THE STRANGE MEETING IN THE DUNGEON.
A gentle tug at his coat made Roderic turn.
It was Inez, who desired to speak, and yet who knew she should not
utter a word above the lowest whisper.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Tell me--are we not nearing there--I am so anxious--my heart almost
suffocates me, for it beats like wildfire," she gasped.
He pitied her, for he could easily understand why she should thus feel
distressed.
"Courage--we cannot be far away from his cell now. Bear up, and all
will be well. To fail at this time would mean his death."
Roderic did not add that their own fate would probably be also
sealed--he knew that fact only too well, but it was useless to mention
it.
At any rate all Inez thought of was Leon's welfare.
She seemed to call upon some reserve force, and her companion knew the
crisis had been safely passed, for which he was deeply thankful.
When he said he believed they were near the spot where they would find
Leon, he spoke truly.
There were strong evidences of dungeons all around them, some with the
doors entirely gone, while others had a stout barrier hanging from one
great rusty hinge.
It might be supposed that ere long they would run across those still
remaining in a good state of preservation, and in which prisoners were
confined.
Perhaps an especial guard had been stationed in the passage.
If so it would be Roderic's duty to take care of him, and to this end
he had previously made ample preparation.
Desperate measures are only carried to a successful issue by heroic
treatment, and no man was better equipped for this purpose than the
American who dared enter San Juan while the Spanish flag still waved
over the walls.
The darkness was now against them, and it would have been almost
impossible to advance but for a streak of luck that separated clouds
and moon, and allowed the latter to sift her silvery radiance down
through various breaches in the overhanging walls, thus dissipating to
some extent the appalling gloom.
Thanks then to this feeble illumination Roderic with his keen vision
was enabled to discover a figure ahead.
Spanish soldiers doing duty in the tropics are generally in the habit
of wearing white uniforms made of some coarse drilling or canvas.
It was this fact that betrayed the presence of the guard, and Roderic
mentally thanked his lucky stars for the favor.
He watched the man.
The Spaniard seemed nervous, and would walk up and down with jerky
steps, stopping now and then to try the doors of several cells.
Roderic was unable to decide what the man was up to, since Spanish
soldiers as a rule are not given to exert themselves overly much.
Now and then the fellow would stop, and at such times his attitude
strongly reminded the watcher of one who was straining his hearing in
the hope of catching some eagerly anticipated signal.
After a little reflection Roderic felt compelled to decide that the
fellow was anxiously waiting for a relief guard to appear, although
this hardly satisfied him.
His duty in the premises was clear enough.
That guard was in the way.
He threatened to block their game just when, after surmounting so many
difficulties, it promised to bring them success.
Such a thing could not be allowed.
The guard would have to succumb, like all Spaniards, to superior Yankee
dominion.
First he must give Inez warning as to his intentions, so that she might
not be alarmed when he quitted her side.
He found her very sensible, for she realized that some such move must
be adopted to get rid of the miserable sentry.
"Spare him not, senor--he has doubtless taken delight in torturing
my Leon--have no pity on the wretch," she whispered in his ear, with
considerable warmth.
Roderic had his own notion about the eternal fitness of things, and
being a cool, sensible American instead of a hot blooded Spaniard, he
was decidedly averse to shedding blood when such a thing might possibly
be avoided.
There were other ways of accomplishing the same end, this Yankee brain
decided.
With a few last words of caution to Inez, who was trembling all over
with excitement, he left her and started upon his advance.
An old Indian fighter might have been proud of the progress Roderic
made.
He imitated a cat creeping upon a bird, his eyes being glued upon the
white garbed figure of the guard, and every movement governed by that
of the man who carried the Mauser.
Foot by foot he went forward.
The guard was muttering to himself as he still moved restlessly from
one heavy door to another.
Something undoubtedly disturbed him, but it was a mystery to Roderic,
who could not quite catch the words he let fall, and which might have
simplified matters had he heard them.
The closer he drew the more cautious he became.
Everything depended on the successful issue of his plans; even his own
future happiness was at stake in the matter.
It may be taken for granted, therefore, that he exercised his utmost
care, for after all there is no motive so positive of good results in
a general way, as self interest--it makes a success of co-operative
factories wherever tried.
Roderic was finally in a position to lay his plans for a finish.
He waited until the man's back was turned and then slipped forward to a
certain dark doorway previously selected.
Then he awaited the return of the sentry--awaited him as the tiger lies
in cover for his advancing prey, with muscles tense and drawn, and
every small nerve on the alert for the desperate charge.
Ah! the fellow in pursuing his eccentric tactics had reached what
appeared to be the terminus of his beat, and wheeling had started back,
utterly unconscious of what lay in store for him and that each nervous
step took him closer to his fate.
Roderic was perfectly cool and collected--he was not in the habit of
giving way to excitement and losing his advantage.
As he thus lay in wait and watched the advance of the dusky figure
which he had set out to overcome, he even selected the very portion of
the sentry's person upon which he should throw his full force.
Closer still.
The man's fate hung like the sword of Damocles, as by a single hair.
Roderic timed his leap with such precision that he struck the sentry
totally unawares.
A dark figure launched forward like a gigantic bat--the man only had
time to give a gurgle of surprise when a firm hand closed on his
throat, and the sound died there.
Such was the impetus of Roderic's advance that the two of them went to
the stone floor.
Immediately the American felt his antagonist cease to struggle, and he
knew the other must have been knocked senseless through the blow on the
head received when he came in contact with the flagging.
The percussion had sounded loud enough at least, to account for his
having lost all interest in affairs mundane.
Roderic hoped he was not killed, nor did he have any reason to believe
such a fate had overtaken the wretched guard.
At least everything seemed to be working beautifully in his favor, and
he certainly could find no cause for complaint.
What was to be done with this pretty thing, now that he had secured the
prize?
The man might prove to be something of a white elephant on his hands.
However, his first move was to drag out some stout cord, with which he
made the fellow's hands and feet secure.
In doing so he could not but notice,--through touch more than sight,
since the darkness was only partially dissipated by the moon's
inquisitive beams that forced an entrance--that the luckless guard had
delicate hands such as he had seldom noticed among the common Spanish
soldiers.
At another time he might have endeavored to assign some logical reason
for this thing, but just at the present crisis it mattered little.
The end and not the means engrossed his fullest attention.
When he took hold of the senseless guard and began dragging him across
the corridor to the shade that lay more densely in that quarter, it was
only with the intention of getting him out of the way, so that in case
any one came along he would not stumble over the fellow and thus have
the peculiar status of affairs rudely thrust upon his attention.
Perhaps Roderic was not as careful as he might and should have been--at
any rate he tripped and fell over some object lying in his way.
Even as he went down he was strongly impressed with the suspicion that
what he had taken his cropper over was a human being, and possibly a
second guard enjoying a quiet nap.
Hence, Roderic scrambled up in all haste with the intention of throwing
himself upon the fellow, and if possible preventing him from giving the
alarm, for that was what his wretched mistake might end in.
To his surprise as well as gratification there was not the least sign
of an aroused sentry endeavoring to gather his scattered senses and
shout for help.
All was silent.
He put out his hand, groping for the object which had been the cause
of his tumble.
When finally he touched it a peculiar sensation flashed over him from
head to foot, for in truth it was a human being.
Could the man be dead?
Had there been some drunken dispute between the guards resulting in a
tragedy?
He remembered the peculiar actions of the man who now lay bound near by.
Bending over the second fellow he speedily made a discovery of some
moment.
A strong scent of liquor greeted him and his hand came upon the flask
still clutched in the miserable guard's hand.
Where he got it, and why the second man did not take his share were
puzzling questions which Roderic only shook his head over.
For him it was quite sufficient that the two sentries had in different
ways been rendered _hors de combat_, and would so far as he could see,
give him no further trouble.
So he left them there, the second chap with his head resting lovingly
upon the body of the toper, two of a kind and well matched, he
considered.
Perhaps there would be a reckoning when the officer of the guard came
around later, though if the flask still contained a portion of its
original contents he might forgive the erring one.
Roderic sincerely hoped he had seen the last of the two guards--he
expressed a low but earnest desire that their slumbers might be sweet,
and indefinitely prolonged--at least until his desperate work had been
accomplished.
He uttered a low signal, the same bird call that, trilling forth at the
tower corner of the fortress had brought Inez to his side.
She heard and gladly tripped forward.
It was a supreme moment for her--the girl was tremendously excited,
and cast several quick glances toward the spot where the demoralized
section of the invincible Spanish army lay.
Roderic noticed how her eager hand crept toward her bosom as she looked
toward the dimly seen figures, and he quickly said:
"Come, we must find the door of his cell."
"You leave foes upon the trail you must tread on your return," was the
significant way in which she put it.
"They are helpless--God forbid I should do murder," he returned,
knowing at the same time that the Spanish way was the safer way.
The first cell door was beside them.
Roderic, bending over discovered that it was secured by a heavy iron
bar--so far as he could see there was no other obstacle to an entrance.
He seized upon this and exerting his strength threw it over.
It made something of a clanking sound, possibly subdued, but to
Roderic's mind very like the gong of a railway station dining room.
Inez uttered a low cry of alarm and he could hear her whisper the name
of her patron saint, as if invoking heavenly aid.
"It's all right--don't be alarmed," he said, encouragingly.
Roderic waited to draw out a little pocket lantern which when lighted
would throw some illumination upon their path.
This done he tried the door, and finding it fast put his shoulder to it.
Under such pressure further resistance was utterly out of the
question, and the heavy barrier quickly gave way.
Inez would have rushed headlong in but Roderic's sturdy arm
prevented--he believed it was his duty to still lead the van so long
as the future was unknown--it would be time enough to yield that place
of vantage to his frail companion in the venture when success had been
assured.
So they passed into the gloomy dungeon, the history of which would
doubtless prove interesting reading as shedding a strong light upon
Spain's methods of colonizing, for in the years gone no doubt many
a political prisoner had been tortured here with all the despotic
barbarism that marked the infernal Inquisition of old.
Looking eagerly around the cell Roderic almost immediately discovered
the object of his search.
Some one was standing beside a chair at the further end--some one who
had evidently risen hastily at the sound of the clanking iron bar--some
one who uttered a cry at their rough entrance.
Roderic saw and was at once struck with the astonishing likeness to
Georgia in the smooth faced young man standing there; but he had been
prepared for that fact since she herself had impressed it on his mind
when he demanded how he might know Leon should he meet him.
Yes, brother and sister were very much alike and the sight of him just
then gave Roderic something of a shock, since it seemed as though he
were gazing upon Georgia.
There was no longer any need of restraining Inez--at sight of the
prisoner she had uttered a cry bubbling over with limitless delight and
unable to longer keep back the eager desire to reach him, to convince
her ravished eyes that they did not deceive her soul, she sped forward.
Not straighter does the arrow fly from the warrior's bow than this
devoted Spanish girl went to the object of her devotion.
Surely eyes of love could easily recognize in the seeming youth the
beautiful daughter of Morro's governor.
Her hat had fallen off in the struggle with Roderic, and her luxuriant
hair dropped almost to her waist, rendering further deception utterly
out of the question.
Roderic fully expected to see the amazed prisoner open his arms and
eagerly take her close to his heart in a transport of joy.
It was only natural that he should look for just such an ending to the
devoted wife's adventurous search.
To the astonishment of the American nothing of the kind
occurred--indeed, a result about as contrary as one could well
conceive, came to pass.
As Inez was about to throw her arms about the figure of the handsome
young fellow, he put out his hand and gave her a vigorous push aside, a
push that caused the poor girl to stagger back against the wall.
And with his great black eyes flashing with indignation the prisoner
cried out:
"Do not dare to touch me--go back to yonder double faced traitor, and
leave me to my fate. I would sooner be left here to moulder than be
rescued by you, _creature_!"
Roderic was panic stricken--he could scarcely believe the evidence of
his senses--the prisoner of the dungeon was to all appearances Leon,
yet the voice was that of Georgia--the words evidently spoken by one
racked with jealousy, who saw in Inez a hated rival!