The end of the Camera Chap’s first week in Baracoa found him not
much nearer to the fulfillment of his mission than on the day of his
arrival. He had made several trips on the crooked little railway which
connected the capital with Porto Cabero, and as unobtrusively as
possible had hung around the cafés and public places of the seaport. As
the soldiers from the fortress, when off duty, patronized these places,
he was in hopes that by mingling with them, and keeping his eyes and
ears wide open, he might pick up something which would aid him in the
performance of his task.
In addition to this he had chartered a motor boat and made many
excursions into the harbor, hovering around El Torro fortress, and
making a careful, though futile, study of the exterior of that grim
edifice. Although none of these efforts had as yet been productive
of results, he was not discouraged. With characteristic patience and
optimism he felt confident that sooner or later he would hit upon a
solution of the big problem which confronted him.
During this time he had held several consultations with his fair
confederate, Virginia Throgmorton. The latter, who was fond of
horseback riding, was in the habit of taking long rides daily out into
the country. At her suggestion, the Camera Chap hired a mount, and
went for frequent canters in the same direction. Thus they were able to
meet and compare notes, safe from prying eyes and ears--or, at least,
so they believed. But one afternoon, when Hawley galloped off into the
outskirts of San Cristobal, to keep one of these trysts, Virginia met
him with a troubled expression on her usually serene countenance.
“This is the last time that we must meet here--or anywhere else, for
that matter!” she declared firmly. “I’m afraid we’ve been inexcusably
careless.”
“Careless?” the Camera Chap repeated wonderingly. “My dear Miss
Throgmorton, what’s the matter?”
The girl turned in her saddle, and shot nervous glances about her in
all directions. “We ought to have foreseen the folly of this,” she said
severely. “We might have known that we couldn’t meet like this without
being found out.”
“You don’t mean to say that such a thing has happened?” exclaimed the
Camera Chap.
Virginia nodded gloomily. “My father was asking me about you this
morning,” she announced. “He wanted to know how many times I had met
you. He also evinced painful curiosity as to where I go, and whom
I meet, when I take my daily canter. I could tell from his mode of
questioning that he knows about these meetings.”
“Who could have told him?” said the Camera Chap. “I have always been
careful when coming out here to make sure that I was not shadowed.”
“So have I,” returned the girl, with a rueful smile. “Nevertheless,
we have evidently been spied upon. I have a shrewd suspicion that
it was Mr. Gale who told my father. He and dad were talking very
confidentially together as I came into the room this morning, and I’m
almost positive that I heard your name mentioned.”
Hawley frowned. “I guess that is very probable,” he said. “I’ve run
into Gale quite often during the past few days, and I’ve had reason
to believe that the encounters weren’t accidental--that he’s been
paying me the compliment of watching me very closely. I hope he doesn’t
suspect the reasons for our meeting, Miss Throgmorton. He’s the last
man on earth that I would want to have know what I am doing here.”
Virginia sighed. “My great fear is that Portiforo, too, has learned
about these meetings of ours,” she said anxiously. “If so, I am afraid
that he’ll put two and two together. They know that I visit Señora
Felix, and they might easily assume from the fact that you and I meet
so often that your presence in Baracoa is in relation to her cause.
That, of course, would be fatal to your chances of success--and,”
she added, with a shudder, “perhaps fatal to President Felix, too.
We ought to have thought of that before; but at least we must take
the precaution of avoiding each other from now on. You must hold no
communication with me whatever--not even through a third person. We
cannot be too careful.”
The Camera Chap was forced to admit the wisdom of this decision.
From that day he seemed suddenly to have lost all interest in
horseback riding, for he took no more canters into the outskirts of
San Cristobal. And when, on one or two occasions, he encountered Miss
Throgmorton, riding or walking on the streets of the capital, he merely
saluted her formally, and passed her by without a word.
One evening, about a week later, as he was entering his hotel, a man
stepped up close to him and covertly slipped a small envelope into his
hand. “Don’t open this, señor, until you are alone in your room,” he
cautioned in a hurried whisper.
The contents of the envelope puzzled the Camera Chap exceedingly. In
the seclusion of his room he read and reread the mysterious message in
English, and evidently in a man’s handwriting:
“It is of urgent importance that you call upon Doctor Gaspard Bonsal,
at nine o’clock, this evening. The address is Avenida Juarez,
opposite the cathedral. Please come alone, and make sure that you are
not followed before entering the house.”
Hawley’s first impulse was to go downstairs and ask the hotel clerk
whether he knew of any such person as Doctor Gaspard Bonsal, and, if
so, what he knew about him. But, on second thought, he decided that in
the event of the mysterious message being genuine, and not the hoax
he was inclined to suspect that it might be, such a step might prove
unwise. The clerk was a talkative chap, and might repeat to others any
questions that were put to him.
So Hawley decided to take a chance and call upon the mysterious
Doctor Gaspard Bonsal without taking the precaution of making any
inquiries about him. There was one fact which he considered slightly
reassuring. Although there was nothing about the note to indicate
whether the person referred to was a physician, a horse doctor, or
a doctor of philosophy, Hawley recognized the address as being in
the most exclusive residence section of the capital. He had walked
several times along the Avenida Juarez, and had noted the pretentious
residences which lined that well-lighted thoroughfare, particularly in
the vicinity of the cathedral; so he felt satisfied, at least, that
this was no ruse to lure him into some dark alleyway in the slums of
San Cristobal.
The address was only a short distance from the hotel, and Hawley
proceeded there on foot, carefully observing the warning which the
message had contained to make sure that he was not followed. He had
no difficulty in picking out Doctor Gaspard Bonsal’s house, for there
was a brass plate on the door bearing that name. This discovery added
greatly to his confidence; nevertheless, as he climbed the low stoop
and pressed the bell button, he took the precaution of keeping one hand
in his coat pocket, with a businesslike grip on the automatic pistol it
contained.
The door was opened by an aged negro servant, who, without asking any
questions, ushered him into a handsomely furnished reception room, and
quietly disappeared.
A few minutes later, as Hawley was appreciatively studying one of the
oil paintings which lined the walls, a gray-bearded, fine-looking old
man entered the room.
“You are Mr. Hawley?” he inquired. He spoke excellent English, although
his appearance was decidedly Latin.
“Yes; and I presume I have the honor of addressing Doctor Bonsal?” As
Hawley spoke, his hand came out of his pocket; for the sight of this
fine, courtly old man removed his last apprehension.
Doctor Bonsal bowed. “I must apologize most profoundly for having
summoned you here in such a mysterious way,” he said, with a smile,
“but I assure you, sir, it was most necessary. The circumstances are
such that we cannot be too careful. Had I sent my carriage for you, as
I would have liked to do, it might have aroused suspicion.”
“That’s all right,” Hawley assured him. “It was only a short walk.”
“You are quite sure that you were not followed here?” There was great
anxiety in the other’s tone.
“Positive. At least, if there were any spies trailing me, I’m satisfied
that I’m a good case for an oculist,” said the Camera Chap, with a
laugh. “I kept a sharp lookout for them.”
“I trust you were not deceived,” remarked Doctor Bonsal gravely. “If
you will be good enough, Mr. Hawley, to accompany me into the next
room, I think you will immediately realize the wisdom and necessity of
these extreme precautions.”
He drew aside some sliding doors, and the Camera Chap followed him
into the room adjoining. A woman was seated there. She rose as they
entered, and, as he gazed into her dark, sad eyes, Hawley gave a start
of astonishment. Although he had suspected ever since entering the
house that Señora Felix was connected in some way with this mysterious
summons, he had not expected to find her there.