CHAPTER XVIIIDICK GETS A WARNING
On the evening of one pay-day, Dick took a short cut through the half-breed quarter of Santa Brigida. As not infrequently happens in old Spanish cities, this unsavory neighborhood surrounded the cathedral and corresponded in character with the localities known in western America as “across the track.” Indeed, a Castilian proverb bluntly plays upon the juxtaposition of vice and bells.
Ancient houses rose above the dark and narrow street. Flakes of plaster had fallen from their blank walls, the archways that pierced them were foul and strewn with refuse, and a sour smell of decay and garbage tainted the stagnant air. Here and there a grossly fat, slatternly woman leaned upon the rails of an outside balcony; negroes, Chinamen, and half-breeds passed along the broken pavements; and the dirty, open-fronted wine-shops, where swarms of flies hovered about the tables, were filled with loungers of different shades of color.
By and by Dick noticed a man in clean white duck on the opposite side of the street. He was a short distance in front, but his carriage and the fit of his clothes indicated that he was a white man and probably an American, and Dick slackened his pace. Heimagined that the other would sooner not be found in that neighborhood if he happened to be an acquaintance. The fellow, however, presently crossed the street, and when he stopped and looked about, Dick, meeting him face to face, saw with some surprise that it was Kemp, the fireman, who had shown him an opportunity of escaping from the steamer that took them South.
Kemp had turned out a steady, sober man, and Dick, who had got him promoted, wondered what he was doing there, though he reflected that his own presence in the disreputable locality was liable to be misunderstood. Kemp, however, looked at him with a twinkle.
“I guess you’re making for the harbor, Mr. Brandon?”
Dick said he was, and Kemp studied the surrounding houses.
“Well,” he resumed, “I’m certainly up against it now. I don’t know much Spanish, and these fool dagos can’t talk American, while they’re packed so tight in their blamed tenements that it’s curious they don’t fall out of the windows. It’s a tough proposition to locate a man here.”
“Then you’re looking for somebody?”
“Yes. I’ve tracked Payne to thiscalle, but I guess there’s some trailing down to be done yet.”
“Ah!” said Dick; for Payne was the dismissed storekeeper. “Why do you want him?”
“I met him a while back and he’d struck bad luck, hurt his arm, for one thing. He’d been working among the breeds on the mole and living in their tenements, and couldn’t strike another job. I reckonedhe might want a few dollars, and I don’t spend all my pay.”
Dick nodded, because he understood the unfortunate position of the white man who loses caste in a tropical country. An Englishman or American may engage in manual labor where skill is required and the pay is high, but he must live up to the standards of his countrymen. If forced to work with natives and adopt their mode of life, he risks being distrusted and avoided by men of his color. Remembering that Payne had interfered when he was stabbed, Dick had made some inquiries about him, but getting no information decided that he had left the town.
“Then he’s lodging in this street,” he said.
“That’s what they told me at the wine-shop. He had to quit the last place because he couldn’t pay.”
“Wasn’t he with Oliva?” Dick inquired.
“He was, but Oliva turned him down. I allow it was all right to fire him, but he’s surely up against it now.”
Dick put his hand in his pocket. “If you find him, you might let me know. In the meantime, here’s five dollars——”
“Hold on!” said Kemp. “Don’t take out your wallet here. I’ll fix the thing, and ask for the money when I get back.”
Dick left him, and when he had transacted his business returned to the dam. An hour or two later Kemp arrived and stated that he had not succeeded in finding Payne. The man had left the squalid room he occupied and nobody knew where he had gone.
During the next week Dick had again occasion to visit the harbor, and while he waited on the mole fora boat watched a gang of peons unloading some fertilizer from a barge. It was hard and unpleasant work, for the stuff, which had a rank smell, escaped from the bags and covered the perspiring men. The dust stuck to their hot faces, almost hiding their color; but one, though equally dirty, looked different from the rest, and Dick, noting that he only used his left arm, drew nearer. As he did so, the man walked up the steep plank from the lighter with a bag upon his back and staggering across the mole dropped it with a gasp. His heaving chest and set face showed what the effort had cost, and the smell of the fertilizer hung about his ragged clothes. Dick saw that it was Payne and that the fellow knew him.
“You have got a rough job,” he remarked. “Can’t you find something better?”
“Nope,” said the man grimly. “Do you reckon I’d pack dirt with a crowd like this if I could help it?”
Dick, who glanced at the lighter, where half-naked negroes and mulattos were at work amid a cloud of nauseating dust, understood the social degradation the other felt.
“What’s the matter with your arm?” he asked.
Payne pulled up his torn sleeve and showed an inflamed and half-healed wound.
“That! Got it nipped in a crane-wheel and it doesn’t get much better. Guess this dirt is poisonous. Anyway, it keeps me here. I’ve been trying to make enough to buy a ticket to Jamaica, but can’t work steady. As soon as I’ve put up two or three dollars, I have to quit.”
Dick could understand this. The man looked gauntand ill and must have been heavily handicapped by his injured arm. He did not seem anxious to excite Dick’s pity, though the latter did not think he cherished much resentment.
“I tried to find you when I got better after being stabbed,” he said. “I don’t quite see why you came to my help.”
Payne grinned sourly. “You certainly hadn’t much of a claim; but you were a white man and that dago meant to kill. Now if I’d held my job with Fuller and you hadn’t dropped on to Oliva’s game, I’d have made my little pile; but I allow you had to fire us when something put you wise.”
“I see,” said Dick, with a smile at the fellow’s candor. “Well, I couldn’t trust you with the cement again, but we’re short of a man to superintend a peon gang and I’ll talk to Mr. Stuyvesant about it if you’ll tell me your address.”
Payne gave him a fixed, eager look. “You get me the job and take me out of this and you won’t be sorry. I’ll make it good to you—and I reckon I can.”
Dick, who thought the other’s anxiety to escape from his degrading occupation had prompted his last statement, turned away, saying he would see what could be done, and in the evening visited Stuyvesant. Bethune was already with him, and Dick told them how he had found Payne.
“You felt you had to promise the fellow a job because he butted in when the dagos got after you?” Stuyvesant suggested.
“No,” said Dick with some embarrassment, “it wasn’t altogether that. He certainly did help me, but I can’t pass my obligations on to my employer. Ifyou think he can’t be trusted, I’ll pay his passage to another port.”
“Well, I don’t know that if I had the option I’d take the fellow out of jail, so long as he was shut up decently out of sight; but this is worse, in a way. What do you think, Bethune?”
Bethune smiled. “You ought to know. I’m a bit of a philosopher, but when you stir my racial feelings I’m an American first. The mean white’s a troublesome proposition at home, but we can’t afford to exhibit him to the dagos here.” He turned to Dick. “That’s our attitude, Brandon, and though you were not long in our country, you seem to sympathize with it. I don’t claim it’s quite logical, but there it is! We’re white anddifferent.”
“Do you want me to hire the man?” Stuyvesant asked with an impatient gesture.
“Yes,” said Dick.
“Then put him on. If he steals anything, I’ll hold you responsible and ship him out on the next cement boat, whether he wants to go or not.”
Next morning Dick sent word to Payne, who arrived at the dam soon afterwards and did his work satisfactorily. On the evening of the first pay-day he went to Santa Brigida, but Dick, who watched him in the morning, noted somewhat to his surprise, that he showed no signs of dissipation. When work stopped at noon he heard a few pistol shots, but was told on inquiring that it was only one or two of the men shooting at a mark. A few days afterwards he found it necessary to visit Santa Brigida. Since Bethune confined his talents to constructional problems and languidly protested that he had no aptitude forcommerce, much of the company’s minor business gradually fell into Dick’s hands. As a rule, he went to the town in the evening, after he had finished at the dam. While a hand-car was being got ready to take him down the line, Payne came up to the veranda, where Dick sat with Jake.
“You’re going down town, Mr. Brandon,” he said. “Have you got a gun?”
“I have not,” said Dick.
Payne pulled out an automatic pistol. “Then you’d better take mine. I bought her, second-hand, with my first pay, but she’s pretty good. I reckon you can shoot?”
“A little,” said Dick, who had practised with the British army revolver. “Still I don’t carry a pistol.”
“You ought,” Payne answered meaningly, and walking to the other end of the veranda stuck a scrap of white paper on a post. “Say, suppose you try her? I want to see you put a pill through that.”
Dick was surprised by the fellow’s persistence, but there is a fascination in shooting at a target, and when Jake urged him he took the pistol. Steadying it with stiffened wrist and forearm, he fired but hit the post a foot below the paper.
“You haven’t allowed for the pull-off, and you’re slow,” Payne remarked. “You want to sight high, with a squeeze on the trigger, and then catch her on the drop.”
He took the pistol and fixed his eyes on the paper before he moved. Then his arm went up suddenly and the glistening barrel pointed above the mark. There was a flash as his wrist dropped and a black spot appeared near the middle of the paper.
“Use her like that! You’d want a mighty steady hand to hold her dead on the mark while you pull off.”
“Sit down and tell us why you think Mr. Brandon ought to have the pistol,” Jake remarked. “I go to Santa Brigida now and then, but you haven’t offered to lend it me.”
Payne sat down on the steps and looked at him with a smile. “You’re all right, Mr. Fuller. They’re not after you.”
“Then you reckon it wasn’t me they wanted the night my partner was stabbed? I had the money.”
“Nope,” said Payne firmly. “I allow they’d have corralled the dollars if they could, but it was Mr. Brandon they meant to knock out.” He paused and added in a significant tone: “They’re after him yet.”
“Hadn’t you better tell us whom you mean by ‘they’?” Dick asked.
“Oliva’s gang. There are toughs in the city who’d kill you for fifty cents.”
“Does that account for your buying the pistol when you came here?”
“It does,” Payne admitted dryly. “I didn’t mean to take any chances when it looked as if I was going back on my dago partner.”
“He turned you down first, and I don’t see how you could harm him by working for us.”
Payne did not answer, and Dick, who thought he was pondering something, resumed: “These half-breeds are a revengeful lot, but after all, Oliva wouldn’t run a serious risk without a stronger motive than he seems to have.”
“Well,” said Payne, “if I talked Spanish, I couldtell you more; but I was taking my siesta one day in a dark wine-shop when two or three hard-looking peons came in. They mayn’t have seen me, because there were some casks in the way, and anyhow, they’d reckon I couldn’t understand them. I didn’t very well, but I heard your name and caught a word or two. Theirpatronhad given them some orders and one called him Don Ramon. You were to be watched, becausemirarcame in; but I didn’t get the rest and they went out soon. I lay as if I was asleep, but I’d know the crowd again.” Payne got up as he concluded: “Anyway, you take my gun, and keep in the maincalles, where the lights are.”
When he had gone Jake remarked: “I guess his advice is good and I’m coming along.”
“No,” said Dick, smiling as he put the pistol in his pocket. “The trouble is that if I took you down there I mightn’t get you back. Besides, there are some calculations I want you to make.”
Lighting his pipe, he took his seat on the hand-car and knitted his brows as two colored laborers drove him down the hill. Below, the lights of Santa Brigida gleamed in a cluster against the dusky sea, and he knew something of the intrigues that went on in the town. Commercial and political jealousies were very keen, and citizens of all ranks fought and schemed against their neighbors. The place was rank with plots, but it was hard to see how he could be involved. Yet it certainly began to look as if he had been stabbed by Oliva’s order, and Oliva was now employed at the Adexe coaling wharf.
This seemed to throw a light upon the matter. Something mysterious was going on at Adexe, andperhaps he had been incautious and had shown his suspicions; the Spaniards were subtle. The manager might have imagined he knew more than he did; but if it was worth defending by the means Payne had hinted at, the secret must be very important, and the plotters would hesitate about betraying themselves by another attempt upon his life so long as there was any possibility of failure. Besides, it was dangerous to attack a foreigner, since if he were killed, the representative of his country would demand an exhaustive inquiry.
While Dick pondered the matter the hand-car stopped and he alighted and walked briskly to Santa Brigida, keeping in the middle of the road. When he reached the town, he chose the wide, well-lighted streets but saw nothing suspicious. After transacting his business he ventured, by way of experiment, across a small dark square and returned to the main street by a narrow lane, but although he kept a keen watch nothing indicated that he was followed. Reaching the hand-car without being molested, he determined to be cautious in future, though it was possible that Payne had been deceived.
CHAPTER XIXJAKE EXPLAINS MATTERS
The sun had sunk behind the range when Clare Kenwardine stood, musing, on a balcony of the house. Voices and footsteps reached her across the roofs, for Santa Brigida was wakening from its afternoon sleep and the traffic had begun again in the cooling streets. The girl listened vacantly, as she grappled with questions that had grown more troublesome of late.
The life she led often jarred, and yet she could find no escape. She hoped she was not unnecessarily censorious and tried to argue that after all there was no great harm in gambling, but rarely succeeded in convincing herself. Then she had deliberately thrown in her lot with her father’s. When she first insisted on joining him in England, he had, for her sake, as she now realized, discouraged the plan, but had since come to depend upon her in many ways, and she could not leave him. Besides, it was too late. She had made her choice and must stick to it.
Yet she rebelled against the feeling that she had brought a taint or stigma upon herself. She had no women friends except the wives of one or two Spanish officials whose reputation for honesty was not of the best; the English and American women left her alone. Most of the men she met she frankly disliked, and imaginedthat the formal respect they showed her was due to her father’s hints. Kenwardine’s moral code was not severe, but he saw that his guests preserved their manners. Clare had heard the Spaniards call himmuy caballero, and they knew the outward points of a gentleman. While she pondered, he came out on the balcony.
“Brooding?” he said with a smile. “Well, it has been very dull lately and we need cheering up. Suppose you send Mr. Fuller a note and ask him to dinner to-morrow? He’s sometimes amusing and I think you like him.”
Clare braced herself for a struggle, for it was seldom she refused her father’s request.
“Yes,” she said, “I like him, but it would be better if he didn’t come.”
Kenwardine gave her a keen glance, but although he felt some surprise did not try to hide his understanding of what she meant.
“It looks as if you knew something about what happened on his last visit.”
“I do,” Clare answered. “It was rather a shock.”
“One mustn’t exaggerate the importance of these things,” Kenwardine remarked in an indulgent tone. “It’s difficult to avoid getting a jar now and then, though I’ve tried to shield you as much as possible. Fuller’s young and high-spirited, and you really mustn’t judge his youthful extravagance too severely.”
“But don’t you see you are admitting that he shouldn’t come?” Clare asked, with some color in her face. “Heisyoung and inexperienced, and your friends are men of the world. What is safe for them may be dangerous for him.”
Kenwardine pondered. Fuller was an attractive lad, and he would not have been displeased to think that Clare’s wish to protect him might spring from sentimental tenderness. But if this were so, she would hardly have been so frank and have admitted that he was weak. Moreover, if she found his society congenial, she would not insist on keeping him away.
“You are afraid some of the others might take advantage of his rashness?” he suggested. “Can’t you trust me to see this doesn’t happen?”
“It did happen, not long ago. And you can’t go very far; one can’t be rude to one’s guests.”
“Well,” said Kenwardine, smiling, “it’s kind of you to make an excuse for me. On the whole, of course, I like you to be fastidious in your choice of friends, but one should temper severity with sense. I don’t want you to get as exacting as Brandon, for example.”
“I’m afraid he was right when he tried to keep Fuller away.”
“Right in thinking my house was unsafe for the lad, and in warning him that you and I were unfit for him to associate with?”
Kenwardine studied the girl. She looked distressed, and he thought this significant, but after a moment or two she answered steadily:
“After all, Brandon had some grounds for thinking so. I would much sooner you didn’t urge me to ask Jake Fuller.”
“Very well,” said Kenwardine. “I don’t want you to do anything that’s repugnant; but, of course, if he comes to see me, I can’t send him off. It isn’t a matter of much importance, anyhow.”
He left her, but she was not deceived by his careless tone. She thought he meant to bring Fuller back and did not see how she could prevent this, although she had refused to help. Then she thought about the plans that Brandon had lost at their house in England. They had certainly been stolen, for she could not doubt what he had told her, but it was painful to admit that her father had taken them. She felt dejected and lonely, and while she struggled against the depression Lucille came to say that Jake was waiting below.
“Tell him I am not at home,” Clare replied.
Lucille went away and Clare left the balcony, but a few minutes later, when she thought Jake had gone, she went down the stairs and met him coming up. He stopped with a twinkle of amusement.
“I sent word that I was not at home,” she said haughtily.
“You did,” Jake agreed in an apologetic tone. “It’s your privilege, but although I felt rather hurt, I don’t see why that should prevent my asking if your father was in.”
Clare’s indignation vanished. She liked Jake and was moved by his reproachful look. She determined to try an appeal.
“Mr. Fuller,” she said, “I would sooner you didn’t come to see us. It would be better, in several ways.”
He gave her a curious, intent look, in which she read sympathy. “I can’t pretend I don’t understand, and you’re very brave. Still, I’m not sure you’re quite just, to me among others. I’m a bit of a fool, but I’m not so rash as some people think. Anyhow,if I were, I’d still be safe enough in your house. Sorry, but I can’t promise to stop away.”
“It would really be much better,” Clare insisted.
“Would it make things any easier for you?”
“No,” said Clare. “In a sense, it could make no difference to me.”
“Very well. I intend to call on your father now and then. Of course, you needn’t see me unless you like, though since I am coming, your keeping out of the way wouldn’t do much good.”
Clare made a gesture of helpless protest. “Why won’t you be warned? Can’t you understand? Do you think it is easy for me to try——”
“I don’t,” said Jake. “I know it’s very hard. I think you’re mistaken about the necessity for interfering; that’s all.” Then he paused and resumed in a different tone: “You see, I imagine that you must feel lonely at times, and that you might need a friend. I dare say you’d find me better than none, and I’d like to know that I’ll have an opportunity of being around if I’m wanted.”
He gave her a quiet, respectful glance, and Clare knew she had never liked him so much. He looked trustworthy, and it was a relief to note that there was no hint of anything but sympathy in his eyes and voice. He asked nothing but permission to protect her if there was need. Moreover, since they had been forced to tread on dangerous ground, he had handled the situation with courage. She might require a friend, and his honest sympathy was refreshing by contrast with the attitude of her father’s companions. Some were hard and cynical and some were dissipated, but all were stamped by a repugnant greediness.They sought something: money, the gratification of base desires, success in dark intrigue. Jake with his chivalrous generosity stood far apart from them; but he must be saved from becoming like them.
“If I knew how I could keep you away, I would do so, but I can, at least, see you as seldom as possible,” she said and left him.
Jake knitted his brows as he went on to Kenwardine’s room. He understood Clare’s motive, and admitted that she meant well, but he was not going to stop away because she thought this better for him. There was, however, another matter that demanded his attention and he felt awkward when Kenwardine opened the door.
“It’s some time since you have been to see us,” the latter remarked.
“It is,” said Jake. “Perhaps you can understand that I felt rather shy about coming after the way my partner arranged the matter of the check.”
“He arranged it to your advantage, and you ought to be satisfied. Mr. Brandon is obviously a business man.”
Jack resented the polished sneer. “He’s a very good sort and I’m grateful to him; but it doesn’t follow that I adopt his point of view.”
“You mean his views about the payment of one’s debts?”
“Yes,” said Jake. “I don’t consider the debt wiped out; in fact, that’s why I came. I want to make good, but it will take time. If you will ask your friends to wait——”
Kenwardine looked at him with an ironical smile. “Isn’t this a change of attitude? I understood youclaimed that you were under a disadvantage through being drunk and suspected that the game was not quite straight.”
“I was drunk and still suspect Black of crooked play.”
“It’s rather a grave statement.”
“I quite see that,” said Jake. “However, I deserved to lose for being drunk when I was betting high, and don’t hold you accountable for Black. You’d take steep chances if you guaranteed all guests.”
Kenwardine laughed. “You’re remarkably frank; but there’s some truth in what you say, although the convention is that I do guarantee them and their honor’s mine.”
“We’ll keep to business,” Jake replied. “Will you tell your friends I’ll pay them out in full as soon as I can?”
“Certainly. Since they thought the matter closed, it will be a pleasant surprise, but we’ll let that go. Mr. Brandon obviously didn’t consult your wishes, but have you any idea what his object was in taking his very unusual line?”
“Yes,” said Jake; “if you press me, I have.”
“He thought he would make it awkward for you to come here, in fact?”
“Something like that.”
“Then you mean to run the risk?”
“I’m coming, if you’ll allow it,” Jake answered with a twinkle. “The risk isn’t very great, because if I lose any more money in the next few months, the winners will not get paid. The old man certainly won’t stand for it if I get into debt.”
Kenwardine pushed a box of cigarettes across. “Icongratulate you on your way of making things clear, and now we understand each other you can come when you like. Have a smoke.”
Jake took a cigarette, but left soon afterwards to do an errand of Bethune’s that had given him an excuse for visiting the town. Then he went back to the dam, and after dinner sat outside Dick’s shack, pondering what Clare had said. She had, of course, had some ground for warning him, but he did not believe yet that Kenwardine meant to exploit his recklessness. It would not be worth while, for one thing, since he had never had much money to lose and now had none. Besides, Kenwardine was not the man to take a mean advantage of his guest, though Jake could not say as much for some of his friends. Anyhow, he meant to go to the house because he felt that Clare might need his help. He did not see how that might be, but he had a half-formed suspicion that she might have to suffer on her father’s account, and if anything of the kind happened, he meant to be about.
Yet he was not in love with her. She attracted him strongly, and he admitted that it would be remarkably easy to become infatuated, but did not mean to let this happen. Though often rash, he had more sense and self-control than his friends believed, and realized that Clare was not for him. He could not tell how he had arrived at this conclusion, but there it was, and he knew he was not mistaken. Sometimes he wondered with a twinge of jealousy what she thought of Brandon.
By and by he roused himself from his reflections and looked about. There was no moon and a thin mist that had stolen out of the jungle drifted pastthe shack. A coffee-pot and two cups stood upon a table near his chair, and one cup was half empty, as Dick had left it when he was unexpectedly summoned to the dam, where work was going on. The veranda lamp had been put out, because Jake did not want to read and a bright light would have attracted moths and beetles, but Dick had left a lamp burning in his room, and a faint illumination came through the curtain on the open window. Everything was very quiet except when the ringing of hammers and the rattle of a crane rose from the dam.
Looking farther round, Jake thought he distinguished the blurred outline of a human figure in the mist, but was not surprised. Some ironwork that made a comfortable seat lay near the shack and the figure had been there before. For all that, he imagined the man was wasting his time and keeping an unnecessary watch. Then his thoughts again centered on Clare and Kenwardine and some time had passed when he looked up. Something had disturbed him, but he could not tell what it was, and on glancing at the spot where he had seen the figure he found it had gone.
Next moment a board in the house creaked softly, as if it had been trodden on; but the boards often did so after a change of temperature, and Jake sat still. Their colored servant had asked leave to go down to the camp and was perhaps now coming back. One had to be careful not to give one’s imagination too much rein in these hot countries. Payne seemed to have done so and had got an attack of nerves, which was curious, because indulgence in native caña generally led to that kind of thing, and Payne wassober. Moreover, he was of the type that is commonly called hard.
Jake took out a cigarette and was lighting it when he heard a swift, stealthy step close behind him. He dropped the match as he swung round, pushing back his canvas chair, and found his eyes dazzled by the sudden darkness. Still he thought he saw a shadow flit across the veranda and vanish into the mist. Next moment there were heavier footsteps, and a crash as a man fell over the projecting legs of the chair. The fellow rolled down the shallow stairs, dropping a pistol and then hurriedly got up.
“Stop right there, Pepe!” he shouted. “What were you doing in that room?”
Nobody answered and Jake turned to the man, who was rubbing his leg.
“What’s the trouble, Payne?” he asked.
“He’s lit out, but I reckon I’d have got him if you’d been more careful how you pushed your chair around.”
“Whom did you expect to get?”
“Well,” said Payne, “it wasn’t Pepe.”
“Then why did you call him?”
“I wanted the fellow I was after to think I’d made a mistake.”
Jake could understand this, though the rest was dark. Pepe was an Indian boy who brought water and domestic stores to the shack, but would have no excuse for entering it at night.
“I allow he meant to dope the coffee,” Payne resumed.
This was alarming, and Jake abruptly glanced at the table. The intruder must have been close to it and behind him when he heard the step, and mighthave accomplished his purpose and stolen away had he not struck the match.
“He hadn’t time,” he answered. “We had better see what he was doing in the house.”
Payne put away his pistol and they entered Dick’s room. Nothing seemed to have been touched, until Jake placed the lamp on a writing-table where Dick sometimes worked at night. The drawers beneath it were locked, but Payne indicated a greasy finger-print on the writing-pad.
“I guess that’s a dago’s mark. Mr. Brandon would wash his hands before he began to write.”
Jake agreed, and picking up the pad thought the top sheet had been hurriedly removed, because a torn fragment projected from the leather clip. The sheet left was covered with faint impressions, but it rather looked as if these had been made by the ink running through than by direct contact. Jake wrote a few words on a scrap of paper and pressing it on the pad noted the difference.
“This is strange,” he said. “I don’t get the drift of it.”
Payne looked at him with a dry smile. “If you’ll come out and let me talk, I’ll try to put you wise.”
Jake nodded and they went back to the veranda.
CHAPTER XXDON SEBASTIAN
When they returned to the veranda Payne sat down on the steps. Jake picked up his chair and looked at him thoughtfully.
“Now,” he said, “I want to know why you have been prowling about the shack at night. You had better begin at the beginning.”
“Very well. I guess you know I was put off this camp soon before you came?”
“I heard something about it,” Jake admitted.
Payne grinned as if he appreciated his tact, and then resumed: “In the settlement where I was raised, the old fellow who kept the store had a cheat-ledger. When somebody traded stale eggs and garden-truck for good groceries, and the storekeeper saw he couldn’t make trouble about it without losing a customer, he said nothing but scored it down against the man. Sometimes he had to wait a long while, but sooner or later he squared the account. Now that’s my plan with Don Ramon Oliva.”
“I see,” said Jake. “What have you against him?”
“To begin with, he got me fired. It was a thing I took my chances of and wouldn’t have blamed him for; but I reckon now your father’s cement wasn’t all he was after. He wanted a pull on me.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t got that quite clear, but I’m an American and could do things he couldn’t, without being suspected.”
“Go on,” said Jake, in a thoughtful tone.
“Well, for a clever man, he made a very poor defense when your partner spotted his game; seemed to say if they reckoned he’d been stealing, he’d let it go at that. Then, when he’d got me and found I wasn’t the man he wanted, he turned me down. Left me to live with breeds and niggers!”
“What do you mean by your not being the man he wanted?”
Payne smiled in a deprecatory way. “I allow that I was willing to make a few dollars on the cement, but working against white men in a dago plot is a different thing.”
“Then there is a plot?”
“Well,” said Payne quietly, “I don’t know much about it, but something’s going on.”
Jake lighted a cigarette while he pondered. He was not surprised that Payne should talk to him with confidential familiarity, because the situation warranted it, and the American workman is not, as a rule, deferential to his employer. The fellow might be mistaken, but he believed that Oliva had schemed to get him into his power and work upon his wish for revenge. Jake could understand Oliva’s error. Payne’s moral code was rudimentary, but he had some racial pride and would not act like a treacherous renegade.
“I begin to see how your account against Oliva stands,” he remarked. “But is that the only entry in your book?”
“I guess not,” Payne replied. “Mr. Brandon’s name is there, but the entry is against myself. It was a straight fight when he had me fired, and he took me back when he found I was down and out.”
Jake nodded. “You have already warned Brandon that he might be in some danger in the town.”
“That’s so. Since then, I reckoned that they were getting after himhere, but we were more likely to hold them up if they didn’t know we knew. That’s why I called out to show I thought it was Pepe who was in the shack.”
“Very well,” said Jake. “There’s nothing more to be done in the meantime, but you’d better tell me if you find out anything else.”
Payne went away and when Dick came in Jake took him into his room and indicated the blotter.
“Have you torn off the top sheet in the last few days?”
“I don’t remember doing so, but now I come to look, it has been torn off.”
“What have you been writing lately?”
“Orders for small supplies, specifications of material, and such things.”
“Concrete, in short?” Jake remarked. “Well, it’s not an interesting subject to outsiders and sometimes gets very stale to those who have to handle it. Are you quite sure you haven’t been writing about anything else?”
“I am sure. Why do you ask?”
“Because, as you see, somebody thought it worth while to steal the top sheet of your blotter,” Jake replied. “Now perhaps I’d better tell you something I’ve just learned.”
He related what Payne had told him and concluded: “I’m puzzled about Oliva’s motive. After all, it could hardly be revenge.”
“No,” said Dick, with a thoughtful frown, “I don’t imagine it is.”
“Then what does he expect to gain?”
Dick was silent for a few moments with knitted brows, and then asked: “You have a Monroe Doctrine, haven’t you?”
“We certainly have,” Jake agreed, smiling. “We reaffirmed it not long ago.”
“Roughly speaking, the Doctrine states that no European power can be allowed to set up a naval base or make warlike preparations in any part of America. In fact, you warn all foreigners to keep their hands off?”
“That’s its general purport; but while I support it patriotically, I can’t tell you exactly what it says. Anyhow, I don’t see what this has to do with the matter.”
“Nor do I, but it seems to promise a clue,” Dick answered dryly. He frowned at the blotter and then added: “We’ll leave it at that. I’ve some vague suspicions, but nothing to act upon. If the thing gets any plainer, I’ll let you know.”
“But what about Payne? Is he to hang around here nights with his gun?”
“No,” said Dick, “it isn’t necessary. But there’d be no harm in our taking a few precautions.”
He stretched his arms wearily when Jake left him, for he had had a tiring day and had now been given ground for anxious thought. He had not troubled much about Oliva while he imagined that the fellowwas actuated by a personal grudge, but his antagonism began to look more dangerous. Suppose the Adexe coaling station was intended to be something of the nature of a naval base? Munitions and other contraband of war might be quietly sent off with fuel to fighting ships. Richter, the German, had certainly been associated with Kenwardine, who had made an opportunity for telling Jake that they had disagreed. Then suppose the owners of the station had learned that they were being spied upon? Dick admitted that he might not have been as tactful as he thought; and he was employed by an influential American. The Americans might be disposed to insist upon a strict observance of the Monroe Doctrine. Granting all this, if he was to be dealt with, it would be safer to make use of a half-breed who was known to have some ground for hating him.
Dick, however, reflected that he was taking much for granted and his suppositions might well be wrong. It was unwise to attach too much importance to a plausible theory. Then he could not expose Kenwardine without involving Clare, and saw no means of separating them. Besides, Kenwardine’s position was strong. The officials were given to graft, and he had, no doubt, made a skilful use of bribes. Warnings about him would not be listened to, particularly as he was carrying on a thriving business and paying large sums in wages in a country that depended on foreign capital.
Then Dick got up with a frown. His head ached and he was tired after working since sunrise in enervating heat. The puzzle could not be solved now, and he must wait until he found out something more.
For the next two or three evenings he was kept busy at the dam, where work was carried on after dark, and Jake, taking advantage of this, went to Santa Brigida one night when he knew the locomotive would be coming back up the line. Nothing of importance happened at Kenwardine’s, where he did not see Clare, and on his return he took a short cut through a badly-lighted part of the town. There was perhaps some risk in this, but Jake seldom avoided an adventure. Nothing unusual happened as he made his way through the narrow streets, until he reached a corner where a noisy group hung about the end house. As the men did not look sober, he took the other side of the street, where the light of a lamp fell upon him.
His close-fitting white clothes distinguished him from the picturesque untidiness of the rest, and when somebody shouted, “Un Gringo!” one or two moved across as if to stop him. Jake walked on quickly, looking straight in front without seeming to notice the others, in the hope of getting past before they got in his way, but a man dressed like a respectable citizen came round the corner and the peons ran off. Since the appearance of a single stranger did not seem to account for this, Jake wondered what had alarmed them, until he saw a rural guard in white uniform behind the other. When the man came up theruralestopped and raised his hand as if he meant to salute, but let it fall again, and Jake imagined that the first had given him a warning glance. He knew the thin, dark-faced Spaniard, whom he had met at Kenwardine’s.
The man touched Jake’s shoulder and drew himaway, and the lad thought it strange that theruralewent on without asking a question.
“I don’t know that the peons meant to make trouble, but I’m glad you came along, Don Sebastian,” he said.
“It is an honor to have been of some service, but it looks as if you were as rash in other matters as you are at cards,” the Spaniard answered. “These darkcallesare unsafe for foreigners.”
“So it seems, but I’m afraid it will be a long time before I’m worth robbing,” Jake replied, and then remembered with embarrassment that the other was one of the party whose winnings he had not yet paid.
Don Sebastian smiled, but said suavely: “For all that, you should not take an unnecessary risk. You have been attacked once already, I think?”
“Yes, but it was my partner who got hurt.”
“That is one of the ironies of luck. Señor Brandon is sober and cautious, but he gets injured when he comes to protect you, who are rash.”
“He’s what you say, but I didn’t know you had met him,” Jake replied.
“I have heard of him; you foreigners are talked about in the cafés. They talk much in Santa Brigida; many have nothing else to do. But have you and Señor Brandon only been molested once?”
Jake hesitated for a moment. He liked the man and on the whole thought he could be trusted, while he imagined that he was not prompted by idle curiosity but knew something. Besides, Jake was often impulsive and ready, as he said, to back his judgment.
“We were only once actually attacked, but something rather curious happened not long ago.”
“Ah!” said Don Sebastian, “this is interesting,and as I know something of the intrigues that go on in the city it might be to your advantage to tell me about it. There is a quiet wine-shop not far off.”
“Would it be safe to go in?” Jake asked.
“I think so,” his companion answered, smiling.
Jake presently followed him into a small, dimly lighted room, and noted that the landlord came to wait on them with obsequious attention. Two peons were drinking in a corner, but they went out when the landlord made a sign. Jake thought this curious, but Don Sebastian filled his glass and gave him a cigarette.
“Now,” he said, “we have the place to ourselves and you can tell your story.”
Jake related how a stranger had stolen into their shack a few days ago, and Don Sebastian listened attentively.
“You do not think it was one of the peons employed at the dam?” he suggested.
“No,” said Jake. “Anyhow, Payne seemed satisfied it wasn’t.”
“He would probably know them better than you. Do you keep money in the house?”
“Very little. We lock up the money for wages in the pay-office safe. Anyhow, I’m not sure the fellow came to steal.”
“If he did so, one would not imagine that he would be satisfied with blotting-paper,” Don Sebastian agreed. “You said there was some coffee on the table.”
“There was. Payne reckoned the fellow meant to dope it. What do you think?”
“It is possible, if he had ground for being revengeful. Some of the Indians from the mountains are expert poisoners. But why should anybody wish to injure your comrade?”
“I didn’t suggest that he wished to injure Brandon. He might have meant to dope me.”
Don Sebastian smiled. “That is so, but on the whole I do not think it probable. Do you know of anybody whom your friend has harmed?”
Jake decided to tell him about Oliva. He was now convinced that Don Sebastian knew more than he admitted and that his interest was not unfriendly. Besides, there was somehow a hint of authority in the fellow’s thin, dark face. He showed polite attention as Jake narrated the events that had led to Oliva’s dismissal, but the lad imagined that he was telling him nothing he had not already heard.
“The motive may have been revenge, but as Señor Brandon was stabbed that ought to satisfy his enemy. Besides, these people are unstable; they do not even indulge in hatred long. Do you know if your comrade has taken any part in political intrigue?”
“It’s most unlikely; he would make a very poor conspirator,” Jake replied.
“Then have you heard of any señorita, or perhaps a half-breed girl who has taken his fancy?”
“No,” said Jake. “Dick is not that kind.”
He thought Don Sebastian had been clearing the ground, eliminating possibilities to which he did not attach much weight, and waited with interest for his remarks.
“Well,” said the Spaniard, “I think you and the man, Payne, should watch over your friend, but it might be better if you did not tell him you are doing so or ask him any questions, and I would sooner you did not mention this interview. If, however, anything suspicious happens again, it might be an advantage ifyou let me know. You can send word to me at the hotel.”
“Not at Kenwardine’s?”
Don Sebastian gave him a quiet glance, but Jake thought it was keenly observant and remembered how, one night when a messenger entered Kenwardine’s patio, Richter, the German, had stood where he obstructed the Spaniard’s view.
“No,” he said, “I should prefer the hotel. Will you promise?”
“I will,” Jake answered impulsively. “However, you seem to suggest that I should leave my partner to grapple with this thing himself and I don’t like that. If he’s up against any danger, I want to butt in. Dick’s no fool, but there are respects in which he’s not very keen. His mind’s fixed on concrete, and when he gets off it his imagination’s sometimes rather weak——”
He stopped, feeling that he must not seem to censure his friend, and Don Sebastian nodded with a twinkle of amusement.
“I think I understand. There are, however, men of simple character and no cunning who are capable of going far and sometimes surprise the friends who do not know them very well. I cannot tell if Señor Brandon is one of these, but it is not impossible. After all, it is often the clever man who makes the worst mistakes; and on the whole I imagine it would be wiser to leave your comrade alone.”
He got up and laid his hand on Jake’s arm with a friendly gesture. “Now I will put you on your way, and if you feel puzzled or alarmed in future, you can come to me.”