and
inform the old gentleman, in which case he will probably send the girl
home at once, and take very good care to give you no further
opportunity. Ramon is only too anxious to marry her. As to this being
the end of you here, well, I really don't see how it could be
otherwise. No Kirk, it's for you to decide whether you wish to be shown
the secret path up the mountain or to scale the cliffs unaided. There
are no conditions. You merely mustn't play the fool."
"And if I don't agree you will tell Mr. Garavel that I'm going to make
trouble?" He mused aloud, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She said nothing, so he went on cautiously, sparring for time.
"Well, inasmuch as this seems to be a plain business proposition,
suppose I think it over. When it comes time for our next dance, I'll
say yes or no."
"As you please."
"Very well. The music has stopped; we'd better go in."
As they rose she laid her hand upon his arm and he felt it tremble as
she exclaimed:
"Believe me, Kirk, this isn't at all easy for me, but--I can't bear to
lose."
XXV
CHECKMATE!
Anthony had no partner for the eighth dance, and was very glad of it,
for he could not have carried off the necessary small talk. As it was,
he felt that his excitement must be patent to those around him. His
mind was filled with tormenting doubts, his chance for success seemed
so infinitely small, his plan so extravagantly impracticable, now that
the time had come!
As the music ceased and the dancers came pouring out into the cool
night air, Runnels approached with his wife.
"Well, are you equal to it?" he asked.
Kirk nodded; he could not speak.
"Why, you look as cold as ice," exclaimed the woman, half-resentfully.
"I'm the only one who seems to feel it. I--I'm positively delirious. My
partners look at me in the strangest way, as if they thought I were
liable to become dangerous at any moment."
"Not too loud!" her husband cautioned, then to Kirk: "Good-luck, old
man. Lord! I need a bracer." His words stuck in his throat, and Kirk
realized that he was himself the calmest of the three. Together,
Runnels and his wife strolled off through the crowd, disappearing in
the direction of the north wing of the hotel.
It seemed ages before the orchestra struck up; Kirk began to fear that
something had happened to the musicians. He edged closer to the door
and searched out Chiquita with his eyes. There she was, seated with her
father, Colonel Bland from Gatun, and some high officer or
other--probably an admiral. Ramon Alfarez was draped artistically over
the back of her chair, curling his mustache tenderly and smiling
vacantly at the conversation.
Kirk ground his teeth together and set his feet as if for the sound of
the referee's whistle. He heard the orchestra leader tap his
music-stand; then, as the first strains of the waltz floated forth, he
stepped into the ballroom and made toward his sweetheart. All at once
he found that his brain was clear, his heart-beats measured.
Of course she saw him coming; she had waited all the long evening for
this moment. He saw her hand flutter uncertainly to her throat; then,
as he paused before her, she rose without a word. His arm encircled her
waist, her little, cold palm dropped into his as lightly as a
snowflake, and they glided away together. He found himself whispering
her name over and over again passionately.
"Why--why did you do this, senor?" she protested, faintly. "It is very
hard for me."
"It is the last time I shall ever hold you--this way."
She faltered, her breath caught. "Please! My father is looking. Ramon--"
"Have you agreed to marry him?"
"Yes! No no! Oh, I have prayed to the Virgin every hour. I cannot, and
yet I must. See! I cannot waltz, senor, I have s-stepped upon you. Take
me back to my seat."
For answer he pressed her closer to his breast, holding her up without
effort. The incense from her hair was robbing him of his wits, his old
wild desire to pick her up and carry her away swept over him.
"Don't--esqueeze--me--so!" she exclaimed. "I cannot hold back--the
tears. I am so unhappy. If I could die quickly--now."
"Let us go out on the porch."
"No, no! We must remain in my father's sight. Will you take me to my
seat?"
"No, I want you to listen carefully to what I'm going to say." He spoke
low and earnestly. "Try to show nothing in your face, for they are
watching us." Seeing her more composed and attentive, he went on:
"Don't stop dancing now, when I tell you. Chiquita dear, you must marry
me, to-night, right away! I have arranged everything. No, don't look up
at me until I have finished. Try to smile. I've planned it all out and
everything is in readiness. I have a room just around the corner of the
veranda; there's a judge waiting for us, and Runnels and his wife--"
"You are mad!" she gasped.
"No, no. We'll slip through one of the French windows, and we'll be
back again before they miss us. Nobody will know. I tell you they're
waiting. If we are missed they'll think--it doesn't matter what they
think, you'll be my wife, and Ramon can't marry you then. We'll say
nothing about it until your father is elected President."
"Senor, one cannot be married in a moment. I am Catholic--the banns--"
"I've thought of all that, but a civil marriage is binding. We'll have
the religious ceremony afterward; meanwhile this will stop Ramon, at
least. I promise not to see you again until you send for me, until your
father's hopes are realized. You may wait as long as you wish, and
nobody will know. They tricked you, Chiquita dear; I can't explain, but
it wasn't all politics, by any means. Oh, girl! Don't you understand, I
love you--love you? It's our only chance." The words were tumbling from
his lips incoherently; he was pleading as if for his life, while she
clung to him to support herself. Through it all their feet moved
rhythmically, their bodies swayed to the cadences of the waltz as they
circled the ballroom. He guided her among the other whirling figures,
under the very eyes of her father and her fiance, while more than one
of the onlookers commented upon the handsome appearance of these young
people, the one so stalwart and blond and Northern, the other so chic
and dark and tropical.
He knew it was her lifelong loyalty, her traditional sense of
obedience, that made her hesitate.
"It was treachery to both of us," he urged; "they imposed upon your
father, but when he has won he'll forgive us. I know what I'm saying;
Mrs. Cortlandt told me to-night."
"Mother of God!" she exclaimed, faintly. "Is it that I am dreaming?"
"They are waiting for us; the dance is half over already. I love
you--better than all the world. Do you remember two nights ago? You
kissed me then, and--I--I can't live without you. We'll go away
together, you and I, through all the world--just we two." She trembled
against him. "Quick!" he cried in her ear. "We're coming to the spot.
They can't see us now. If you feel weak, hold to my arm until we are
outside."
She gave a hysterical, choking sob that was half a sigh; then her eyes
flashed upward to his--they were wide and bright and shining--her lips
were parted, her body was lithe and full of life. She slipped from his
embrace, whispering:
"Yes, yes! Quickly, senor!" And the next instant they were out upon the
wide gallery with the dance behind them. "Hurree, hurree! Or they will
follow."
Together they fled along the north wing of the hotel; the girl was
panting, with one hand held to her bare throat; but there was no need
for him to help her, for she ran like a fawn.
"Here!" He swung her around the corner and rapped sharply at a door.
"Quickly! Quickly!" she moaned. "For the love of--"
With terrific force the door was fairly jerked from its hinges and
slammed to behind them. The next moment Allan's big body was leaning
against it, as if the wall were about to fall inward upon him. Runnels
leaped forward with an exclamation, his wife stood staring, her face as
white as snow. With them was the genial gray-haired judge from Colon,
whom Kirk had met at the Wayfarers Club on the night of his arrival.
"You made it!" Runnels cried, triumphantly.
"Miss Garavel!" his wife echoed. "Thank Heaven you came!"
"Quick, the music will stop! Judge, this is Miss Garavel--you must
marry us just as fast as you can."
"I presume you consent?" the judge asked, with a smile at the girl.
"I--I want to be happy," she said, simply. Her bosom was heaving, her
pansy eyes were fastened upon the magistrate with a look of pleading
that drove the smile from his lips. She clung to Anthony's arm as if
she feared these strangers might tear him away.
"You understand, Judge, she's of age; so am I. They want to force her
to marry a man she doesn't--"
The muffled strains of music ceased. There came the faint clapping of
hands.
"Madre de Dios!" Miss Garavel cried. "We are too late." She beat her
little palms together in desperation.
There was a breathless interval. Then the music began again, and to its
throbbing measures the marriage ceremony was performed. As the last
word was pronounced, Mrs. Runnels burst into tears and hid her face
against her husband's breast. Runnels himself held forth a shaking hand
to Kirk, then patted the bride clumsily upon her shoulder.
"I know you will be happy now, Mrs. Anthony," he said.
With an incoherent cry of delight, Kirk folded his wife in his arms,
and she kissed him before them all.
"Senor, I will love you always," she said, shyly.
During the progress of this scene, Allan Allan of Jamaica had stood
frozen with amazement, a door-knob wedged firmly into the small of his
back, his eyes distended and rolling; but when Mrs. Runnels collapsed,
as at a signal he too dissolved in tears.
"Oh, glory to God, boss," he sobbed, "you is a beautiful bridegroom!"
"Come, we must get back, the music has stopped again." Kirk turned to
the judge. "Nothing is to be said until Miss Gar--Mrs. Anthony gives
the word; you understand? I can't thank you all half enough. Now,
Allan, see if the coast is clear, quickly!" He was still in a panic,
for there yet remained a chance of discovery and ruin. One more instant
of suspense, then the two stepped out; the door closed softly behind
them and they strolled around the corner of the north wing and into the
crowd. It had all happened so quickly that even yet they were dazed and
disbelieving.
"My wife!" Kirk whispered, while a tremendous rush of emotion swept
over him. She trembled in answer like a wind-shaken leaf. "You're mine,
Chiquita! They can't take you away." His voice broke.
"I am still dreaming. What have I done? Oh-h--they will know; in my
face they will read the truth. But I do not care. Is--it indeed true?"
They were at the entrance to the ballroom now, through which they had
come a few minutes before, and, pausing, she gave him a half-serious,
half-timid glance.
"Senor, I do not know if some time you will be sorry for this action,
but I shall never cease loving you. I prayed hourly to the Blessed
Virgin, and she heard. Now, I shall perish until you come."
"When you give me leave; through steel and stone, through fire and
water."
"Quick, for the one more time, call me--that--" She hesitated, blushing
vividly. "I will hear it in my dreams."
"My wife!" he whispered, tenderly.
"Ho! Chiquita mia!" her father cried, as they came to him. "There you
are then. I have missed you." His eyes smouldered as he gazed
suspiciously at Kirk.
"Ah, but I was too warm," she said, easily. "Yonder by the door we have
been standing in the night breeze. And where is Ramon?"
"He is looking for you."
"One would think him a jealous husband already," she exclaimed,
lightly. Then, extending her hand coolly to Kirk, "I thank you, senor,
for the--dance."
Her husband bowed. "I shall not soon forget it." To the father he
added, in a low voice: "I thank you, also, for your courtesy. We have
been discussing your daughter's marriage during the dance, and it is my
one greatest hope that she will never regret it."
The banker acknowledged the words ceremoniously. "Love is a thing that
comes and goes; marriage alone can bind it. Some day you will thank me,
and then perhaps you will honor our house again, eh?"
"I shall be happy to come whenever you wish." As he walked away, the
banker said, with relief:
"He takes it well; he is proud--almost like a Spaniard."
Kirk moved through the crowd as if in a trance, but he was beginning to
realize the truth now; it surged over him in great waves of gladness.
He longed to shout his news aloud. What luck was his! The world was
made for him; there was no such thing as adversity or failure--Chiquita
was his wife! All Christendom might go to pot for all he cared; that
marvellous fact was unalterable. Yes, and he could speak his mind to
Mrs. Cortlandt. His tentative acceptance of the terms she made sickened
him. He wanted to rid himself of this false position as soon as
possible. What mattered her threats? What did he care for the things
she could give or withhold when all the glad open world was beckoning
to him and to his bride? Success! Riches! He could win them for
himself. Chiquita was all and more than they, and he was a god!
In the midst of his rhapsody he heard a bell-boy speaking his name, and
smiled at him vacantly as he turned away. But the negro followed him
persistently, saying something about a letter.
"Letter? I have no time to write letters. Oh, I beg pardon, letter for
ME?" He took the missive from the silver tray and stuffed it
absent-mindedly into a pocket, fumbling meanwhile for a tip. "I don't
seem to have any money, my boy, but money, after all, means nothing."
"It is h'impartant, sar."
"Oh yes, the letter. Very well." He opened the envelope and pretended
to read, but in reality the sheet held nothing for him but a ravishing,
mischievous face, with pansy eyes. He must have stood staring
unseeingly at it for several seconds. Then the dancing visions faded
and the scrawl stood out plainly:
Williams, detective, St. Louis, arrived at Colon this evening on the
Prince Joachim. You'd better take it on the run.
It was written upon Tivoli paper, but the hand was strange and it was
not signed.
"Well!" Kirk came suddenly to himself, and a spasm of disgust seized
him. "What a rotten inconvenience!" he said aloud. But before he had
time to measure the effect of this new complication the swelling music
reminded him that this dance belonged to Mrs. Cortlandt and that her
answer was due.
She was waiting for him in the gallery, and motioned him to the chair
adjoining hers.
"I can't two-step and talk at the same time," she said, "and here we'll
be quite private."
Kirk remained standing. "What I have to say won't take long. I've made
up my mind, and I--"
Edith interrupted him with a lightness that her look belied:
"Oh, let's not discuss it. I don't want you to answer. I don't want to
think of it. I just want to forget--and to plan. You understand how I
feel?" She faced him with eyes bright and lustrous, her red lips parted
in a smile. She was a very beautiful woman, Kirk realized--a very
compelling, unusual woman, and one whose capabilities seemed unbounded.
He began dimly to perceive that all women have great capabilities for
good or evil, depending largely upon the accident of their environment,
and with this thought came the feeling that he must speak frankly now
or prove himself worse than base. If only she were of the weakly
feminine type his task would be far easier. But it was hard to strike
her, for the very reason that he knew she would take the blow bravely
and meet its full force.
"I must answer," he said. "I don't want to pretend; I'm not good at
lying. I can't go through with any such arrangement as you suggested.
Why, the very idea is positively--fierce. You've been awfully nice to
me, but I had no idea of--this. Besides, Cortlandt's an awfully decent
chap, and--and, well," he concluded, lamely, "there are lots of
reasons."
"Oh no! There is only one reason; all the others count for nothing."
She spoke in a voice that he could scarcely hear.
"Perhaps! But it's--just impossible."
"You know what it means?" She stared at him with hard, level eyes. "I'm
not a moderate person--I can't do things by halves. No! I see you don't
think of that, you are mad over this Garavel girl. But you can't get
her." Something in his dazzled, love-foolish smile enraged her. "So!
You are planning even now. Well, then, understand there are practical
reasons, political reasons, why you can't have her. If Garavel were
insane enough to consent, others would not. She is part of--the
machine, and there are those who will not consent to see all their work
spoiled. That is altogether apart from me, you understand. I can build,
and I can destroy--"
"There's nothing more to say," he interrupted her, quietly, "so I'd
better excuse myself."
"Yes! I would prefer to be alone."
When he had bowed himself away she crushed the fan in her hand, staring
out across the lights of the city below, and it was thus that Cortlandt
found her a few moments later, as he idled along the veranda, his hands
in his pockets, a cigarette between his lips. He dropped into the empty
chair beside her, saying:
"Hello! Thought you had this with Anthony?"
"I had."
"What's the trouble?"
"There is no trouble." She began to rock, while he studied her profile;
then, conscious of his look, she inquired, "Aren't you dancing?"
"No, just looking on, as usual. I prefer to watch. You have broken your
fan, it seems." He flung his cigarette into the darkness and, reaching
out, took the fan from her hand. She saw that his lips were drawn back
in a peculiar smile.
"Well! Is that so strange?" she answered, sharply. "You seem--" She
broke off and looked deliberately away from him.
"Row, eh?" he inquired, softly.
She could barely hold back her hatred of the man. He had worked
powerfully upon her nerves of late, and she was half hysterical.
"Why do you take pleasure in annoying me?" she cried. "What ails you
these last few weeks? I can't stand it--I won't--"
"Oh! Pardon! One quarrel an evening is enough. I should have known
better."
She turned upon him at this, but once more checked the words that
clamored for utterance. Her look, however, was a warning. She bit her
lip and said nothing.
"Too bad you and he don't hit it off better; he likes me."
There was no answer.
"He's giving me a party after the dance, sort of a gratitude affair. A
delicate way to acknowledge a debt, eh?"
She saw that his hand shook as he lit a fresh cigarettes, and the
strangeness of his tone made her wonder. "You know very well it is
Runnels' doing," she said.
"Oh, there are six of them in it altogether, but Anthony originated the
little surprise. It's intended for you, of course."
"I don't see it. Are you going?"
"I accepted."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Bah! They won't give it," he said, harshly.
"And why not? I think it is rather nice of those chaps. Of course,
Runnels would like to ingratiate himself with you--"
"Funny spectacle, eh? Me the guest of--Anthony!"
There was a trace of anxiety in her voice as she answered, and, though
she spoke carelessly, she did not meet his eyes.
"I--I'd rather you'd make an excuse. I'll have to go home alone, you
know."
He raised his brows mockingly. "My DEAR! I'm to be the honored guest."
"Suit yourself, of course."
A marine officer approached, mopping his face, and engaged her in
conversation, whereupon Cortlandt rose languidly and strolled away
through the crowd that came eddying forth from the ballroom.
Meanwhile, Kirk had found Runnels, who was looking for him, eager to
express his congratulations and to discuss their exploit in detail.
"I've just taken the wife home," he explained. "I never saw anybody so
excited. If she'd stayed here she'd have given the whole thing away,
sure. Why, she wasn't half so much affected by her own marriage."
"I--I haven't pulled myself together yet. Funny thing--I've just been
watching my wife dancing with the man she is engaged to. Gee! It's
great to be married."
"She's the dearest thing I ever saw; and wasn't she game? Alice will
cry for weeks over this. Why, it's the sob-fest of her lifetime. She's
bursting with grief and rapture. I hope your wife can keep a secret
better than mine, otherwise there will be a tremendous commotion before
to-morrow's sun sets. I suppose now I'll have to hang around home with
my finger on my lip, saying 'Hist!' until the news comes out. Whew! I
am thirsty."