CHAPTER VIII.A CONFESSED CRIME.
Governor Lehumada did not faint, nor was he in the least injured by the passionate embrace of Miss Motuble. He was speechless from surprise only, and he allowed his men to assist him to his room, realizing that a few moments of quiet for reflection was what he needed.
He assured Juan that all was well, and that he wished to be alone for a few minutes. Juan shook his head as though he had many misgivings, and quietly left the room. He walked slowly down the hall in deep meditation. He wished that he were off duty, so he could follow the strange señorita. He went into the yard and gazed wistfully up and down the street, in the hope of seeing her. Heaving a sigh, he turned to enter the house again, and murmured to himself: “It must be the evil in the fluid that is causing the trouble.”
Some one startled him from his reverie, by saying: “You are his Honor’s man Juan, are you not?”
“I certainly am,” he replied.
“I was told to give you this letter, and request of you to give it to his Honor at one o’clock this afternoon sharp.” With that he handed Juan an official-looking envelope, and hurried away.
Juan turned the large letter over and over, and read the address on the back, several times: “To His Honor, Governor of Chihuahua.” “Humph! Well, for once in my life, I wish I was ‘His Honor.’ I would make quick work of seeing on the inside of this letter. Association with these scientists has caused me to be a man of much thought. I, too, have great ideas. I know a thing or two. Ha! ha! It does not take a scientist; a Governor or a President, to know that ‘His Honor’ is in love, or that there is pending (he straightened himself up and smiled at the big sentence he was framing) a fearful calamity, and the greatest violence of it will fall upon this town.”
At that moment the child Catalina ran up to him, and said: “Oh, Juan, let me go to him at once. He is in great trouble; the town has gone wrong. Juan, guard his Honor night and day. Do not let anyone enter the house without his knowledge. Watch for Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir. You know him, do you not?”
“The great Don,—ha! ha! I do know him, señorita.”
“And the priest, Father Hernandez?”
“Him, too,niña. I tell my sins to him every week,” said Juan.
“Oh, Juan, how can you?”
“Because,niña, I am still a Catholic. It is not popular to be, I know; but so long as ‘His Honor’ knows I am, and still keeps me in his service, I will be true to the religion of my fathers.”
“His Honor is too wise and too great a man to interfere in anyone’s religious beliefs,” said Catalina.
“Yet he is a man, and loves,” quietly remarked Juan, with a twinkle in his eye.
“He does love. His is a great love; it extends over all humanity. Had you lived before, Juan, andrememberedit, you would understand,” replied the child, with deep pathos in her voice.
Juan laughed heartily, and said: “Pardon me,niña, but what can achildknow of another life? If ‘Memory Fluid’ makesseñoras viejasout ofniñas, it is not good. What would homes be without the innocent coo and laughter of babies?”
“I am happier now than before I remembered, Juan. It is because you do not understand what it is toremember, that makes you say such things.”
“Maybe so; maybe so,niña, but Juan is glad he does notremember.”
“My dearhombre viejo, you mustrememberwhat I told you about Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and the priest,” cried Catalina, as she ran into the house.
“Good-bye, Juan; watch out for the minister, J. T. Note—the Rev. J. T. Note, as he calls himself, and his followers. He is also a foe to progress. Guard him, Juan; guard him well. No harm must come to his Honor.”
Juan’s reply was upon his lips, but the charming child was gone before he could voice it. He looked curiously at the big envelope in his hand, and while reading the address again and again, disappeared into the house.
No sooner had Juan and the Governor’s other man left him alone, than he arose from the bed upon whichhe was reclining and walked back and forth rapidly in an abstracted manner. He was a man who prided himself upon his personal appearance, and now as he stopped before the long plate-mirror and surveyed himself he said: “Dearest Helen, is there anything in my manner of dress, my gait, or tone of voice that displeases? If so, I will rectify it to suit you. I cannot see myself as you see me; oh, my love, that I could! Oh, for the power to see into the future as I now can look into the past. Ye wise and everlasting Force, grant me the boon of greater knowledge. All I get will be used for the uplifting of humanity. I feel the presence of a great force in our midst, which will bring about a change; a change so wonderful that were I to prophesy, no one would believe me. Each would declare that the day of miracles is past. Poor, deluded creatures, there will nothing happen which will be of a miraculous nature. Simply the natural results of the present condition of affairs will take place. The mere fact that President Mortingo submitted himself as a subject, to further demonstrate the use of ‘Memory Fluid,’ will hasten the change. We must be prepared to meet it. We must be able to preserve peace at home and abroad. I must not defer ’till morning to tell my fears to the heads of departments.” He stepped to an ivory tube by the side of his great mirror, and said, speaking through it: “Convey to the head of each department the following:
“‘Prepare for trouble. Try to avert it. Help me generate a great soul wave, that we may quell the disturbers of peace and enemies of progress without forceor bloodshed. If trouble comes, it will be by the brewing of Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, Father Hernandez, Rev. J. T. Note, and the husband of Mrs. Grange, who is assistant Freight Agent of the Chihuahua Air Motor Railroad Company, at this city. If he joins the peace disturbers it will be in an underhand way. He has not the courage of the other gentlemen just mentioned. The prime movers in any trouble that may arise will be the three first mentioned. Others will join them. Many well-known and prominent citizens, who writhe in envy at the success of our administration, because the one in which they figured was a failure from more points of view than one, will be glad of the opportunity to join the rebels and to assist in a cause against us. Not because they believe in the leaders, Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and faction—not by any means—it is because they are our enemies and wish to make us trouble, to create discord, to overthrow our rule. No blood must be shed. We do not care to repeat the old story. The theories we advocate and practice must not be thrust upon humanity at the point of the bayonet. In ages gone by, the Christian religion was carried into all lands, the sword in one hand, and the cross they wished to implant, in the other. There must be an awakening of the spirit of God within man first. It never comes by force. Love is the upbuilding of the race. It grows within the breast of man after its awakening, and spreads its perfume all around, like a beautiful, fragrant rose in a well-attended garden. Remember, force must only be employed to protect the lives and property of our citizens, should an uprisingoccur. That is all the instructions I care to give. Adios, gentlemen.’”
At the moment he ceased talking, Catalina Martinet entered the room, unannounced. “Dear papa,” she said, “I thought I never would find you.”
“But you succeeded. Come, tell me how you enjoyed yourself in the Alameda,” replied the Governor, placing a chair by his side for the strange child. He felt a delicacy in asking about Helen Hinckley, yet he secretly hoped she would speak only of the object of his heart’s desire.
“Oh, your Honor, it is about what I heard at the Alameda I came to see. First, does J. Ecarg repent? Is he doing any good now?” said Catalina.
“I have secured an excellent position for him. He works early and late, and has not been known to frequent any low places of resort since he first took ‘Memory Fluid.’ He has certainly repented of the great wrong he did you in your previous existence, as well as your mother. A criminal at the bar of justice could not feel any greater remorse of conscience than he now does from the mere fact that he in nowise gave aid to your support or to your mother’s. He now wishes to help you.”
“I cannot have help from him; my soul is yet sore. Dear papa, Helen Hinckley, the most beautiful and the truest of women, is to adopt me.”
“Bless her,” cried the Governor. “That is a happy thought.”
“She says that Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and followers are excited very much this morning.Hundreds and hundreds of people have been there to-day to see him. She was asked, late last night, after the banquet closed, to spend the day away from the house, but to return not later than eight o’clock to-night. Before she left, those people began to come. She believes their object is to formulate plans to overthrow the state rule. She fears your life will be in danger. She asked me to say to you to use every precaution to avoid evil,” concluded Catalina. She seemed to possess the very soul of Helen Hinckley.
The Governor looked into the face of the beautiful child, and as he wiped a mist away, that seemed to gather in his eyes, said: “This is the return of love. I am contented. She loves me now, I am certain. All is well; all is well. It could not be otherwise in the end. Truth is everlasting; it endureth forever and forever. In the end it triumphs. The waiting for the end often seems an eternity. Without the one I love, every day is as an eternity. The end is near at hand. Yet before it comes, a fearful struggle will take place. Thou great One, from whom all light comes, bear witness to my integrity of purpose.”
The Governor spoke aloud and gesticulated much, yet he was unconscious, seemingly, of the fact, or that he had company. A slight knock at the door stopped his soliloquy, and glancing around the room in a confused manner, he discovered the child sound asleep upon the chair on which she sat. “Poor little darling; after all, you are a healthy, natural child. Exhausted from last night’s dissipation, nature demands her rights, and is now getting them. If my Helen has adopted you, dear,you are mine, too, I will be your papa after all.” He kissed her fondly on each full, red cheek, and quietly opened the door.
It was Juan who was seeking admittance. He stepped quickly into the room, after looking up and down the hall nervously, and closed the door.
“Your actions, Juan, are strange. Explain,” said the Governor.
Juan stood shaking and speechless, and glaring with wide-open eyes at Catalina.
“What is it, man, what is it? Why do you stand gaping like a man from whom all reason had fled? Come, good man, be natural. I cannot lose my old friend. Come, come, sit down; I must do something for you,” entreated the Governor, getting very nervous. The only sign of life Juan had shown since he entered the room, now appeared. He raised his long, gaunt hand, and pointed with his index finger to Catalina.
“Ah!” exclaimed the Governor. “You are surprised to find the sweet child here. She is no cause for your being so frightened. Come, Juan, explain yourself,” he entreated, taking his old servant’s arm.
“Your Honor,” he whispered, “she is not a child—she is a woman, and a ghost-woman at that.”
“Nonsense; nonsense, man. Now I am afraid of your reason. She is very much of a child. See how soundly she sleeps, and the glow of health upon her cheeks,” the Governor replied lightly, notwithstanding the fact that he felt slightly annoyed by the strange actions of his man, as well as his remarks concerning the child.
“She may be a child, your Honor, but she prophesies. And I am afraid of people of her size, who make prophecies that come true.”
“Explain yourself, Juan, explain yourself; do not talk in riddles. What did the child prophesy?”
“It was this way, your Honor. You remember I carried her in my arms from the carriage into the house, when you and her came home from the banquet last night?”
“I certainly do,” assented Governor Lehumada; “also how surprised you were to find her wide-awake, instead of sound asleep.”
“I was, your Honor; but was more surprised when she whispered in my ear, and said: ‘Juan, I saw the “Plunger from Kansas” to-night.’”
“‘Who is he?’ I asked.
“‘Have you not heard of him, Juan?’
“‘No,’ I said. ‘Does he plunge in a Kansas river?’
“‘Oh, how stupid. No, he does notplungeat all now. He made a bigplungeabout one hundred and fifty years ago—but not in a river—oh, no, not in a river. You are a funny man, Juan; but then, you do notremember.’
“‘Yes, I do remember much; but not anything about this man whoplunged, and not into a river, one hundred and fifty years ago. Say, chile, you is dreaming, honey. Come, Juanita will put the preciousniñain bed.’ I led her to the housekeeper’s room, and as we went, she said:
“‘You are funny, Juan. I am awake, not dreaming. You will see the “Plunger from Kansas” to-morrow.’”
“‘How will I know him when I see him?’ I asked.
“‘Oh, he will come to this house to see Governor Lehumada in the morning, and when he gets here he will say: “You are Juan, the Governor’s man? Is his Honor in?” and when you say he is, the ‘Plunger’ will reply: “I came to see him, but I will not call this day. Please hand him this, with my compliments,” and he will hand you a package.’
“Well, he did come, and he did say just what the child prophesied, and he did give me this package, your Honor. Take it, please. I am afraid of it. The devil is let loose, as certain as fate. And I think this fluid you tell about in your great book, is the cause of so much trouble.”
The Governor had an interested and amused smile on his face as he opened the package handed him by his man.
“You are no doubt quite right about the book I wrote, and the public demonstrations and proofs we have given of the results of our great fluid upon matter and mind, being the cause of so much trouble. On that score, Juan, you are right. But there have been no evil results, and there will be none. But what is this? Look, Juan, look; who is this the picture of? Don’t be mistaken, man; don’t. Be sure you speak correctly. Have you seen the face before?”
“My sight is not good, your Honor. It’s failing,” replied the frightened man, getting further away from his master, out of pure fear. “My sight is nigh gone, your Honor.”
“Can it be? Can it be the face of the one I loved? Of the one I now love?”
“It is Helen Hinckley’s picture, papa, taken in that life long gone by,” cried Catalina, grasping the Governor’s hand.
“Child, how do you know? You have not seen it.”
“Oh, I do know, I knew last night he was going to bring it. I heard him say so at your lecture last night. Heremembers, you know. He is trying to palliate the wrongs he did in that day long gone by. He is afraid that retribution will overtake him, that he will be reduced to poverty.”
“Did I not tell you, your Honor, that she was no child. That she is a ghost a-talking like a grown woman philosopher,” ventured Juan, edging nearer the Governor, while he glared at Catalina as if she were a spook.
“Be sensible, Juan. Be sensible. I do admit, however, that the child is a wonder even to me; that she has a power of speech that would be the envy of many a collegian. But she is a child of flesh and blood, nevertheless, and a wonderful creation, too,” concluded the Governor.
Catalina put an end to further remarks by him, by saying: “What is it, dear papa, written on the back of the picture?”
The Governor turned the photograph around, and said: “To be sure, child, there is something written on it. It is very dim. One moment—I will use some of our restorative liquid, and then read it.”
In the center of his bedroom stood a beautifully carved rosewood table, on which was a magnificently beautiful piece of sculpture. It represented a littlegirl, about eight years old, distributing the olive leaves from a branch which seemed to be always full. The Governor placed his hand fondly upon the head of the statue, and at the same moment held the back of the photograph over the mouth of the marble representation of the child. A vapor spread over the pasteboard, yellow and stained by time, and in three seconds, every word written thereon stood out in bold relief.
He read aloud: “My baby girl, Helen Hinckley, July 3d, 1898. Boston, Massachusetts. Age, eight.”
“The same, the same,” replied the Governor, his voice full of emotion. “But it does not tell me enough! How am I to know that this was brought here by the ‘Plunger from Kansas.’”
“On the paper in your hand,” said Catalina, “is a message from the ‘Plunger.’”
“She is no child, I say,” cried Juan, his knees fairly shaking with fright. “With your Honor’s permission, I will go out of the room. That child is too much for me.” When he opened the door to leave, Governor Lehumada called:
“Juan, I will not repeat what I have said to you, twice before within the last few minutes. The child is of flesh and blood as ourselves. There is nothing uncanny about her; so I command you to remain in this room until I dismiss you.”
Catalina looked up pathetically into the face of the Governor, and said: “Don’t scold him, papa; he does not remember.”
The Governor pressed her hand, and kissed her rosy cheek time and again. “You are right, sweet child. Ishould not be harsh with Juan. He does not remember,” he kindly replied.
“How much is written, papa dear?”
“To be sure, child; I have not read what is written on the paper. This is a strange handwriting also. It reads:
“‘The photograph was given to me by the father of the child, Honorable E. Willard Hinckley, in his own home in Kansas City, August, 1898. That very day I got more than one-half million dollars from him, and gave him as security a mortgage on fifty thousand cattle I never owned. In less than sixty days he was a bankrupt; in ninety days he was dead; his wife and child were penniless and homeless. Despite the long number of years which have passed, that photograph has been preserved in a way nothing short of a miracle. Five times have I put it on the burning coals; three times in black, muddy water. Out of each it came unsullied. Out of a superstitious fear I resolved to keep it, to preserve and guard it with the same care as one would an ancient heirloom of untold value. It has ever been a thorn in my side. In that life one hundred and fifty years ago—the time I made my memorable plunge in cattle, the thought that I could not get rid of the picture of little Helen, drove me wild with rage. It was in a fit of frenzy, brought on by not being able to destroy the picture, that made me take my life. I was then in South America. My wife had perished in an epidemic shortly before, and no one knew just what destiny befell me, “The Plunger from Kansas,” and no one but those whom I had wronged, cared. Before committingthe deed that sent me out of the body to try to find relief, I sent a large package to a relative in Kansas. Amongst the things it contained was the picture. Thus it was preserved in the great iron safe in which various documents and family curios were put for safety. On my return to earth after an absence of half of a century this photograph fell to my part of the family keepsakes. And while in that life I never knew its history, it always filled me with fear and trembling when I saw it. At the age of thirty-five I passed again out of the physical body—and lay in a state of unconsciousness for fifty-six years. I was awakened by a voice which seemed to say: “Helen is here. Have you no desire to rectify the wrongs you did her in that life long since passed away?” I did not understand, yet I prayed to be allowed to live, that I might be better and wiser. And I was born again. Fortune favored me from my birth. I was born to wealth, and the faculty I have of acquiring it is a wonder to many. I am now twenty-eight years old, the same age I was when I performed the feat in cattle-plunging. I bring you this photograph with the strange feeling that to you it belongs, and when it is securely in your hands, the dreadful nightmare the sight of it gives me, will leave me. This town has a fascination for me, of which I cannot get rid. I feel nervous, as I did one hundred and fifty years ago, when I was here a refugee, whenever I see an armed officer of the law, or a strange face that gives me more than a passing glance. Retribution, you say, is going to overtake me. If the law can get me, handle me; but to use a slang phrase of the nineteenthcentury, I will close by saying: “Catch me if you can; but I think I am tooswiftfor you in this life, as well as I was then.”
“‘I am, your obedient servant,
“‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”
“‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”
“‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”
“‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”