The flight of time brought no alleviation to the troubles of Aureataland. If an individual hard up is a pathetic sight, a nation hard up is an alarming spectacle; and Aureataland was very hard up. I suppose somebody had some money. But the Government had none; in consequence the Government employees had none, the officials had none, the President had none, and finally, I had none. The bank had a little—of other people’s, of course—but I was quite prepared for a “run” on us any day, and had cabled to the directors to implore a remittance in cash, for our notes were at a discount humiliating to contemplate. Political strife ran high. I dropped into the House of Assembly one afternoon toward the end of May, and, looking down from the gallery, saw the colonel in the full tide of wrathful declamation. He was demanding of miserable Don Antonio when the army was to be paid. The latter sat cowering under his scorn, and would, I verily believe, have bolted out of the House had he not been nailed to his seat by the cold eye of the President, who was looking on from his box. The minister on rising had nothing to urge but vague promises of speedy payment; but he utterly lacked the confident effrontery of his chief, and nobody was deceived by his weak protestations. I left the House in a considerable uproar, and strolled on to the house of a friend of mine, one Mme. Devarges, the widow of a French gentleman who had found his way to Whittingham from New Calendonia. Politeness demanded the assumption that he had found his way to New Caledonia owing to political troubles, but the usual cloud hung over the precise date and circumstances of his patriotic sacrifice. Madame sometimes considered it necessary to bore herself and others with denunciations of the various tyrants or would-be tyrants of France; but, apart from this pious offering on the shrine of her husband’s reputation, she was a bright and pleasant little woman. I found assembled round her tea-table a merry party, including Donna Antonia, unmindful of her father’s agonies, and one Johnny Carr, who deserves mention as being the only honest man in Aureataland. I speak, of course, of the place as I found it. He was a young Englishman, what they call a “cadet,” of a good family, shipped off with a couple of thousand pounds to make his fortune. Land was cheap among us, and Johnny had bought an estate and settled down as a landowner. Recently he had blossomed forth as a keen Constitutionalist and a devoted admirer of the President’s, and held a seat in the assembly in that interest. Johnny was not a clever man nor a wise one, but he was merry, and, as I have thought it necessary to mention, honest.
“Hallo, Johnny! Why not at the House?” said I to him. “You’ll want every vote to-night. Be off and help the ministry, and take Donna Antonia with you. They’re eating up the Minister of Finance.”
“All right! I’m going as soon as I’ve had another muffin,” said Johnny. “But what’s the row about?”
“Well, they want their money,” I replied; “and Don Antonio won’t give it them. Hence bad feeling.”
“Tell you what it is,” said Johnny; “he hasn’t got a—”
Here Donna Antonia struck in, rather suddenly, I thought.
“Do stop the gentleman talking politics, Mme. Devarges. They’ll spoil our tea-party.”
“Your word is law,” I said; “but I should like to know what Don Antonio hasn’t got.”
“Now do be quiet,” she rejoined; “isn’t it quite enough that he has got—a charming daughter?”
“And a most valuable one,” I replied, with a bow, for I saw that for some reason or other Donna Antonia did not mean to let me pump Johnny Carr, and I wanted to pump him.
“Don’t say another word, Mr. Carr,” she said, with a laugh. “You know you don’t know anything, do you?”
“Good Lord, no!” said Johnny.
Meanwhile Mme. Devarges was giving me a cup of tea. As she handed it to me, she said in a low voice:
“If I were his friend I should take care Johnny didn’t know anything, Mr. Martin.”
“If I were his friend I should take care he told me what he knew, Mme. Devarges,” I replied.
“Perhaps that’s what the colonel thinks,” she said. “Johnny has just been telling us how very attentive he has become. And the signorina too, I hear.”
“You don’t mean that?” I exclaimed. “But, after all, pure kindness, no doubt!”
“You have received many attentions from those quarters,” she said. “No doubt you are a good judge of the motives.”
“Don’t, now don’t be disagreeable,” said I. “I came here for peace.”
“Poor young man! have you lost all your money? Is it possible that you, like Don Antonio, haven’t got a—”
“What is going to happen?” I asked, for Mme. Devarges often had information.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But if I owned national bonds, I should sell.”
“Pardon me, madame; you would offer to sell.”
She laughed.
“Ah! I see my advice comes too late.”
I did not see any need to enlighten her farther. So I passed on to Donna Antonia, who had sat somewhat sulkily since her outburst. I sat down by her and said:
“Surely I haven’t offended you?”
“You know you wouldn’t care if you had,” she said, with a reproachful but not unkind glance. “Now, if it were the signorina—”
I never object to bowing down in the temple of Rimmon, so I said:
“Hang the signorina!”
“If I thought you meant that,” said Donna Antonia, “I might be able to help you.”
“Do I want help?” I asked.
“Yes,” said she.
“Then suppose I do mean it?”
Donna Antonia refused to be frivolous. With a look of genuine distress she said:
“You will not let your real friends save you, Mr. Martin. You know you want help. Why don’t you consider the state of your affairs?”
“In that, at least, my friends in Whittingham are very ready to help me,” I answered, with some annoyance.
“If you take it in that way,” she replied sadly, “I can do nothing.”
I was rather touched. Clearly she wished to be of some use to me, and for a moment I thought I might do better to tear myself free from my chains, and turn to the refuge opened to me. But I could not do this; and, thinking it would be rather mean to take advantage of her interest in me only to use it for my own purposes, I yielded to conscience and said:
“Donna Antonia, I will be straightforward with you. You can only help me if I accept your guidance? I can’t do that. I am too deep in.”
“Yes, you are deep in, and eager to be deeper,” she said. “Well, so be it. If that is so I cannot help you.”
“Thank you for your kind attempt,” said I. “I shall very likely be sorry some day that I repulse it. I shall always be glad to remember that you made it.”
She looked at me a moment, and said:
“We have ruined you among us.”
“Mind, body, and estate?”
She made no reply, and I saw my return to flippancy wounded her. So I rose and took my leave. Johnny Carr went with me.
“Things look queer, eh, old man?” said he. “But the President will pull through in spite of the colonel and his signorina.”
“Johnny,” said I, “you hurt my feelings; but, still, I will give you a piece of advice.”
“Drive on,” said Johnny.
“Marry Donna Antonia,” said I. “She’s a good girl and a clever girl, and won’t let you get drunk or robbed.”
“By Jove, that’s not a bad idea!” said he. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
“Because I’m like you, Johnny—an ass,” I replied, and left him wondering why, if he was an ass and I was an ass, one ass should marry Donna Antonia, and not both or neither.
As I went along I bought theGazette, the government organ, and read therein:
“At a Cabinet Council this afternoon, presided over by his Excellency, we understand that the arrangements connected with the national debt formed the subject of discussion. The resolutions arrived at are at present strictly confidential, but we have the best authority for stating that the measures to be adopted will have the effect of materially alleviating the present tension, and will afford unmixed satisfaction to the immense majority of the citizens of Aureataland. The President will once again be hailed as the saviour of his country.”
“I wonder if the immense majority will include me,” said I. “I think I will go and see his Excellency.”
Accordingly, the next morning I took my way to the Golden House, where I learned that the President was at the Ministry of Finance. Arriving there, I sent in my card, writing thereon a humble request for a private interview. I was ushered into Don Antonio’s room, where I found the minister himself, the President, and Johnny Carr. As I entered and the servant, on a sign from his Excellency, placed a chair for me, the latter said rather stiffly:
“As I presume this is a business visit, Mr. Martin, it is more regular that I should receive you in the presence of one of my constitutional advisers. Mr. Carr is acting as my secretary, and you can speak freely before him.”
I was annoyed at failing in my attempt to see the President alone, but not wishing to show it, I merely bowed and said:
“I venture to intrude on your Excellency, in consequence of a letter from my directors. They inform me that, to use their words, disquieting rumors’ are afloat on the exchanges in regard to the Aureataland loan, and they direct me to submit to your Excellency the expediency of giving some public notification relative to the payment of the interest falling due next month. It appears from their communication that it is apprehended that some difficulty may occur in the matter.”
“Would not this application, if necessary at all, have been, more properly made to the Ministry of Finance in the first instance?” said the President. “These details hardly fall within my province.”
“I can only follow my instructions, your Excellency,” I replied.
“Have you any objection, Mr. Martin,” said the President, “to allowing myself and my advisers to see this letter?”
“I am empowered to submit it only to your Excellency’s own eye.”
“Oh, only to my eye,” said he, with an amused expression. “That was why the interview was to be private?”
“Exactly, sir,” I replied. “I intend no disrespect to the Minister of Finance or to your secretary, sir, but I am bound by my orders.”
“You are an exemplary servant, Mr. Martin. But I don’t think I need trouble you about it further. Is it a cable?”
He smiled so wickedly at this question that I saw he had penetrated my little fiction. However, I only said:
“A letter, sir.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said he to the others, “I think we may reassure Mr. Martin. Tell your directors this, Mr. Martin: The Government does not see any need of a public notification, and none will be made. I think we agree, gentlemen, that to acknowledge the necessity of any such action would be highly derogatory. But assure them that the President has stated to you, Mr. Martin, personally, with the concurrence of his advisers, that he anticipates no difficulties in your being in a position to remit the full amount of interest to them on the proper day.”
“I may assure them, sir, that the interest will be punctually paid?”
“Surely I expressed myself in a manner you could understand,” said he, with the slightest emphasis on the “you.” “Aureataland will meet her obligations. You will receive all your due, Mr. Martin. That is so, gentlemen?”
Don Antonio acquiesced at once. Johnny Carr, I noticed, said nothing, and fidgeted rather uneasily in his chair. I knew what the President meant. He meant, “If we don’t pay, pay it out of your reserve fund.” Alas, the reserve fund was considerably diminished; I had enough, and just enough, left to pay the next installment if I paid none of my own debts. I felt very vicious as I saw his Excellency taking keen pleasure in the consciousness of my difficulties (for he had a shrewd notion of how the land lay), but of course I could say nothing. So I rose and bowed myself out, feeling I had gained nothing, except a very clear conviction that I should not see the color of the President’s money on the next interest day. True, I could just pay myself. But what would happen next time? And if he wouldn’t pay, and I couldn’t pay, the game would be up. As to the original loan, it is true I had no responsibility; but then, if no interest were paid, the fact that I had applied the second loan,myloan, in a different manner from what I was authorized to do, and had represented myself to have done, would be inevitably discovered. And my acceptance of the bonus, my dealings with the reserve fund, my furnishing inaccurate returns of investments, all this would, I knew, look rather queer to people who didn’t know the circumstances.
When I went back to the bank, revolving these things in my mind, I found Jones employed in arranging the correspondence. It was part of his duty to see to the preservation and filing of all letters arriving from Europe, and, strange to say, he delighted in the task. It was part of my duty to see he did his; so I sat down and began to turn over the pile of letters and messages which he had put on my desk; they dated back two years; this surprised me, and I said:
“Rather behindhand, aren’t you. Jones?”
“Yes, sir, rather. Fact is, I’ve done ‘em before, but as you’ve never initialed ‘em, I thought I ought to bring ‘em to your notice.”
“Quite right—very neglectful of me. I suppose they’re all right?”
“Yes, sir, all right.”
“Then I won’t trouble to go through them.”
“They’re all there, sir, except, of course, the cable about the second loan, sir.”
“Except what?” I said.
“The cable about the second loan,” he repeated.
I was glad to be reminded of this, for of course I wished to remove that document before the bundle finally took its place among the archives. Indeed, I thought I had done so. But why had Jones removed it? Surely Jones was not as skeptical as that?
“Ah, and where have you put that?”
“Why, sir, his Excellency took that.”
“What?” I cried.
“Yes, sir. Didn’t I mention it? Why, the day after you and the President were here that night, his Excellency came down in the afternoon, when you’d gone out to the Piazza, and said he wanted it. He said, sir, that you’d said it was to go to the Ministry of Finance. He was very affable, sir, and told me that it was necessary the original should be submitted to the minister for his inspection; and as he was passing by (he’d come in to cash a check on his private account) he’d take it up himself. Hasn’t he given it back to you, sir? He said he would.”
I had just strength enough to gasp out:
“Slipped his memory, no doubt. All right, Jones.”
“May I go now, sir?” said Jones. “Mrs. Jones wanted me to go with her to—”
“Yes, go,” said I, and as he went out I added a destination different, no doubt, from what the good lady had proposed. For I saw it all now. That old villain (pardon my warmth) had stolen my forged cable, and, if need arose, meant to produce it as his own justification. I had been done, done brown—and Jones’ idiocy had made the task easy. I had no evidence but my word that the President knew the message was fabricated. Up till now I had thought that if I stood convicted I should have the honor of his Excellency’s support in the dock. But now! why now, I might prove myself a thief, but I couldn’t prove him one. I had convinced Jones, not for my good, but for his. I had forged papers, not for my good, but for his. True, I had spent the money myself, but—
“Damn it all!” I cried in the bitterness of my spirit, “he won about three-quarters of that.”
And his Excellency’s words came back to my memory, “I make the most of my opportunities.”
The next week was a busy one for me. I spent it in scraping together every bit of cash I could lay my hands on. If I could get together enough to pay the interest on the three hundred thousand dollars supposed to be invested in approved securities,—really disposed of in a manner only known to his Excellency,—I should have six months to look about me. Now, remaining out of my “bonus” wasnil, out of my “reserve fund” ten thousand dollars. This was enough. But alas! how happened it that this sum was in my hands? Because I had borrowed five thousand from the bank! If they wouldn’t let their own manager overdraw, whom would they? So I overdrew. But if this money wasn’t back before the monthly balancing, Jones would know! And I dared not rely on being able to stop his mouth again. When I said Johnny Carr was the only honest man in Aureataland I forgot Jones. To my grief and annoyance Jones also was honest, and Jones would consider it his duty to let the directors know of my overdraft. If once they knew, I was lost, for an overdraft effected privately from the safe by the manager is, I do not deny it, decidedly irregular. Unless I could add five thousand dollars to my ten thousand before the end of the month I should have to bolt!
This melancholy conclusion was reenforced and rendered demonstrable by a letter which arrived, to crown my woes, from my respected father, informing me that he had unhappily become indebted to our chairman in the sum of two thousand pounds, the result of a deal between them, that he had seen the chairman, that the chairman was urgent for payment, that he used most violent language against our family in general, ending by declaring his intention of stopping my salary to pay the parental debt. “If he doesn’t like it he may go, and small loss.” This was a most unjustifiable proceeding, but I was hardly in a position to take up a high moral attitude toward the chairman, and in the result I saw myself confronted with the certainty of beggary and the probability of jail. But for this untoward reverse of fortune I might have taken courage and made a clean breast of my misdoings, relying on the chairman’s obligations to my father to pull me through. But now, where was I? I was, as Donna Antonia put it, very deep in indeed. So overwhelmed was I by my position, and so occupied with my frantic efforts to improve it, that I did not even find time to go and see the signorina, much as I needed comfort; and, as the days went on, I fell into such despair that I went nowhere, but sat dismally in my own rooms, looking at my portmanteau, and wondering how soon I must pack and fly, if not for life, at least for liberty.
At last the crash came. I was sitting in my office one morning, engaged in the difficult task of trying to make ten into fifteen, when I heard the clatter of hoofs.
A moment later the door was opened, and Jones ushered in Colonel McGregor. I nodded to the colonel, who came in with his usual leisurely step, sat himself down, and took off his gloves. I roused myself to say:
“What can I do for you, colonel?”
He waited till the door closed behind Jones, and then said:
“I’ve got to the bottom of it at last, Martin.”
This was true of myself also, but the colonel meant it in a different sense.
“Bottom of what?” I asked, rather testily.
“That old scamp’s villainy,” said he, jerking his thumb toward the Piazza and the statue of the Liberator. “He’s very ‘cute, but he’s made a mistake at last.”
“Do come to the point, colonel. What’s it all about?”
“Would you be surprised to hear,” said the colonel, adopting a famous mode of speech, “that the interest on the debt would not be paid on the 31st?”
“No, I shouldn’t,” said I resignedly.
“Would you be surprised to hear that no more interest would ever be paid?”
“The devil!” I cried, leaping up. “What do you mean, man?”
“The President,” said he calmly, “will, on the 31st instant,repudiate the national debt!”
I had nothing left to say. I fell back in my chair and gazed at the colonel, who was now employed in lighting a cigarette. At the same moment a sound of rapid wheels struck on my ears. Then I heard the sweet, clear voice I knew so well saying:
“I’ll just disturb him for a moment, Mr. Jones. I want him to tear himself from work for a day, and come for a ride.”
She opened my door, and came swiftly in. On seeing the colonel she took in the position, and said to that gentleman:
“Have you told him?”
“I have just done so, signorina,” he replied.
I had not energy enough to greet her; so she also sat down uninvited, and took off her gloves—not lazily, like the colonel, but with an air as though she would, if a man, take off her coat, to meet the crisis more energetically.
At last I said, with conviction:
“He’s a wonderful man! How did you find it out, colonel?”
“Had Johnny Carr to dine and made him drunk,” said that worthy.
“You don’t mean he trusted Johnny?”
“Odd, isn’t it?” said the colonel. “With his experience, too. He might have known Johnny was an ass. I suppose there was no one else.”
“He knew,” said the signorina, “anyone else in the place would betray him; he knew Johnny wouldn’t if he could help it. He underrated your powers, colonel.”
“Well,” said I, “I can’t help it, can I? My directors will lose. The bondholders will lose. But how does it hurt me?”
The colonel and the signorina both smiled gently.
“You do it very well, Martin,” said the former, “but it will save time if I state that both Signorina Nugent and myself are possessed of the details regarding the—” (The colonel paused, and stroked his mustache.)
“The second loan,” said the signorina.
I was less surprised at this, recollecting certain conversations.
“Ah! and how did you find that out?” I asked.
“She told me,” said the colonel, indicating his fair neighbor.
“And may I ask how you found it out, signorina?”
“The President told me,” said that lady.
“Did you make him drunk?”
“No, not drunk,” was her reply, in a very demure voice, and with downcast eyes.
We could guess how it had been done, but neither of us cared to pursue the subject. After a pause, I said:
“Well, as you both know all about it, it’s no good keeping up pretenses. It’s very kind of you to come and warn me.”
“You dear, good Mr. Martin,” said the signorina, “our motives are not purely those of friendship.”
“Why, how does it matter to you?”
“Simply this,” said she: “the bank and its excellent manager own most of the debt. The colonel and I own the rest. If it is repudiated, the bank loses; yes, but the manager, and the colonel, and the Signorina Nugent are lost!”
“I didn’t know this,” I said, rather bewildered.
“Yes,” said the colonel, “when the first loan was raised I lent him one hundred thousand dollars. We were thick then, and I did it in return for my rank and my seat in the Chamber. Since then I’ve bought up some more shares.”
“You got them cheap, I suppose?” said I. — “Yes,” he replied, “I averaged them at about seventy-five cents the five-dollar share.”
“And what do you hold now, nominally?”
“Three hundred thousand dollars,” said he shortly.
“I understand your interest in the matter. But you, signorina?”
The signorina appeared a little embarrassed. But at last she broke out:
“I don’t care if I do tell you. When I agreed to stay here, he [we knew whom she meant] gave me one hundred thousand dollars. And I had fifty thousand, or thereabouts, of my own that I had—”
“Saved out of your salary as a prima donna,” put in the colonel.
“What does it matter?” said she, flushing; “I had it. Well, then, what did he do? He persuaded me to put it all—the whole one hundred and fifty thousand—into his horrid debt. Oh! wasn’t it mean, Mr. Martin?”
The President had certainly combined business and pleasure in this matter.
“Disgraceful!” I remarked.
“And if that goes, I am penniless—penniless. And there’s poor aunt. What will she do?”
“Never mind your aunt,” said the colonel, rather rudely. “Well,” he went on, “you see we’re in the same boat with you, Martin.”
“Yes; and we shall soon be in the same deep water,” said I. — “Not at all!” said the colonel.
“Not at all!” echoed the signorina.
“Why, what on earth are you going to do?”
“Financial probity is the backbone of a country,” said the colonel. “Are we to stand by and see Aureataland enter on the shameful path of repudiation?”
“Never!” cried the signorina, leaping up with sparkling eyes. “Never!”
She looked enchanting. But business is business; and I said again:
“What are you going to do?”
“We are going, with your help, Martin, to prevent this national disgrace. We are going—” he lowered his voice, uselessly, for the signorina struck in, in a high, merry tone, waving her gloves over head and dancing a littlepas seulon the floor before me, with these remarkable words:
“Hurrah for the Revolution! Hip! hip! hurrah!”
She looked like a Goddess of Freedom in her high spirits and a Paris bonnet. I lost my mental balance. Leaping up, I grasped her round the waist, and we twirled madly about the office, the signorina breaking forth into the “Marseillaise.”
“For God’s sake, be quiet!” said McGregor, in a hoarse whisper, making a clutch at me as I sped past him. “If they hear you! Stop, I tell you, Christina!”
The signorina stopped.
“Do you mean me, Colonel McGregor?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, “and that fool Martin, too.”
“Even in times of revolution, colonel,” said I, “nothing is lost by politeness. But in substance you are right. Let us be sober.”
We sat down again, panting, the signorina between her gasps still faintly humming the psalm of liberty.
“Kindly unfold your plan, colonel,” I resumed. “I am aware that out here you think little of revolutions, but to a newcomer they appear to be matters requiring some management. You see we are only three.”
“I have the army with me,” said he grandly.
“In the outer office?” asked I, indulging in a sneer at the dimensions of the Aureataland forces.
“Look here, Martin,” he said, scowling, “if you’re coming in with us, keep your jokes to yourself.”
“Don’t quarrel, gentlemen,” said the signorina. “It’s waste of time. Tell him the plan, colonel, while I’m getting cool.”
I saw the wisdom of this advice, so I said:
“Your pardon, colonel. But won’t this repudiation be popular with the army? If he lets the debt slide, he can pay them.”
“Exactly,” said he. “Hence we must get at them before that aspect of the case strikes them. They are literally starving, and for ten dollars a man they would make Satan himself President. Have you got any money, Martin?”
“Yes,” said I, “a little.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand,” I replied; “I was keeping it for the interest.”
“Ah! you won’t want it now.”
“Indeed I shall—for the second loan, you know.”
“Look here, Martin; give me that ten thousand for the troops. Stand in with us, and the day I become President I’ll give you back your three hundred thousand. Just look where you stand now. I don’t want to be rude, but isn’t it a case of—”
“Some emergency,” said I thoughtfully. “Yes, it is. But where do you suppose you’re going to get three hundred thousand dollars, to say nothing of your own shares?”
He drew his chair closer to mine, and, leaning forward, said:
“He’s never spent the money. He’s got it somewhere; much the greater part, at least.”
“Did Carr tell you that?”
“He didn’t know for certain; but he told me enough to make it almost certain. Besides,” he added, glancing at the signorina, “we have other reasons for suspecting it. Give me the ten thousand. You shall have your loan back, and, if you like, you shall be Minister of Finance. We practically know the money’s there; don’t we, signorina?”
She nodded assent.
“If we fail?” said I. — He drew a neat little revolver from his pocket, placed it for a moment against his ear, and repocketed it.
“Most lucidly explained, colonel,” said I. “Will you give me half an hour to think it over?”
“Yes,” he said. “You’ll excuse me if I stay in the outer office. Of course I trust you, Martin, but in this sort of thing—”
“All right, I see,” said I. “And you, signorina?”
“I’ll wait too,” she said.
They both rose and went out, and I heard them in conversation with Jones. I sat still, thinking hard. But scarcely a moment had passed, when I heard the door behind me open. It was the signorina. She came in, stood behind my chair, and, leaning over, put her arms round my neck.
I looked up, and saw her face full of mischief.
“What about the rose, Jack?” she asked.
I remembered. Bewildered with delight, and believing I had won her, I said:
“Your soldier till death, signorina.”
“Bother death!” said she saucily. “Nobody’s going to die. We shall win, and then—”
“And then,” said I eagerly, “you’ll marry me, sweet?”
She quietly stooped down and kissed my lips. Then, stroking my hair, she said:
“You’re a nice boy, but you’re not a good boy, Jack.”
“Christina, you won’t marry him?”
“Him?”
“McGregor,” said I. — “Jack,” said she, whispering now, “I hate him!”
“So do I,” I answered promptly. “And if it’s to win you, I’ll upset a dozen Presidents.”
“Then you’ll do it for me? I like to think you’ll do it for me, and not for the money.”
As the signorina was undoubtedly “doing it” for her money, this was a shade unreasonable.
“I don’t mind the money coming in—” I began.
“Mercenary wretch!” she cried. “I didn’t kiss you, did I?”
“No,” I replied. “You said you would in a minute, when I consented.”
“Very neat, Jack,” she said. But she went and opened the door and called to McGregor, “Mr. Martin sees no objection to the arrangement, and he will come to dinner to-night, as you suggest, and talk over the details. We’re all going to make our fortunes, Mr. Jones,” she went on, without waiting for any acceptance of her implied invitation, “and when we’ve made ours, we’ll think about you and Mrs. Jones.”
I heard Jones making some noise, incoherently suggestive of gratification, for he was as bad as any of us about the signorina, and then I was left to my reflections. These were less somber than the reader would, perhaps, anticipate. True, I was putting my head into a noose; and if the President’s hands ever found their way to the end of the rope, I fancied he would pull it pretty tight. But, again, I was immensely in love, and equally in debt; and the scheme seemed to open the best chance of satisfying my love, and the only chance of filling my pocket. To a young man life without love isn’t worth much; to a man of any age, in my opinion, life without money isn’t worth much; it becomes worth still less when he is held to account for money he ought to have. So I cheerfully entered upon my biggest gamble, holding the stake of life well risked. My pleasure in the affair was only marred by the enforced partnership of McGregor. There was no help for this, but I knew he wasn’t much fonder of me than I of him, and I found myself gently meditating on the friction likely to arise between the new President and his minister of finance, in case our plans succeeded. Still the signorina hated him, and by all signs she loved me. So I lay back in my chair, and recalled my charmer’s presence by whistling the hymn of liberty until it was time to go to lunch, an observance not to be omitted even by conspirators.
The morning meeting had been devoted to principles and to the awakening of enthusiasm; in the evening the conspirators condescended upon details, and we held a prolonged and anxious conference at the signorina’s. Mrs. Carrington was commanded to have a headache after dinner, and retired with it to bed; and from ten till one we sat and conspired. The result of our deliberations was a very pretty plan, of which the main outlines were as follows:
This was Tuesday. On Friday night the colonel, with twenty determined ruffians (or resolute patriots) previously bound to him, body and soul, by a donation of no less than fifty dollars a man, was to surprise the Golden House, seize the person of the President and all cash and securities on the premises; no killing, if it could be avoided, but on the other hand no shilly-shally. McGregor wanted to put the President out of the way at once, as a precautionary measure, but I strongly opposed this proposal, and, finding the signorina was absolutely inflexible on the same side, he yielded. I had a strong desire to be present at this midnight surprise, but another duty called for my presence. There was a gala supper at the barracks that evening, to commemorate some incident or other in the national history, and I was to be present and to reply to the toast of “The Commerce of Aureataland.” My task was,at all hazards, to keep this party going till the colonel’s job was done, when he would appear at the soldiers’ quarters, bribe in hand, and demand their allegiance. Our knowledge of the character of the troops made us regard the result as a certainty, if once the President was a prisoner and the dollars before their eyes. The colonel and the troops were to surround the officers’ messroom, and offer them life and largesse, or death and destruction. Here again we anticipated their choice with composure. The army was then to be paraded in the Piazza, the town overawed or converted, and, behold, the Revolution was accomplished! The success of this design entirely depended on its existence remaining a dead secret from the one man we feared, and on that one man being found alone and unguarded at twelve o’clock on Friday night. If he discovered the plot, we were lost. If he took it into his head to attend the supper, our difficulties would be greatly increased. At this point we turned to the signorina, and I said briefly:
“This appears to be where you come in, signorina. Permit me to invite you to dine with his Excellency on Friday evening, at eight precisely.”
“You mean,” she said slowly, “that I am to keep him at home, and, but for myself, alone, on Friday?”
“Yes,” said I. “Is there any difficulty?”
“I do not think there is great difficulty,” she said, “but I don’t like it; it looks so treacherous.”
Of course it did. I didn’t like her doing it myself, but how else was the President to be secured?
“Rather late to think of that, isn’t it?” asked McGregor, with a sneer. “A revolution won’t run on high moral wheels.”
“Think how he jockeyed you about the money,” said I, assuming the part of the tempter.
“By the way,” said McGregor, “it’s understood the signorina enters into possession of the President’s country villa, isn’t it?”
Now, my poor signorina had a longing for that choice little retreat; and between resentment for her lost money and a desire for the pretty house on the one hand, and, on the other, her dislike of the Delilah-like part she was to play, she was sore beset. Left to herself, I believe she would have yielded to her better feelings, and spoiled the plot. As it was, the colonel and I, alarmed at this recrudescence of conscience, managed to stifle its promptings, and bent her to our wicked will.
“After all, he deserves it,” she said, “and I’ll do it!”
It is always sad to see anybody suffering from a loss of self-respect, so I tried to restore the signorina’s confidence in her own motives, by references to Jael the wife of Heber the Kenite, Charlotte Corday, and such other relentless heroines as occurred to me. McGregor looked upon this striving after self-justification with undisguised contempt.
“It’s only making a fool of him again,” he said; “you’ve done it before, you know!”
“I’ll do it, if you’ll swear not to—to hurt him,” she said.
“I’ve promised already,” he replied sullenly. “I won’t touch him, unless he brings it on himself. If he tries to kill me, I suppose I needn’t bare my breast to the blow?”
“No, no,” I interposed; “I have a regard for his Excellency, but we must not let our feelings betray us into weakness. He must be taken—alive and well, if possible—but in the last resort, dead or alive.”
“Come, that’s more like sense,” said the colonel approvingly.
The signorina sighed, but opposed us no longer.
Returning to ways and means, we arranged for communication in case of need during the next three days without the necessity of meeting. My position, as the center of financial business in Whittingham, made this easy; the passage of bank messengers to and fro would excite little remark, and the messages could easily be so expressed as to reveal nothing to an uninstructed eye. It was further agreed that on the smallest hint of danger reaching any one of us, the word should at once be passed to the others, and we shouldrendezvousat the colonel’s “ranch,” which lay some seven miles from the town. Thence, in this lamentable case, escape would be more possible.
“And now,” said the colonel, “if Martin will hand over the dollars, I think that’s about all.”
I had brought the ten thousand dollars with me. I produced them and put them on the table, keeping a loving hand on them.
“You fully understand my position, colonel?” I said. “This thing is no use to me unless I receive at least three hundred and twenty thousand dollars, to pay back principal, to meet interest, and to replace another small debt to the bank. If I do that, I shall be left with a net profit of five thousand dollars, not an extravagant reward. If I don’t get that sum I shall be a defaulter, revolution or no revolution.”
“I can’t make money if it’s not there,” he said, but without his usual brusqueness of tone. “But to this we agree: You are to have first turn at anything we find, up to the sum you name. It’s to be handed over solid to you. The signorina and I take the leavings. You don’t claim to share them too, do you?”
“No,” I said, “I’m content to be a preference shareholder. If the money’s found at the Golden House, it’s mine. If not, the new Government, whatever it may do as to the rest of the debt, will pay me that sum.”
With that I pushed my money over to the colonel.
“I expect the new Government to be very considerate to the bondholders all round,” said the colonel, as he pocketed it with a chuckle. “Anyhow, your terms are agreed; eh, signorina?”
“Agreed!” said she. “And I’m to have the country seat?”
“Agreed!” said I. “And the colonel’s to be President and to have the Golden House and all that therein is.”
“Agreed! agreed! agreed!” chanted the signorina; “and that’s quite enough business, and it’s very late for me to be entertaining gentlemen. One toast, and then good-night. Success to the Revolution! To be drunk in blood-red wine!”
As there was no red wine, except claret, and that lies cold on the stomach at three in the morning, we drank it in French brandy. I had risen to go, when a sudden thought struck me:
“By Jupiter! where’s Johnny Carr? I say, colonel, how drunk was he last night? Do you think he remembers telling you about it?”
“Yes,” said the colonel, “I expect he does by now. He didn’t when I left him this morning.”
“Will he confess to the President? If he does, it might make the old man keep an unpleasantly sharp eye on you. He knows you don’t love him.”
“Well, he hasn’t seen the President yet. He was to stay at my house over to-day. He was uncommon seedy this morning, and I persuaded the doctor to give him a composing draught. Fact is, I wanted him quiet till I’d had time to think! You know I don’t believe he would own up—the President would drop on him so; but he might, and it’s better they shouldn’t meet.”
“There’s somebody else he oughtn’t to meet,” said the signorina.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Donna Antonia,” she replied. “He’s getting very fond of her, and depend upon it, if he’s in trouble he’ll go and tell her the first thing. Mr. Carr is very confidential to his friends.”
We recognized the value of this suggestion. If Donna Antonia knew, the President would soon know.
“Quite right,” said the colonel. “It won’t do to have them rushing about letting out that we know all about it. He’s all right up to now.”
“Yes, but if he gets restive to-morrow morning?” said I. “And then you don’t want him at the Golden House on Friday evening, and I don’t want him at the barracks.”
“No, he’d show fight, Carr would,” said the colonel. “Look here, we’re in for this thing, and I’m going through with it. I shall keep Carr at my house till it’s all over.”
“How?” asked the signorina.
“By love, if possible!” said the colonel, with a grin—“that is, by drink. Failing that, by force. It’s essential that the old man shouldn’t get wind of anything being up; and if Carr told him about last night he’d prick up his wicked old ears. No, Master Johnny is better quiet.”
“Suppose he turns nasty,” I suggested again.
“He may turn as nasty as he likes,” said the colonel. “He don’t leave my house unless he puts a bullet into me first. That’s settled. Leave it to me. If he behaves nicely, he’ll be all right. If not—”
“What shall you do to him?” asked the signorina.
I foresaw another outburst of conscience, and though I liked Johnny, I liked myself better. So I said:
“Oh, leave it to the colonel; he’ll manage all right.”
“Now I’m off,” said the latter, “back to my friend Johnny. Good-night, signorina. Write to the President to-morrow. Good-night, Martin. Make that speech of yours pretty long.Au revoirtill next Friday.”
I prepared to go, for the colonel lingered till I came with him. Even then we so distrusted one another that neither would leave the other alone with the signorina.
We parted at the door, he going off up the road to get his horse and ride to his “ranch,” I turning down toward the Piazza.
We left the signorina at the door, looking pale and weary, and for once bereft of her high spirits. Poor girl! She found conspiracy rather trying work.
I was a little troubled myself. I began to see more clearly that it doesn’t do for a man of scruples to dabble in politics. I had a great regard for poor Johnny, and I felt no confidence in the colonel treating him with any consideration. In fact, I would not have insured Johnny’s life for the next week at any conceivable premium. Again I thought it unlikely that, if we succeeded, the President would survive his downfall. I had to repeat to myself all the story of his treachery to me, lashing myself into a fury against him, before I could bring myself to think with resignation of the imminent extinction of that shining light. What a loss he would be to the world! So many delightful stories, so great a gift of manner, so immense a personal charm—all to disappear into the pit! And for what? To put into his place a ruffian without redeeming qualities. Was it worth while to put down Lucifer only to enthrone Beelzebub? I could only check this doleful strain of reflection by sternly recalling myself to the real question—the state of the fortunes of me, John Martin. And to me the revolution was necessary. I might get the money; at least I should gain time. And I might satisfy my love. I was animated by the honorable motive of saving my employers from loss and by the overwhelming motive of my own passion. If the continued existence of Johnny and the President was incompatible with these legitimate objects, so much the worse for Johnny and the President.