II

Johnnie strolled carelessly through dark narrow streets. Near every

corner were two Orden Publicos--a kind of soldier-police--quiet in the

shadow of some doorway, their Remingtons ready, their eyes shining.

Johnnie walked past as if he owned them, and their eyes followed him

with a sort of a lazy mechanical suspicion which was militant in none

of its moods.

Johnnie was suffering from a desire to be splendidly imprudent. He

wanted to make the situation gasp and thrill and tremble. From time to

time he tried to conceive the idea of his being caught, but to save his

eyes he could not imagine it. Such an event was impossible to his

peculiar breed of fatalism which could not have conceded death until he

had mouldered seven years.

He arrived at the Café Aguacate and found it much changed. The thick

wooden shutters were up to keep light from shining into the street.

Inside, there were only a few Spanish officers. Johnnie walked to the

private rooms at the rear. He found an empty one and pressed the

electric button. When he had passed through the main part of the café

no one had noted him. The first to recognise him was the waiter who

answered the bell. This worthy man turned to stone before the presence

of Johnnie.

"Buenos noche, Francisco," said the spy, enjoying himself. "I have

hunger. Bring me bread, butter, eggs and coffee." There was a silence;

the waiter did not move; Johnnie smiled casually at him.

The man's throat moved; then like one suddenly re-endowed with life, he

bolted from the room. After a long time, he returned with the

proprietor of the place. In the wicked eye of the latter there gleamed

the light of a plan. He did not respond to Johnnie's genial greeting,

but at once proceeded to develop his position. "Johnnie," he said,

"bread is very dear in Havana. It is very dear."

"Is it?" said Johnnie looking keenly at the speaker. He understood at

once that here was some sort of an attack upon him.

"Yes," answered the proprietor of the Café Aguacate slowly and softly.

"It is very dear. I think to-night one small bit of bread will cost you

one centene--in advance." A centene approximates five dollars in gold.

The spy's face did not change. He appeared to reflect. "And how much

for the butter?" he asked at last.

The proprietor gestured. "There is no butter. Do you think we can have

everything with those Yankee pigs sitting out there on their ships?"

"And how much for the coffee?" asked Johnnie musingly.

Again the two men surveyed each other during a period of silence. Then

the proprietor said gently, "I think your coffee will cost you about

two centenes."

"And the eggs?"

"Eggs are very dear. I think eggs would cost you about three centenes

for each one."

The new looked at the old; the North Atlantic looked at the

Mediterranean; the wooden nutmeg looked at the olive. Johnnie slowly

took six centenes from his pocket and laid them on the table. "That's

for bread, coffee, and one egg. I don't think I could eat more than one

egg to-night. I'm not so hungry as I was."

The proprietor held a perpendicular finger and tapped the table with

it. "Oh, señor," he said politely, "I think you would like two eggs."

Johnnie saw the finger. He understood it. "Ye-e-es," he drawled. "I

would like two eggs." He placed three more centenes on the table.

"And a little thing for the waiter? I am sure his services will be

excellent, invaluable."

"Ye-e-es, for the waiter." Another centene was laid on the table.

The proprietor bowed and preceded the waiter out of the room. There was

a mirror on the wall and, springing to his feet, the spy thrust his

face close to the honest glass. "Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated. "Is

this me or is this the Honourable D. Hayseed Whiskers of Kansas? Who am

I, anyhow? Five dollars in gold!... Say, these people are clever. They

know their business, they do. Bread, coffee and two eggs and not even

sure of getting it! Fifty dol---- ... Never mind; wait until the war is

over. Fifty dollars gold!" He sat for a long time; nothing happened.

"Eh," he said at last, "that's the game." As the front door of the café

closed upon him, he heard the proprietor and one of the waiters burst

into derisive laughter.

Martha was waiting for him. "And here ye are, safe back," she said with

delight as she let him enter. "And did ye bring the bread? Did ye bring

the bread?"

But she saw that he was raging like a lunatic. His face was red and

swollen with temper; his eyes shot forth gleams. Presently he stood

before her in the patio where the light fell on him. "Don't speak to

me," he choked out waving his arms. "Don't speak to me! _Damn_ your

bread! I went to the Café Aguacate! Oh, yes, I went there! Of course,

I did! And do you know what they did to me? No! Oh, they didn't do

anything to me at all! Not a thing! Fifty dollars! Ten gold pieces!"

"May the saints guard us," cried Martha. "And what was that for?"

"Because they wanted them more than I did," snarled Johnnie. "Don't you

see the game. I go into the Café Aguacate. The owner of the place says

to himself, 'Hello! Here's that Yankee what they call Johnnie. He's got

no right here in Havana. Guess I'll peach on him to the police. They'll

put him in Cabanas as a spy.' Then he does a little more thinking, and

finally he says, 'No; I guess I won't peach on him just this minute.

First, I'll take a small flyer myself.' So in he comes and looks me

right in the eye and says, 'Excuse me but it will be a centene for the

bread, a centene for the coffee, and eggs are at three centenes each.

Besides there will be a small matter of another gold-piece for the

waiter.' I think this over. I think it over hard.... He's clever

anyhow.... When this cruel war is over, I'll be after him.... I'm a

nice secret agent of the United States government, I am. I come here to

be too clever for all the Spanish police, and the first thing I do is

get buncoed by a rotten, little thimble-rigger in a café. Oh, yes, I'm

all right."

"May the saints guard us!" cried Martha again. "I'm old enough to be

your mother, or maybe, your grandmother, and I've seen a lot; but it's

many a year since I laid eyes on such a ign'rant and wrong-headed

little, red Indian as ye are! Why didn't ye take my advice and stay

here in the house with decency and comfort. But he must be all for

doing everything high and mighty. The Café Aguacate, if ye please. No

plain food for his highness. He turns up his nose at cod-fish sal----"

"Thunder and lightnin', are you going to ram that thing down my throat

every two minutes, are you?" And in truth she could see that one more

reference to that illustrious viand would break the back of Johnnie's

gentle disposition as one breaks a twig on the knee. She shifted with

Celtic ease. "Did ye bring the bread?" she asked.

He gazed at her for a moment and suddenly laughed. "I forgot to

mention," he informed her impressively, "that they did not take the

trouble to give me either the bread, the coffee or the eggs."

"The powers!" cried Martha.

"But it's all right. I stopped at a shop." From his pockets, he brought

a small loaf, some kind of German sausage and a flask of Jamaica rum.

"About all I could get. And they didn't want to sell them either. They

expect presently they can exchange a box of sardines for a grand

piano."

"'We are not blockaded by the Yankee warships; we are blockaded by our

grocers,'" said Martha, quoting the epidemic Havana saying. But she did

not delay long from the little loaf. She cut a slice from it and sat

eagerly munching. Johnnie seemed more interested in the Jamaica rum. He

looked up from his second glass, however, because he heard a peculiar

sound. The old woman was weeping. "Hey, what's this?" he demanded in

distress, but with the manner of a man who thinks gruffness is the only

thing that will make people feel better and cease. "What's this anyhow?

What are you cryin' for?"

"It's the bread," sobbed Martha. "It's the--the br-e-a-ddd."

"Huh? What's the matter with it?"

"It's so good, so g-good." The rain of tears did not prevent her from

continuing her unusual report. "Oh, it's so good! This is the first in

weeks. I didn't know bread could be so l-like heaven."

"Here," said Johnnie seriously. "Take a little mouthful of this rum. It

will do you good."

"No; I only want the bub-bub-bread."

"Well, take the bread, too.... There you are. Now you feel better....

By Jove, when I think of that Café Aguacate man! Fifty dollars gold!

And then not to get anything either. Say, after the war, I'm going

there, and I'm just going to raze that place to the ground. You see!

I'll make him think he can charge ME fifteen dollars for an egg....

And then not give me the egg."