it was dreadful to be young--and alone in a strange country. Plainly
she had something more to say, so I told her to speak what was in her
mind. The substance was that Mr. Framtree had lasted much longer than
most, therefore he must be a very great artist with the cards. Many men
had come with fortunes to _The Pleiad,_ and most of them were ready to
gamble with her lord, who invariably got their money in the end. It was
not only the money, but he had a vast pride in his mastery, and in the
house he had built. It was not possible for him to continue to lose any
length of time. Then Señora Rey informed me that the two were together
now, and if she dared, she could show me some things about her lord's
house.
"I begged her to, though fearfully, you may believe. She said it was
risking murder if we were caught, but I saw she wanted to show me.
Also, I thought of many things, and it looked important--for one in my
capacity not to miss. So I asked again.... 'You see, I can refuse you
nothing,' she said. 'I love you for coming to me. I am a woman
again--even young and glad. Before you came, I was a snake crushed at
midday--that could not die until the dark.'
"I think the adventure really fascinated her, because she hates the
Señor so. Anyway, I followed through several inner rooms of oppressive
magnificence which the Spaniard reserves for his own use. Then we
entered a corridor. No lock could be seen, but the Señora touched the
panel in a certain way. It closed of itself as we entered, with the
sound of a lock indeed--a heavy, oiled, smooth-running click, but very
soft. I hated to hear it behind. The corridor was narrow and dim. It
was high, but the thickly shaded lamps were far apart and close to the
rugs, so that one's shoes were lit, but faces hardly recognizable. Low
voices mingled in a bewildering complication throughout the corridor.
There was a sliding ladder with carpeted steps, which could be pushed
noiselessly along one wall. An arrangement like it is used in libraries
to reach the upper shelves. The Glow-worm was trembling, and squeezed
my hand repeatedly to insure silence, and slid the ladder along nearly
to the end. I could hear her quick, frightened breathing. The thing was
locked by some unseen turn of the Señora's finger, and I was directed
to climb. Up three steps, and I saw light through the wall on the level
of my eyes. Closer, it appeared that only a dark gauze almost
transparent hung between me and another room. The gauze covered a slit
plenty large enough to look through.
"Señor Rey and the handsome man were facing each other in a dull green
room. The latter's back was toward me, and a table was between them,
but they were not at cards. The young man's profile was half-turned so
I could see, and he moved restlessly in his chair. He lit a cigarette
as I stood there, and the Señor observed that it was sad to be old. You
could hear their words, as clearly as you hear mine. The Framtree
gentleman laughed softly. He has a manner, I confess. He declared that
he didn't believe there was ever a time when the Señor could have
solved the problem at hand.
"The Glow-worm was pulling at my skirts to come down, but I listened a
moment longer. The Señor said he must have done Dictator Jaffier an
injustice all these years in considering him the stupidest of men. The
other replied that 'four nights more' would tell the story; that it was
irksome to wait even that long. I had to leave, for the Señora was
becoming frenzied, but I caught one more remark from Señor Rey, as
mysterious as the rest. '_But he'll be gone before that_,' he said."
"What an astonishing bit of work!" Bedient exclaimed.
"We reached the quarters from which we came--the orange lamplight
room--in safety, but the Glow-worm's face was livid with fear. I
suppose mine was, too. She said the whole house was so arranged.... I
told her they were not playing cards, and something of what I had
heard. The Glow-worm was sure they were talking about 'a young man,
known to be one of the mainstays of the government,' who had come to
stay at _The Pleiad_--for some incomprehensible reason. Evidently, she
has not seen you.... What do you suppose Rey meant by, 'He'll be gone
before that,'--within four days?"
"I don't appear able to learn anything by myself," Bedient said. "It
would seem the best way--to wait and see."
"Oh, but I wouldn't--please!... Is it worth that to see this Framtree,
whom the Spaniard has probably commanded to keep in hiding? I am
afraid--for you!... And the whole house, even the sleeping-rooms, are
under that devilish eye. I dared not turn on the light last night----"
They parted after less than twenty minutes. Bedient did not go in to
dinner.... To him, the night was but a sorry repetition. Miss Mallory's
disclosures could not long hold his thoughts. He had no intention of
telling Jaffier that something big was to happen within four days. What
was strangest was the fate which made it so hard for him to come into
contact with Framtree. He could not give up this thing--this last link
to reality. He felt himself better off here--than alone at the
_hacienda_.
This time, between two and three in the morning, he was so tense and
animate that he heard the soft, swift tread of a Chinese in the hall
and the faintest possible rustle of a paper thrust under his door. He
waited a moment before turning on the light.... It was another missive
from the Spaniard, and read:
MY ESTEEMED BEDIENT:
The request herein to be set forth may appear to you as a
reflection upon the quality of my friendship, as it certainly is
an indication of the force of your personality. You are felt in
this establishment, my valued friend, like some tarrying Nemesis.
Permit me to observe, and I am smiling as I write, that you have a
wearing effect upon many of my guests. Personally, I should ask
nothing finer of the Fates than the privilege to devote myself
exclusively to you--but that is impossible now. To-morrow at noon
my servants will assist you to any quarters elsewhere, that you
may have chosen by that time--if, indeed, you are staying longer
in Coral City. Believe me, when a certain tension is lifted, my
house will be open to you again, as is always the heart of
CELESTINO REY.
TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER
AT TREASURE ISLAND INN
The morning rode in grandly upon the sea. Bedient was early below, and
overtook Miss Mallory in the gardens. She seemed particularly virile. A
pair of Señora Rey's toy-spaniels were frisking about.
"These are not my favorite kind, but I like dogs," she said.... "How
men reveal their earth-binding! A laugh is enough--or a fear, a word, a
convention--and you have a complete discovery of limitations."
Bedient fell into her mood. "And what manner of man would he be who
could keep hidden from such very old and very wise eyes his covering of
clay?"
"First, he would be without vanity," she said readily. "Then, he would
do noble things thoughtlessly and unwatched. He wouldn't be
dollar-poisoned, nor could he fail to help all who are poor and
whipped, whether wicked or not. And he would have enough intelligence
to enfold mine, so I wouldn't be constantly banging against his
walls.... In a word, he would be great without knowing it. Do you think
I ask a great deal?"
"Yes, but I should like him," Bedient answered.
"And now what is it?" she asked quickly. They had turned upon the
main-drive, away from the trees. "I can see you have something to say."
"I shall take up lodgings for the next few days in the city below--at
_Treasure Island Inn_. Señor Rey has ordered me out of _The Pleiad_."
Her face colored instantly, and yet she said, "I'm very glad to hear
it. At least, you will be safe in _Treasure Island Inn_."
"I had not considered that, Miss Mallory, though I've a great respect
for all that you think important.... I still intend to see Jim
Framtree--and before the end of 'the four days' spoken of night before
last. The fact is, I have nothing else to do. Celestino Rey may mean to
start his rebellion then, so there is only to-morrow and next day. It
would be next to impossible for me to meet this man with hostilities
begun."
She was quite astonished at this stir of action.
"Can't you tell me anything more?" Her appeal was penetrating.
"Only that I've got to see him. It's not to do him harm," he said. "The
story isn't altogether mine.... I can't help laughing at this move of
Señor Rey's--and yet----"
"It hurts, doesn't it?" she urged.
"Not exactly that, but it makes me all the more determined to get to
Framtree."
"I'm glad if it does hurt," she said hastily. "You look like death, but
the apathy is gone. Even red rage is better than that. I think you are
better. It was about your illness--that I wanted you to tell me....
Good-by."
"I hope," Bedient said suddenly, "that Rey isn't afraid of _you_--that
you are clear from the impulse that made him send me downtown."
"I've been careful.... I'll help, if I can. Good-by.... Aren't
'good-bys' hideous?... But we can't be too careful.... At _Treasure
Island Inn_?"
"Yes, and where--_you_ couldn't call!"
"But I shall know where you are."
Bedient returned to his rooms, and Miss Mallory resumed her walk.... An
hour and a half later, Bedient walked out of the big gate of _The
Pleiad_, and down to the city.... For the first time in several days,
Celestino Rey breathed long. Assassination was only one of the things
he had feared....
Forty-eight unavailing hours passed in _Treasure Island Inn_. This
night would bring an end to the mysterious four days. Bedient was at
bay before the remnant of what had been and hoped. To his own eyes, he
was an abject failure now, even in these physical affairs--he who had
dared to arraign New York workers in almost every aspect of their life!
The last beacon of his spirit was blown out in the storm; his mind had
long since preyed upon itself, the pith gone from it, through drifting
in dark dream-tides; and now he who had been trained from a boy to
physical actions weakly succumbed before the old Spaniard's will and
strategy. Yet he could not find it within him greatly to care.
_Treasure Island Inn_ had interested him at first, not so much through
its exterior contrast to _The Pleiad_ (which was complete enough for
any city to furnish), but because its wretchedness in the sense of
money-lack was less than in its moral poverty. Its evils were so open
and self-reviling; its passages so angular, so suggestive of
blood-drip and brooding horror; its rooms so peeled, meagre and
creaking--depravity so sincere. Crime certainly had not been spared
around the world to furnish its living actors for _Treasure Island
Inn_. All the ragtag was there--not a lust nor a mannerism missing.
And now that life had cast him into this place, Bedient found himself
utterly unable to contend with the squalor of fact and mind; indeed, he
was quite as ineffectual as he had been in the midst of the glittering
deviltry of _The Pleiad_.... Abased before realities; lost to the
meaning of every excellence of his life-training; shattered by psychic
revolts; his brain reflecting the strange mirages and singing the vague
nothings of starvation--but enumeration only dulls the picture! In
every plane of his nature, he was close to the end, forty-eight hours
after his arrival at the Inn of the lower city.
Certain things had become mature, irrevocable: That he was a
superfluous type in this Western world of his birth; that Beth Truba
had left the highway, where pass the women of earth, to enter his most
intimate environs and possess him entirely; that passing on, she had
left but the stuff of death. The time had been when he would have
depreciated in another man the utter weakness into which he had fallen.
Bedient unearthed a companion at _Treasure Island Inn_, one whom he did
not doubt for an instant to be the chief of Rey's agents assigned to
watch his every movement. But even as a spy, old Monkhouse had helped
him to sit tight, during that forty-eight hours. For Monkhouse talked
alluringly, incessantly,--and asked only to be with the stranger--and
many a time, all unknowing, he banished for the moment some devouring
anguish with a tale of disruption told to a turn. The Island did not
hold more loyal devotion than his for Dictator Jaffier, to hear
Monkhouse tell it; and how Celestino Rey had reached his ripe years,
with such hatred in the world, was by no means the least of Equatorian
novelties.... Here was a desperado in the sere, shaking for the need of
drink, when he first appeared to Bedient. On the final forenoon of the
latter's stay at the Inn, he sat with Monkhouse in the big carriage
doorway on the street-level. The old man was elaborating a winsome plan
to capture the Spaniard at sea; and though Bedient mildly interposed
that he wouldn't know what to do with Celestino if he had him,--the
conspiracy was unfolded nevertheless:
"You're a good lad," Monkhouse communed. "I belave in you to the seeds.
C'lestin'--an' may Heaven deefin' the walls as I speak his name--has
nine an' seventy ways of makin' off with you. Boy, I've known the day
in these seas when he'd do it for practice. But he's old now an' tender
of hear-rt. He laves it to your good sense to lave him alone. 'Tis
well, you trusted no one save old Monkhouse. Adhere to it, lad, or I'll
be mournin', one of these gay mornin's, with you gone--an' your name on
no passenger list save--what's the name of that divil of a
pilot--Charybdus?"
"Charon?"
"True for you, lad. Charon it is. What with drink an' the sinful
climate, I've forgot much that many niver knew."
Monkhouse winked his red lashless lids, and meditated the while, as he
pressed the juice of an orange into the third of a cup of white rum,
and stirred in a handful of soggy brown sugar.
"Hark to you, boy--come closer," he whispered presently. "Nothin' that
sails in these par-rts can scrape the paint of the _Savonarola_. At the
same time, you can do nothin' by stayin' ashore. What's the puzzle?
'Tis this, lad: you must get one of thim gasolin' launches that move
like the divil and smell like the sleepin' sickness! You can get one at
the Leeward Isles betchune here an' sun-down.... Listen now, come back
in good time, standin' on your own deck, with old Monkhouse for a mate,
and three or four clane-eyed American boys lookin' for adventures--an'
hang out at sea waitin' for the _Savonarola_. God save the day whin he
comes! We'll meet him on the honest seaboard in the natural way, where
he can't spring the tricks of _The Pleiad_, nor use the slather of
yellow naygurs that live off the cold sweat of him----"
Hereupon Monkhouse drained his already empty cup, the sign that another
sirocco was sweeping his throat. His mind wandered until it was
brought: "Many a man's soul has filtered up through salt-water off
these shores, lad, because he talked less of his memories than his
troubles--but you won't betray me, boy!... My Gawd, lad, to have
C'lestin' in the hold under 'me feet--as he wanst had me--but let that
pass--or lyin' deeper still under the _Savonarola_ with the fishes
tuggin' at his carcass. Ah, 'tis deep fathims under the _Savonarola_,
me lad----"
Bedient had not been listening for a moment. A _carometa_ was moving
slowly toward him, down the _Calle Real,_ and he fancied the flutter of
a handkerchief from its side window. It was nearly noon. The dazzle of
sunlight upon the glass of the _carometa_ was in his eyes, so he could
not see the face within, but a slim hand signaled again. The vehicle
approached with torturing slowness until the dazzle nickered out and he
hurried forward to greet Miss Mallory, whose face blanched at the sight
of him.
"You look as if you would fall!" she whispered. "But I'm so glad to see
you again----"
"I was just going to say it.... It's been dull--and I haven't done----"
He opened the door of the _carometa_.
"Quickly, they're watching from your house," she managed to say between
commonplaces, "_pick up that crumpled letter at my foot_!... But it
won't do for you to follow the suggestion in it--you're not able!"
"If there's anything to do, I'm able," he declared, tucking the paper
into the hollow of his hand.
"We miss you at _The Pleiad_," she said with her usual animation. "I
wish I had time for a good talk now, but I'm actually rushed to-day.
I'll see you again, though----"
Bedient sauntered back smiling, and sat down with Monkhouse for a
little space. The eyes he saw were large, red-rimmed and troubled;
tales and conspiracies flagged miserably. Bedient chaffed him for
having become incoherent, and left shortly for his own room, where he
pressed out two of the thinnest possible sheets of paper, closely
written on both sides, and made them his own to the least detail:
DEAR MR. BEDIENT:
I hardly know how to begin, I am so excited and have so much to
say. (The letter was dated less than two hours before.) Señor
Rey, the Glow-worm, the couple known as "the Sorensons," Mr.
Framtree and myself are sailing to-night on the _Savonarola_.
There will also be Chinese, probably three, two to manage the
yacht and one for the cabin. I'm not quite sure, but I think we
are to have supper aboard. I have been aboard the yacht. The cabin
takes up a large part of the hold. There are two doors forward.
The one to the left opens into the galley, and the one to the
right opens into the forecastle, where there are three berths for
the crew, a few ship's stores, piles of cordage, tackle, chains,
etc. The berths, of course, will not be occupied this trip, as we
plan to be out only a few hours, and the sailors will be on deck.
There is a fine place for concealment in this forecastle.
(Possibly under the lower bunk; numerous bedding-rolls lying about
might be pulled in after one.) The difficulty will be in getting
aboard. There is but a single companion-way to the cabin. It will
not be locked this afternoon early, but doubtless there will be a
servant or two making ready for the sail. Provisions will be
boarded this afternoon, as Señor Rey is a bountiful entertainer.
It may happen that the Chinese, in loading the provisions, will be
a considerable distance off, or even up the steps to the cliff,
for moments at a time. This is the random chance I think of.
The undergrowth is dense on the steep slopes which jut down to the
water of the Inlet. One might conceal oneself there, and await the
offered chance, not more than twenty or thirty feet from the cabin
door. This is the really discouraging part of the whole
preliminary, but I may be able to assist you further at the proper
time. There seems absolutely no other way to arrange an interview
for you with Mr. Framtree.
As for me, I have learned much at _The Pleiad_. The Spaniard's
systems are infamous--a fact that has been terribly impressed upon
me. I shall lose my home in _The Pleiad_, but this is the last of
the mysterious "four days." It will be better and safer for me to
follow the fortunes of the war after this, from the side of the
Defenders.
A dangerous step, but I shall take the chance of the sail, even if
you decide that your part is too uncertain. In any case be very
sure to destroy this letter. If it should fall into the hands of
Rey's innumerable agents,--I'm afraid I shouldn't come back from
the party. There is operating in the city as well as in _The
Pleiad_ as perfect a system of espionage as one would encounter in
the secret service of a formidable nation.
Safely secreted in the forecastle during the early afternoon, you
could not fail to hear, some hours later, a signal tapped on the
deck forward. This signal would come after supper, when it was
dark, and everything propitious as possible. The sailing party
would be divided at this time, say half on deck and half below.
The signal--three double taps--"tap-tap ... tap-tap ...
tap-tap"--given sharply, unmistakably, with a heavy cane or
something of the kind.
Emerging from the forecastle (with a look and a command behind, as
if to your hidden compatriots), it would seem that you would have
the occupants of the cabin rather neatly at your mercy. If the
affair there were attended by luck, and managed quietly enough,
you might continue and surprise the deck party, but let us not
rely too far upon fair chances. There is a strong flavor of danger
about the _coup_ at best. I do not consider here any aid which I
_may_ render; so that you are one against eight--three white men,
three (?) Chinese, and two women.
I have reasons for helping you.
You seem to want this meeting, and I believe war is imminent. Let
me impress upon you: Take every precaution; think out every
possible step before joining action. Señor Rey is a cultivated
criminal. Sorenson may prove dangerous. Framtree looks big enough
to laugh--if he is cornered. The Chinese are Chinese.
I am writing at crazy speed. You should have this by noon, and
lose no time after that. Oh, yes, the _Savonarola_ carries two
small boats. If the surprise is successful, these boats may be
useful to eliminate the Chinese and the Sorensons. You will be
armed, of course. I am just adding thoughts at random. A little
red chalk-mark on the white frame of the companion-way will tell
me that you are aboard, if I should miss seeing you.
Yours in excitement, but not without hope,
ADITH MALLORY.
I _know_ what you can do.
THIRTIETH CHAPTER
MISS MALLORY'S MASTERY
Bedient felt the blood warming in his veins. This was the last of "the
four" nights. Miss Mallory's determination to sail with the Spaniard
was enough to spur him to attempt joining her; if, indeed, his absolute
need to break the deadly ennui had not banished hesitation. He glanced
through the letter again, and burned it.
"Monkhouse," he said below, "I've had about enough of Coral City this
time, and I'm riding back toward the _hacienda_ this afternoon. I'm
leaving a little present for you with the management of the Inn. Some
time I'll send a pony trap down for you, when I'm hungry for more
tales----"
The old man was more mystified than ever, but the business of the
Spaniard had to wait until he hunted up the management, with whom his
relations had worn thin. Bedient found his servant, ordered the ponies,
and the two rode up _Calle Real_, before one in the afternoon. They
passed _The Pleiad_ bluffs, overlooking the Inlet, where the
_Savonarola_ lay, and on for a mile or more into the solitude. Here
Bedient sent forward his servant with both ponies and let himself down
the bluff to follow the shore back.
The sand was white as paper and hot as fresh ashes. The muscles of his
face grew lame from squinting in the vivid light. There was not a human
being in sight on either length of curving shore, nor a movement in the
thickly covered cliffs. The world was silent, except for the languorous
wash of the little waves and the breathing of a soft wind in the
foliage. For an hour he made his way mostly under cover around the
shore to the mouth of the Inlet, from where he could see Jaffier's
gunboat on the watch.
The distance was about a thousand yards back to where the yacht lay.
The cut was a natural stronghold, opening sidewise on the face of the
shore, so as to be invisible from the open water. It was deep enough
for an ocean-liner, but too narrow for a big steamer to enter with her
own power. Bedient turned into the thick, thorny undergrowth, which
lined the eastern wall of the Inlet, and made his way around its
devious curvings, silently and slowly. The growth on the cliffs was so
dense in places that he had to crawl. The heat pressed down upon the
heavy moist foliage, and drained him like a steam-room. He had wobbled
from weakness and the heat in the saddle, even on the breezy highway.
Again and again, he halted with shut eyes until his reeling senses
righted. The thousand yards from the mouth of the cove to the moorings
of the _Savonarola_ wound like a Malay _creese_ with an interrogation
point for a handle. The distance consumed an hour, and much of the
vitality he had summoned by sheer force of will. He lay panting at last
in the smothering thicket, thirty feet from the rear-deck of the
_Savonarola_. Yet there was a laugh in his mind. It was altogether
outlandish, when he considered his small personal interest in such an
affair.... He thought of the listening eyes of Beth Truba--had he told
her of such an adventure of his boyhood.... And he thought of the
clever and intrepid Adith Mallory, and what she had meant by the last
added line of her letter, "I know what you can do."