GAS
Next day Tim went into the town on an errand for his mother. He was
looking at the window of the only book-shop, when he felt a touch on his
sleeve. Looking round, he saw Alfonso, the gobernador's son, a sallow,
weedy boy of about his own age, whom he had often vainly tried to induce
to have a game at cricket in a field behind Mr. O'Hagan's house. He did
not think much of Alfonso, who always called him senor!
"Follow me, senor," said the boy mysteriously, "but don't let people
know."
He moved off at once. Tim might have thought that he was being enticed
away for a practical joke of some kind, only he remembered that the
Peruvians never played practical jokes except in carnival time. "I may
as well go," he said to himself; so, pushing his hands into his pockets,
he sauntered after Alfonso Fagasta. Several persons gave him pleasant
greetings, and he stopped once or twice to exchange a word, always
keeping his eye on Alfonso.
The Peruvian boy walked past the church in the plaza, and turned into a
narrow street, or rather lane, bounded on one side by the wall of the
presbytery, on the other by a high wall enclosing a garden. Tim knew
the place well; indeed, in days gone by he had sometimes scaled the
garden wall in quest of ripe plums or peaches. He followed Alfonso for
some distance, until he came to the rear of the enclosure, where there
was a dense plantation extending up the slope of a hill. Here Alfonso
made signs to him to wait, and disappeared through a wicket gate into
his father's garden.
"Why couldn't he tell me where to come?" thought Tim impatiently.
"What's the silly secret?"
He climbed a tree by way of passing the time, and presently, from his
leafy bower, he saw the gobernador open the wicket gate, glance
cautiously round, and then come swiftly towards the plantation. He
looked this way and that, and gave a jump when Tim called out, just
above his head:
"Here I am, senor doctor."
"Ha! my young friend, come down," said the gobernador.
Tim dropped at his feet.
"I have something to say to you," continued the gobernador hurriedly.
"Pardon me for not receiving you in my house with the respect due to my
preserver, but there are reasons...." He nodded with an air of mystery.
Then he went on in nervous haste: "Tell your good father to be on his
guard to-night. See that everything is secure. He must be careful not
to arouse suspicion among his staff. Few are to be trusted in these
disturbed times. If he sleeps at all, let him sleep with one eye open."
"What's going to happen, senor?" asked Tim.
"I say no more. Perhaps I have said too much. But I owe you so much
gratitude----"
"Don't mention it, senor," said Tim, backing. "Thanks for your
warning."
"Do not breathe my name to any one but your father," said the gobernador
anxiously. "I must go. Next time I see you I hope it will be at my
front door, with open arms."
"I hope it won't," thought Tim. He shook hands with the flurried
gentleman, who, with another cautious look around, returned to the gate
and slipped through into his garden.
Tim was very thoughtful as he walked home. Such a warning in Spanish
America was not to be disregarded, and he could not help connecting it
with the Prefect's visit, the object of which he had learnt from his
mother. He had a lively imagination. Such a man as the Prefect was not
likely to accept amiably the snub administered by Mr. O'Hagan. He might
use other means than persuasion to enforce his will.
He wanted money. To-morrow was pay-day at the hacienda, and there was a
large sum in the safe. San Rosario had no bank. The branch of a Lima
bank at San Juan had shut its doors on the accession of the present
Prefect to office: the managers feared that their floating assets would
be attached by the new official, ostensibly for public purposes. Since
then the employers of labour had had to be their own bankers, drawing
cash at intervals from Lima by well-armed convoys. There could be
little doubt that the gobernador had somehow got wind of a plot to rob
Mr. O'Hagan on the coming night.
Tim wondered what his father would do to defeat the attempt. How would
the burglars go to work? The safe was kept in the office. The key was
on Mr. O'Hagan's bunch. To reach the office the robbers would have to
pass through one or other of the patios. The middle patio had French
doors opening on the garden. They were always locked and bolted at
night, like the main door and the servants' entrance. It would be
difficult to enter without making a noise, unless the servants were in
league with the burglars. Tim thought of each of them in turn, and felt
sure that all were trustworthy.
All at once a brilliant idea struck him. His father was rather vexed
with him--or with the motor-cycle, which amounted to the same thing;
what a score it would be if he could deal with this matter himself,
without his father knowing anything about it! He chuckled with delight
as he imagined himself telling at the breakfast-table, as calmly as
though it were an everyday matter, how he had defeated an attempted
burglary. But how was it to be done? Mr. O'Hagan was a light sleeper; a
slight noise would disturb him, and Tim was at a loss for any means of
routing the burglars silently.
He thought of wire entanglements; but he could not erect them without
his father's knowledge. He thought of a booby-trap; but that was bound
to make a noise. He had almost reached home before a plan occurred to
him; it pleased him so much that he laughed. There was a large quantity
of ammonia solution in the house, kept for household purposes and for
use with the refrigerator which was a domestic necessity in this
tropical climate. Tim had only recently left school in England, so that
his knowledge of chemistry had not yet evaporated. If he heated some of
this liquid, and led the vapour into the patio at the critical moment,
the fumes would be obnoxious enough, he thought, to choke off any rash
intruders.
As soon as he got home, he took into consultation an old mestizo named
Andrea, who was gardener and odd man, a family servant of many years'
standing. Andrea was rather troubled, and advised that the warning
should be given to Mr. O'Hagan; but few could resist Tim's
persuasiveness, and the old man at length consented to assist his young
master.
Tim's bedroom was next to the office. At the bottom of the wall next to
the patio there was a grating which could be removed. That night, when
all the rest had retired, Andrea brought to Tim's room a large oil-can
with a narrow neck, containing a quantity of the ammonia solution. Tim
had already provided himself with a short length of garden hose, with a
nozzle at the end. Drawing the rubber tubing over the neck of the can,
he placed the nozzle end in the hole from which the grating had been
removed, in such a way that when the cock was turned it would allow the
fumes to enter the patio within a few inches of the office door. Having
lighted a large spirit-lamp beneath the oil-can, he set a chair against
the door, on which he could mount to reach a ventilator above, opening
on to the patio, and sat down on his bed, quivering with excitement, to
wait for the expected attack.
Hours passed, and he grew fidgety. Every now and then he got on the
chair, and peeped through the ventilator. All was dark and silent.
"I don't believe they're coming," he whispered disconsolately to Andrea.
"So much the better, senorito," said the old man.
But Tim did not agree with that; he did not want to be disappointed of
his fun.
At last he heard a slight sound from without. Jumping on the chair, he
peered through the ventilator. He could see nothing, but he guessed by
the sounds that the putty was being scraped from one of the glass panes
of the French door. Presently he dimly saw several dark, shadowy forms
pass from side to side. The men were removing the pane. One after
another the intruders stepped quietly across the patio towards the
office door. Just as they reached it Tim slipped off the chair, stooped
to the floor, and noiselessly turned on the cock of the nozzle.
For a few seconds there was no effect. He heard the slight click of a
key as it was inserted in the lock of the office door. But then, as the
ammonia fumes began to diffuse, there was a sniff, a stifled cough, and
a whispered exclamation. Presently there were louder coughs, long-drawn
gasps, and the men, in the effort to repress these fatal sounds, choked
and spluttered violently, until, half-blinded, half-suffocated, they
turned away, cursing with what breath was left to them, and tumbled over
one another in a rush for the door.
At the same moment the door of Mr. O'Hagan's room was flung violently
open, and that gentleman, roused by the noise, rushed into the patio in
his pyjamas, a gun in his hand. Seeing that the pane was removed, he
ran to the door, and sent a charge of duck-shot after the dark figures
scampering over the garden-beds. The sound of firing roused all the
household, and the affrighted servants came flocking into the patio.
"What's this confounded smell?" gasped Mr. O'Hagan, turning when the
marauders had vanished into the night. There was a chorus of coughs
from the servants.
Tim had turned off the stream of gas, and now opened his door; he felt
very much annoyed with the burglars; why had they made such a silly row?
"One of your tricks, Tim?" said Mr. O'Hagan. He gasped again.
"Ammonia, begore!"
"It is, Father," said Tim meekly.
"What on earth do you mean by disturbing the whole household in this
way? ... Get back to bed," he cried in Spanish to the servants; "all's
well now.... Now, sir, just explain this tomfoolery."
"May I come into your room?" asked Tim, anxious that old Andrea should
not get into trouble.
"You may, and apologise to your poor mother for disturbing her rest.
Now, what have you to say for yourself? Were those fellows outside
friends of yours, in the plot too? If so, you're responsible for the
murder or maiming of some of them."
"Indeed they're not. They are burglars, and I spoilt their game with
ammonia."
"Burglars, eh? But how did you know they were coming? You must have
made preparations?"
"I did. Old Fagasta told me to look out for them to-night, and I did
so."
"Indeed now! What did the gobernador know about it, then?"
"He didn't tell me. He only asked me to tell you to be on your guard
to-night."
"Why didn't you do so, then?"
"I thought I would make them scoot myself, and not disturb you. Who
could know the donkeys would make such a silly row!"
Mr. O'Hagan's mouth twitched at his son's indignant tone.
"Well, Tim," he said, "sure 'twas very considerate of you, but next time
you are asked to give me a message, give it. And no more tricks of this
kind, mind ye. We don't wish to be blown up one night."
"I dished them, anyway."
"I don't deny it. But 'twas lucky the noise woke me; for a few pellets
in their carcasses will be a more enduring lesson than a stink. Now, to
bed!"
When Tim had gone, Mr. O'Hagan said to his wife:
"The Prefect has made his first move, Rose."
"Tim was quite upset, poor boy!" replied Mrs. O'Hagan.