THE LOST KEY.
What Carmencita wailed may have struck dumb terror to the heart of
her mistress, but for my part I saw as yet no reason to despair. The
association with such a man as Robbins was in itself quite enough to
inspire confidence; and besides, there were other good reasons why I
should scorn to show the white feather.
We had already started to traverse the gardens, while that infernal
alarm bell kept up its fearful clatter, loud enough to awaken the dead.
“Don’t be anxious, we will surely find a way out, door or no door,” I
managed to say, close to the hooded head.
Hildegarde turned as if to look at me, but made no attempt at replying,
for with such a din it must have been quite useless.
Robbins permitted himself to be guided by the girl, for though he may
have felt sure as to the route, it was best to so act that a blunder
was out of the question.
We were lucky enough not to run across any gardener, and the idea
flashed into my mind that this fellow might be busily engaged fastening
the door in the wall.
Hildegarde bore herself well, I am bound to admit--many women must have
been dreadfully shocked by the clamorous racket which we had aroused,
and bordered close upon hysterics; but she was able to contain herself,
though I had no doubt that she must be trembling violently.
Somehow a wave of great pity seemed to fill my heart, for it was truly
a most abominable situation for any lady as gently bred as I knew her
to have been, carefully sheltered from all scenes of violence, and
with the blood of peace-loving Quakers running in her veins.
Then the wall loomed up ahead.
How dreadfully lofty it seemed--I had paid little attention to its
height before, but now it appalled me, for there seemed a chance that
should the door be closed to our exit we must clamber over the wall in
some way if we would escape.
There was a moving figure that caught my attention--coming toward us on
the run, and as he rushed into the glow of a lantern that hung from a
bush loaded with flowers, I saw that it was the gardener.
He held something in his hand which I immediately determined was the
key to the door, the panacea for all our troubles.
Apparently he caught sight of us at about the same time, for his
forward motion ceased, and it looked very much as though he were about
to begin a retrograde one.
Here was my chance.
Robbins might have run at him, but such a move must have only added the
wings of fear to the gardener’s flight.
I had a better plan, a swifter messenger, for that key was decidedly
essential to our comfort, and even heroic measures might be pardoned in
the effort to secure the talisman that would prove our “open sesame.”
Accordingly, as quick as a flash I rushed to the fore, giving Robbins
no time to act, and as I jumped I drew from its place of concealment
the reliable little firearm which I had learned through excessive
target practice to use almost as well as an expert.
“Stand, or you are a dead man!”
That was what I shouted in Spanish--at least I tried to say it,
though assured later on by little Carmencita that what I so fiercely
ejaculated was more to the effect that I took the fellow for a ghost
come back from the dead, and was ordering him to return to the kingdom
of the departed shades.
Never mind; my fierce demeanor should surely have convinced him that he
was in dire peril unless he surrendered.
The fool did not have sense enough to see he had not the ghost of a
chance to escape--or perhaps he took it for granted that I was as
abominable a pistol shot as his countrymen.
When I saw that he meant to disregard my stern command, and that there
was immediate danger of both man and key slipping through our fingers,
I realized that the time had come for action rather than words.
Now it was not in my heart to kill the poor devil--I had never sent a
human being into the other world as yet, though coming uncommonly near
it while attacked by Italian brigands on one occasion, and later on
when some heathen Chinese thought me a soft mark on the outskirts of
old Canton.
Besides, this fellow was in the alcalde’s pay, and only did his duty in
the premises.
To wing him then was the height of my ambition as I threw my little
firearm forward in a fashion in vogue among all good pistol shots.
Then came the spiteful little crack, hardly louder than the snapping of
one’s finger, for modern powder is next to noiseless in its detonation.
“He’s down!” exclaimed Robbins, setting his six foot frame in motion.
I remained with our charge and advanced more quietly.
“Oh, I hope you have not killed him! It was too bad to shoot!” said
Hildegarde.
I felt chagrined--what I did never appeared worthy of praise in her
eyes, yet she could applaud that tall athlete, Robbins, when he
knocked down a man a foot under his height.
“No danger--I aimed to disable; our lives may depend on getting that
key, else I wouldn’t have shot the poor devil,” I said, coldly.
All the same I knew I was in for rough usage in case we were caught,
for I had drawn the blood of the alcalde’s servant, and while in these
queer little republics money is a plaster that can cure almost any
political ill, still it must needs be a liberal dose that could soothe
the ruffled feelings of the enraged mayor after what we had done on
this night of nights.
But we were not captured yet--far from it.
Why, the game was young, and there must needs be many a twist and turn
before one could call the cards.
Meanwhile we reached the spot where the wretched gardener lay.
He only had a small leaden pellet in his leg, but the shock had quite
overwhelmed him, being unused to warfare, and no doubt he believed
himself on the road to a speedy dissolution.
At any rate he bawled lustily in terror one instant, and then called
upon his patron saint to ferry him over the Styx the next, mixing
up his appeals in a manner truly laughable, until Robbins made a
threatening gesture which hushed his vociferation.
“The key!” I shouted, for if anything the noise had swelled to still
greater volume, and one must raise his voice to be heard.
“Yes--I am looking for it--I would swear he had it in his hand,” cried
the mate, already down on his hands and knees.
“We must find it--everything depends on it.”
“He must have thrown it when he fell.”
It was a bright suggestion, for just beyond the fellow was a dense
cluster of bushes.
If we had more light possibly a quick search would discover the missing
key.
And this caused me to remember the lantern that was suspended from a
twig near by.
I turned to obtain possession of it only to find that the same thought
had occurred to another, for Hildegarde already had it in her hand and
was tripping toward me.
As I took the lantern from her I could not help from throwing a quick
glance under the hood of her face--it was very white and looked, yes, a
little pinched with excitement and fright.
“Courage,” I said, involuntarily, just as I might have addressed a
strange lady thus thrown upon our protection.
Then I sprang to where Robbins, still on his hands and knees, was
groping about among the grass and bushes, bent on finding that elusive
key.
It seemed to take a fiendish delight in mocking our search, and as the
seconds crept by I began to tremble with apprehension lest, after all,
we might be cornered like rats, and eventually fall into the hands of
our enemies, or be cut down.
A cry from Hildegarde made me spring erect and turn like a tiger--I
could hardly tell why I had such a thrill, save that it was caused by
the thought that ruffianly hands might have been laid upon her.
She stood with only little Carmencita at her side, and both were
pointing.
“See! the gardener--he escapes!” was what I made out.
Then I saw a moving object--it was the fellow I had shot in the leg,
for having discovered that he was not yet quite dead, and no longer
menaced by the frowning Robbins, he had rolled to one side and was now
pulling himself away very much as I have seen a wounded hare, with
both hind legs shattered, drag itself to a burrow.
What mattered it?--the key was what we wanted now most of all; let the
poor devil seek safety after his own fashion.
Robbins was also disgusted--I saw him look up, and wondered whether he
had conceived the idea of chasing the creeping wretch, to throttle him
until he confessed what he had done with the key.
But it was something else that had occurred to my good friend.
“Keep looking, Morgan, while I run and make sure if the door is fast.”
As he said this, I saw him bound away.
The door could only be a biscuit’s toss down the wall, and his errand
would not consume more than a couple of minutes at the most, while much
might hinge upon the result.
I had the lantern, and with added zeal kept up the search. Did ever a
more obstinate key exist than the one we so eagerly sought to discover?
At least I had never heard of it.
Then back came Robbins, panting from his exertions, for these big men
always become winded more easily than those of us who are blessed with
lesser bulk.
As I glanced up into his face, I read our finish there; disappointment
was plainly expressed in the grim manner in which the mate clinched his
teeth.
Such men are not easily downed, and the glow of his eyes told us of
a sullen determination to keep up the good work, even though we were
compelled to force a way into the _hacienda_ and reach the street by
fighting those who might there oppose our progress.