A TRAITOR UNMASKED
“How dared he accuse me of knowing about Tillotson’s disappearance?”
Phil exclaimed as he sought unsuccessfully a solution to the mystery.
“I don’t believe he really suspected us,” Sydney replied deprecatingly,
“but it must have struck him as odd to say the least that you should
pass an insurgent officer through the guards. You didn’t tell him why
you did it or even give him any of the circumstances. I think it was
natural that he should act as he did.”
“I didn’t realize,” Phil said half laughing, “how queer it must have
seemed to him. Well, I’m going up and make a clean breast of it.
“Have you any suspicion as to the identity of the man I shot?” Phil
suddenly asked.
“I thought at once of Espinosa,” Sydney answered, “but I’m not sure;
he talked in a voice that was not familiar, but that may have been
feigned. Think of it,” he exclaimed, “those masked men are all in the
employ of our government. They have taken the oath of allegiance and
yet they are plotting to massacre our soldiers.”
“It seems queer,” Phil exclaimed in a puzzled voice, “that the meeting
and Tillotson’s disappearance should happen the same evening. Do you
suppose it was only a coincidence?”
Sydney shook his head.
“Let’s get Captain Blynn to unravel that,” he answered. “He’s not half
as clever as some believe, not to have discovered in six months what we
have in less than two days. But remember, we promised Señorita Maria to
say nothing of her share in the work.”
An hour later the lads had laid their startling discoveries before the
judge-advocate.
“How many of these men did you count?” he asked excitedly, after he
had listened with rising indignation to the account of the Katipunan
meeting and the accusation against Rodriguez.
“About forty, I should say,” Phil answered.
“I don’t understand,” the captain exclaimed aloud, “why Espinosa has
not told me of the existence of this society. Of course I knew it was
active elsewhere, but I had no idea they would dare plot against us
within our lines.”
“Have you never suspected Espinosa?” Phil asked quietly.
“Yes, once,” the captain answered, after a moment’s hesitation, “but
I found I was mistaken. He would not have led us against this fellow
Martinez if he had been a traitor. I have the note here which I took
from Espinosa that gives the information. It is in Visayan but I have
translated it.” He handed the scrap of paper to Phil, who read it and
passed it back.
“Colonel Martinez and two hundred men encamp to-night at Barotoc Hill
near Banate en route to join Diocno.”
Phil pondered over the words of the message. Then he remembered the
terrible personal attack of Espinosa against Martinez. Was this a clue
to his betrayal? Were Martinez and Espinosa personal enemies?
“No,” the captain continued assuredly. “Espinosa has aided us in every
way. It was through him that we sent Captain Gordon to the north to
prevent more of these deserters from Aguinaldo’s army landing. He has
kept us well posted on the movements of our enemy.”
“But still,” Phil insisted, “there have been no big fights and we’ve
lost a number of men cut up through surprise.”
“That’s due in a great measure to the country and the inexperience of
our volunteer officers,” the captain explained readily.
“Are you so sure of the honesty of Rodriguez?” he asked suddenly. “I
have heard it insinuated that he aspires to the leadership if Diocno
were removed.”
Phil was about to cry out his assured belief that Rodriguez was
sincere, but with the words on his lips he hesitated. He had seen
Rodriguez but once, and to be convinced of his honesty after such a
short acquaintance would sound ridiculous. He saw that Maria’s part
would have to be told if Captain Blynn was to be convinced.
“I have every reason to believe in his sincerity,” Phil said instead.
“I can understand Spanish and I heard the leader denounce him as a
traitor to the natives. Then I heard Rodriguez’s eloquent appeal to the
men against their two-faced dealings. He surely had the courage of his
convictions, for every hand there was against him.”
“Yes, the general had him down here the other day,” the captain said,
“and he was impressed the same way. He’s a power among the lower
classes, although he has many enemies among the educated ones.”
Captain Blynn had been holding a telegram in his hand while the above
conversation was taking place and now he passed it over in silence for
Phil to read.
“Colonel Martinez is not the name of insurgent officer that left
Manila about the time of sailing of steamer ‘Negros.’ Our secret
service men are sure that he is the noted outlaw ‘Remundo.’”
“So you see,” the captain said not unkindly, “you have twice allowed
this desperado to escape.
“But now,” the captain continued, “what we’ve got to do is to break up
this secret society and find poor Tillotson if he is still alive. I can
hardly believe that they have been able to carry him away unless it was
by water. However, Espinosa should know of this. I will send for him to
come here at once.”
The captain rang his bell and sent the orderly who answered for the
Filipino.
The midshipmen sat silently waiting while the judge-advocate returned
to his interrupted office work.
The orderly soon returned, reporting that Señor Espinosa was not at his
house, and that his servant reported that he had not been home since
the evening before.
The midshipmen exchanged knowing glances. Was Espinosa then the leader
whom Phil had shot?
“Come!” Captain Blynn exclaimed, starting up from his chair. He led the
lads down to his carriage at the door and motioned them to enter. Then
giving an address to the driver they went whirling through the narrow
streets.
After a ten minutes’ drive the carriage stopped in front of a large
Filipino house. Without knocking the army man pushed open the door
intruding his great bulk into the room.
A half dozen natives arose from the floor, sudden fear in their faces
as they saw the officers.
“Señor Cardero,” the captain said in a quiet voice, “where has Señor
Espinosa gone?”
“I do not know,” the native replied sullenly.
The captain glared fiercely at the small brown man before him; then he
reached out a strong hand and caught the native fiercely by the neck,
shaking him as a dog would a rat. The little man turned a sickly color
and his teeth chattered, but the bullying American held him closely
while his eyes flashed angrily as he questioned him. “Tell me, where is
Señor Espinosa?”
“He is hurt, señor commandante,” the native cried out finally in a
terrified voice after he had regained his breath. “It was an accident.
I do not now know where he is, but he is not in the city.”
The midshipmen were overjoyed at this news. So Espinosa was
the Katipunan leader and spy. Phil glanced at the surprised
judge-advocate, a light of triumph in his eyes.
“Captain Perry,” the captain ordered hurriedly, “you and Mr. Monroe
stay here and guard these rats; I am going to have every native of
prominence in the town arrested at once. Thanks to you, we have at last
found the leak.”
Throwing the cringing native from him, he strode out of the door, and
the lads heard the rumble of his carriage wheels as he drove rapidly
away.
After the captain’s menacing presence had been removed the half dozen
captive Filipinos showed signs of restlessness, and once or twice
Phil surprised a covert glance toward a dark corner of the large
living-room. Both lads felt the responsibility of their position. They
knew that they were outside of the line of sentries, almost beyond the
sound of firearms. It seemed to Phil that the captain was over-reckless
in coming with only themselves into the haunts of a probable enemy.
Both lads were armed, their revolvers were held ready in hand and
their prisoners knew full well that Americans were dangerous shots.
The inside of the room was but dimly lighted by a single oil wick,
and the darkness became blacker toward that part of the house where
no windows had been cut. Phil had heard the captain give instructions
to his orderly as he left headquarters to have a guard follow the
carriage. But would the guard be sent here to aid them, or would
Captain Blynn send them elsewhere to make arrests?
“Let’s get out of this trap,” Phil whispered anxiously to Sydney at his
side, his idea being to order the men at the point of his revolver to
pass out to the street.
Suiting the action implied in his words, Phil opened the door leading
from the living-room. He saw by the aid of the additional light from
outside that the five men had cautiously and stealthily moved backward
toward the wall nearest them, and were apparently supporting their
weights upon it. Suddenly he felt a jar and read in the eyes of the
Filipino nearest him revenge battling with fear. Then the floor shook,
and grasping Sydney by the shoulder Phil threw himself bodily through
the open door as the floor of the building crashed down twenty feet
into the cellar below. The natives, he could see, were hung on the wall
like so many old coats, while through the bamboo floor on which he
and Sydney had just stood numberless bamboo spears bared their sharp,
venomous points. The lad shuddered as he realized the murderous trick
which had failed. If they had fallen with the floor, heavily weighted
as it was with stones at the side, and resting on supports, which
had been dislodged by a rope in the hands of one of the villains now
hanging on the wall of the room, they would at this moment be lying
pierced through and perhaps dying before the eyes of their cruel enemy.
He raised his revolver and covered the nearest cringing native, a
terrible anger in his eyes. In another second he would have pulled
the trigger, but Sydney’s hand closed firmly over his wrist, forcing
his revolver upward and the ball sped harmlessly over the terrified
native’s head.
“They are more valuable alive,” Sydney exclaimed to Phil’s angry cry
of protest. “Come, let’s get outside before more of this hinged floor
is loosened. We can better prevent their escape in that way.”
Phil followed his companion down the bamboo stairs and into the
street, where a crowd of curious natives had gathered on hearing the
startling shot. The lads moved their weapons menacingly, not knowing
or trusting the temper of the crowd which backed away cringingly from
the Americans. A glance down the street brought a glad cry from the
midshipmen as they saw a squad of soldiers advancing from the direction
of headquarters. A loud voice in the Visayan tongue from the building
they had just left was answered by many excited voices in the gathered
crowd, and then several women advanced slowly, holding up their
hands in sign of peace, their bodies close together as if for mutual
protection. The lads scarcely noticed the approach of the women, so
occupied were they in watching the building in which were imprisoned
five of the traitors who had been biting the hand of the master
that fed them. A swift glance over his shoulder showed Phil that
the advancing women were scarce ten paces away from Sydney, who was
guarding one corner of the house, while he was some thirty feet away,
guarding the other three sides. The soldiers were not over a block away
and hastening toward him; he could hear the rattle of their gun slings,
and the thud of their heavy shoes on the hard road-bed. Then again as
he cast an uneasy glance at this line of women his heart froze within
him while his voice failed, for he had caught a fleeting glimpse of a
savage face peering over their shoulders.
“Look out for yourself,” Phil cried, directing his revolver at the line
of women and firing blindly. In that second his disgust and wrath were
so great at the dastardly strategy under the guise of friendship that
he would not have felt a qualm of conscience if one of these unnatural
women had fallen before his bullet.
The women halted, sudden fear on their faces, while from between them
dashed a half dozen savage natives armed with bolos. As they charged
on the surprised midshipmen they cried out lustily in their guttural
language the war-cry of the bolo-man who has received the charm of the
Anting-Anting which to his superstitious mind makes him invulnerable
against the Americans’ bullets. They came boldly on while Sydney jumped
backward quickly to Phil’s side and the two lads emptied the contents
of their revolvers into the mass of naked brown men flourishing their
keen blades above their heads in an endeavor to close with their hated
foe. The women had run screaming with terror back to the safety of the
crowd, taking refuge within the densely packed houses.
With their revolvers empty and but three of their half dozen assailants
writhing in the road, the plucky midshipmen faced the onrush of the
fanatics. Converting their revolvers into clubs, they awaited what
seemed to them certain death. Their one hope for safety lay in running
away from the charging bolo-men and toward the soldiers now scarce two
hundred yards away, but turn their backs on an enemy they could not.
Within ten feet of the midshipmen the fanatics suddenly stopped and a
fear crept into their superstitious faces. The next second, to the
lads’ astonishment, their sharp swords dropped from nerveless fingers,
and the three natives prostrated themselves in the dust of the road.
The lads gazed in startled wonder, scarcely believing their eyes.