THE ARREST OF CASTILLO
On a hot evening not long after he left Havana, Cliffe sat in a room of
the old Spanish _presidio_ at Valverde. The building was in harmony with
the decayed town, for it had been begun in more prosperous times, and
its lower courses were solidly laid with stone. Molded doors and windows
spoke of vanished art, and the gallery round the central _patio_ was
raised on finely carved pillars, but Valverde had fallen on evil days
and the _presidio_ had been finished with adobe mud. It had served at
different times as the seat of the government, the barracks, and the
jail, and now, when part had fallen down, the rest had been rudely
repaired, and Gomez was quartered there when he visited the port.
Outside, the ruinous building still retained a certain dignity, but this
was not so within, where degenerate taste was shown in the tawdry
decoration, and Gomez's sitting-room frankly offended Cliffe with its
suggestion of effeminate luxury. Gaudy silk hangings hid the old adobe
walls, a silver lamp with a smoked chimney hung from the ceiling by
tarnished chains, and highly colored rugs were spread upon the dirty
floor. There were inartistic but heavily gilded French clocks and
mirrors; and over all a sickening scent of perfume.
Cliffe found it more pleasant to look out through the open window at the
town, which lay beneath him, bathed in moonlight. The close-massed,
square-fronted houses glimmered white and pink and yellow, with narrow
gaps between them where a few lights burned; a break, from which dusky
foliage rose, marked the _alameda_. In front ran a curving beach where
wet sand glistened below a bank of shingle and a fringe of surf broke
with a drowsy roar. Though it was not late, there was no stir in the
streets; an air of languorous depression brooded over the town. Gomez
seemed to feel that it needed an explanation.
"Our trade," he said, "is prosperous, but we do not encourage the people
to gather in the plaza, and the cafes are watched. They are the storm
centers: it is there the busybodies talk. The man who stays at home and
minds his business is seldom a danger to the State. He dislikes change,
and has no time to waste on idealistic theories."
"I guess that's true, up to a point," Cliffe agreed. "The industrious
citizen will stand for a good deal, but he's a man to reckon with when
things get too bad. He doesn't talk, like the others; he's been trained
to act, and there are developments when he makes up his mind about what
he wants. However, this is not what we're here to discuss."
"No; but the state of the country has something to do with the matter.
We admit that there have been manifestations of discontent, and
disturbances caused by mischievous persons who love disorder, and we
must enforce quietness and respect for authority. This, you will
understand, costs some money."
"I've subscribed a good deal," Cliffe reminded him. "I'm anxious to
learn when I'm going to get it back."
"The wish is natural. May I point out that in generously offering help
you threw in your lot with the Government and made our interests yours?"
"I see that pretty clearly," Cliffe replied with a touch of grimness,
for he recognized the skill with which he had been led on until he could
not draw back without a heavy loss. "Anyway, as you seem to have
weathered the storm, I want my reward. In short, I've come to find out
when your President means to sign the concessions."
"It will be as soon as possible; there is a small difficulty. We have an
elective legislature; an encumbrance, senor, which hampers the
administration, but in times of discontent it has some influence. Our
people are jealous of foreigners, and there are interested persons ready
to work upon their feelings. This is why the President hesitates about
granting fresh concessions until he has found a way of silencing his
enemies among the representatives. You perceive that I am frank with
you."
"It's what I like; but you haven't told me yet what I want to know. Now,
unless I can find out exactly when I may expect the papers signed, I'll
feel compelled to shut off supplies. I'd rather cut my loss than go on
enlarging it."
Gomez looked pained.
"I must remind you, with some diffidence, that others have offered their
help," he said.
"They offered it; they haven't paid up. I expect you'll find they'll
insist on knowing when you mean to deliver the goods. That's my
position; I stand firm on it."
"Very well. Before answering, I must inform the President."
"You needn't. I'm going to take this matter to headquarters."
"Unfortunately, the President has gone to Villa Paz for a short rest. I
fear he would not like to be disturbed."
"He will see me; he has to," Cliffe declared.
"After all, it is possible, but I see a difficulty. There is no inn at
Villa Paz where the senorita could find accommodation and the President
is, like myself, a bachelor. He could receive you, but not the senorita.
Our conventions are antiquated, but they must be considered. It is this
which prevents me from offering my hospitality."
Cliffe pondered for a few moments. The conventions Gomez mentioned were
justified, because women are not treated in his country as they are in
the United States, and Cliffe could not leave Evelyn alone in the
Valverde Hotel. For all that, he must see the President, and he imagined
that although Gomez had made some difficulties the fellow was willing
that he should go. Gomez was a clever rogue, but Cliffe thought he could
be trusted so long as their interests did not clash.
He looked up sharply, for there was a sudden stir in the town. Cliffe
was conscious of no definite sound, but he felt that the quietness had
been broken and he saw that Gomez was listening. The man's fleshy face
was intent; the stamp of indulgence had gone and given place to a look
of fierce cruelty. He had become alert and resolute; this struck Cliffe
as significant, as there was, so far, nothing to cause alarm.
In a few moments a murmur broke out, and swelled while Gomez walked to
the open window. The streets were suddenly filled with the patter of
hurrying feet, and the confused outcry became a menacing roar. Cliffe
jumped up. He had heard something like it when a mob of desperate
strikers drove the police through an American manufacturing town; and
now his daughter was alone at the hotel.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A tumult," Gomez answered. "I do not think it will be serious. We have
placed a guard about the hotel, so the senorita is safe. But you will
excuse me for a few minutes."
He went into an adjoining room, and Cliffe, standing by the window,
heard a telephone call. After this, all sounds inside the house were
drowned by the growing uproar outside. Cliffe could see nothing of the
riot, but he thought he could locate it in one of the dark gaps that
pierced a block of houses some distance off. The clamor gained in effect
from the mystery that surrounded its cause.
Two pistol shots rang out and there was a wild shouting, but the note of
fury had changed to alarm. Cliffe thought he could hear men running, and
he pictured the mob pouring down the narrow street in flight, for the
cries grew less frequent and receded. At last they died away, and a
group of men moving in regular order came out of the mouth of a street.
They seemed to have a prisoner in their midst, and four peons plodded
behind, carrying something on a shutter. Then they all vanished into
the gloom, and when their measured steps were getting faint Gomez
returned with an unpleasant smile.
"It is nothing," he said. "We had planned the arrest of a troublesome
person called Castillo, who is a favorite with the mob. There was some
excitement, and a few stones were thrown, but only one attempt at a
rescue, the leader of which was shot by the rural guards. As he was a
man we suspected of sedition, this has saved us some trouble."
Cliffe looked at him, as one who might study a new species of animal or
some rare and ugly plant.
Gomez spread out his hands.
"It is worth noting that the affair proves our strength," he said
gloatingly. "We have seized a popular leader of the discontented, and
there was no determined resistance. One may consider it an encouraging
sign."
Cliffe nodded agreement, and Gomez changed the subject.
"I have been thinking," he said. "If you are resolved to see the
President, Senora Herrero, wife of the _alcalde_, whom you have met,
would take care of the senorita while you are away. They are people of
some importance, and she would be safe with them."
This struck Cliffe as a good suggestion, and when Gomez accompanied him
to the _alcalde's_ house the matter was arranged with Evelyn's consent.
The next morning Cliffe set off with a relay of mules and three or four
days later was received by the President at a little town among the
hills. Nothing was said about business until he had rested and dined,
and then he sat with his host on a veranda half hidden by
bougainvillea, looking down on the dim littoral that ran back to the
sea.
President Altiera differed from his secretary. He looked more of an
autocratic soldier than a diplomatist. There was a hint of brutality
about him, and Cliffe thought he would rather use force than guile. The
man had a coarse, strong face, and his eyes were stern, but he was
rather reserved than truculent.
"Senor," he said, "since I understand you were determined to see me, it
is an honor to welcome you, and my house and self are at your command. I
imagine, however, that neither of us often wastes much time on
compliments."
"My excuse is that I find one does best by going to headquarters when
any difficulties arise. It seemed possible that your secretary might
smooth down my remarks before transmitting them."
"And you do not wish them smoothed down," Altiera dryly suggested.
"I think it best that we should understand each other."
"That is so. What do you wish to understand?"
"When I may expect the sealed grant of the concessions."
"In two months, provided that my enemies do not kill me first, which I
think is hardly probable."
"One hopes not, but there is another risk; not large, perhaps, but to be
reckoned with."
Altiera laughed.
"That the people may choose another President? No, senor. I rule this
country. When I cease to do so it will be because I am dead. Let us be
candid. Your concessions depend upon the luck that may attend some
assassin's attempt, and I take precautions."
Cliffe thought this was true. Altiera carried a pistol, and could use it
remarkably well, and two armed guards were posted outside the veranda.
"There is a condition," Altiera said. "The concessions will be yours in
two months, but payment of the money my secretary asked for must be made
in a fortnight, or, if this is impossible, as soon as you get home."
"It would suit me better to take the concessions in a fortnight and pay
in two months," Cliffe retorted coolly.
"I am not a trader, senor; I do not dispute and haggle over a bargain."
"Neither do I," said Cliffe. "Still, it's necessary for a trader to
state his terms."
There was silence for a few moments, and Cliffe, studying his
antagonist's face, thought his statement justified. The man might use
brutal means to gain his end, but he would not contend about a small
advantage.
"Very well," the President conceded. "Though it will cause me some
embarrassment, I make another offer. You shall have the grant in a
month."
"A month is too long to wait."
Altiera rose and stood with his brown hand clenched upon the back of his
chair and his brows knitted. It seemed to cost him an effort to maintain
his self-control, and Cliffe saw that he had pressed him hard. For all
that, he did not mean to yield. He had gone farther than was prudent,
and knew when to stop.
"You understand what you risk by your exactions?" Altiera asked
menacingly.
"Senor Gomez made that plain. I have no security for the money already
paid, except your honor."
Altiera bowed.
"Though the situation is difficult and you make it worse, I believe your
confidence is not misplaced. Well, since one or two of my ministers must
be consulted, I cannot give you an answer for a week; but the country is
healthful in this neighborhood, and you may be interested in studying
its resources. My house is at your disposal, and your comfort will be
provided for while I see what can be done."
It took Cliffe a minute or two to make up his mind. He would rather have
gone back to Valverde at once; but he felt that he must finish his
business before returning. Although he had some misgivings, he agreed to
stay.
In reaching his decision he thought Evelyn safe with the _alcalde_; but
he had not reckoned on the cunning of Secretary Gomez.