expected to hear in New York that the shooting had begun. Celestino Rey
very nearly got a body-blow over, while we were hung up in port before
the last trip up. Jaffier, the old Dictator, had just stepped out of
his dingy little capitol, when a rifle-ball tore through his sleeve,
between his arm and ribs. His sentries clubbed the rifle-man to death
in the street----"
"It's rather a peculiar situation as I understand it," Bedient said.
"The death of either leader----"
"Would mean an end to his party. That's it exactly," said Captain
Bloom.
A lively listener to this talk at the Captain's table was a dark-haired
young woman with dancing brown eyes--Miss Adith Mallory. She was
slender, and not tall, but spirited in manner; exhibited a fine freedom
with her new acquaintances at the table, mostly gentlemen, but with an
elegance which repelled familiarity. Miss Mallory seemed to find great
fun in these revolutionary affairs, and a deep interest in Andrew
Bedient, and his vast holdings on the Island. Her eyes quickly recalled
to Bedient's mind a line of Tennyson's--"_Sunset and evening star, and
after that the dark_."
He saw very little of her until the _Hatteras_ emerged into the warm,
blue Caribbean, and he no longer had the excuse of rough weather to
keep away from the dining-saloon. Miss Mallory favored every chance for
a talk with Bedient, and once or twice he caught her regarding him with
a strange, half-humorous depth of glance. One evening, as the ship was
passing the northern coast of Porto Rico, they met on the promenade.
The Island was a heavy shadow, off in the moon-bright South.
"... They say, Mr. Bedient, that if the revolution succeeds, it will
make a great difference to you."
"Perhaps it may," he replied.
Miss Mallory had heard from the ship's officers, something of his
relations with Captain Carreras. He laughingly deprecated his adequacy
as a money-master.
"That's quite extraordinary," she said thoughtfully. "New York has not
taught me to expect such from a man. Then the American dollar is not
the sign of the Holy of Holies--to you?"
... Her talk was blithe. Presently she chaffed him for absences from
the saloon during the rough weather.
"And you are such an old sailor, too," she finished.
"But my sailing was largely--sailing," he said. "It's different under
steam."
"But we have been nearly three days in a turquoise calm, and I have
watched you. A goldfinch would pine away on the nourishment you have
taken! How do you manage to live?"
"You see how well I am," he said.
"You're not nearly----" Miss Mallory checked herself, and swallowed
several times, before venturing again: "Do you know what I thought?"
"No."
"That you were in the clutch of mortal fear, lest you lose your fortune
in the fighting."
"That _was_ a bit wide, Miss Mallory----"
"In reparation for that injustice, I am going to tell you--what takes
me to Coral City. I haven't told anyone else.... It's the prospect of a
war. I've always wanted a revolution. You can never know how much....
You see, I'm an every-day working woman, a newspaper woman, but out of
routine work. Some big things have fallen to me, but never war.
Equatoria, the name and everything about it, has enchanted me for
years----"
Bedient liked her enthusiasm. He explained much about the Island,
Jaffier, Celestino Rey, _The Pleiad_, and the manner of men who
frequented this remarkable palace. He advised Miss Mallory not to be
known as a newspaper woman, if she expected a welcome at _The Pleiad_.
The _Hatteras_ finally made the coral passage, and was steaming into
the inner harbor. Miss Mallory left Captain Bloom, who was pointing out
the line of reefs, to join Bedient on the promenade-deck.
"I'm surprised and disappointed," she said. "I expected to hear
shooting long before this."
"It may not be started," he suggested. "And now, Miss Mallory, we'd
better not go ashore together. I'm known as a follower of Jaffier; and
since you go to _The Pleiad,_ the only really suitable place to live,
you'd only complicate your standing in the community by being seen with
me. If _The Pleiad_ should happen to be invested in a siege, I'll see
you comfortably quartered elsewhere. In any case, I am at your
service."
Bedient was entirely unexpected at the _hacienda_, but a small caravan
had come down to meet the steamer and carry back supplies. Coral City
was feverish with excitement, although the revolutionists had not yet
taken to gunning. Bedient dispatched a letter to Jaffier with greeting,
a congratulation on his escape from death (regarded in the letter as a
good omen), and among other matters, an inquiry in regard to the
American Jim Framtree, whom he had met in Coral City, just before he
embarked for New York. This done, Bedient procured a saddle-pony, and
started alone up the trails to the _hacienda_.
He reached the great house in the early dusk. Such was the welcome
Bedient met, that for a moment, he was unable to speak. It was
spontaneous, too, for he was an hour ahead of the caravan. All was as
he had left. Dozens of natives trooped in with flowers and fruits, and
when he was alone upstairs, their singing came to him from the
cabins.... Bedient did not realize how worn and near to breaking he
was, until the outer door of his apartment was shut; and standing in
the centre of the room, with a laugh on his lips, he had to wait two or
three minutes, for the upheaval to subside in his breast.... A little
later, he crossed to the Captain's quarters, opened the door, and stood
in the dark for several moments, his head bowed. And a breath of that
faint sweet perfume, which never wearied nor obtruded, came to his
nostrils, as if one of the old silk handkerchiefs were softly waved in
the darkness.
* * * * *
A convoy, in the charge of Dictator Jaffier's oldest and most trusted
servant, reached the _hacienda_ at noon the next day. Thus the reply to
his letter was borne to Bedient. The cumbersome efficiency clothed an
imperative need for money first of all. Bedient expected this and was
prepared to assist.... A revolution was inevitable, the communication
further divulged. The point in Dictator Jaffier's mind was just the
hour to strike. He recognized the importance of striking first; but, he
observed sententiously, there was an exact moment between preparedness
and precipitation. Jaffier believed that Celestino Rey was looking for
a shipload of rifles and ammunition; but the entire coast was guarded
by the Defenders, especially _The Pleiad_ inlet, where the Spaniard's
rare yacht lay. A seizure of the contraband, it was naïvely stated,
would be a most desirable stroke by the government.... The letter
closed with the information Bedient had especially requested. The young
American Jim Framtree, whose movements in part had been followed by
Jaffier's agents, was at _The Pleiad_ with his chief, Celestino Rey,
and was doubtless an important member of the rebel staff....
Bedient read the letter carefully and glanced through it again.
Jaffier's reliable held out his hand for it.
"If the Señor has carefully digested the contents----" he began.
"Yes, I have it all----"
The other took the letter and touched a match to it, stepping upon the
crisp, blackened shell of fibre that fell to the floor. He carried back
a New York draft for a large amount.
Bedient slept; that is, his body lay moveless from mid-evening to broad
daylight, that first night at the _hacienda_. His consciousness had
taken long journeys to Beth, remarkable pilgrimages to India (and found
Beth there in the tonic altitudes). Always she regarded him with some
strange terror that would not let her speak. Home from these far
flights, he would see his body lying still in the splendid, silent
room, fanned by soft night-winds, and quickly depart again.... It must
have been the beautiful welcome from Falk and the natives. He had
broken down quite absurdly, all his furious sustaining force had
relaxed. Perhaps it had been necessary for him to break down before he
could sleep.... Many times before, he had seen his body lying asleep.
He was more than ever tired and torn this day. Every vista of the hills
held poignant hurt, because Beth Truba could not see this beauty. He
dared not touch the orchestrelle. Falk brought coffee and fruit after
Jaffier's servant had departed. Coffee at the _hacienda_ was a perfect
achievement. Eight years of training under Captain Carreras, who had an
ideal in the making, and who claimed the finest coffee in the world as
the product of his own hills, had brought the beverage to a high point.
Bedient drank with a relish almost forgotten, but instantly followed
that crippling pang--that it was not for Beth; that she could not
breathe the warm fragrant winds.... Bedient sprang up. Some hard,
brain-filling, body-straining task was the cry of his mind. This was
its first defensive activity against the tearing down of bitter
loneliness. Until this moment, he had endured passively.
Bedient determined to go to _The Pleiad_. He had thought of various
ways to get in contact with Jim Framtree, but there were obstacles in
every path, from the point of view of one conceded by the whole Island
to be Dictator Jaffier's right hand, as Captain Carreras had been. The
idea appealed more every second. It would startle all concerned,
Jaffier and Celestino Rey especially. But the former had just received
a large financial assurance of his loyalty, and there was value in
giving the ex-pirate something formidable to cope with. Moreover, to
meet Jim Framtree again was Bedient's first reason for sudden return to
Equatoria.... He called for a pony, and followed by a servant with a
case of fresh clothing, rode down the trail to Coral City.
TWENTY-SIXTH CHAPTER
HOW STARTLING IS TRUTH
Bedient entered _The Pleiad_, and with relief breathed the coolness of
the vast shadowed halls. One does not ride for pleasure on a June
afternoon in Equatoria, and Bedient was far from fit.... There were no
guests about. A pale, slender, sad-eyed gentleman appeared in a sort of
throne of marble and mahogany, and perceiving the arrival, his look
became fixed and glassy.
"Just give me your name, please, if you wish," the pale one said,
clearing as dry a throat as ever gave passage to words. Indeed, Bedient
could only think of some one stepping upon nut-shells to compare with
that voice. The sentence was spoken in answer to his glance about for a
register or something of the sort.... No questions were asked regarding
price, baggage, nor the nature of the quarters desired. A Chinese
servant appeared, and took the case from Bedient's man, who was sent
down to quarter in the city. The guest followed the Oriental. The
stillness and vast proportions of the structure; the endless darkened
halls robed in tapestries and animate with oils; the heavy fragrance
from the gardens, crushed out of blossoms by the fierce heat; rugs of
all the world's weaving, from the golden fleeces of Persia to fire-lit
Navajos; a glimpse to the left, of a room walled with books, and sunk
into an Egypt of silence; an acreage of covered billiard-tables through
a vast door to the right--a composite of such impressions made the
moment memorable. Bedient could only think of a king's winter
palace--in summer.... He left the servant to return a moment to the
desk.
"Have you a list of the men-guests?" he asked.
The pale one looked disturbed; or possibly it was disappointment that
his colorless features expressed, as if such affairs were for the
lesser servants of the establishment, and not in the province of
gentlemanly dealings.
"No, we have no such list," he said. "Later in the day, when it is
cooler, however, most of our guests are abroad, and you will doubtless
have little difficulty in finding him whom you seek. You will become
familiar in a few hours with our little peculiarities of management.
There is little to complain of in the way of service, I believe----"
Rejoining the Chinese, Bedient was led to an apartment, the elegance of
detail and effect of which was imperial, no less. With relief he
stepped out of his riding clothes, bathed in a deliciously tempered
shower, and sat down to think. The chair folded about him like a cool
soft arm. The whole atmosphere was to him embarrassingly sensuous. The
city was below, shadowed in the swift-falling night; the harbor lay in
purple silence, the sun had sunk in a blood-orange sky.
A smile came to his lips at the heavy seriousness of life all about
him; vice clinging tenaciously to world-forms, and leaning upon the
purchasable beauty of marble and figured walls, its hollowness
sustained with the perfections of service. Then he looked across the
dark harbor to the sweep of deep red which alone remained of the
sunset, thinking of Beth and the dividing sea and the dividing world,
and why it had happened so. He was ashamed because he could not think
of the great work he had dreamed of doing for women, because Beth meant
_Women_ to him now, and he was not for her.... Would the visions of
service ever come back?
This brought his mind to the thing he had come to _The Pleiad_ to do,
and the revolution all around it, in the very air. What a queer
post--in the very fortress of insurrection. It was all boyish stuff.
Many adventures might accrue. Would they be enough to keep his mind
from realities?... He feared not. For an hour he sat there, regarding
the lights of the city and harbor, until his thoughts grew too heavy,
and the manacled lover within him was spent and blood-drawn from
straining against his chains--the captive that would not die.... He
arose wearily to find that a letter had been thrust beneath his door,
and so silently that he had not been aroused from his thoughts. The
paper was of palest blue and heavy-laid. His name was written with a
blunt pen in an angular, eccentric hand, and the contents proved
unique:
MR. ANDREW BEDIENT,
SIR: Many of my guests have caught the spirit of _The Pleiad_ more
readily and pleasurably, after making the acquaintance of one
elsewhere designated, I believe, the proprietor. We do not use the
word here, as we are friends together. The fact that my manager
showed you apartments is enough to make me glad to welcome you. He
makes few mistakes. Will you not dine with me at eight this
evening in the Shield Room. If you have a previous engagement,
pray do not permit me to disturb it, as I shall be ready at your
good time.
With unwonted regard,
CELESTINO REY.
Bedient sat down again. The systems of the house moved him to amusement
and marvelling. To think that the pale creature at the desk had weighed
him from all angles of desirability; and like some more or less
infallible Peter had allowed him to enter into the abiding peace of
_The Pleiad_. It was rather a morsel, that he had not been turned away.
Then to be invited to dine the first evening with the establishment's
presiding individuality, who did not approve of the term, "proprietor."
There was a tropic, an orient, delight about the affair.
"To think a stranger must lose or win caste in Equatoria, on the glance
of that Tired-eyed," he mused. "I really must master this atmosphere."
Bedient thought of _Treasure Island Inn_, in the lower city, where a
stranger would probably go, if denied entrance at _The Pleiad_.
"Infested" was the word Captain Carreras had once used to depict its
denizens.... A few minutes before eight Bedient left the room and
descended. From the staircase, he perceived that the guests had,
indeed, gathered at this hour. The company was not large, but rather
distinguished at first glance. So various were the nationalities
represented that Bedient thought the picture not unlike a court-ball
with attachés present. The hum of voices was quickened with half the
tongues of Europe, and now and then an intonation of Asia. There were
more men than women, but this only accentuated the attractions of the
latter, of which there were two or three sense-stirring blooms.
For just an instant on the staircase, Bedient stood among the
punkah-blown palms to scan the faces below. Framtree was not there, but
Miss Mallory appeared in a discussion with an elderly gentleman, and
her usual animation was apparent. Bedient was struck with the fact that
he had been singularly remiss. In the thirty hours which had passed
since their parting, her likeness had not once entered his mind, and he
had offered to see that she was comfortably ensconced. Her eyes turned
to him now, but as quickly turned away. He had tried to bow.... And at
this moment, Bedient perceived the languid eye of the man at the desk,
cooling itself upon him. Crossing the tiles from the stairs toward this
gentleman, moreover, he was covered with glances from the guests, eyes
of swift, searching intensity. "How interested they are in a stranger,"
he thought. There was a sharpness of needles and acid in the air.
Low chimes from an indefinite source now struck the hour of eight. A
Chinese stepped up to the desk beside Bedient.
"You are dining with Señor Rey?" the manager inquired lazily.
Bedient nodded, and turned to greet Miss Mallory. She caught his eye
and intent, and promptly turned her back. For the first time, Bedient
felt himself a little inadequate to cope with the psychological
activities of this establishment. Reverting to the desk, the manager
appeared dazed and absent-minded as usual.
"The boy," he said, indicating the Chinese, "will show you to the
Shield Room."
Bedient trailed the soft-footed oriental through the bewildering hall,
until he saw Señor Rey standing in a doorway--and behind him a low-lit
arcanum of leather and metal.... The face of the Spaniard was
startling, like the discovery of a crime. It was lean and livid as a
cadaver. The pallor of the entire left cheek, including the corner of
the lips, had the shine of an old burn, the pores run together in a
sort of changeless glaze. In the haggard, bloodless face, eyes shone
with black brilliance. The teeth were whole and prominent, as was the
entire bony structure of the face and skull. Señor Rey had a tall,
attenuated figure, with military shoulders. He moved with great
difficulty, as if lacking control of his lower limbs, but in his hands
was the contrast--long, white, swift and perfectly preserved. The
scarred face and ruffled throat united to form in Bedient's mind the
hideous suggestion that the Spaniard had once been tortured
_full-length_--his flesh once thrawned in machinery of the devil....
Bedient's hand was grasped in a cold bony grip, and his eyes held for
an instant in the bright unquiet gaze of the Spaniard.
"I welcome you, Mr. Bedient.... Do you plan to be with us some little
time?" The Señor spoke in a low, monotonous way. His English was but
little colored by native speech.
"I cannot tell yet," said Bedient. "I have long wanted to see your
wonderful house, but this particular moment, I came to find a certain
man----"
Bedient noted the yellow eyelids of the other droop a little. He
understood perfectly that there were many men now at _The Pleiad_ who
were badly wanted.
"Don't mistake me, Señor Rey," he added. "The man I wish to talk with
can only prosper for my coming."
"Frequently it happens that the one searched for in Equatoria--is the
last found," the Spaniard observed.
Linen, silver, crystal and candle-radiance were superbly blended upon
the small round table between them. Rey, as a talker, was artful and
inspiriting. His disordered body seemed an ancient classic volume, done
in scarred vellum--a book of perils, named Celestino Rey--and all
things about, the spears, guns, skins, shields, even the grim shadows,
were but references to the text. The dinner was perfect. A tray of
wines and a sheaf of cheroots were placed upon the balcony, at length,
with two chairs covered with puma skins. The Chinese assisted Rey
thither, and when they were alone, he said:
"Do you feel at all like discussing the affair which really brings you
to _The Pleiad_?... You neither eat nor drink nor smoke--perhaps you
talk."
Bedient laughed. "Wouldn't it be the simplest way to believe me?" he
asked. "I want to see Jim Framtree, and I heard he was here. The matter
has nothing to do with Equatoria, the present unrest, nor with any
relation of his or mine to the Island or to _The Pleiad_. You can make
it possible for me to see him at once."
"Unfortunately, I cannot. My province in _The Pleiad_ is to cut down
tension to a minimum. So many gentlemen present are of a highly nervous
temperament. My best procedure many times is to act negatively....
Doubtless Dictator Jaffier was very glad of your return to the
dreamiest of climates----"
"Yes," said Bedient.
"I noted this morning that he dispatched a convoy to your _hacienda_,
bearing doubtless the official welcome----"
"Yes, I met the party."
Bedient perceived that the Spaniard missed little that was going on in
the city and Island; also that he believed Jaffier's convoy had
something to do with his own presence at _The Pleiad_; and finally that
Celestino Rey was not trained to truth. In fact, Bedient had done more
to disconcert the master of the establishment by stating the exact
facts, than by any strategy he might have evolved.... Bedient arose at
length and took the cold hand. He could not forbear a laugh.
"I am flexible enough to appreciate your position," he said. "As an
acknowledged resource of the government, I suppose it is rather hard to
see me--at this particular moment in the history of Equatoria--as
carrying anything so simple as a friendly token."
"You are very absorbing to me, Mr. Bedient," the Señor said delicately.
"An old man may express his fondness.... I am glad _The Pleiad_ pleases
you. I have built it out of the clods that the world has hurled at me,
and have preserved enough vitality to laugh at it all. I find it best
to keep down the tension----"
The younger man assisted the Spaniard to his feet.
"Ah, thank you," said the Señor, bowing. "I am dead below the knees."
Bedient strolled a bit in the gardens. Framtree, if anywhere in the
establishment, did not show himself outside, nor in the buffet,
library, billiard-hall, nor lobby. The extent and grandeur of the house
was astonishing, as well as the extreme efficiency of the service. A
Chinese was within hand-clap momentarily. There seemed scores of them,
fleet, silent, immaculate, full of understanding. Their presence did
not bore one, as a plethora of white servants might have done. Bedient
reflected that the Chinese have not auras of the obtruding sort.... In
his room finally, he drew a chair up to the window, and sat down
without turning on light.
He had never felt wider awake than now, and midnight struck. He could
not keep his thoughts upon the different facets of the present
adventure, but back they carried him through the studio-days, one after
another, steadily, relentlessly toward the end. It was like the beating
of the bass in one of those remorseless Russian symphonies.... The
ride--the halt upon the highway at high noon--the kiss in that glorious
light--her wonderful feminine spirit ... and then the blank until they
were at her mother's house. He never could drive his thoughts into that
woodland path. From the first kiss to the tragedy and the open door,
only glimpses returned, and they had nothing to do with his will ... He
felt his heart in an empty rapid activity, and his scalp prickled. The
captive that would not die was full of insane energy that night....
Once Bedient went to the door, following an inexplicable impulse. At
the far end of the hall, fully seventy yards away, stood Jim Framtree
talking with a woman. A Chinese servant hurried forward to Bedient, as
if risen from the floor.... Framtree and the woman separated. Bedient
took a gold coin from his pocket, and thrust it hastily into the hand
of the servant, saying: "Ask that gentleman to come here for a moment."
The Chinese did not return, nor did Framtree call that night.
But even this slight development could not hold his thoughts....
Bedient wondered if the captive would ever die; and if he should die,
would he not rise again at the memory of that first kiss in the June
sunlight?... And so he sat, until the day. Then he noted another letter
had been slipped under his door. It was of course from Señor Rey: