CHAPTER IX.MARRIET REPORTS HERSELF DEAD.
The Governor heaved a sigh when he had finished, as if a burden had suddenly dropped from his shoulders.
“How long since he gave this to you, Juan?”
“About fifteen minutes before I entered this room, your Honor.”
“Did it take you fifteen minutes to get up the stairs?”
“I am an old man, your Honor, but am yet spry. When the Plunger left, I was called to your private study, where Señor Guillermo Gonzales wished to speak to me. If your Honor cares, I will tell you everything he said. First, he sent a message to you, which I have not had an opportunity until this moment to deliver. He told me to say to you, that though the President has returned to consciousness he desires to be left alone that he may write a full account of his past, provided heremembers.”
“Very well, Juan,” replied the Governor. “I will not interrupt his Excellency. And as for you telling meallthe scientist said to you, there is no necessity for you telling anything, except the message you have just delivered.”
“Since the ‘Plunger’ came, I feel it my duty to tell you that Señor Gonzales cautioned me to guard youclosely; to allow no one to pass into the house without you knowing the person and giving your consent. That trouble is brewing in the city, and your life would be threatened,” said Juan.
“It is certainly kind of him and others to be so interested in my welfare. I am least concerned about my own safety. I have a strange presentiment that I will not be harmed. It is the safety of the people, the great multitude around us, Juan, about whom I am concerned. Rest assured, good man, I will protect my people, no matter what the cost.”
“But, dear papa, the people would not be able to protect themselves, if you were gone. Dear papa, do not court danger,” cried Catalina.
“That child! She makes me afraid, your Honor. I wish she were more like my own little granddaughter,” said Juan, stepping closer to the marble statue and further from the child.
“Poor man,” said Catalina, “he does notremember. He is afraid of me, is he not, papa? How strange that anyone is afraid of a little girl.”
“It is strange, dear; but Juan is an old man and has never taken ‘Memory Fluid,’” replied the Governor. “Juan, I will remain in my room with Catalina. Serve us a luncheon here promptly at twelve-thirty, one hour hence. I have a presentiment that I will be seriously occupied about one o’clock. Tell thechefto prepare a luncheon for two persons, in a manner befitting his Excellency, and send it promptly at half-past twelve to my private studio.”
“Yes, your Honor,” he replied, with a low curtesy, ashe left the room, while he mentally exclaimed: “If I am not a fool, he will beseriously occupied atone o’clock. The big letter I have is to be delivered to him at that time. I wish it wereonenow; I want to get rid of it. It seems to be burning a hole into my body. I thought I would ’speriment with ‘Memory Fluid’ this morning. But now I will do nothing rash. I will let the past rest, so far as I am concerned, until I see the result of the present unsettled state of affairs. In the meantime I will take the matter of being a subject under grave consideration. If I was just ten years younger, strangers would take me for a great scientist. At sixty it is difficult for a man to take on new ideas.” Juan had not been commenting aloud, consequently was very much surprised by hearing the familiar tones of Julio Murillo saying: “Don’t bother about your age, Juan. You will live again, if you desire; then you may be a very learned man.”
Juan did not reply, and the great scientist’s assistant went on.
With his head low upon his breast, frightened and trembling, Juan hastened to the kitchen.
Governor Lehumada and Catalina were reclining in large, comfortable chairs in the room where Juan had left them. The Governor in deep meditation, the child thumping upon the arm of the chair with a small stick, and singing softly, the words, “Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home;” and the exquisite tone in which they were sung caught the ear of the Governor and unknown to the child, he watched her intently until her song ceased.
“Those words, Catalina, sound strangely familiar to me. Is it a new song, or an old one revived?” he asked.
“It is an old song, your Honor,” replied the child, as she curtesied prettily to him, in the same manner she did the day she came to the State House to sell her flowers. It was only a few days ago, yet it seemed to the Governor that a year or more had passed. In fact, the child had grown to be so great a part of his life that it seemed incredulous that she had ever lived elsewhere.
“Where did you learn it, dear?” asked the Governor.
The child was startled at first, and looked frightened; then, throwing out her arms, she rushed to the Governor, crying: “For a moment I was the Catalina of long ago. I was unhappy. I had ceased to remember myself as I now am. I thought I was the poor Catalina of disgrace and despair whom the President taught to sing that song so long ago. He sang it to me the night he left for ‘the States,’ in the other life that I knew him.”
“Was he kind to you, dear?” asked the Governor.
“Indeed he was, papa; kinder than any man had been. Sometimes he vexed me greatly. I did not understand him, and he was a constant tease.”
“He was an American tourist in Mexico then, was he not?” asked the Governor.
“He was an American, I am quite sure; but I do not think he was in Mexico for pleasure,” replied Catalina.
“Possibly not,” commented the Governor; “at that time many Americans were coming to Mexico to prospect. He no doubt was a mining man.”
“I do not think so,” confidently replied Catalina.
“No? What idea have you then, child?”
“He had much money to spend, and every time he came, and he came often, he gave me money; sometimes food and clothes. My mother washed for several people who stayed at the big white hotel facing the principal plaza. He knew this, and whenever he came he questioned me about these people—he wanted to know what I saw in their rooms. I always went with my mother to help her carryla ropa limpiahome. I had a sharp eye and usually saw everything in view in the room,” she replied.
“I cannot understand,” replied the Governor, “why he questioned you about what these people had in their rooms. He must have been consumed with idle curiosity.”
“He asked me,” continued Catalina, “if I could bring him the ‘phiz’ of a certain man, who with his wife stayed at the hotel.”
“Thephiz? What did he mean, child?”
“Idid not know then, and told him so, and he said: ‘Well, I will tell you what I mean by a phiz.’ He took a pencil and note book from his pocket, made a few strokes on the paper and handed me a picture of myself. ‘Oh, no.’ I said, on seeing what he meant, ‘I cannot make pictures.’ He left the house, saying he would be back in one-half of an hour. He came as he promised, and brought a little black box, which he said was acamera. He showed me how to use it, and I consented to take it with me the next time we went to carryla ropato the hotel, and take a picture of the man and woman, also one of the room. I did so, and here it is.Also my phiz.” She handed the pictures to the Governor, and while looking at them intently, he said:
“Can it be possible, child, that this is the picture of the great counterfeiter who operated in Mexico for so many years, and whom I delivered into the hands of the United States authorities? It is, it is. Irememberhim well. And this, dear child, is your ‘phiz,’ is it? It is not unlike you now. But you were older then than at present, were you not?”
“I was older. I am eight now, and I was eleven when that was made.”
“Mr. Mortingo, the President of the great United States of America,” laughed Governor Lehumada, “was a secret service man in the year 1898. I remember him well. He was a jolly, generous chap, and on coming to Chihuahua I remember the remark he made when he first called upon me. He said:
“‘Uncle Sam has sent me down here to catch some birds who are in your city. They are molding and shoving the queer.’”
“Yes,” said Catalina, “that is what he kept telling me—that they were ‘shoving the queer’”—to which the Governor replied:
“I understood very little English at that time, but the official interpreter put it into the best Spanish he could and I at once saw the point. The Americans were much given to the use of slang then, much of which had a singular fitness. I committed the phrase to memory and never forgot it. Let me see the other picture; the interior of the room.”
The child handed him the picture, and pointing to acertain place in it, said: “There is the lump of silver they were chopping up as we went in. In the kettle over the fire is lead.”
“Ha! ha! ha! ha!” laughed the Governor. “That is very interesting to know. I wonder what will be the feelings of the President, should he remember?”
“I have several packages of spaghetti he gave me to use on feast days. He showed me how to cook it. We learned to like it so well, he declared that my forefathers were Italians. And sure enough, my mother began to hunt up old family history, and she discovered that her great-grandmother was an Italian noblewoman,” said Catalina.
“Child,” replied the Governor, “you have always been something more to me than an ordinary child, a child of entirely plebeian birth. The mere fact of your wounded pride on learning that you were born out of wedlock, that broke your heart and caused your untimely demise, proved the question of your blood to be other than plebeian.”
“I do not cry any more now, over the past,” said Catalina, “for I believe in the righting of all wrongs. It is worked out by Nature and Nature’s help to man.”
“Come, child, my little philosopher, kiss your papa; kiss me fondly. A strange fear is crowding over me,” he said, holding out his arms to her.
She did his bidding with much fervor, and whispering in his ear, said: “Juan is coming with our luncheon. I will open the door.”
The faithful old man entered and set before them a dainty meal, and stood quietly back of the Governor’schair while he ate heartily of the food. The meal was quite contrary to the usual customs of the household—that is, without any conversation and with much dispatch.
The Governor arose when he had finished, looked at his watch, and said: “It is now one o’clock. Juan, remove the dishes, and take the child to the housekeeper.”
“Yes, your Honor,” replied Juan. “Here is a letter I was told to give you at one o’clock.”
The Governor took the letter, and kissing the child fondly, said: “Go with Juan, dear, and tell Juanita you need to sleep.”
As they were leaving the room, she said: “I am sleepy and will take a nap—but will show you the way to Marriet Motuble, when you go.”
“A strange child,” mentally commented the Governor, as he tore the envelope open. “As if I intended to call upon Miss Motuble, the massive giantess; the aggressive señorita. No, no, Catalina, dear, sweet child, you are a wonder in many ways, but this time you are mistaken. Dearest Helen, would that I could visit you! What, what is this?” holding the letter he pulled out of the envelope at arm’s length. “What is it?”
“I, Marriet Motuble, nearing the end of my third existence,” he read, “wish you to bear in mind the following: that by the time you have finished reading this note which I have ordered to be left with you at one o’clock this very day, I will no more be a mortal. By my own hands will the great chasm which separates thephysical from the spiritual of man be reached. Such an act has been recorded, since the beginning of time, as a crime against the great Creator as well as against self. Be it further known that I, Marriet Motuble, this moment confess to my many faults, the greatest of all my sins to my mind being my pretensions to having been a subject of ‘Memory Fluid,’ or of having remembered a previous existence. I only made this pretense to ingratiate myself into your favor, knowing your great belief in your wonderful ‘Memory Fluid,’ to make you return my great love. My labors were in vain. I am, on the other hand, repulsive to you—so I this day, at one o’clock, make an end of this earthly existence.”
The Governor looked at his watch. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “it is one o’clock this very moment. Can it be that she is now taking this step? What can I do to prevent this mad act? I will send her a message—where does she live?—I have not the faintest idea. I will have Juan inquire.”
Juan appeared almost instantly after the Governor’s call.
“Do you know where Miss Motuble lives? The lady, I mean, who called here early this morning?” asked the Governor.
“No, sir, I do not,” replied Juan, eying the Governor curiously.
“Find out, immediately. If necessary, employ a detective. I must know if there is any possible way of finding out.”
“I will do my best, your Honor, my very best,” repliedJuan, as he left the room, shaking his head dubiously. The Governor followed him to the door engrossed with his own thoughts.
“Juan,” he called, “here one moment.”
Juan returned and looked questioningly into his face.
“Go to my private study at once, and say to Señors Guillermo Gonzales and Julio Murillo to do me the favor to meet me here this moment, if they have the leisure. With dispatch, Juan, with dispatch.”
“Yes, your Honor,” replied Juan, as he hurried away.
Such a request had never been made to the scientists before, and without any delay they hurried to the Governor, curious to know the object of the call.
The door leading into the room was wide open, and as they entered, the great author of “Liquid from the Sun’s Rays” stood in the middle of the floor re-reading Marriet Motuble’s letter. He greeted them warmly, and without any delay said: “I have received a very strange letter—no stranger, however, than the person by whom it is written—the aggressive señorita Marriet Motuble.”
“Marriet Motuble!” exclaimed both men in a low voice.
“Your surprise cannot possibly be greater than mine,” replied the Governor. “Please reserve your surprise for what I will read you. In fact, I am inclined to believe most anything, if what I have read of this long letter be true. I am yet in ignorance of the nature of the remainder of the letter. Be seated, friends, and I will start at the beginning.”
The three great men sat down in a circle, and when the Governor had re-read the first part of the letterand various comments had been made, the Governor began reading where he had previously left off:
“I repeat that I, Marriet Motuble, this day at one o’clock will make an end of my present earthly existence. Farewell, farewell, my adored one, farewell. Although my great love for you was not reciprocated in this life, I will live again and again. In the next life I hope to have sufficient power to compel love to grow in your heart, in your great noble breast, for me—for me alone.
“My life is not lived upon the highest plane, for I long for revenge; for revenge upon the one you adore. Her name is upon your lips at this moment, and you breathe a prayer for her protection. Beware! if I have the power, her downfall will come shortly. She upon whom I wish for revenge to fall, is Helen Hinckley. And I am the one who adores you.
“Marriet Motuble.”
“Marriet Motuble.”
“Marriet Motuble.”
“Marriet Motuble.”
“That is not all,” said the Governor, “but before I read this, which is entitled, ‘A Matter of Business,’ I will ask you what I would better do in regard to the case. It seems so perfectly absurd that anyone would kill himself for such a foolish reason. I cannot imagine one loving another for whom he knew the other had no regard.”
“Love,” replied the great scientist, “is a strange thing. It goes out toward the object of its desire, prompted by no other motive, it would seem, than to do the will of the person upon whom it is lavished. Miss Motublehas my sympathies, most certainly, because she is in error. What she terms love is a misnomer. However, we must investigate. If self destruction has not taken place, we must use every means known to science to prevent it.”
Julio Murillo was walking back and forth, as was his custom, his hands clasped tightly behind him, intent upon what was being said, and forming his own conclusions.
“Have you no suggestions to offer, friend Julio?” asked the Governor.
“Yes, your Honor,” he replied, facing the two men; “I would suggest that you do not let this matter annoy you in the least. Miss Motuble will never take her own life!”
“You speak so positively, I am encouraged. But what makes you think so, friend Julio?”
“The reasons he will give, Miguey, will be scientific ones, and you can rely upon them,” said Guillermo Gonzales, as he embraced Julio and said: “Tell us upon what grounds you base your statements.”
“I am at this moment,” replied Julio, “en rapportwith the bewitching, aggressive señorita. She is half reclining in a beautiful lounging-robe, on a couch so rich that Cleopatra would have envied it in her days of splendor. Now she lifts a goblet to her lips and cries: ‘The drink of the gods! What a joke it is to play upon the credulity of the Governor. What the result will be when they search for me and find me peacefully taking my siesta, instead of being no more a mortal, no more of clay, I cannot say. Ha! ha! If I cannot secure hislove, I will create an uproar. I will be prominent yet before I die. I will crush the life out of all the scorpions around here. I will, I will!’ She now falls over amongst her pillows embraced in the arms of sleep.”
“If there is no doubt about what you tell me, I will certainly hold this young woman accountable for her little confidence game. I have sent Juan to find her address. Should he succeed in finding it you will accompany me to see her,” said the Governor.
“You must go in disguise, your Honor, as a physician; we three will go disguised thus. It is not necessary to wait for the return of your man. I know perfectly well the place where she now is,” said Julio.
At that moment Juan entered the room, panting and frightened. “Your Honor,” he cried, “I employed a detective; he has this moment returned to say that Miss Motuble is dead by her own hands. Her body was laid, less than an hour ago, in the old private family vault of the Motubles.”
“Everyone knows the place. It was there the child Catalina Martinet was buried,” cried the Governor.
“The detective’s statements are false,” said Julio Murillo. “I mean he has been misinformed. Someone may have been placed in the Motuble tomb, under the name of Marriet Motuble, but the real person is alive and is as strong to-day as anyone of us three.”
“Juan,” asked the Governor, “are you sure no mistake has been made by you in repeating this message?”
“I am sure, your Honor, and I am sorry Señor Julio thinks she is not dead,” said Juan.
“How inhuman!” exclaimed Guillermo Gonzales.
“Maybe so, your honor; but women who make men afraid should die.”
“You have strange ideas of getting rid of annoyances,” said the Governor, trying to hide a smile. “I will ring for you, Juan, when I need you again.”
Juan was getting intensely interested in the affair on hand, and was secretly congratulating himself that he would hear everything; consequently, was very much crestfallen when the Governor very politely invited him to leave the room.
“That part of Miss Motuble’s letter which relates to the deception she practiced by pretending to have been a subject of ‘Memory Fluid,’ is false also; there was no pretension about it. She actually came disguised as a drunken man, and entreated me to give her ‘Memory Fluid.’ Her figure was a splendid disguise, but her actions and voice betrayed her sex to me. By no sign from me did she ever know that I had penetrated her disguise. She certainly is a strange mixture of God’s creation—a strange mixture,” concluded Julio.
“I know of no case as interesting as hers, unless it is the case of ‘The Plunger from Kansas,’” said the scientist, Guillermo Gonzales.
“You are correct, my friend,” said the Governor. “As soon as I finish reading Miss Motuble’s letter, or I would better say letters—this one is entitled, ‘A Matter of Business’—we will disguise ourselves as doctors and ferret out the mystery of the tomb, after we convince ourselves that she is alive. She used a different tone in writing this:
“‘To His Excellency, Governor of Chihuahua: Be it known that on the day which shall from henceforth be known as “Memory Fluid Day,” that I, Marriet Motuble, being an attentive listener to the lecture, and a guest at the banquet, where all I saw and heard consumed me with interest, and where the following plot I overheard, which I now relate to put you on your guard—that I may show to you my great appreciation of your wonderful discoveries and the great love and esteem in which I hold the lives of my fellowman. The words that first attracted my attention were spoken by Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, well known to yourself, to a man who wears the garb of a priest, Father Hernandez by name. He said: “The nefarious works of this man Lehumada, a man of purely Mexican origin, whom we elected to fill the highest office in the hands of the people of Chihuahua, has betrayed the confidence imposed upon him to such an extent that it now behooves us to put our shoulders to the wheel and stop the downward run he is hurrying us to perdition. The time-honored institutions and customs of our once great and beloved Mexico have fast disappeared. And now it is left to one of our own race; one of our own dear Mexican blood, to pretend to discover a liquid which will restore and perpetuate memory to be used to get evidence of crimes that poor souls are said to have committed in lives gone by, that they may now be brought to justice. There is no telling how far these accursed doings will be carried. It will not stop at the trial of ‘The Plunger from Kansas.’” The priest replied: “Your story I will spread far and wide. I will raise anarmy from amongst the priests, and our followers and our sympathizers. Money will buy a great following who at present are seeking work, and have no scruples. To these people I will paint the intentions of the present makers of ‘Memory Fluid,’ as black as midnight. I will have our own priesthood falling by countless thousands into a yawning abyss—filled with the blood of our own downtrodden. Complete organization is absolutely necessary. That can be done in this city within twenty-four hours. Through our secret code we will advise our sympathizers over the entire continent of America of our intention. They will be ready to come to our assistance at the moment of our call. The first step we will take in this city to-morrow night, when we hope to arrest and put to death the three instigators of this great evil that seems to be spreading over the entire continent. This is the beginning of a long and bloody war which will be waged between Free Thought and the dogmatic teachings of the churches. Particularly do I hope for the re-establishment of the ancient and time-honored institution of our long-lost Mexico.” The two men arose, embraced each other, and hurried away to spread their evil intentions amongst their followers present. If this information proves a warning to you, I will be greatly repaid for the slight service I have rendered you. May the great Power above guide you safely through the conflict about to be waged between Scientific Thought and those wedded to the creeds of the churches—to the dogmatic teachings of every denomination and society on the face of the earth.
“‘Your aider and abettor in all your scientific investigationsin this life and those other lives we will live together in the future, yours, through all time,
“‘Marriet Motuble.’
“‘Marriet Motuble.’
“‘Marriet Motuble.’
“‘Marriet Motuble.’
“A strange woman,” said Governor Lehumada, as he folded the letter and placed it within the envelope.
“There may be much truth in her statements. We have received many warnings since nine o’clock this morning, about this same affair. I hope we may be able to avert it,” said Guillermo Gonzales.
“It cannot be done,” came the emphatic prophecy of Julio Murillo. “So I beg of you to waste no time. Trouble is gathering thick and fast on every side. Let us prepare our disguise at once and hasten to the tomb and to Marriet Motuble.”
The two men left the Governor to prepare a disguise, and Juan entered to assist him.