AT DAGGERS' POINTS.
It was Roderic's intention to lead the other a jolly little dance
before jumping upon him with both feet, so to speak.
In other words he pleased to play with the conceited beau pretty much
as a cat might with a mouse that had fallen into her clutches.
Hence he observed Jerome's amazed expression with the air of a man who
was puzzled.
"Still in Dublin--why not, my boy? This is about as comfortable a berth
as one could find, and I shall only desert it when stern duty calls me
across the big pond. Whatever possessed you with the idea that I had
departed hence--why it was only late last night when I last saw you?"
Wellington was making heroic efforts to resume his ordinary cool
appearance, but he had evidently been hard hit, and fluttered like a
wounded pigeon, which was a rare thing with a man usually calm and
sarcastic.
"By Jove! it must have been a bad dream, but, d'ye know my dear
fellow, I could swear you came and told me you were off for Hamburg,
Constantinople or----"
"Monte Carlo perhaps, since one place is about as likely as the other."
"Well, er, perhaps it was. Wretched dream at any rate. Must have been
the Welsh rarebit I had about midnight--awful fond of toast and cheese,
you know, especially good Roquefort. Glad to know it was only a dream,
dused glad, my boy. Would have missed you very much--good men are too
scarce, as it is."
Thus Jerome babbled on, his object being simply delay, in order to
collect himself and grasp the situation.
At the same time possibly he hoped to pull the wool over the eyes of
the man he addressed.
It was useless.
When Roderic mentioned Monte Carlo the schemer knew his game had been
exposed through some blunder, and all he could hope to fight for was
advantage of position when the assault came.
He therefore hurried up his reserves and proceeded to call all hands to
repel boarders.
Owen had folded his arms and was coolly surveying him across the
table--there was a curl to his mustached lip that told of fine scorn.
Some men can stand almost anything rather than to be made a mark for
irony or disdain, and it was this more than anything else that brought
Wellington furiously to the front.
"See here, Owen, all chicanery aside, how the devil do you happen to
be here at the Shelbourne instead of on a yacht bound for Havre, and
eventually to the gamester's Paradise?" he blurted out.
"A plain question and deserving an equally candid answer. To tell you
the truth then, my dear fellow, I had decided objections to making such
a hasty trip across to the Continent. Your preparations for my comfort
were overwhelming, and while I appreciated all you did I was obliged to
respectfully decline."
"Well, my own eyes tell me you are here, but I'll take my oath I saw
one who looked enough like you to be your shadow sail out of Kingstown
harbor at three this morning on board the steam yacht _Galatea_. And
that was no hasheesh dream either, superinduced by Welsh rarebit or
opium. Now, who the devil went to Havre?"
"A gentleman whose health needed the ocean voyage, and who believed he
could enjoy the society of the gay set on board. I have no doubt he
will be exceedingly grateful for all your trouble."
Jerome looked at first as though he could bite a nail with
pleasure--Owen expected him to swear, but the other seldom gave way to
such vulgar exhibitions of temper.
On the contrary he smiled, and his white teeth showing through his
carefully adjusted mustache gave Roderic the impression of a grinning
hyena.
Still, the application hardly fitted such a case, for Jerome was
considered an extremely handsome and fascinating man, however much of a
human wolf he might be back of the scenes.
"Owen, you have called the hand for the first round. It is on me, and
devilish hard. I could ill afford the cold cash I spent to hire that
boat. I sincerely trust your counterpart will choke upon the good
victuals I put aboard or else make himself so beastly drunk upon the
liquor that he will fall overboard in the bay of Biscay or somewhere
along the French coast."
"Don't reproach me for doing just what you would have done had you been
in my shoes, and the plot been revealed to you, Wellington."
The other brightened up a trifle.
"You may be sure I would--but evidently you received a pretty strong
tip--who betrayed me?"
He spoke carelessly, but there was a devilish gleam in his blazing
eyes that told the state of his feelings toward the unknown.
Owen would sooner have cut his right hand off than betray the source of
his knowledge.
"I have means of acquiring information that are unequalled outside of
Scotland Yard. For some time, Wellington, I had looked upon you as an
agreeable acquaintance. That time has gone by. You have stripped the
mask from your face, and I know you as a wolf preying upon society."
"Sir!"
"Oh! you needn't flare up and look ferocious. I say this to your teeth.
If you desire the satisfaction one gentleman demands from another I am
always at your service, whether it be with bare knuckles, a revolver or
the sword. I believe I am equally at home with all, and will take great
pleasure in puncturing your precious skin."
"Well, you are devilish frank, to say the least," declared Jerome,
mastering his ugly mood, since he knew full well the disadvantage
falling to the man who gave way to passion.
"I expect to be, since it is the only policy to use when dealing with
such men as you. I might warn my cousin against your attentions, but it
would be useless, since she has undoubtedly sized you up as an ordinary
adventurer long before I dreamed of it. However, my dear fellow, one
last word of warning before I quit your society. If you take it upon
yourself to _annoy_ Cleo--if she appeals to me for assistance I shall
camp on your trail until I finally '_get_' you, as they put it over in
my country."
There was no boastful spirit in his manner, only a grim determination
that carried weight.
Wellington, looking squarely into those calm orbs that held his own in
a species of thralldom knew he had the fight of his life before him.
Perhaps he saw with prophetic vision, some dim inkling of his own
downfall--it is a long road that has no turn--success had visited him
many times in the past, but there was for him as for all adventurers, a
_dies irae_ and it might come through Roderic Owen.
"I'll consider myself warned, Owen, and if trouble comes my blood be
upon my own head. The only remark I shall venture to make is, that as
yet I have never failed in any serious undertaking which engaged my
attention," he said, sneeringly.
"Indeed. Then let us hope you are not very serious about this affair."
"I have made a vow. By that I mean to win, or fall. Have you
breakfasted, Owen?"
"Not yet. I shall order a chop and a cup of chocolate."
"You won't join me then?"
"Well, under the circumstances, as we are to be mortal enemies, I
hardly think it would be wise. I have some of the Arab's feeling about
breaking bread or eating salt with an enemy."
"I would give something to know who betrayed my little game."
"Don't worry about it--my means are such that in order to learn what I
wish I am not compelled to make traitors of those you trust."
"And the man on the yacht?"
"Oh! Darby is all right--you can depend upon it he will enjoy himself
to the limit. If you read of a man breaking the bank at Monte Carlo
presently, make up your mind it was Darby, and that your noble
generosity is mainly responsible for his presence in that notable
place."
Jerome scowled and muttered something.
"Perhaps it is as well you have decided to have your breakfast in
another quarter. Somehow you have the knack of bruising me most
savagely, and no doubt we should be at each other's throat like a
couple of dogs, ere we finished. I wish to tell you distinctly that if
you imagine you can frighten me off by such heroics you are chasing a
mirage, a _fata morgana_ as the deep sea sailors term it. I am not that
kind of a man, and you will find that I sink or swim by my record."
Roderic did not care to bandy further words with the Adonis.
Deeds must tell the story as to which of them should win in the long
run, and Owen preferred such a course.
It chanced that M'lle Cleo and her companion entered the room about
this time, and joining them Roderic had his chop in merry company.
The daughter of ten millions looked fresh and full of life. As he
chatted with her across the table Owen was wondering why she had never
mated.
"It's the confounded dazzle of her money," he decided finally; "she has
educated herself to believe no one can ever love _her_, but that the
fortune draws them. By Jove! She should hide herself under an _incog._
and thus discover a lover who will worship her for her own dear self.
I warrant there are many good fellows who would gladly go through fire
and flood for her sake, if they knew her only as a stenographer or
schoolmam."
Which line of reasoning did Roderic credit.
That same fortune had something to do with his own feelings in the
matter, as it must with every honorable man.
"When do you leave Dublin?" asked his cousin, endeavoring to appear
careless.
"I shall cross to Liverpool to-morrow and take the White Star steamer
for New York--unless something occurs to change my plans."
"Then you are compelled to go to New York?"
"Only as a means of reaching my ultimate destination."
"Which is----"
He lowered his voice.
"Porto Rico."
"But, the danger--that is a Spanish stronghold, and we are at war with
Spain."
"Already troops are ordered to land there--perhaps General Miles is on
the way. With the fall of Santiago our efforts are to be concentrated
about San Juan. A portion of the work falls upon my shoulders--that is
all. Besides, I naturally want to be in at the death, as do all ardent
fox hunters in the chase."
"I wish, cousin, you would give up so dangerous a calling. Surely you
are as well fitted for other pursuits in which your life would not be
at stake."
There was real concern in her voice, and Roderic found his heart
touched.
"I have been seriously considering that same matter myself, and
concluded to make a change after the war is over."
"Why wait until then?"
"For many reasons. In the first place Western men have a saying that
it is bad policy to change horses while crossing a stream. It is also
a poor piece of business to desert your country while she has need of
your services."
"Enough. I know that your motives are honorable. But about this trip
across to the Antilles--I could tell you of a quicker way of reaching
the shore of Porto Rico, that is, should you consider it worth your
while to accept," with a tinge of color in her cheeks, and a sparkle to
her blue eyes.
"Indeed, I should like to hear of it. Time may be a factor in my game."
"I made a purchase in England--you know I am something of a yachtsman
in my way, and the temptation was great."
"You purchased a yacht?"
"A steam yacht."
"Lucky mortal to be able to do such a thing with as little concern as I
would buy a cravat."
"She is a beauty, Roderic."
"Don't doubt it in the least, else you would never have fancied her."
"She is called the Dreadnaught."
"Phew! a genuine English name. Of course you will change it to the
Mayflower or Pilgrim or some strictly Yankee cognomen?"
"At present I must decline to do so, as she sails with an English crew
and under the flag of Great Britain."
Owen looked puzzled, and then smiled.
"Oh! I see, a _ruse de guerre_. Very good, indeed. The Dreadnaught she
shall remain as long as our war with Spain continues. Well, are you off
for a delightful voyage along the Mediterranean, or perhaps, seeing it
is summer, to the North Cape, the Land of the Midnight Sun. Jove! at
another time I might be tempted to join you--that is providing I were
invited."
"I extend a most pressing invitation and expect you to accept and be
our _compagnon de voyage_."
"Alas! my duty lies amid sterner scenes."
"In ten days you can be landed on the shore of Porto Rico."
He eyed her in surprise.
"Is your voyage a westerly one?"
"We are intending to see something of the war, that is all."
Perhaps uncertain but nevertheless alarming visions were conjured up in
his mind.
"I am sorry to hear you say so. The conditions existing on those
unhappy islands are terrible. Besides, an attractive woman would run
risks among the lawless elements at large that I should grieve to see
you exposed to."
She laughed, but at the same time his solicitude did not appear
unwelcome in the least.
"Foolish boy, you don't suppose, I hope, that I have any Quixotic
notion of parading across the island carrying the star spangled banner
wrapped around me. My object is of a different character. For once in
my life I am to play the Lady Bountiful. Cuba has been looked after
as well as the conditions allow. I am informed there is also much
suffering in Porto Rico. I have had my yacht stocked with provisions
and medical stores, and shall relieve honest distress wherever I find
it, no matter under what flag."
"God bless you, Cousin Cleo. You will find plenty of it there. The
Spaniards have tightened the mailed hand of late, and Porto Rico groans
under the scourge. Soon freedom's blessings will be their heritage.
Every man whose smallest act brings such a consummation to pass, should
feel proud of the fact. Where is this boat of yours, cousin?"
"Entering Dublin bay this morning."
"And when will you leave old Erin?"
"When you give the word."
It confused him a little to realize how much she deferred to his
judgment.
"Pardon me--will there be other passengers?"
"None."
"Then I will accept"--he had desired to make sure Jerome's hateful
presence might not bring about a duel during the voyage.
"We will call it settled. An hour's notice will find us aboard, bag and
baggage. Govern your own actions as your duty demands."
"This is awfully kind of you Cousin Cleo."
"The obligation is on your part, to put up with our dull society for
ten days."
"You hurt me when you speak that way. It will surely be one of the most
pleasant episodes of my life. I am smiling to think that after most
positively declining one yacht voyage last night I have so readily
accepted another."
"Some one else asked you to go to Porto Rico?"
"Well, no, I rather imagine the intention was for me to bring up in a
hotter country than the Antilles. The trip contemplated a voyage to
Havre and then across country to the later Monaco, the gambling palace
of Monte Carlo."
"Oh! I am glad you refused to go."
"So am I. But the invitation was very pressing. However, rather than
disappoint the gentleman I sent my representative to receive the
honors."
"It was a _gentleman_ who asked you then?"
His eyes opened with surprise.
"Certainly--that is he did not really ask me, you see, but arranged a
neat little affair whereby I was to be a guest of honor."
"How stupid of me, to be sure, I begin to see now that you are
speaking of a business engagement, not a social matter. And will your
substitute serve as well as if you had gone?"
"Just as well, until they learn that it is not Roderic Owen they are
entertaining with so lavish a hand, but plain Joel Darby. Then I
imagine there will be an explosion of some sort and her ladyship will
show temper."
"Her ladyship--then there is a woman involved?"
"It is true. I see, cousin, that having put my foot in it thus far I
would do well to tell you the whole story."
"I should be pleased to act as Father Confessor," was the quick
response.
They were alone at the table, Miss Becky having gone across the room to
chat with a congenial spirit whose acquaintance she had made.
So Roderic told his little story as tersely as he could, and in his
cousin he found an interested auditor.
"Well, what do you think of it?" he asked when the finis had been
reached.
"It is very dreadful."
"Surely I came out all right, cousin."
"But--suppose you had not--you would have been hypnotized by the
adventuress, and that must have been the end of you. Oh! I know the
species and all their wiles, having made a study of them."
"Does that sweeping deduction include the male bipeds of the adventurer
order also?"
"Why not?"
"Because I might offend if I told you the name of the man who planned
my exodus."
"Oh! I have already guessed it was the Adonis."
"Yes, Jerome Wellington. I am glad you know him in his true light. He
has made a vow."
"I'll wager it concerns my wretched millions."
"Just so--he longs to handle them."
"He will be a smarter man than he is now when that happens. But one
thing puzzles me?"
"Now it is coming," thought Roderic, though aloud he said cheerily,
"What might that be?"
"You received your warning from a nun."
"I was a fool to mention the fact," thought Owen, with one of these
wonderful after inspirations that closes the door when the horse is
stolen.
"Yes, from one who was dressed in the somber garb of a cloister," he
replied.
"You evidently do not believe she was what she outwardly appeared?"
"You are a modern Portia, cousin," he laughed.
"Of course, a prisoner at the bar is not pledged to commit himself. If
I am over bold forgive me and make no reply. But, you know, a woman's
curiosity is proverbial."
"I shall answer frankly--she was no member of the Order of the Holy
Grail--the garb was assumed to conceal her identity."
"From Jerome--from you?"
"Both, I presume."
"You recognized her face?"
"I did not see that--it was her voice. Even then I was in a maze until
she had gone."
"Was it a _very_ melodious voice, Roderic."
"The sweetest--well, yes, a voice full of melody," he replied, with
evident confusion that did not escape Cleo's quick gaze.
"Ah! you have heard her sing?"
"Dozens of times--like a nightingale," he felt forced to confess.
"This was--where?"
"In San Juan, Porto Rico, two years back. I have not looked on her face
since I fled those shores."
"Ah!" and that one word expressed keen disappointment, for Cleo read
the story of his lost love in his face.