DR. BAROSA SCORES
Barosa was carrying a sheet or two of writing paper, and in the glance
I caught of his profile as he shut the door carefully behind him, I
noticed that his hard strong features were paler than usual. His set
determined expression and manner were those of a man who knows he is
face to face with a grave crisis.
“You are surprised to see me, Mr. Donnington,” he said as he turned to
me; and his voice, deep and vibrating, confirmed my diagnosis.
“Yes, I am.”
“Let me explain. The Contesse Inglesia has told me what has passed
between you and that you desire to have a written statement from me
concerning Mademoiselle Dominguez and her relations; and I thought it
could be more conveniently drawn up at once.”
“I am waiting for her to leave the house with me.”
“I am aware of that. She will no doubt be here in a moment and can
perhaps assist us in writing this. Will you tell me what you wish
written?”
“I have told the contesse; and you are quite able to do all I need,” I
answered shortly.
“You will understand how profoundly I myself am concerned by all this.
My liberty, my life, and what is far more to me than my life, are at
stake. You have ascertained all our plans, and I feel it imperative to
ask what use you intend to make of anything you compel me to write.”
“It will never be used at all unless it should become necessary in
order to explain Mademoiselle Dominguez’ connexion with your plot.”
“Become necessary?” he repeated. “What does that mean?”
“If the plot should be discovered and she should be in any danger.”
“But it has been discovered already. It has failed. You discovered it
because of the facts which had come to your knowledge as the result of
the Rua Catania affair.”
“I do not intend to discuss the matter with you, Dr. Barosa. You can do
as you please about writing what I require.”
“And if I refuse?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “You must infer what you will.”
“I will put it on another ground. I accepted unconditionally your
pledge of secrecy and was instrumental in saving you subsequently from
very serious consequences at the hands of those who questioned your
good faith. As a return for that service I ask you to tell me exactly
what you know.”
“The service of which you speak was followed by your secret visit to
my rooms--with Henriques; and Major Sampayo told me this morning the
object of that visit,” I said very drily. “Sampayo was very frank about
you.”
“What did he say?” he asked, quite unruffled by this thrust.
“You can ask him on his return. And now, I am going.”
He had remained close to the door and he turned and locked it and put
the key in his pocket.
“Our interview cannot end in this abrupt way, Mr. Donnington. The cause
I have at heart may be ruined by you. You have told Contesse Inglesia
that you were on the _Rampallo_ the night before last, and I must know
what you overheard and what use you intend to make of that information.”
“Open that door or give me the key,” I said sternly.
“I shall do neither. I am armed, as probably you are; and if you wish
to force a struggle you must do so.”
Like a fool, I had come without a revolver; but I clapped my hand to my
pocket as if I had one there; and then paused. “I don’t want your blood
on my head,” I exclaimed.
But he was not deceived. “Ah, I perceive you have not thought that
precaution necessary,” he said quietly. “Well, I mean you no harm, but
we must talk this thing out and then I pledge you my word to open the
door. Will you answer my questions?”
I was, in a mess, and if I was to get out, it would not be by force;
unless I could succeed in catching him off his guard. So I threw myself
into a chair and laughed. “You are right. I am not armed. But the
weapon I have is stronger than a revolver. I had my suspicions roused
about the _Rampallo_, and I got on board her in time to hear all your
discussion on the news which M. Dagara sent you.”
“Ah, as a spy!” he sneered.
“Yes; as a spy, if you like. As a result, Captain Gompez and his
companions carried me off instead of the king; and this morning my men
from the _Stella_ came aboard and I returned here.”
“Where are my friends now?”
“On the _Rampallo_ in charge of my people.”
“Why did you interfere? What could it matter to you?”
“You know perfectly well. Sampayo told you, after my interview with
him three days ago. He begged you to cut the net in which you had
involved Mademoiselle Dominguez. He told me this morning what I had
only suspected before and what the Contesse Inglesia does not even
suspect--your real motive.”
“He has lied to you of course.”
“Lies or truth, it doesn’t alter the present situation. Even if you
draw your revolver and put one of its bullets in my head you won’t help
matters. I have taken that precaution, you may be perfectly certain.”
“You mean to betray us all to the Government?” he asked after a pause,
during which he drew his hand slowly from his pocket.
“I tell you what I have already told the contesse. My object is
entirely personal. You can fight out your battle with your Government
in your own way; but I mean to gain my end. When once that is gained, I
shan’t be more minutes in Lisbon than I can help.”
Again he paused. He realized no doubt that he had to choose between
giving up Miralda or sacrificing his cause and all concerned in it. A
dilemma searching enough to make him thoughtful.
“You will give me your pledge to keep absolutely silent?” he asked at
length.
“It is for me to impose conditions, not for you.”
“How do I know that all has occurred as you tell me?”
“You can please yourself. I have a paper signed by Sampayo and Gompez
and all the rest of them.”
“Show it me.”
“Certainly.”
This might offer me the chance I sought. I took it out and held it
toward him, intending to close with him the instant he came near
enough. But he was too wary. “Throw it to me,” he said.
“You can read it from there,” I replied, and held it up so that he
could do so.
“And where is the _Rampallo_ now?”
I smiled and shook my head. “I have been very frank as to what has
occurred; but what is going to occur is my own business.”
“You say these men have let you make them prisoners?”
“They say so themselves here.”
“And they are absolutely in your power to deliver them up to the
Government when you please?”
“Absolutely. And they will be given up and a full statement of the
facts made, unless I determine otherwise.”
That hit him as hard as I intended.
“When?” he rapped out.
“That also I must leave you guessing. If you are under the belief that
by keeping me here or doing me any sort of mischief you will prevent
all this getting out, you are merely deluding yourself.”
He paused once more and then tossed up his hands. “You have left me no
option,” he said with a sigh. “What do you wish me to write?”
“That Mademoiselle Dominguez and her brother were forced into this
affair by you and that she was never aware of the nature of the
communications she received from Dagara.”
“I will write it,” he said at once. “Here is the key of the door;” and
he threw the key to me as he crossed to a table and sat down to write.
I drew a breath of relief. I had won more easily than I had
anticipated. Whatever his intentions had been at the outset of the
interview, he had apparently abandoned them on learning that to do
anything to me would not avert discovery or save his companions.
He found some difficulty in wording the paper and tore up a couple of
sheets with an exclamation of impatience. Several minutes were spent in
this way.
When he had finished the writing he handed it to me. “Will that do?”
I read it carefully. It was almost in the words I had used, and I
folded it up and put it in my pocket, well satisfied that, should
any emergency arise requiring its use, it would prove a sufficient
confirmation of the story I had to tell.
“I am satisfied,” I said.
“You will leave Lisbon at once, Mr. Donnington, and will keep
absolutely silent as to all that has occurred?”
“Yes, unless circumstances arise in which I am compelled to use this
document on Mademoiselle Dominguez’ behalf.”
“I quite understand that, and can accept your word absolutely,” he
replied. As I went toward the door, he added: “You will pardon the
means I adopted to secure this interview, and will understand how vital
it was that I should know the position precisely?”
“So long as you recognize it, that’s enough for me.”
“Oh, wait one moment,” he cried, as I put the key in the lock. “We have
forgotten one very important point. I have been intensely disturbed by
all this, as you will have seen; and that is the cause of my oversight.
You will arrange for my friends to be set at liberty at once?”
“Certainly; as soon as practicable.”
“To-day, I mean?”
“That is not possible. The _Rampallo_ is out at sea. I will send the
_Stella_ after her; but it will be at least two days before the two
yachts can be back in port.”
His face clouded. “That is very serious. These officers are absent from
their regiment without leave and exceedingly awkward questions may be
asked. It may mean ruin for them.”
“I presume they knew the risk they were running.”
“Had they succeeded there would have been no risk of course. On the
contrary, they would have had their reward. Had the cause of their
failure been other than it was, they would have been able to return
to duty at once; but as it is----” he broke off and paced the room in
great perturbation. “Could you have them put on shore somewhere along
the coast so as to save time?”
“No. The _Rampallo_ has steamed straight out into the Atlantic.”
He tossed up his hands with an exclamation of despair. “I beg you to
remain a minute while we consider this. I can think of but one way. It
may be two days, you say?”
“Possibly less,” I replied. “We parted company this morning about seven
o’clock. The _Rampallo_ makes about eight or nine knots under easy
steam and was about forty miles out. The _Stella_ covers two knots to
her one; and if we assume that the _Rampallo_ has nine hours start, and
allow for the time necessary to pick her up, the _Stella_ should reach
her in about twelve hours. The _Rampallo_ would be about twenty-four
hours on the homeward run and should make the river the day after
to-morrow in the early morning.”
“If they returned in your yacht they would be here sooner.”
“But the _Stella_ will not return here.”
“Could you not let her do so? The matter is very serious indeed.”
“No. I shall send orders that my men are to return to the _Stella_.
Those who took the _Rampallo_ to sea must bring her back.”
“You will not be surprised if I press you to let them return in your
yacht. I do press it, very earnestly indeed.”
“I can’t do it, Dr. Barosa.”
“Well, then, I must fall back on my first thought. The _Rampallo_ must
be wrecked, and Gompez and the rest take to the boat. That would give a
plausible reason for their absence.”
I smiled. It was certainly ingenious. “The weather has been rather
against anything of that sort,” I reminded him.
“That is not serious. As I gather it, you will send out an order at
once to your boat to go after the _Rampallo_ and just take off the men
you have on her. Will you let me send a letter by--your captain will it
be?”
“Captain Bolton.”
“Well, will you let me send a letter by him to Gompez?”
“Yes, if you give it me at once.”
He began to write it at once and, as before, found difficulty in
framing it, and tore up several sheets. “I can trust your captain to
deliver it unopened?” he asked.
“Of course you can. But I must ask you to get it done,” I said
impatiently.
He made a fresh start; wrote a dozen lines or so, and again tore up the
sheet, this time with a muttered oath of vexation.
“I am sorry to try your patience so, Mr. Donnington; but I have been
so disturbed that I am scarcely master of my thoughts. Will you let me
send this to your boat later on? Or will you write your instructions to
your captain and let me send them both together?”
“Yes, that will do as well,” I said.
He got up from the table and made way for me. I began a note to the
skipper telling him to hunt up the _Rampallo_ and take off Burroughs
and the men; and was proceeding to add that he should then steam to
Plymouth, when it occurred to me that I might possibly persuade Miralda
and her mother to leave on the _Stella_ at once.
I paused and by chance glanced in a mirror just opposite me, in which I
saw Barosa. He was watching me with a look of cunning, gloating triumph
that in an instant my suspicions awoke. He was fooling me. All his show
of concern for his companions, his inability to master his thoughts,
his suggestion about wrecking the _Rampallo_ and all the rest of it,
were tricks, nothing more, to fool me to put this order into his hands
so that he might get his friends at liberty.
Careful not to let him know that I had seen him, I resumed the writing.
But after adding a couple of lines I scribbled the word “Cancelled” in
big sprawling letters right across the paper, rose with a laugh and
tore it into minute fragments. “I’m like you, Dr. Barosa, I cannot
write. I’ll see my skipper and tell him personally; and you can send
your letter to him later. I’ll tell him to wait for it.”
“That will answer the same purpose, of course,” he said, not quite
successful in hiding his chagrin. “I will send it to the yacht in less
than an hour.”
“Will you see that Mademoiselle Dominguez comes to me?” I said, and
unlocked the door.
As I threw open the door he caught me by the arm. “Wait a moment, there
is another----”
The sentence was not finished. I turned at his voice and a cloth was
thrown over my head, I was seized before I had a chance to resist, my
arms were pinioned and a gag thrust into my mouth; and I was carried
down the stairs and flung on the floor of a room the door of which was
locked and bolted.