THE
MAN INSIDE
BY
NATALIE SUMNER LINCOLN
AUTHOR OF "THE TREVOR CASE" AND
"THE LOST DESPATCH."
ILLUSTRATED
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1914
COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright, 1914, by SMITH PUBLISHING HOUSE
Printed in the United States of America
[Illustration: "'My dream! See, the panels are in the shape of a
cross!'"] [Page 198]
TO THE LATE
MAJOR-GENERAL GEORGE LEWIS GILLESPIE
U. S. ARMY
WHOSE KINDLY FRIENDSHIP, GENEROUS
ENCOURAGEMENT AND DISCRIMINATING CRITICISM
MADE THIS BOOK POSSIBLE
IT IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. "WHERE THE BEST IS LIKE THE WORST" 1
II. AFTER THE BALL 14
III. A MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY 19
IV. THE BROKEN APPOINTMENT 24
V. MUTE TESTIMONY 36
VI. CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 52
VII. A PIECE OF ORIENTAL SILK 59
VIII. KISMET 71
IX. AT THE STATE DEPARTMENT 87
X. THE THEFT 96
XI. OVER THE TEA CUPS 107
XII. A COUNCIL OF WAR 118
XIII. AT THE WHITE HOUSE 131
XIV. THE MOTH AND THE FLAME 152
XV. "THORNTON'S NEST" 171
XVI. A CRY IN THE NIGHT 188
XVII. THE MYSTERY DEEPENS 204
XVIII. IN THE NAME OF THE LAW 221
XIX. THE ACCUSATION 231
XX. WEAVING THE WEB 245
XXI. AN INTERNATIONAL INTRIGUE 260
XXII. THE PURSUIT 269
XXIII. THE END OF THE QUEST 273
XXIV. THE FINAL EXPLANATION 293
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING
PAGE
"'My dream! See, the panels are in the shape of a
cross!'" _Frontispiece_
"But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped over
the butler's shoulder" 18
"He made out a shadowy form just ahead of him and
darted forward" 68
"With an exclamation he rose, and walked across the
room" 234
THE MAN INSIDE
CHAPTER I
"WHERE THE BEST IS LIKE THE WORST"
The long hot tropic day was drawing to its close. The shadows were
gradually rising and filling the narrow street, and every now and then
from the side of the open drain which ran through the middle of the
street a large black carrion bird flew up. There was no sidewalk, the
cobblestones running right up to the low white house walls. The windows
which opened on the street were for the most part few in number, small
and heavily barred. It was not by any means the best quarter in Colon.
One building, more pretentious than the rest, was distinguished from
its neighbors by large French windows, also protected by the iron
screen or _reja_.
It was impossible to tell the nationality of the one man lounging
along the street. He seemed profoundly buried in his own thoughts. Dark
as his skin was, and black as was his beard, there was something about
him which negatived the idea that he was a Spaniard. His rolling walk
suggested the sailor's life.
As he passed the building with the long French windows, the tinkle of a
guitar roused his attention, and he stepped inside the front door and
glanced furtively at the few men who lounged about the tables which
dotted the long room. Passing by several empty tables and chairs, the
stranger seated himself in the corner of the room on the side further
from the street, near a window which opened on a neglected garden. A
tropical vine thrust its branches against what had once been a wood
and glass partition which formed the end of the room, the branches and
leaves twining in and out among the broken panes of the window.
Some of the occupants of the room had glanced indifferently at the
stranger on his entrance, but his haggard, unshaven face and worn
clothing did not arouse their curiosity, and they again turned their
attention to their wine.
The stranger, after contemplating the view from the window for some
moments, leaned back in his chair, thrust his hands in his pockets,
and stretched his long legs under the table; then indolently studied
his surroundings. The room reeked with tobacco smoke and the odor
of spirits. The scene reminded him of Port Said. Not quite as many
nationalities were represented in Colon as haunt the entrance to the
Suez Canal, but the low chatter of tongues which greeted his ears was
polyglot. The men in the room were types of the born ne'er-do-well.
Lazy, shiftless, they had drifted to Colon, thinking to pick up
whatever spoils came their way during the construction of the Panama
Canal. Drinking and gambling, gambling and drinking--the sum total of
their lives. The stranger's lips curved in a sardonic smile, and he
crooned softly:
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like
the worst,
Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can
raise a thirst.
His smile deepened as he caught the scowl of a Spaniard sitting near
him. His glance traveled on, and, as he studied the flushed, sodden
faces, a sudden horror of himself and his surroundings shook him.
He passed a nervous hand over his damp forehead. Why had his memory
played him so scurvy a trick? The past few years were not pleasant
to contemplate, and the future even less so. He half started from his
chair, then sank back and summoned the _mozo_. Quickly he gave his
order in fluent Spanish, and waited impatiently for the man's return.
He had been fortunate at the gaming table the night before, and could
purchase a moment's respite from the torments of an elusive memory.
Memory, in whose wondrous train follow the joys of childhood, parents
and home! The stranger's strong hand trembled as he stroked his beard.
Why was he an outcast? For him alone there were no childhood and no
home; his thinking life began as a full-grown man. Was there to be no
awakening?
In a few moments the _mozo_ returned, and placed a glass and bottle
of liquor before him. The stranger hastily filled and drank. As the
stimulant crept through his veins, a feeling of physical contentment
replaced all other sensations, and, lighting a cigar, he was slowly
sinking once more into reverie when from behind the partition he heard
a voice:
"No names, please."
The words, spoken clearly in English, startled him from his
abstraction, and he glanced through the vine and, himself unseen, saw
two men sitting at a table. They had apparently entered the patio from
another part of the house.
"Quite right, I approve your caution." The words were also in English,
but with a strong foreign accent, and the speaker, a man of middle age
and fine physique, laid some papers on the table before them. "Where is
the Senator this evening?"
"He accompanied several members of the Congressional party to inspect
the plant of the Quartermaster and Subsistence Departments, and on his
return will dine with Major Reynolds and several other officers at the
hotel."
"I see." The foreigner drummed impatiently on the table. "You were late
in keeping your appointment."
"I had the devil's own time in finding this dive," returned the
younger man, and, as he moved his chair half around, the inquisitive
stranger, peeping through the leaves of the vine, obtained a view of
the speaker's boyish face. The weak mouth was partly hidden by a short
black mustache; the features were well cut, and by some would have been
called handsome.
The older man gave vent to a half-smothered chuckle. "Goethals and
Gorgas have reformed the Canal Zone, and the local government is trying
to do the same with Panama, but, _por Dios_, drinking and gambling
continue _unnoticed_ in Colon," he said, dryly. "I find a room in this
house most convenient during my short visits here. No '_gringo_'," he
sneered, "dare show his face in this room."
The stranger settled down in his chair, which was wedged into the
corner formed by the wall of the room and the wood and glass partition,
until his head was screened from the two speakers by the thick foliage
of the vine. The Spaniard and the Jamaican, who had occupied the table
nearest him, had gone, and the few men who still lingered over their
wine at the farther end of the room paid no attention to him. He could
listen without being observed.
"So you believe the people of Panama are already dissatisfied with
their president?" inquired the younger man, whom the listener judged to
be an American.
"I do," came the firm reply. "And but for the presence of _los tiranos
del norte_ here there would have been already a _pronunciamiento_."
"Then you think the time is ripe for carrying out your scheme?"
His companion nodded without speaking, and tugged at his gray imperial.
"If it is done at all it must be soon," he said, finally. "American
rule is not too popular here, and now is the time to act. And I pray
God I shall be spared to see the fruits of the _labor de los cochinos
sucios_ reaped by another nation," he spoke with intense bitterness.
"And that nation?" questioned the other.
"Is better left unmentioned."
"You do not love my countrymen," exclaimed the American, as he drew out
his cigarette case and passed it to his companion, who waved it away
impatiently.
"Say rather--hate," was the terse reply. "But I do not look on you
as one of that nationality. Your mother was my dearly loved cousin,
and Colombia boasts no prouder name than the one she bore before she
married your father. By the love you bear her memory I entreat you to
assist me in this undertaking."
"I have promised," said the American gruffly. "I hear that Colombia
intends accepting the ten million dollars offered by the United States
for certain islands near Panama."
"Never!" The Colombian spoke with emphasis. "Our hatred lies too deep
for that; it cannot be placated by an offer of 'conscience money,' no
matter how great the sum."
"The more fools you," muttered the American, _sotto voce_.
"The revolt of Panama was followed by an insurrection in Colombia,"
continued the other, "and the Government was overthrown. The American
newspapers gave us a few paragraphs at the time--they did not mention
that nearly one hundred thousand people were killed; that the horrors
of civil war were augmented by pillage and murder. I was at the front
with the troops, and, in my absence from home, my wife and child were
murdered by some _insurrectos_. I tell you," he struck the table a
resounding blow with his clenched fist, "there is no Colombian living
who would not gladly see the United States humiliated."
"It is easy to see that the people in Panama are jealous of the success
of the Americans," commented the young man.
"Naturally; the United States has always advanced at the price of
Latin-America."
"How so?"
"Study your history. When the Thirteen Original States branched out,
first came the 'Louisiana Purchase,' land originally settled by the
French; then Florida, first settled by the Spanish, was bought by the
United States. Later still, Texas seceded from Mexico, settled also
by the Spanish; then came the Mexican War, and Latin-America lost the
territory now known as New Mexico, Arizona, and California."
"Seems to me it would have been better if Colombia had accepted the
original offer of the United States for the Panama Canal Zone."
"Why so? The United States only offered a beggarly ten million. By
waiting a year the French concession would have expired, and the
Colombian Government would have received the sixty million which the
United States eventually paid the French Company."
"Instead of which you got nothing," remarked the American dryly, "and
lost Panama into the bargain."
"Through underhand methods," began the other hotly, then checked
himself. "Enough of the past. Have you a message for me?"
For reply the young man drew out an envelope from an inside pocket and
handed it to his companion, who opened it and read the communication in
silence.
"Good," he said finally, tearing the note into infinitesimal pieces
and carefully putting them in his leather wallet, from which he first
took several letters. "Give this to the Ambassador immediately on your
return, and this--" he hesitated for a second--"give at once to our
mutual friend."
The American took the papers and placed them securely in an inside
pocket. "Is that all?" he inquired.
"No." The Colombian drew out a small chamois bag whose contents emitted
a slight jingling noise as he handed it to his companion. "You may
find this useful. No thanks are necessary, dear boy," laying his hand
on the American's shoulder as the latter commenced speaking. "The
death of my wife and child has deprived me of near relatives except
you, and I propose to make you my heir." Then, to change the subject,
he added quickly, "Is there no way to induce the Senator to use his
influence with Congress and the Administration for disarmament, and the
curtailing of building more battleships?"
The American laughed disagreeably. "I think it may be done--in time."
The Colombian's face brightened. "Splendid! If we can stop his fervid
speeches in behalf of a larger standing army and navy, we will have
accomplished much. But how do you expect to alter his attitude?"
"Through a woman," the American's lips parted in an amused smile.
"There's no fool like an old fool, and the Senator is no exception to
the rule."
"Indeed?" The Colombian raised his eyebrows. "And what has the woman to
say in the matter?"
"Nothing. She emulates a clam."
The eavesdropper on the other side of the partition, who had caught
most of the conversation, moved ever so slightly to stretch his cramped
limbs, and then pulled out his handkerchief and mopped his heated face.
As he did so a small slip of paper dropped, unseen by him, from his
pocket to the floor. A large black cat came softly over to him and he
lifted the animal up and placed her on the table before him. He stroked
the purring feline and listened intently to catch the conversation
which drifted to him through the vine-covered broken window panes.
Apparently the two men were preparing to leave.
"Does the Senator really think to marry?" asked the Colombian, as he
picked up his hat.
"I judge so. He is obviously very much infatuated with the girl's
unusual type of beauty. And, believe me, she thoroughly understands the
art of managing men."
"Indeed? Who is the girl?"
"The young daughter of the famous Irish actress, Nora Fitzgerald.
Senator Carew...."
Crash--the bottle and glass smashed in pieces. The eavesdropper never
stopped to see the damage he had done, but with incredible swiftness
and stealth was out of the room and down the street before the irate
proprietor had reached the deserted table.
"_Que hay?_" inquired the Colombian of the proprietor. He and the
American had rushed into the room and over to the window by which the
eavesdropper had been sitting.
"A drunken Spaniard knocked the bottle and glass from the table, and
cleared out without paying the damage," explained the proprietor in
Spanish, as he signed to the _mozo_ to sweep up the mess.
"What's that in your hand?"
"A card, Señor, which I have just picked up from the floor."
"Let me have it."
"_Si, Señor, con mucho gusto._" He quickly handed the paper to the
Colombian.
The American looked over his companion's shoulder as the latter
adjusted his eyeglasses and held up the visiting card so that both
could see its contents. With staring eyes and faces gone white they
read the engraved inscription:
MR. JAMES CAREW
MARYLAND.