CHAPTER III.
MAN PROPOSES—FATE DISPOSES.
Robbins saw there was something wrong with me, and demanded to know the cause. Strange to say, when I had given him the information, he did not seem to think it a very serious matter, at least declared he could not see how it was to cut any particular figure in our affair.
“If anything it favors us,” he said, stoutly.
Perhaps my miserable suspicions made me uncommonly dull of comprehension, for I considered that the mariner had certainly taken a wrong view of the situation, and begged him to explain why he felt so positive.
“You say this is the palace of the big mogul of the place, the alcalde?” he asked.
“Undoubtedly—the girl will say as much. See, she nods her head in the affirmative when you mention the name.”
“All right, his worship is going to have visitors to-night, then.”
“Umph! He already has them, if what we see and hear is any indication,” for the bigcasawas illuminated, and the sounds of music, together with the murmur of many voices, told of a social gathering.
“Then he’s about to have a couple not down on the list.”
“You haven’t changed your mind?”
“Well, I guess not, except to grow more positive. This doesn’t bear the earmarks of a trap; if the girl had led us to some low den or rookery, we might expect such a thing; but here it’s different. The house of the mayor. Then you can wager it was a lady wrote that, and she’s in trouble.”
I surrendered.
His reasoning was so clear, his manner so confiding, that he carried me with him.
“No doubt you’re right—I withdraw all my objections, and stand ready to back you in anything, even to facing the alcalde before his guests and demanding our fair countrywoman.”
“How d’ye know she’s fair?”
“Know? Oh, I guessed it; they always are on the stage, you know. Besides,” clutching at a straw, “the girl said something about the beautiful lady.”
“Well, I don’t think it’ll come to facing the old fox among his guests, and taking him by the nose. This girleen has other aims in view, or I’ll eat my hat. Say when, and she’ll show us a way in.”
“Vamos,” I said, which, being interpreted, means “let us go,” and the girl, who had been watching us eagerly during the brief discussion, at once clutched my hand. Perhaps it had suddenly dawned upon her mind that I was a power in the land, or it may be my knowledge of a little Spanish led her to believe I was head and shoulders to the front in the expedition.
Robbins grunted his satisfaction at this turn of affairs, and I really suspect the fellow had an idea the child feared lest I might spoil all by backing out and meant to cling fast to me, so that I would come under her influence.
When we began to move around to the rear of the great wall that inclosed the gardens of the alcalde, I realized that Robbins had guessed one thing right, and that in that quarter there must be some secret door through which we were to enter.
It proved exactly so, and when five minutes had gone by we stood among palms and ferns and tropical shrubs that grew in rank luxuriance.
With colored lanterns hung here and there, the garden was a scene of enchantment, and music stealing from some concealed orchestra within the house added to the charm.
Luckily, few persons were abroad, and these the girl managed to avoid by following a path that was not often used, leading as it did, to the toolhouse, where the gardener kept the implements of his calling.
By this time I awoke to the fact that this little affair had all the earmarks of an adventure far above the common, and I even began to forget my cynical distrust of all who wore petticoats, and felt the honest thrill of satisfaction that must always accompany any effort to assist a woman in distress.
We cautiously entered the house.
Now, not being accustomed to sneaking in at the back way, I experienced a cold chill at the possibility of our being taken for common burglars, with suspicious designs upon the worthy alcalde’s silver. It was not a pleasant thought, and the possible consequences loomed up before me with startling distinctness; but, having come thus far, nothing on earth could force me to back out. So I permitted the girl to draw me along just as she willed, while the big mate came at my heels.
I was quite taken with the amazing dexterity shown by the little guide in avoiding anything that threatened discovery. Several times voices told of persons approaching, and on such occasions she hustled the two of us into a convenient room until the danger had passed.
Once we were even jammed into a closet, where we almost suffocated; but the movement was a brilliant success, for the party went by without a suspicion that two skulkers stood within arm’s length of them.
I saw they were ladies handsomely dressed and wearing flashing jewels, doubtless the wives of the leadingbusiness men of Bolivar; and the sight of those sparkling gems made me chuckle as I remembered that we were apparently sustaining the character of rogues, for who else would enter a worthy mayor’s house in the secret fashion we had done?
And the thought occurred to me that we were bound to have considerable trouble in leaving the building, even though we succeeded in accomplishing our design of reaching the fair prisoner.
Another startling thought occurred to me—somehow, these brave ideas are apt to leap into existence after one has gone too far to retreat—what if, after all, this lady who wrote such a touching appeal for aid should turn out to be some member of the alcalde’s own family circle, with a singular hallucination, sending out these letters by wholesale under fortune hunter’s zeal—in short, crazy?
Were we the only ones victimized?
Then my common sense arose and throttled this base suspicion; it was an American woman appealing to the chivalry of her countrymen, and I was a fool to believe anything to the contrary. The fact of the house owner being the alcalde did not prevent him from meriting the name of a rascal. I had known governors whose hand itched for spoils, and who were not above the common follies of life. Well, at any-rate, we would soon know. All seemed to be going smoothly, and presently we would be able to meet the writer of the note face to face.
Various reflections came to me as we skulked along, now creeping up a back flight of stairs, seldom found in a Bolivar house, and anon scouring a dark corridor that turned and twisted in a manner positively confusing.
Once we came out upon a narrow porch that looked down upon thepatioor court always found in the dwellings of well-to-do Spanish-Americans, and fashioned afterthe Moorish type, from which it was copied centuries ago, when those people overran Southern Spain.
Here plashed the fountain amid luxuriant flowers and cosy seats, where I could see a number of couples taking their ease. But there was danger of discovery here, and we did not linger, but once more entered the corridor.
Finally the girl stopped before a door, and I knew we had reached the climax of our adventure. Presently we would see our countrywoman, in whose interest Robbins and myself had entered upon this Quixotic cruise. Really, it was quite exciting and would doubtless arouse a languid interest upon future occasions when I smoked my cigar and pondered upon this night’s work. I turned to look at my good comrade. The light was not of the best, but I could see that Robbins was looking as serious as an owl; this sort of thing appealed to his chivalrous nature; he should have lived in the days of the crusades, and my word for it, he would have won renown as a model knight, ever ready to flash his sword in beauty’s cause.
For Robbins, I was fain to believe, had never as yet had an affair of the heart and was full of old-fashioned ideas about womankind that were in vogue during our great grandmothers’ time, but seem woefully out of date among the butterflies of society’s swirl to-day.
The girl knew where the key was hung, and I wondered why she had not ere now attempted to lead the beautiful prisoner from the house to thecalle, where in due time she might have reached the protection of the Stars and Stripes over the door of our consul’s office.
So she opened the door, and in a whisper bade us enter. Perhaps Robbins was more eager than myself; somehow I stepped aside and allowed him to enter first.
Was it a sense of chivalry? If any romance was to grow out of this escapade of the night, I was just thenquite willing that he should carry off all the honors. For myself, that sort of thing had, I believed, lost all its attraction, since it is said the burned child dreads the fire, and I had been singed.
As I passed beyond the door the girl cautiously closed and locked it; but suspicion had now ceased to worry me, and I looked upon this simply in the light of prudence. For I had already discovered there was a lady in the room.
The lamp, shaded with a crimson globe, was burning with less than full power, but the light was sufficient to show me that the apartment was handsomely and sumptuously furnished. Robbins was just ahead, and his big bulk allowed me only that fleeting glimpse of a lady rising in haste from her chair, but even then I seemed to grasp the idea that she was a charming personality.
Ah! Perhaps our mission was not fated to be such a fool’s errand, after all.
I was content for the time being to let Robbins play first fiddle, ready to back him up should he need assistance in words or deeds. The mate, thrown upon his resources, was bowing, hat in hand.
“Madam, I am an American, and you can trust us,” he managed to say, boldly. Then I heard her utter a cry of delight.
“At last—it has come. I shall leave these hateful scenes, never to return. Oh, Carmecita, blessed child, what do I not owe to you!”
I believe you could have knocked me down with a feather when that voice fell upon my hearing, for it aroused all the memories I had thought buried in the dead past.
Yet it seemed so preposterous, so incredible, that I could not trust to my ears alone, but pushed up alongsideof Robbins, where nothing could come between my vision and the lady of the alcalde’scasa.
It was not so singular that I should turn white and stand there as though suddenly stricken dumb, wondering at the world’s smallness after all, for I found myself looking upon the face that had haunted me, sleeping or waking, these two years, which I had roamed the world over in the endeavor to forget, yet without success, the fair countenance of one whom, in the fondness of my heart, I had once called my wife—my Hildegarde!