GERMAN CRUELTY
At the kitchen fire Echochee was busily preparing food for a company now
swelled to ten, and Smilax had dropped in rank to an assistant. I saw
from her activity that this was not a fortunate moment to interrupt, yet
there are some few things in life more important than a well-turned
meal, and I therefore advanced, wishing to speak in the presence of our
two sailors who hovered near with lips that all but drewled in
anticipation of the feast.
"I want to remind each of you," I said, "not to tell the princess that
any one was killed. Let it go that a few were scratched, and the rest
got away. You get the idea? I don't want her shocked."
My men understood at once, but Echochee, never taking her eyes from the
sizzling skillets, asked:
"What you mean--'shocked'?"
"I mean horrified, terrified--sorry," I answered, rather put to it how
else to explain.
"Ugh! She already sorry; cry some, say ve'y bad. Me say ve'y good. She
all right now. You through?"
And, since I was through, she gave another grunt, leaving me with the
suspicion that she thought I was a very small boy.
When finally the others came in sight Doloria walked at the side of
Tommy, while Monsieur followed in some discomfiture of mind. His hair
was tousled, and his eyes were thoughtful. From this, and the grin on
Tommy's face, I judged that all was not going well for him and, in a
more happy frame of mind, I went out to meet them.
"Mr. Davis has been telling me a strange story," she smiled at me.
"He's full of strange stories," I warned her. "Don't take him
seriously--ever!"
"But I know he was serious this time--weren't you?" The corners of her
mouth were tell-tales of merriment as she turned to him.
"Shall we let Jack in on it?" he asked, the grin on his face widening.
"Do you think we'd better?" She was laughing outright now, with an
alluring spirit of confidence; so I knew that she approved my estimate
of Tommy and had taken him into her heart as for many years he had lived
in mine.
But women always loved Tommy--perhaps because he loved them. If some
far-reaching providence had not endowed him with a well-developed sense
of honor to go hand in hand with his attractiveness, more girls would
have looked after him through tears than toward him with gladness.
Whatever his loves and secret affairs, he always played above the board
and never cheated; so they could trust him if he won, and pet him if he
lost. Taken altogether, he was rather a lucky beggar, who learned early
in life that the golden key which unlocks a woman's heart is
Secrecy--and this they seemed to know by some divine, or devilish,
insight.
Before he now had a chance to answer her question, Monsieur caught up
with us.
"Ah, my boy Jack," he grasped my hands, forgetting his ill humor to
beam on me. "For lack of opportunity I have not expressed my gratitude!
Azuria is your debtor! I, who have the authority, say it!"
"Thank you," I replied, "but that debt was cancelled early this morning
when its Princess saved me from assassination."
"Good Lord," Tommy cried, in despair, "he's spilled the beans! Jack, you
bone-head, we----"
"Be quiet, sir," she commanded, turning beautifully pink and giving me
ten thousand messages in a single look.
"Then come on," Tommy said, beginning to draw her away by the hand,
"let's go off and think up another!"
"My boy Tommy," the professor sternly reproved him, "she is of royal
blood!"
"You said something that time," he imperturbably replied. "Come on,
Princess!" And laughingly she went with him.
"_Pardieu_," the old fellow pulled at his beard, "that sex is like a
cyclone--the nearer I get the faster I am twisted! But just as her
mother was at that age--yes, quite!" He sighed.
"Is she going back with you?" I asked, feeling a malicious joy in the
question after the last look she gave me.
"_Certainement_, there is no other way! Thus far I have not tried to
persuade her, but merely presented a few minor facts. Yes, she will go."
I confess that my malicious joy sank somewhat.
"You are a gentleman," he continued, "and that presupposes a delicate
sense of honor. I know how you feel toward her--yet would you have her
remain with you if she one day regretted it? Great things rest on her
return, I assure you. Let us start even! You have had two days to
persuade her your way; let me have two days to persuade her mine! After
that, we fight in the open--you and I!"
There was something straightforward in his appeal that impressed me. I
had had two days, and it would be giving her destiny, those great things
he spoke of, a square deal to comply. I had misgivings, of course, but
these were overruled by--why deny it?--the masculine conceit that
becomes assertive after a few feminine favors. At any rate, it was a
fair sporting proposition, and I said:
"All right, for two days--provided I explain to her how we made this
bargain."
He smiled and hugged me as of yore, crying:
"Almost you would make me sorry when I win! So we fight to the last
ditch, eh?"
"To the last ditch," I smiled, shaking hands with him.
But hardly had the agreement been sealed before I regretted it. Tommy's
dissertation on sacrifice worried me. And yet, what man with red blood
and two wide-open eyes in his heart would have refused to play the cards
Monsieur thus honestly laid out? It would be unfair to Doloria's future
if I pugnaciously held to the advantage these few days had brought; for
it is one thing to start in an open race with men, and run and burst
your heart to be first across the goal which means a woman's arms, but
quite another to take her unawares in a wilderness and, upon the spot,
claim her before she knows what the surrender may involve. In years to
follow a time might come when she would look at me through
shadows--shadows that grow dark with perplexity over some irrevocable
step--and I did not want to sow a seed to ripen into one of these. It is
distracting enough for a man to bury his existing ghosts, but sheer
madness deliberately to raise a crop of new ones.
In this case I did not so much fear a race with other men in forms of
rivals. I had reached my goal, her arms, and nothing could undo that.
But her conscience--who dares claim the conscience of another! For two
days, then, Monsieur could fight it out alone with her, and if his
arguments prevailed--well, I would set about destroying them.
After luncheon, with a brevity that she must have understood meant
torture, I explained the compact, saying that I could ask for no more
promises until two days had passed; and when she would have replied that
her promise had been given I warned her that Monsieur had not even begun
to show his power. She seemed a little frightened at this and, but for
the sterling mark indubitably pressed upon her sense of right, I think
she might have consented to fly from him.
"For two days, then, I'm not to see you," she said simply.
"No," I cried. "But for two days I can't tell you how I love you; how
you're the very breath of my life, the control of my brain and body and
soul, how I'll finally win you against everything! I'll see you, and be
with you, but for two long, weary, interminable days I can't tell you
that!"
"Mightn't you," she smiled, a wee bit naughtily, "remind me each morning
of those things you must not tell me during the two long, weary,
interminable days? Then you wouldn't be so likely to forget, and break
your contract."
"Temptress! I wish we'd walked to the fort!" For, while we stood out of
hearing, we were still in sight of the others.
"So do I," she laughed now, her eyes expressive of a most fascinating
wickedness, a daredeviltry born of the knowledge that the proximity of
outsiders made her safe. Tommy says that girls often take this unfair
advantage of a fellow. Then Monsieur, believing the time for
explanations should be up, came toward us.
At three o'clock our cavalcade started across the prairie for Efaw
Kotee's settlement. Tommy and Monsieur were keen to see it, and
especially was the latter keyed up to ransack the place for proofs and
information. Smilax led, keeping away from the graves. Doloria had made
no reference to casualties, accepting them as an unfortunate necessity,
and only once asked about the old chief's fate.
I looked back at the Oasis growing small behind us and a great sorrow
came over me. It was not easy to leave the place where I had found such
happiness, the place sacred to our vows, our first dwelling together
beneath God's tent! It lay green and peaceful, but now upon a blackened
sea. And, like that flame-swept land, so was my flame-swept heart; the
fire of a resistless passion had passed over it, leaving amid the ashes
one spot of beauty. She, also, had stopped to look at it and, as she
turned away, our eyes met.
When we approached the islands I went forward with Tommy and Smilax,
leaving Gates to command the rear guard composed of his two sailors,
Bilkins and Monsieur. Echochee, supremely content to have found Doloria,
remained at her side.
Four of the attacking party had escaped and might well have returned to
their houses. We favored the theory, too, that Efaw Kotee had remained
there, expecting his band to capture us; so, if the fugitives were with
him, they could by now have prepared a formidable resistance. We
therefore went warily up to a certain point and waited while Smilax
crawled forward to reconnoiter.
He returned saying that three punts were on our side, from which he
believed the men had not come back but were still putting as much
distance between themselves and us as possible. Tommy thought the punts
might mean a trap and, although Smilax shook his head in doubt at this,
we brought up one of the sailors to cover our crossing in case of an
attack. Then, scrambling down the steep bank, in less than a minute we
stood upon the island stronghold. No shot had been fired, no sign of
life existed anywhere. Running to the nearest cabin we hastily searched
it, and ran to the next, and in this way came finally to the old chief's
bungalow. Here we halted, as if some horrible magic had turned us to
stone.
Efaw Kotee, naked to the waist, a few dried smears of blood around his
mouth, was there to meet us. His lips munched the air, as a very old man
who interminably chews on nothing, and his chest rose convulsively, then
rested several seconds before renewing its struggle for breath. He was
repulsive beyond all human description; for, stretched as an animal skin
to dry, legs and arms pulled wide apart with buckskin thongs, he had
been fastened head down on the wall beside his door. Yet this was not
all. Hanging at the end of a string--in fact, now resting inertly
against his cheek--was the scarlet, black and yellow ringed body of a
coral snake, the deadly elaps. Its head had been severed and lay upon
the floor directly underneath.
In a flash I read the story: a duel of teeth between this captive
reptile and the semi-crucified man; the one in anger wounding, the other
snapping in his frenzy to sever that venomous head--his only means of
escape from it. From the way the thongs had cut into his wrists and
ankles I knew the struggle had been wild, yet much of this may have come
from the insanity later kindled by the poison. But that period of
torment now had passed. Strength was exhausted, and life dangled by the
merest thread.
I heard Tommy draw in his breath. With a shiver Smilax turned away.
Better than we he understood what the old man had endured. Together we
cut the pitiable victim down, carried him inside and laid him on a kind
of divan.
"Who did this?" Tommy kneeled and called in a loud voice close to his
ear, hoping to reach a consciousness that had receded far into the
shadows.
"I know who did it," I interrupted. "Quick! While there's time let me
ask something we're not so sure about!" And, taking Tommy's place, I
called: "Is Doloria the princess of Azuria?"
It was so obviously my duty to see that she learned the truth from one
who knew, that I may be forgiven this apparent disregard for the
sufferer in our hands. But he showed no sign of having heard, although I
called again and again in a more commanding voice. His mouth had not
munched the air since we put him down, and Tommy, listening for a heart
beat, looked up quietly, saying:
"Must have died on the way in."
"If we'd only come an hour ago," I exclaimed.
"No," Smilax shook his head, "him only squeal ve'y bad for last twelve
hour. Me reckon some men come back last night; say he plan Lady
run-'way; tie him up; tie on snake. No, him no talk hour ago. Coral
snake bite make him ve'y crazy bad."
Tommy had arisen and was walking softly back and forth across the room.
Finally he stopped, saying over his shoulder:
"I'll give odds there's more in this old desk than he could have told in
a week! Here's a safe, too, stuck back in an alcove, that looks like it
might hold a ton! You won't have any trouble finding out things!"
I had not yet noticed the room, but now looked with interest at these
places that promised to reveal so much. The room itself was large and
expressive of luxury, without being luxuriously furnished. The
fireplace, mantel, and furniture were of a good, home-made mission type,
constructed from gyminda, Florida's nearest approach to ebony; but the
floor was covered with really beautiful rugs. Around the walls were
built-in book shelves, mantel high, filled with the volumes Doloria had
told me of. The piano was there, not an up-right as we had found on the
_Orchid_, but a handsome grand, bearing one of the best names. A violin
case lay upon it, while near by was a music stand. Altogether, these
living quarters of Efaw Kotee showed a taste I would have expected.
Instinctively I crossed to the desk, but Tommy stopped me, saying:
"Not while that's in here, old fellow," he jerked his head toward the
divan. "In no other circumstances would he take it from us lying down,
and it's kind of rubbing it in, don't you think so?"
"If you feel that way about it," I agreed. "But to rob a girl of
seventeen years or so of life isn't a crime that merits much sympathy."
"I reckon he pretty well paid up for it during last night and to-day,"
he said softly.
"Whether he did or not, I don't owe him anything," I retorted, in no
charitable vein, that I hope was caused by our excitement and excessive
strain.
"You owe him a dog-gone lot," Tommy emphatically replied. "Look at those
books, at that piano, at what is suggested by the violin case, at the
refinement of this room--and then picture what might have been here!
Take another view, and consider what a fine chance you'd have had to
meet her if that old codger hadn't turned scamp off there in Azuria!
Anyway, we've got to clean up the signs of this butchery before she
comes."
In an adjoining room we laid Efaw Kotee upon his own bed. The sheet that
Tommy got out of a press to spread over him was, I noticed, of beautiful
linen, and I felt softened toward the uncouth frame which, in this
wilderness, had still demanded the refinements of life.
Locking the door, we passed back to the living room and thence to the
landing where, at our direction, the sailor signaled Gates to bring up
his waiting party. As Doloria once more stepped upon the island I saw
her eyes grow moist with tears.
We told her that the chief had been found dying, that now he was dead
and the place deserted; but after she and Echochee had been rowed across
to their own home and the two sailors posted to guard against a possible
return of the outlaws, Monsieur and Gates accompanied us to the place of
awful murder where we explained what we had found.
Monsieur passed into the smaller room, but came out shaking his head and
murmuring:
"The face is much changed, yet I recognize enough to feel reasonably
sure it is he."
More positive proofs came when, with breathless interest, we went
through the contents of the desk, taking things out in order and putting
them aside after minute examination. The first of these was a seal, and
the professor, bending over it, uttered a cry of surprise:
"The royal seal of Azuria! What deviltry could he have been
contemplating when he stole this!"
Then came a blank sheet of note paper, stamped with a gold peak,
surmounted by a gold crown and three lavender ostrich plumes--the
Azurian royal crest. These two things alone were strong pieces of
evidence for the professor's sanguine expectation. There was nothing
further of importance, so we turned to the safe which seemed impassively
challenging us to get at its secrets, for the door stood fastened and
the combination was unknown.
Monsieur kneeled, placed his ear against it, and began slowly to turn
the knob, listening intently for the little metal hammers, or tumblers,
of the lock to fall clicking into place.
"I never supposed he knew enough for that," Tommy whispered. "It's a
regular crook's way!"
At last, very much disgusted, he gave up after explaining that he could
have succeeded in an hour or so, but preferred to use dynamite because
it was quicker.
"Undoubtedly it's quicker," Tommy said, "but unless you've cracked safes
that way before, we may as well say good-bye to the bungalow!"
Gates thought that the door, being of ancient pattern, might yield to a
sledge, and Smilax went in search of one. Finding none of sufficient
size, he returned with an anvil, swinging it by its spike. I remember
the muscles of his arm that held it, the poise of his body as he raised
it above his head and gathered every ounce of power to hurl it upon the
combination knob. It made a superb picture of primordial man pitted
against the sciences. After each resounding blow we tried to throw the
lever, and at last the battered door swung out.
Here was a find worth coming far to see--packages upon packages of
greenbacks, all counterfeit, but they made a show, nevertheless. There
were also plates for printing francs, pounds and rubles, as well as
those from which the American bills had been made. While Monsieur was
studying one of these more carefully, Tommy reached past him and drew
out a large bundle wrapped in heavy brown paper, securely tied and
sealed. He cut the strings and opened it, then gave a whistle of
surprise, asking:
"Are these counterfeit, too?"
"_Mon Dieu_, no!" the old fellow gasped, and I, also, caught my breath;
for in the bundle were hundreds of unregistered French bonds, of the
highest denomination.
Opening one, I looked at the last coupon, announcing that it bore a date
of about seventeen years ago, whereupon Monsieur cried:
"Ah, I see it! This accounts for the royal seal we found! Here, at last,
is the perpetrator of that grand swindle, lying peacefully behind the
door and not caring what we discover! But he has taken his rue with the
spoils!--he dared not enjoy these because of the lees he saw in the
pleasure cup!"
"Chop that off," Tommy told him. "If you've an inspiration about this
stuff, come across with it!"
"Ah-ha, that man--that _capitaine_ Jess! His name is Karl Schartzmann, a
shrewd, rascally German who vanished after the _coup d'etat_!"
"What swindle, Monsieur?--what _coup d'etat_? Whom do these belong to?"
I was really losing patience; and Tommy murmured:
"Jack, didn't it strike you that only a German mind could have conceived
that revenge on Efaw Kotee?"
"It was certainly true to German form," I admitted, without reluctance.
"The Bank of France!--who else?" Monsieur was saying. "As one of the
trusted, I know! Listen: the dead man behind us, and the one called
Jess, with our Azurian consul in Paris--all scoundrels--hatched a
swindle to sell, through forged state authority and a farcical secret
diplomacy, a portion of Azuria to France. This, you may remember, came
near upsetting the Balkans in 1903. Their crafty scheme lay ready to be
sprung when Efaw Kotee--we will call him that--had to kidnap the
princess in self-defense. From that time but fragmentary facts came
dribbling in from secret agents, as follows:
"First: Two weeks after the kidnaping a foreigner bought a schooner
yacht in New York, fitted it up with great masses of household effects,
and sailed, his papers designating Guayra, Venezuela.
"Second: Still two weeks later Karl Schartzmann and our consul in Paris
transferred the secret bill of sale and left with their arms full of
bonds. When France discovered the fraud they were well away.
"Third: Still two weeks later a schooner yacht, afterward supposed to be
the one bought in New York, dropped anchor at Guayra and stayed until
two men, arriving by steamer, went aboard; whereupon she sailed.
"This is all we definitely discovered, except that before sailing crafty
inquiries were made into extradition treaties between France and South
American countries--and found, in every instance, to be unfriendly to
swindlers.
"I now see how it was with them. Fearing everywhere the press of
France's vengeance, shunning telegraph wires, they were driven to the
solitude of these islands where, as solitude has a way of treating the
criminal mind, their shyness grew to fear, their fear to terror. They
did not dare go out except at rare intervals, nor dared they realize on
the bonds. It is clear to me at last!"
It was also clear to me, at last inerrantly clear, that Doloria and the
little princess were the same.
"Whew!" Tommy gave a whistle. "I feel as woozy as an old warped mirror!
Did France offer a reward for this stuff?"
"_Certainement!_ And you drew it out!--it is yours, my boy!"
"Like hell it is," he laughed. "I move it goes as prize money to Smilax,
Echochee, and the crew!"
Late that evening we buried Efaw Kotee under the mangroves, and did not
tell Doloria. No one knows, who has never seen it, the desolation of
laying a shrouded figure in a mangrove-covered oyster bar at twilight,
where water follows each slushy lift of the spade! I feared for her to
witness it, and therefore, Tommy reading the service, the old chief was
buried without a woman's sympathy. But, in a measure, he had our own. He
held a claim on it for having faced a certain responsibility to Doloria;
for having, with the skill of a master, developed the talents God had
given her; for having kept her from growing up like a weed.
At ten o'clock that night when, by prearrangement, Tommy and I paddled
across to bring Monsieur back from the little island, she was standing
with him on the landing. The moon was nearing full, bathing her in a
silvery light, and I saw from the droop of her body that she was tired.
"Good night," I said, arising in the punt and putting out my hand.
"Good night," she murmured wearily; but her fingers were cold and did
not answer the pressure of my own. I had touched Efaw Kotee's hand only
a few hours before, and it had been cold with the same inert, mysterious
coldness. I shivered.