“I, Marcus W. Whittingham, Presidentof the Republic of Aureataland,hereby offer a REWARD of FIVE THOUSANDDOLLARS and a FREE PARDON toany person or persons assisting in theCAPTURE, ALIVE or DEAD, of GEORGEMCGREGOR (late Colonel in the AureatalandArmy) and JOHN MARTIN, BankManager, and I do further proclaim thesaid George McGregor and John Martinto be traitors and rebels against theRepublic, and do pronounce their livesforfeited. Which sentence let everyloyal citizen observe at his peril.“MARCUS W. WHITTINGHAM,“President.”
Truly, this was pleasant!
The habit of reading having penetrated, as we are told, to all classes of the community, I am not without hope that some who peruse this chronicle will be able, from personal experience, to understand the feelings of a man when he first finds a reward offered for his apprehension. It is true that our police are not in the habit of imitating the President’s naked brutality by expressly adding “Alive or Dead,” but I am informed that the law, in case of need, leaves the alternative open to the servants of justice. I am not ashamed to confess that my spirits were rather dashed by his Excellency’s Parthian shot, and I could see that the colonel himself was no less perturbed. The escape ofFleanceseemed toMacbethto render his whole position unsafe, and no one who knew General Whittingham will doubt that he was a more dangerous opponent thanFleance. We both felt, in fact, as soon as we saw the white sail ofThe Songstressbearing our enemy out of our reach, that the revolution could not yet be regarded as safely accomplished. But the uncertainty of our tenure of power did not paralyze our energies; on the contrary, we determined to make hay while the sun shone, and, if Aureataland was doomed to succumb once more to tyranny, I, for one, was very clear that her temporary emancipation might be turned to good account.
Accordingly, on arriving again at the Golden House, we lost no time in instituting a thorough inquiry into the state of the public finances. We ransacked the house from top to bottom and found nothing! Was it possible that the President had carried off with him all the treasure that had inspired our patriotic efforts? The thought was too horrible. The drawers of his escritoire and the safe that stood in his library revealed nothing to our eager eyes. A foraging party, dispatched to the Ministry of Finance (where, by the way, they did not find Don Antonio or his fair daughter), returned with the discouraging news that nothing was visible but ledgers and bills (not negotiable securities—the other sort). In deep dejection I threw myself into his Excellency’s chair and lit one of his praiseworthy cigars with the doleful reflection that this pleasure seemed all I was likely to get out of the business. The colonel stood moodily with his back to the fireplace, looking at me as if I were responsible for the state of things.
At this point in came the signorina. We greeted her gloomily, and she was as startled as ourselves at the news of the President’s escape; at the same time I thought I detected an undercurrent of relief, not unnatural if we recollect her personal relations with the deposed ruler. When, however, we went on to break to her the nakedness of the land, she stopped us at once.
“Oh, you stupid men! you haven’t looked in the right place. I suppose you expected to find it laid out for you on the dining-room table. Come with me.”
We followed her into the room where Carr lay. He was awake, and the signorina went and asked him how he was. Then she continued:
“We shall have to disturb you for a few minutes, Mr. Carr. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Must I get out of bed?” asked Johnny.
“Certainly not while I’m here,” said the signorina. “You’ve only got to shut your eyes and lie still; but we’re going to make a little noise.”
There was in the room, as perhaps might be expected, a washing-stand. This article was of the description one often sees; above the level of the stand itself there rose a wooden screen to the height of two feet and a half, covered with pretty tiles, the presumable object being to protect the wall paper. I never saw a more innocent-looking bit of furniture; it might have stood in a lady’s dressing-room. The signorina went up to it andslidit gently on one side; it moved in a groove! Then she pressed a spot in the wall behind and a small piece of it rolled aside, disclosing a keyhole.
“He’s taken the key, of course,” she said. “We must break it open. Who’s got a hammer?”
Tools were procured, and, working under the signorina’s directions, after a good deal of trouble, we laid bare a neat little safe embedded in the wall. This safe was legibly inscribed on the outside “Burglar’s Puzzle.” We however, were not afraid of making a noise, and it only puzzled us for ten minutes.
When opened it revealed a Golconda! There lay in securities and cash no less than five hundred thousand dollars!
We smiled at one another.
“A sad revelation!” I remarked.
“Hoary old fox!” said the colonel.
No wonder the harbor works were unremunerative in their early stages. The President must have kept them at a very early stage.
“What are you people up to?” cried Carr.
“Rank burglary, my dear boy,” I replied, and we retreated with our spoil.
“Now,” said I to the colonel, “what are you going to do?”
“Why, what do you think, Mr. Martin?” interposed the signorina. “He’s going to give you your money, and divide the rest with his sincere friend Christina Nugent.”
“Well, I suppose so,” said the colonel. “But it strikes me you’re making a good thing of this, Martin.”
“My dear colonel,” said I, “a bargain is a bargain; and where would you have been without my money?”
The colonel made no reply, but handed me the money, which I liked much better. I took the three hundred and twenty thousand dollars and said:
“Now, I can face the world, an honest man.”
The signorina laughed.
“Iam glad,” she said, “chiefly for poor old Jones’ sake. It’ll take a load off his mind.”
The colonel proceeded to divide the remainder into two little heaps, of which he pushed one over to the signorina. She took it gayly, and said:
“Now I shall make curl papers of half my bonds, and I shall rely on the—what do you call it?—the Provisional Government to pay the rest. You remember about the house?”
“I’ll see about that soon,” said the colonel impatiently. “You two seem to think there’s nothing to do but take the money. You forget we’ve got to make our position safe.”
“Exactly. The colonel’s government must be carried on,” said I. — The signorina did not catch the allusion. She yawned, and said:
“Oh, then, I shall go. Rely on my loyalty, your Excellency.”
She made him a courtesy and went to the door. As I opened it for her she whispered, “Horrid old bear! Come and see me, Jack,” and so vanished, carrying off her dollars.
I returned and sat down opposite the colonel.
“I wonder how she knew about the washing-stand,” I remarked.
“Because Whittingham was fool enough to tell her, I suppose,” said the colonel testily, as if he disliked the subject.
Then we settled to business. This unambitious tale does not profess to be a complete history of Aureataland, and I will spare my readers the recital of our discussion. We decided at last that matters were still so critical, owing to the President’s escape, that the ordinary forms of law and constitutional government must be temporarily suspended. The Chamber was not in session, which made this course easier. The colonel was to be proclaimed President and to assume supreme power under martial law for some weeks, while we looked about us. It was thought better that my name should not appear officially, but I agreed to take in hand, under his supervision, all matters relating to finance.
“We can’t pay the interest on the real debt,” he said.
“No,” I replied; “you must issue a notice, setting forth that, owing to General Whittingham’s malversations, payments must be temporarily suspended. Promise it will be all right later on.”
“Very good,” said he; “and now I shall go and look up those officers. I must keep them in good temper, and the men too. I shall give ‘em another ten thousand.”
“Generous hero!” said I, “and I shall go and restore this cash to my employers.”
It was twelve o’clock when I left the Golden House and strolled quietly down to Liberty Street. The larger part of the soldiers had been drawn off, but a couple of companies still kept guard in thePiazza. The usual occupations of life were going on amid a confused stir of excitement, and I saw by the interest my appearance aroused that some part at least of my share in the night’s doing had leaked out. TheGazettehad published a special edition, in which it hailed the advent of freedom, and, while lauding McGregor to the skies, bestowed a warm commendation on the “noble Englishman who, with a native love of liberty, had taken on himself the burden of Aureataland in her hour of travail.” The metaphor struck me as inappropriate, but the sentiment was most healthy; and when I finally beheld two officers of police sitting on the head of a drunken man for toasting the fallenrigime, I could say to myself, as I turned into the bank, “Order reigns in Warsaw.”
General assent had proclaimed a suspension of commerce on this auspicious day, and I found Jones sitting idle and ill at ease. I explained to him the state of affairs, showing how the President’s dishonorable scheme had compelled me, in the interests of the bank, to take a more or less active part in the revolution. It was pathetic to hear him bewail the villainy of the man he had trusted, and when I produced the money he blessed me fervently, and at once proposed writing to the directors a full account of the matter.
“They are bound to vote you an honorarium, sir,” he said.
“I don’t know, Jones,” I replied. “I am afraid there is a certain prejudice against me at headquarters. But in any case I have resolved to forego the personal advantage that might accrue to me from my conduct. President McGregor has made a strong representation to me that the schemes of General Whittingham, if publicly known, would, however unjustly, prejudice the credit of Aureataland, and he appealed to me not to give particulars to the world. In matters such as these, Jones, we cannot be guided solely by selfish considerations.”
“God forbid, sir!” said Jones, much moved.
“I have, therefore, consented to restrict myself to a confidential communication to the directors; they must judge how far they will pass it on to the shareholders. To the world at large I shall say nothing of the second loan; and I know you will oblige me by treating this money as the product of realizations in the ordinary course of business. The recent disturbances will quite account for so large a sum being called in.”
“I don’t quite see how I can arrange that.”
“Ah, you are overdone,” said I. “Leave it all to me, Jones.”
And this I persuaded him to do. In fact, he was so relieved at seeing the money back that he was easy to deal with; and if he suspected anything, he was overawed by my present exalted position. He appeared to forget what I could not, that the President, no doubt, still possessed that fatal cable!
After lunch I remembered my engagement with the signorina, and, putting on my hat, was bidding farewell to business, when Jones said:
“There’s a note just come for you, sir. A little boy brought it while you were out at lunch.”
He gave it me—a little dirty envelope, with an illiterate scrawl. I opened it carelessly, but as my eye fell on the President’s hand, I started in amazement. The note was dated “Saturday—From on boardThe Songstress,” and ran as follows:
“Dear Mr. Martin: I must confessto having underrated your courageand abilities. If you care to put themat my disposal now, I will accept them.In the other event, I must refer you tomy public announcement. In any caseit may be useful to you to know thatMcGregor designs to marry SignorinaNugent. I fear that on my return itwill be hardly consistent with my publicduties to spare your life (unless youaccept my present offer), but I shallalways look back to your acquaintancewith pleasure. I have, if you will allowme to say so, seldom met a young manwith such natural gifts for finance andpolitics. I shall anchor five miles outfrom Whittingham to-night (for I knowyou have no ships), and if you join me,well and good. If not, I shall consideryour decision irrevocable.“Believe me, dear Mr. Martin, faithfullyyours,“MARCUS W. WHITTINGHAM,“President of the Republic of Aureataland.”
It is a pleasant thing, as has been remarked,laudari a laudato viro, and the President’s praise was grateful to me. But I did not see my way to fall in with his views. He said nothing about the money, but I knew well that its return would be a condition of any alliance between us. Again, I was sure that he also “designed to marry the signorina,” and, if I must have a rival on the spot, I preferred McGregor in that capacity. Lastly, I thought that, after all, there is a decency in things, and I had better stick to my party. I did not, however, tell McGregor about the letter, merely sending him a line to say I had heard thatThe Songstresswas hovering a few miles off, and he had better look out.
This done, I resumed my interrupted progress to the signorina’s. When I was shown in, she greeted me kindly.
“I have had a letter from the President,” I said.
“Yes,” said she, “he told me he had written to you.”
“Why, have you heard from him?”
“Yes, just a little note. He is rather cross with me.”
“I can quite understand that. Would you like to see my letter?”
“Oh, yes,” she replied carelessly.
She read it through and asked:
“Well, are you going over to him—going to forsake me?”
“How can you ask me? Won’t you show me your letter, Christina?”
“No, John,” she answered, mimicking my impassioned tones. “I may steal the President’s savings, but I respect his confidence.”
“You see what he says to me about McGregor.”
“Yes,” said the signorina. “It is not, you know, news to me. But, curious to relate, the colonel has just been here himself and told me the same thing. The colonel has not a nice way of making love, Jack—not so nice as yours nearly.”
Thus encouraged, I went and sat down by her. I believe I took her hand.
“You don’t love him?”
“Not at all,” she replied.
I must beg to be excused recording the exact terms in which I placed my hand and heart at the signorina’s disposal. I was extremely vehement and highly absurd, but she did not appear to be displeased.
“I like you very much, Jack,” she said, “and it’s very sweet of you to have made a revolution for me. It was for me, Jack?”
“Of course it was, my darling,” I promptly replied.
“But you know, Jack, I don’t see how we’re much better off. Indeed, in a way it’s worse. The President wouldn’t let anybody else marry me, but he wasn’t so peremptory as the colonel. The colonel declares he will marry me this day week!”
“We’ll see about that,” said I savagely.
“Another revolution, Jack?” asked the signorina.
“You needn’t laugh at me,” I said sulkily.
“Poor boy! What are we idyllic lovers to do?”
“I don’t believe you’re a bit in earnest.”
“Yes, I am, Jack—now.” Then she went on, with a sort of playful pity, “Look at my savage, jealous, broken-hearted Jack.”
I caught her in my arms and kissed her, whispering hotly:
“You will be true to me, sweet?”
“Let me go,” she said. Then, leaning over me as I flung myself back in a chair, “It’s pleasant while it lasts; try not to be broken-hearted if it doesn’t last.”
“If you love me, why don’t you come with me out of this sink of iniquity?”
“Run away with you?” she asked, with open amazement. “Do you think that we’re the sort of people, for a romantic elopement? I am very earthy. And so are you, Jack, dear—nice earth, but earth, Jack.”
There was a good deal of truth in this remark. We were not an ideal pair for love in a cottage.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve got no money.”
“I’ve got a little money, but not much. I’ve been paying debts,” she added proudly.
“I haven’t been even doing that. And I’m not quite equal to purloining that three hundred thousand dollars.”
“We must wait, Jack. But this I will promise. I’ll never marry the colonel. If it comes to that or running away, we’ll run away.”
“And Whittingham?”
The signorina for once looked grave.
“You know him,” she said. “Think what he made you do! and you’re not a weak man, or I shouldn’t be fond of you. Jack, you must keep him away from me.”
She was quite agitated; and it was one more tribute to the President’s powers that he should exert so strange an influence over such a nature. I was burning to ask her more about herself and the President, but I could not while she was distressed. And when I had comforted her, she resolutely declined to return to the subject.
“No, go away now,” she said. “Think how we are to checkmate our two Presidents. And, Jack! whatever happens, I got you back the money. I’ve done you some good. So be kind to me. I’m not very much afraid of your heart breaking. In fact, Jack, we are neither of us good young people. No, no; be quiet and go away. You have plenty of useful things to occupy your time.”
At last I accepted my dismissal and walked off, my happiness considerably damped by the awkward predicament in which we stood. Clearly McGregor meant business; and at this moment McGregor was all-powerful. If he kept the reins, I should lose my love. If the President came back, a worse fate still threatened. Supposing it were possible to carry off the signorina, which I doubted very much, where were we to go to! And would she come?
On the whole, I did not think she would come.
In spite of my many anxieties, after this eventful day I enjoyed the first decent night’s rest I had had for a week. The colonel refused, with an unnecessary ostentation of scorn, my patriotic offer to keep watch and ward over the city, and I turned in, tired out, at eleven o’clock, after a light dinner and a meditative pipe. I felt I had some reasons for self-congratulation; for considerable as my present difficulties were, yet I undoubtedly stood in a more hopeful position than I had before the revolution. I was now resolved to get my money safe out of the country, and I had hopes of being too much for McGregor in the other matter which shared my thoughts.
The return of day, however, brought new troubles. I was roused at an early hour by a visit from the colonel himself. He brought very disquieting tidings. In the course of the night every one of our proclamations had been torn down or defaced with ribald scribblings; posted over or alongside them, there now hung multitudinous enlarged copies of the President’s offensive notice. How or by whom these seditious measures had been effected we were at a loss to tell, for the officers and troops were loud in declaring their vigilance. In the very center of the Piazza, on the base of the President’s statue, was posted an enormous bill: “REMEMBER 1871! DEATH TO TRAITORS!”
“How could they do that unless the soldiers were in it?” asked the colonel gloomily. “I have sent those two companies back to barracks and had another lot out. But how do I know they’ll be any better? I met DeChair just now and asked him what the temper of the troops was. The little brute grinned, and said, ‘Ah, mon Prisident, it would be better if the good soldiers had a leetle more money.’”
“That’s about it,” said I; “but then you haven’t got much more money.”
“What I’ve got I mean to stick to,” said the colonel. “If this thing is going to burst up, I’m not going to be kicked out to starve. I tell you what it is, Martin, you must let me have some of that cash back again.”
The effrontery of this request amazed me. I was just drawing on the second leg of my trousers (for it was impossible to be comfortable in bed with that great creature fuming about), and I stopped with one leg in mid-air and gazed at him.
“Well, what’s the matter? Why are you to dance out with all the plunder?” he asked.
The man’s want of ordinary morality was too revolting. Didn’t he know very well that the money wasn’t mine? Didn’t he himself obtain my help on the express terms that I should have this money to repay the bank with? I finished putting on my garments, and then I replied:
“Not a farthing, colonel; not a damned farthing! By our agreement that cash was to be mine; but for that I wouldn’t have touched your revolution with a pair of tongs.”
He looked very savage, and muttered something under his breath.
“You’re carrying things with a high hand,” he said.
“I’m not going to steal to please you,” said I. — “You weren’t always so scrupulous,” he sneered.
I took no notice of this insult, but repeated my determination.
“Look here, Martin,” he said, “I’ll give you twenty-four hours to think it over; and let me advise you to change your mind by then. I don’t want to quarrel, but I’m going to have some of that money.”
Clearly he had learned statecraft in his predecessor’s school! “Twenty-four hours is something,” thought I, and determined to try the cunning of the serpent.
“All right, colonel,” I said, “I’ll think it over. I don’t pretend to like it; but, after all, I’m in with you and we must pull together. We’ll see how things look to-morrow morning.”
“There’s another matter I wanted to speak to you about,” he went on.
I was now dressed, so I invited him into the breakfast-room, gave him a cup of coffee (which, to my credit, I didn’t poison), and began on my own eggs and toast.
“Fire away,” said I briefly.
“I suppose you know I’m going to be married?” he remarked.
“No, I hadn’t heard,” I replied, feigning to be entirely occupied with a very nimble egg. “Rather a busy time for marrying, isn’t it? Who is she?”
He gave a heavy laugh.
“You needn’t pretend to be so very innocent; I expect you could give a pretty good guess.”
“Mme. Devarges?” I asked blandly. “Suitable match; about your age—”
“I wish to the devil you wouldn’t try to be funny!” he exclaimed. “You know as well as I do it’s the signorina.”
“Really?” I replied. “Well, well! I fancied you were a little touched in that quarter. And she has consented to make you happy?”
I was curious to see what he would say. I knew he was a bad liar, and, as a fact, I believe he told the truth on this occasion, for he answered:
“Says she never cared a straw for anyone else.”
Oh, signorina!
“Not even Whittingham?” I asked maliciously.
“Hates the old ruffian!” said the colonel. “I once thought she had a liking for you, Martin, but she laughed at the idea. I’m glad of it, for we should have fallen out.”
I smiled in a somewhat sickly way, and took refuge in my cup. When I emerged, I asked:
“And when is it to be?”
“Next Saturday.”
“So soon?”
“Yes,” he said. “Fact is, between you and me, Martin, she’s ready enough.”
This was too disgusting. But whether the colonel was deceiving me, or the signorina had deceived him, I didn’t know—a little bit of both, probably. I saw, however, what the colonel’s game was plainly enough; he was, in his clumsy way, warning me off his preserves, for, of course, he knew my pretensions, and probably that they had met with some success, and I don’t think I imposed on him very much. But I was anxious to avoid a rupture and gain time.
“I must call and congratulate the lady,” I said.
The colonel couldn’t very well object to that, but he didn’t like it.
“Well, Christina told me she was very busy, but I dare say she’ll see you for a few minutes.”
“I dare say she will,” I said dryly.
“I must be off now. I shall have to be about all day, trying to catch those infernal fellows who destroyed the bills.”
“You won’t be doing any business to-day, then?”
“What, about settling the Government?” he asked, grinning. “Not just yet. Wait till I’ve got the signorina and the money, and then we’ll see about that. You think about the money, my boy!”
Much to my relief he then departed, and as he went out I swore that neither signorina nor money should he ever have. In the course of the next twenty-four hours I must find a way to prevent him.
“Rather early for a call,” said I, “but I must see the signorina.”
On my way up I met several people, and heard some interesting facts. In the first place, no trace had appeared of Don Antonio and his daughter; rumor declared that they had embarked onThe Songstresswith the President and his faithful doctor. Secondly, Johnny Carr was still in bed at the Golden House (this from Mme. Devarges, who had been to see him); but his men had disappeared, after solemnly taking the oath to the new Government. Item three: The colonel had been received with silence and black looks by the troops, and two officers had vanished into space, both Americans, and the only men of any good in a fight. Things were looking rather blue, and I began to think that I also should like to disappear, provided I could carry off my money and my mistress with me. My scruples about loyalty had been removed by the colonel’s overbearing conduct, and I was ready for any step that promised me the fulfillment of my own designs. It was pretty evident that there would be no living with McGregor in his present frame of mind, and I was convinced that my best course would be to cut the whole thing, or, if that proved impossible, to see what bargain I could make with the President. Of course, all would go smoothly with him if I gave up the dollars and the lady; a like sacrifice would conciliate McGregor. But then, I didn’t mean to make it.
“One or other I will have,” said I, as I knocked at the door of “Mon Repos,” “and both if possible.”
The signorina was looking worried; indeed, I thought she had been crying.
“Did you meet my aunt on your way up?” she asked, the moment I was announced.
“No,” said I. — “I’ve sent her away,” she continued. “All this fuss frightens her, so I got the colonel’s leave (for you know we mustn’t move without permission now liberty has triumphed) for her to seek change of air.”
“Where’s she going to?” I said.
“Home,” said the signorina.
I didn’t know where “home” was, but I never ask what I am not meant to know.
“Are you left alone?”
“Yes. I know it’s not correct. But you see, Jack, I had to choose between care for my money and care for my reputation. The latter is always safe in my own keeping; the former I wasn’t so sure about.”
“Oh, so you’ve given it to Mrs. Carrington?”
“Yes, all but five thousand dollars.”
“Does the colonel know that?”
“Dear me, of course not! or he’d never have let her go.”
“You’re very wise,” said I. “I only wish I could have sent my money with her.”
“I’m afraid that would have made dear aunt rather bulky,” said the signorina, tittering.
“Yes, such a lot of mine’s in cash,” I said regretfully. “But won’t they find it on her?”
“Not if they’re gentlemen,” replied the signorina darkly.
Evidently I could not ask for further details; so, without more ado, I disclosed my own perilous condition and the colonel’s boasts about herself.
“What a villain that man is!” she exclaimed. “Of course, I was civil to him, but I didn’t say half that. You didn’t believe I did, Jack?”
There’s never any use in being unpleasant, so I said I had rejected the idea with scorn.
“But what’s to be done? If I’m here to-morrow, he’ll take the money, and, as likely as not, cut my throat if I try to stop him.”
“Yes, and he’ll marry me,” chimed in the signorina. “Jack, we must have a counter-revolution.”
“I don’t see what good that’ll do,” I answered dolefully. “The President will take the money just the same, and I expect he’ll marry you just the same.”
“Of the two, I would rather have him. Now don’t rage, Jack! I only said, ‘of the two.’ But you’re quite right; it couldn’t help us much to bring General Whittingham back.”
“To say nothing of the strong probability of my perishing in the attempt.”
“Let me think,” said the signorina, knitting her brows.
“May I light a cigarette and help you?”
She nodded permission, and I awaited the result of her meditation.
She sat there, looking very thoughtful and troubled, but it seemed to me as if she were rather undergoing a conflict of feeling than thinking out a course of action. Once she glanced at me, then turned away with a restless movement and a sigh.
I finished my cigarette, and flinging it away, strolled up to the window to look out. I had stood there a little while, when I heard her call softly:
“Jack!”
I turned and came to her, kneeling down by her side and taking her hands.
She gazed rather intently into my face with unusual gravity. Then she said:
“If you have to choose between me and the money, which will it be?”
I kissed her hand for answer.
“If the money is lost, won’t it all come out? And then, won’t they call you dishonest?”
“I suppose so,” said I. — “You don’t mind that?”
“Yes, I do. Nobody likes being called a thief—especially when there’s a kind of truth about it. But I should mind losing you more.”
“Are you really very fond of me, Jack? No, you needn’t say so. I think you are. Now I’ll tell you a secret. If you hadn’t come here, I should have married General Whittingham long ago. I stayed here intending to do it (oh, yes, I’m not a nice girl, Jack), and he asked me very soon after you first arrived. I gave him my money, you know, then.”
I was listening intently. It seemed as if some things were going to be cleared up.
“Well,” she continued, “you know what happened. You fell in love with me—I tried to make you; and then I suppose I fell a little in love with you. At any rate I told the President I wouldn’t marry him just then. Some time after, I wanted some money, and I asked him to give me back mine. He utterly refused; you know his quiet way. He said he would keep it for ‘Mrs. Whittingham.’ Oh, I could have killed him! But I didn’t dare to break with him openly; besides, he’s very hard to fight against. We had constant disputes; he would never give back the money, and I declared I wouldn’t marry him unless I had it first, and not then unless I chose. He was very angry and swore I should marry him without a penny of it; and so it went on. But he never suspected you, Jack; not till quite the end. Then we found out about the debt, you know; and about the same time I saw he at last suspected something between you and me. And the very day before we came to the bank he drove me to desperation. He stood beside me in this room, and said, Christina, I am growing old. I shall wait no longer. I believe you’re in love with that young Martin.’ Then he apologized for his plain speaking, for he’s always gentle in manner. And I defied him. And then, Jack, what do you think he did?”
I sprang up in a fury.
“What?” I cried.
“Helaughed!” said the signorina, with tragic intensity. “I couldn’t stand that, so I joined the colonel in upsetting him. Ah, he shouldn’t have laughed at me!”
And indeed she looked at this moment a dangerous subject for such treatment.
“I knew what no one else knew, and I could influence him as no one else could, and I had my revenge. But now,” she said, “it all ends in nothing.”
And she broke down, sobbing.
Then, recovering herself, and motioning me to be still, she went on:
“You may think, after holding him at bay so long, I have little to fear from the colonel. But it’s different. The President has no scruples; but he is a gentleman—as far as women are concerned. I mean—he wouldn’t—”
She stopped.
“But McGregor?” I asked, in a hoarse whisper.
She drooped her head on my shoulder.
“I daren’t stay here, Jack, with him,” she whispered. “If you can’t take me away, I must go to the President. I shall be at least safe with him!”
“Damn the ruffian!” I growled; not meaning the President, but his successor; “I’ll shoot him!”
“No, no, Jack!” she cried. “You must be quiet and cautious. But I must go to-night—to-night, Jack, either with you or to the President.”
“My darling, you shall come with me,” said I. — “Where?”
“Oh, out of this somewhere.”
“How are we to escape?”
“Now, you sit down, dear, and try to stop crying—you break my heart—and I’ll think. It’s my turn now.”
I carried her to the sofa, and she lay still, but with her eyes fixed on me. I was full of rage against McGregor, but I couldn’t afford the luxury of indulging it, so I gave my whole mind to finding a way out for us. At last I seemed to hit upon a plan.
The signorina saw the inspiration in my eye. She jumped up and came to me.
“Have you got it, Jack?” she said.
“I think so—if you will trust yourself to me, and don’t mind an uncomfortable night.”
“Go on.”
“You know my little steam launch? It will be dark to-night. If we can get on board with a couple of hours’ start we can show anybody a clean pair of heels. She travels a good pace, and it’s only fifty miles to safety and foreign soil. I shall land there a beggar!”
“I don’t mind that, Jack,” she said. “I have my five thousand, and aunt will join us with the rest. But how are we to get on board? Besides, O Jack! the President watches the coast every night withThe Songstress—and you know she’s got steam—Mr. Carr just had auxiliary steam put in.”
“No,” I said, “I didn’t know about that. Look here, Christina; excuse the question, but can you communicate with the President?”
“Yes,” she said, after a second’s hesitation.
This was what I suspected.
“And will he believe what you tell him?”
“I don’t know. He might and he might not. He’ll probably act as if he didn’t.”
I appreciated the justice of this forecast of General Whittingham’s measures.
“Well, we must chance it,” I said. “At any rate, better be caught by him than stay here. We were, perhaps, a little hasty with that revolution of ours.”
“I never thought the colonel was so wicked,” said the signorina.
We had no time to waste in abusing our enemy; the question was how to outwit him. I unfolded my plan to the signorina, not at all disguising from her the difficulties, and even dangers, attendant upon it. Whatever may have been her mind before and after, she was at this moment either so overcome with her fear of the colonel, or so carried away by her feeling for me, that she made nothing of difficulties and laughed at dangers, pointing out that though failure would be ignominious, it could not substantially aggravate our present position. Whereas, if we succeeded—
The thought of success raised a prospect of bliss in which we reveled for a few minutes; then, warned by the stroke of twelve, we returned to business.
“Are you going to take any of the money away with you?” she asked.
“No,” said I, “I don’t think so. It would considerably increase the risk if I were seen hanging about the bank; you know he’s got spies all over the place. Besides, what good would it do? I couldn’t stick to it, and I’m not inclined to run any more risks merely to save the bank’s pocket. The bank hasn’t treated me so well as all that. I propose to rely on your bounty till I’ve time to turn round.”
“Now, shall I come for you?” I asked her when we had arranged the other details.
“I think not,” she said. “I believe the colonel has one of my servants in his pay. I can slip out by myself, but I couldn’t manage so well if you were with me. The sight of you would excite curiosity. I will meet you at the bottom of Liberty Street.”
“At two o’clock in the morning exactly, please. Don’t come through thePiazza, and Liberty Street. Come round by the drive. [This was a sort of boulevard encircling the town, where the aristocracy was wont to ride and drive.] Things ought to be pretty busy about the bank by then, and no one will notice you. You have a revolver?”
“Yes.”
“All right. Don’t hurt anyone if you can help it; but if you do, don’t leave him to linger in agony. Now I’m off,” I continued. “I suppose I’d better not come and see you again?”
“I’m afraid you mustn’t, Jack. You’ve been here two hours already.”
“I shall be in my rooms in the afternoon. If anything goes wrong, send your carriage down the street and have it stopped at the grocer’s. I shall take that for a sign.”
The signorina agreed, and we parted tenderly. My last words were:
“You’ll send that message to Whittingham at once?”
“This moment,” she said, as she waved me a kiss from the door of the room.