XIV — APPLEBY PROVES OBDURATETHE hot day was over, and the light failing rapidly when Appleby, who had just finished comida, sat by a window of the hacienda San Cristoval with an English newspaper upon his knee. The room behind him, where Harper lay in a cane chair, was already shadowy, but outside the saffron sunset still flamed beyond the cane, and here and there a palm tuft cut against it hard and sharp in ebony tracery. Inside the air was hot, and heavy with the smell of garlic-tainted oil; but a faint cool draught flowed in between the open lattices, and Appleby, who had been busy since sunrise that day, sighed contentedly as he breathed it in. Beneath him the long white sheds still glimmered faintly, and a troop of men were plodding home along the little tram-line that wound through the cane; while in the direction they came from the smoke of the crushing-mill floated, a long, dingy smear, athwart the soft blueness, out of which here and there a pale star was peeping.Appleby was dressed in spotless duck, with a gray alpaca jacket over it, and the thin garments showed his somewhat spare symmetry as he lay relaxed in mind and body in his chair. He felt the peaceful stillness of the evening after the strain of the day, for Harding had left him in sole charge for some months now, and the handling of the men who worked for him had taxed all his nerve and skill. By good-humored patience and uncompromising grimness, when that appeared the more advisable, he had convinced his swarthy subordinates that they would gain little by trifling with him, though he had wondered once or twice when an open dispute appeared imminent why it was that certain peons had so staunchly supported him against their discontented comrades. It was not, however, his difficulties with the workmen which caused him most concern, but the task of keeping on good terms with an administration that regarded aliens, and especially Americans, with a jealous eye, and appeasing the rapacity of officials whose exactions would, if unduly yielded to, have absorbed most of Harding’s profits. To hit the happy medium was a delicate business, but hitherto Appleby had accomplished it successfully.The cigar he held had gone out, but he had not noticed it for the paper on his knee had awakened memories of the life he had left behind him. He could look back upon it without regret, for its trammels had galled him, and the wider scope of the new one appealed to him. In it the qualities of foresight, quick decision, daring, and the power of command were essential, and he had been conscious without vanity that he possessed them. Also, though that counted for less, his salary and bonus on the results of the crushing was liberal.Still, he was thinking of England, for a paragraph in the paper had seized his attention. There was nothing to show who had sent it him, though two or three had reached him already, and he knew that Nettie Harding was in England. He could scarcely see, but he held up the journal to the fading light, and with difficulty once more deciphered the lines:—“The electrical manufacturing company have been very busy since the consummation of their agreement with Mr. Anthony Palliser. Already their factory at Dane Cop is in course of construction, and they have an army of workmen laying the new tramway and excavating the dam. It is also rumored that negotiations are in progress for the establishment of subsidiary industries, and it is evident that Northrop will make a stride towards prosperity under the enterprising gentleman who has recently succeeded to the estate.”Appleby smiled curiously as he laid the paper down. Tony, it was evident, would no longer be hampered by financial embarrassments, and Appleby did not envy him the prosperity he had not hitherto been accustomed to. Still, he wondered vaguely why Tony had never written to the address in Texas, from which letters would have reached him, especially since it appeared that Godfrey Palliser was dead. He was also curious as to whether Tony was married yet, and would have liked to have heard that he was. That, he felt, would have snapped the last tie that bound him to the post, and made it easier to overcome the longing he was sensible of when he remembered Violet Wayne. It would, he fancied, be less difficult if he could think of her as Tony’s wife. Then he brushed away the fancies as Harper noisily moved his chair.“Hallo!” he said. “Another of their blamed officers coming to worry us!”Appleby heard a beat of hoofs, and looking down saw a man riding along the tramway on a mule. It was too dark to see the stranger clearly, and he sat still until there was a murmur of voices below, and a patter of feet on the stairway.“He is coming up,” he said, with a trace of displeasure in his voice. “I fancied I had made it plain that nobody was to be shown in until I knew his business. Still, we can’t turn him out now. Tell Pancho to bring in the lights.”Harper rose, but as he did so the major-domo flung the door open, and stood still with a lamp in his hand as a man walked into the room. He made a little gesture of greeting, and Appleby checked a gasp of astonishment. The major-domo set the lamp on the table, and then slipped out softly, closing the door behind him.“Don Maccario!” said Harper, staring at the stranger. “Now, I wonder where he got those clothes.”Maccario smiled, and sat down uninvited. He was dressed in broadcloth and very fine linen, and laid a costly Panama hat on the table. Then he held out a little card towards Appleby.“With permission!” he said. “Don Erminio Peralla, merchant in tobacco, of Havana!”Harper laughed when he had laid out a bottle and glasses, and the faint rose-like bouquet of Canary moscatel stole into the room.“That’s a prescription you are fond of,” he said. “The tobacco business is evidently flourishing.”The last was in Castilian, and Maccario delicately rolled up the brim of the hat and let it spring out again to show the beauty of the fabric, while his dark eyes twinkled.“It seems that one’s efforts for the benefit of his countrymen are appreciated now and then, but my business is the same,” he said. “One does not look for the patriot Maccario in the prosperous merchant of tobacco, for those who would make mankind better and freer are usually poor. That is all—but I am still a leader of the Sin Verguenza, and as such I salute you, comrade.”He made Appleby a little inclination, which the latter understood, as he drank off his wine. It implied that he, too, was still counted among the Sin Verguenza.“There is business on hand?” he said quietly, signing to Harper, who moved towards the door.Maccario, somewhat to his astonishment, checked Harper with a gesture. “It is not necessary,” he said. “There is nobody there. Morales is sending his troops away, and by and by we seize the Barremeda district for the Revolution.”“You want me?” asked Appleby very slowly.A curious little smile crept into Maccario’s eyes. “Where could one get another teniente to equal you?”Appleby sat very still. He had, he fancied, started on the way to prosperity when he became Harding’s manager, and while he sympathized vaguely with the aspirations of the few disinterested Insurgents who seemed to possess any he had seen sufficient of the Sin Verguenza. If he could cling to the position it seemed not unlikely that a bright future awaited him; and while free from avarice, he had his ambitions. On the other hand, there were privations relieved only by the brief revelry that followed a scene of rapine, weary marches, hungry bivouacs, and anxious days spent hiding in foul morasses from the troops of Spain. Still, he had already surmised that he would sooner or later have to make the decision, and while he remembered the promise the ragged outcasts had required of him a vague illogical longing for the stress of the conflict awoke in him.“Well,” he said quietly, “when I am wanted I will be ready.”Maccario made him a very slight inclination, which was yet almost stately and expressive, as only a Spaniard’s gesture could be.“It is as one expected, comrade; but perhaps we do not want you to carry the rifle,” he said. “It is the silver we have in the meanwhile the most need of.”“What I have is my friends’, to the half of my salary.”“We do not take so much from you. A little, yes, when the good will goes with it; but there is more you can do for us.”“No!” and Appleby’s voice, though quiet, had a little ring in it. “There is nothing else.”Maccario lifted one hand. “It is arms we want most, my friend, and now the patriotic committee are liberal we are getting them. There remains the question of distribution and storage for the rifles as they some from the coast, which is difficult. Still, I thing Morales would not search one place, and that is the hacienda San Cristoval. It is evident how you could help us.”“No,” said Appleby grimly. “Not a single rifle shall be hidden here. When the Sin Verguenza send for me I will join them, but in the meanwhile I serve the Señor Harding. That implies a good deal, you understand?”Maccario appeared reflective. “A little hint sent Morales would, I think, be effectual. Arrives a few files of cazadores with bayonets, and the Señor Harding will want another manager.”“Oh yes,” said Harper dryly as he sprang towards the door. “That’s quite simple, but the hint isn’t sent yet. A word from me, and I guess the Sin Verguenza would be left without a leader!”Maccario looked round, and laughed softly as he saw the American standing grim in face with his back to the door and a pistol glinting in his hand.“It is Don Bernardino I have the honor of talking with,” he said.“You have heard all I have to tell you,” said Appleby. “I cannot embroil the Señor Harding with Morales.”Maccario rose, and smiled at Harper. “It saves trouble when one has an understanding; and now, my friends, I will show you something. The major-domo had orders not to send up anybody without announcing him, but he admitted me. Will you come out with me into the veranda?”“Put your pistol up, Harper,” said Appleby; but Maccario shook his head.“Not yet, I think,” he said. “Open that lattice so the light shines through. Will you send for the men I mention, Don Bernardino?”They did as he directed, and when they went out into the veranda Appleby blew a whistle. It was answered by a patter of feet, and Appleby spoke swiftly when a man appeared below.“I have sent for the men. They are among the best we have, and supported me when I had a difference with the rest,” he said.Maccario smiled. “They did as they were told, my friend.”Appleby could not see his face because the light from the room was behind them, but his tone was significant, and he waited in some astonishment until the patter of feet commenced again, and half-seen men flitted into the patio. The latter could, however, see the men above them, for a threatening murmur went up when they caught the glint of Harper’s pistol, and two of them came running to the foot of the stairway. Maccario laughed, and laid his hand on Harper’s shoulder. Then the murmurs died away, and the men stood still below, while Maccario turned with a little nod to Appleby.“One would fancy they would do what I wished,” he said. “The Sin Verguenza have, it seems, friends everywhere. It is permissible for one to change his mind.”“Yes,” said Appleby, who hid his astonishment by an effort. “Still, in this case you have not been as wise as usual, Don Maccario. There are men who become more obdurate when you try to intimidate them. You have already heard my decision.”Maccario laughed, and waved his hand to the men below. “I commend these two gentlemen to your respect. They are good friends of mine. There is nothing else,” he said. “Now we will go back again, Don Bernardino.”The men apparently went away, and Maccario, who walked back into the room, smiled when he seated himself again.“The Señor Harding is to be congratulated upon his manager,” he said. “Still, there is a difficulty about the rifles. There are ten cases of them here already. They are marked hardware and engine fittings.”Harper gasped. “Well, I’m blanked!” he said. “I guess it’s the only time any kind of a greaser got ahead of me.”“Then they must be taken away,” said Appleby. “Where are they, Don Maccario? If you do not tell me I shall certainly find them.”“In the iron store shed, I understand. They would have been sent for at night to-morrow.”“Get them out,” said Appleby, turning to Harper. “They will be safer lying on the cane trucks in the open than anywhere.”Harper went out, and Maccario poured out a glass of wine. “It is fortunate you are a friend of mine, and one in whom I have confidence,” he said. “Had it been otherwise you would have run a very serious risk, Don Bernardino.”Appleby laughed, though he was glad that he sat in the shadow. “I can at least, let you have four hundred pesetas if the Sin Verguenza want them; but you will remember that if more rifles arrive here I will send them to Morales.”“In silver?” said Maccario. “I have samples of tobacco to carry, and a mule.”Appleby brought out two bags of silver from the chest in his office, for golden coin was almost as scarce in Cuba then as it usually is in Spain, and the two talked of different subjects with a frankness that concealed their thoughts, until there was a rattle of wheels as Harper passed below with several men pushing a little truck along the cane tramway. By and by he came in and sat down.“The cases are marked as he told us, and I’ve left them on the line,” he said. “I guess nobody would think of looking for rifles there. When are your friends coming for them, Maccario?”“I think that is better not mentioned,” said Maccario. “Those cases will, however, not be there to-morrow.”“And your men?” said Appleby. “I cannot have them here.”“You will listen to reason, my friend. I know you are one who keeps his word, and we will send no more rifles here. Still, those men work well, and the Señor Harding is not a Loyalist. He is here to make the dollars, and because the Spaniards are masters of Cuba he will not offend them. By and by, however, there is a change, and when it is we who hold the reins it may count much for him that he was also a friend of ours.”“You know he is not a Loyalist?” said Appleby.Maccario laughed a little. “Can you doubt it—while the hacienda of San Cristoval stands? There are many burnt sugar mills in Cuba, my friend.”“Now,” said Harper dryly, “it seems to me he’s talking the plainest kind of sense. Make him promise he’ll give you warning, and take his men out quietly when he wants them for anything.”Maccario gave his promise, and they sat talking for awhile until there was a knocking at the door below, and Pancho, who came up the stairway in haste, stopped where the light showed the apprehension in his olive face.“Comes the Colonel Morales, and there are cazadores in the cane,” he said.There was a sudden silence, and Maccario, who started to his feet, seized one of the bags of silver. He, however, nodded and sat down again when Appleby’s hand fell on his shoulder. There was, it was evident, no escaping now, for a quick tread showed that the officer was already ascending the stairway. Maccario made a little gesture of resignation.“He has never seen me as a merchant of tobacco, and if he notices too much it is assuredly unfortunate for him,” he said. “Pancho will already have the affair in hand.”Appleby said nothing, but he could feel his heart thumping painfully as he leaned on the table until Morales came in. He carried his kepi in one hand, and though he greeted Appleby punctiliously there was a little gleam in his eyes, while for just a moment he glanced keenly at Maccario. In the meanwhile Appleby saw Pancho’s face at the lattice behind his shoulder, and surmised that Morales was running a heavy risk just then. He had little esteem for the Spanish colonel, but it seemed to him that the fate of the San Cristoval hacienda, as well as its manager, depended upon what happened during the next five minutes.“You will take a glass of wine, and these cigars are good,” he said.Though every nerve in his body seemed to be tingling his voice was even; but while the officer poured out the wine Maccario laid a bundle of cigars before him, and smiled at Appleby.“Your pardon, señor—but this is my affair,” he said. “It is not often I have the opportunity of offering so distinguished a soldier my poor tobacco, though there are men of note in Havana and Madrid who appreciate its flavor, as well as the Señor Harding.”Morales glanced at him, and lighted a cigar; but Appleby fancied he was at least as interested in the bag of silver on the table.“The tobacco is excellent,” he said.Maccario took out a card. “If you will keep the bundle it would be an honor,” he said. “If you are still pleased when you have smoked them this will help you to remember where more can be obtained. We”—and he dropped his voice confidentially—“do not insist upon usual prices when supplying distinguished officers.”“That is wise,” said Morales, who took the cigars. “It is not often they have the pesetas to meet such demands with. You will not find business flourishing in this country, which we have just swept clean of the Sin Verguenza. They have a very keen scent for silver.”“No,” said Maccario plaintively. “There are also so many detentions and questions to be answered that it is difficult to make a business journey.”Morales laughed, “It is as usual—you would ask for something? Still, they are good cigars!”“I would venture to ask an endorsement of my cedula. With that one could travel with less difficulty.”He brought out the strip of paper, and Morales turned to Appleby. “This gentlemen is a friend of yours?”Appleby nodded, and the officer scribbled across the back of the cedula, and then, flinging it on the table, rose with a faint shrug of impatience.“A word with you in private!” he said.Appleby went out with him into the veranda, and set his lips for a moment when he saw, though Morales did not, a stealthy shadow flit out of it. He also surmised there were more men lurking in the patio beneath, and felt that a disaster was imminent if Maccario’s apprehensions led him to do anything precipitate. Then it seemed scarcely likely that the colonel of cazadores would leave the place alive. Still, his voice did not betray him.“I am at your service, señor.” he said.“The affair is serious,” said Morales dryly. “I am informed that there are arms concealed in your factory. Ten cases of them, I understand, are in your store shed.”If he had expected any sign of consternation he did not see it, for Appleby smiled incredulously.“If so, they were put there without my consent or knowledge, but I fancy your spies have been mistaken,” he said.“Will you come with me and search the shed?”Morales made a little gesture of assent. “I have men not far away, but I am a friend of the Señor Harding’s, and it seemed to me the affair demanded discretion,” he said. “That is why I left them until I had spoken with you. Still, if we do not find those arms nobody will be better pleased than me.”They went down the stairway, and Appleby bade a man in the patio summon his comrades. Then they walked along the tramway towards an iron shed, where there was a delay while one of the men lighted a lantern and opened the door When this was done they went in, and for almost an hour the peons rolled out barrels and dragged about boxes and cases of which they opened one here and there. Still, there was no sign of a rifle, and when they had passed through two or three other sheds Morales’ face was expressionless as he professed himself satisfied. They walked back silently side by side, until the officer stopped by a cane truck and rubbed off the ash from his cigar on one of the cases that lay upon it. He also moved a little so that he could see Appleby’s face in the light of the lantern a dusky workman held. The latter was eyeing Morales curiously, and Appleby fancied by the way he bent his right hand that very little would bring the wicked, keen-pointed knife flashing from his sleeve.“It seems that my informants have been mistaken,” said the colonel. “I can only recommend you the utmost discretion. It is—you understand—necessary.”He turned with a little formal salutation and walked down the tram-line, while the dusty workman smiled curiously as he straightened his right hand. Appleby gasped and went back slowly, while he flung himself down somewhat limply into a chair when he reached his living-room, where Harper sat alone.“Where is Maccario?” he asked.“Lit out!” said Harper dryly. “He’d had ’bout enough of it, though I guess his nerves are good. Kind of a strain on your own ones too?”Appleby’s face showed almost haggard, and he smiled wearily.“It is evident that if we have much more of this kind of thing I shall earn my salary, though the Sin Verguenza will apparently get most of it,” he said.
XIV — APPLEBY PROVES OBDURATETHE hot day was over, and the light failing rapidly when Appleby, who had just finished comida, sat by a window of the hacienda San Cristoval with an English newspaper upon his knee. The room behind him, where Harper lay in a cane chair, was already shadowy, but outside the saffron sunset still flamed beyond the cane, and here and there a palm tuft cut against it hard and sharp in ebony tracery. Inside the air was hot, and heavy with the smell of garlic-tainted oil; but a faint cool draught flowed in between the open lattices, and Appleby, who had been busy since sunrise that day, sighed contentedly as he breathed it in. Beneath him the long white sheds still glimmered faintly, and a troop of men were plodding home along the little tram-line that wound through the cane; while in the direction they came from the smoke of the crushing-mill floated, a long, dingy smear, athwart the soft blueness, out of which here and there a pale star was peeping.Appleby was dressed in spotless duck, with a gray alpaca jacket over it, and the thin garments showed his somewhat spare symmetry as he lay relaxed in mind and body in his chair. He felt the peaceful stillness of the evening after the strain of the day, for Harding had left him in sole charge for some months now, and the handling of the men who worked for him had taxed all his nerve and skill. By good-humored patience and uncompromising grimness, when that appeared the more advisable, he had convinced his swarthy subordinates that they would gain little by trifling with him, though he had wondered once or twice when an open dispute appeared imminent why it was that certain peons had so staunchly supported him against their discontented comrades. It was not, however, his difficulties with the workmen which caused him most concern, but the task of keeping on good terms with an administration that regarded aliens, and especially Americans, with a jealous eye, and appeasing the rapacity of officials whose exactions would, if unduly yielded to, have absorbed most of Harding’s profits. To hit the happy medium was a delicate business, but hitherto Appleby had accomplished it successfully.The cigar he held had gone out, but he had not noticed it for the paper on his knee had awakened memories of the life he had left behind him. He could look back upon it without regret, for its trammels had galled him, and the wider scope of the new one appealed to him. In it the qualities of foresight, quick decision, daring, and the power of command were essential, and he had been conscious without vanity that he possessed them. Also, though that counted for less, his salary and bonus on the results of the crushing was liberal.Still, he was thinking of England, for a paragraph in the paper had seized his attention. There was nothing to show who had sent it him, though two or three had reached him already, and he knew that Nettie Harding was in England. He could scarcely see, but he held up the journal to the fading light, and with difficulty once more deciphered the lines:—“The electrical manufacturing company have been very busy since the consummation of their agreement with Mr. Anthony Palliser. Already their factory at Dane Cop is in course of construction, and they have an army of workmen laying the new tramway and excavating the dam. It is also rumored that negotiations are in progress for the establishment of subsidiary industries, and it is evident that Northrop will make a stride towards prosperity under the enterprising gentleman who has recently succeeded to the estate.”Appleby smiled curiously as he laid the paper down. Tony, it was evident, would no longer be hampered by financial embarrassments, and Appleby did not envy him the prosperity he had not hitherto been accustomed to. Still, he wondered vaguely why Tony had never written to the address in Texas, from which letters would have reached him, especially since it appeared that Godfrey Palliser was dead. He was also curious as to whether Tony was married yet, and would have liked to have heard that he was. That, he felt, would have snapped the last tie that bound him to the post, and made it easier to overcome the longing he was sensible of when he remembered Violet Wayne. It would, he fancied, be less difficult if he could think of her as Tony’s wife. Then he brushed away the fancies as Harper noisily moved his chair.“Hallo!” he said. “Another of their blamed officers coming to worry us!”Appleby heard a beat of hoofs, and looking down saw a man riding along the tramway on a mule. It was too dark to see the stranger clearly, and he sat still until there was a murmur of voices below, and a patter of feet on the stairway.“He is coming up,” he said, with a trace of displeasure in his voice. “I fancied I had made it plain that nobody was to be shown in until I knew his business. Still, we can’t turn him out now. Tell Pancho to bring in the lights.”Harper rose, but as he did so the major-domo flung the door open, and stood still with a lamp in his hand as a man walked into the room. He made a little gesture of greeting, and Appleby checked a gasp of astonishment. The major-domo set the lamp on the table, and then slipped out softly, closing the door behind him.“Don Maccario!” said Harper, staring at the stranger. “Now, I wonder where he got those clothes.”Maccario smiled, and sat down uninvited. He was dressed in broadcloth and very fine linen, and laid a costly Panama hat on the table. Then he held out a little card towards Appleby.“With permission!” he said. “Don Erminio Peralla, merchant in tobacco, of Havana!”Harper laughed when he had laid out a bottle and glasses, and the faint rose-like bouquet of Canary moscatel stole into the room.“That’s a prescription you are fond of,” he said. “The tobacco business is evidently flourishing.”The last was in Castilian, and Maccario delicately rolled up the brim of the hat and let it spring out again to show the beauty of the fabric, while his dark eyes twinkled.“It seems that one’s efforts for the benefit of his countrymen are appreciated now and then, but my business is the same,” he said. “One does not look for the patriot Maccario in the prosperous merchant of tobacco, for those who would make mankind better and freer are usually poor. That is all—but I am still a leader of the Sin Verguenza, and as such I salute you, comrade.”He made Appleby a little inclination, which the latter understood, as he drank off his wine. It implied that he, too, was still counted among the Sin Verguenza.“There is business on hand?” he said quietly, signing to Harper, who moved towards the door.Maccario, somewhat to his astonishment, checked Harper with a gesture. “It is not necessary,” he said. “There is nobody there. Morales is sending his troops away, and by and by we seize the Barremeda district for the Revolution.”“You want me?” asked Appleby very slowly.A curious little smile crept into Maccario’s eyes. “Where could one get another teniente to equal you?”Appleby sat very still. He had, he fancied, started on the way to prosperity when he became Harding’s manager, and while he sympathized vaguely with the aspirations of the few disinterested Insurgents who seemed to possess any he had seen sufficient of the Sin Verguenza. If he could cling to the position it seemed not unlikely that a bright future awaited him; and while free from avarice, he had his ambitions. On the other hand, there were privations relieved only by the brief revelry that followed a scene of rapine, weary marches, hungry bivouacs, and anxious days spent hiding in foul morasses from the troops of Spain. Still, he had already surmised that he would sooner or later have to make the decision, and while he remembered the promise the ragged outcasts had required of him a vague illogical longing for the stress of the conflict awoke in him.“Well,” he said quietly, “when I am wanted I will be ready.”Maccario made him a very slight inclination, which was yet almost stately and expressive, as only a Spaniard’s gesture could be.“It is as one expected, comrade; but perhaps we do not want you to carry the rifle,” he said. “It is the silver we have in the meanwhile the most need of.”“What I have is my friends’, to the half of my salary.”“We do not take so much from you. A little, yes, when the good will goes with it; but there is more you can do for us.”“No!” and Appleby’s voice, though quiet, had a little ring in it. “There is nothing else.”Maccario lifted one hand. “It is arms we want most, my friend, and now the patriotic committee are liberal we are getting them. There remains the question of distribution and storage for the rifles as they some from the coast, which is difficult. Still, I thing Morales would not search one place, and that is the hacienda San Cristoval. It is evident how you could help us.”“No,” said Appleby grimly. “Not a single rifle shall be hidden here. When the Sin Verguenza send for me I will join them, but in the meanwhile I serve the Señor Harding. That implies a good deal, you understand?”Maccario appeared reflective. “A little hint sent Morales would, I think, be effectual. Arrives a few files of cazadores with bayonets, and the Señor Harding will want another manager.”“Oh yes,” said Harper dryly as he sprang towards the door. “That’s quite simple, but the hint isn’t sent yet. A word from me, and I guess the Sin Verguenza would be left without a leader!”Maccario looked round, and laughed softly as he saw the American standing grim in face with his back to the door and a pistol glinting in his hand.“It is Don Bernardino I have the honor of talking with,” he said.“You have heard all I have to tell you,” said Appleby. “I cannot embroil the Señor Harding with Morales.”Maccario rose, and smiled at Harper. “It saves trouble when one has an understanding; and now, my friends, I will show you something. The major-domo had orders not to send up anybody without announcing him, but he admitted me. Will you come out with me into the veranda?”“Put your pistol up, Harper,” said Appleby; but Maccario shook his head.“Not yet, I think,” he said. “Open that lattice so the light shines through. Will you send for the men I mention, Don Bernardino?”They did as he directed, and when they went out into the veranda Appleby blew a whistle. It was answered by a patter of feet, and Appleby spoke swiftly when a man appeared below.“I have sent for the men. They are among the best we have, and supported me when I had a difference with the rest,” he said.Maccario smiled. “They did as they were told, my friend.”Appleby could not see his face because the light from the room was behind them, but his tone was significant, and he waited in some astonishment until the patter of feet commenced again, and half-seen men flitted into the patio. The latter could, however, see the men above them, for a threatening murmur went up when they caught the glint of Harper’s pistol, and two of them came running to the foot of the stairway. Maccario laughed, and laid his hand on Harper’s shoulder. Then the murmurs died away, and the men stood still below, while Maccario turned with a little nod to Appleby.“One would fancy they would do what I wished,” he said. “The Sin Verguenza have, it seems, friends everywhere. It is permissible for one to change his mind.”“Yes,” said Appleby, who hid his astonishment by an effort. “Still, in this case you have not been as wise as usual, Don Maccario. There are men who become more obdurate when you try to intimidate them. You have already heard my decision.”Maccario laughed, and waved his hand to the men below. “I commend these two gentlemen to your respect. They are good friends of mine. There is nothing else,” he said. “Now we will go back again, Don Bernardino.”The men apparently went away, and Maccario, who walked back into the room, smiled when he seated himself again.“The Señor Harding is to be congratulated upon his manager,” he said. “Still, there is a difficulty about the rifles. There are ten cases of them here already. They are marked hardware and engine fittings.”Harper gasped. “Well, I’m blanked!” he said. “I guess it’s the only time any kind of a greaser got ahead of me.”“Then they must be taken away,” said Appleby. “Where are they, Don Maccario? If you do not tell me I shall certainly find them.”“In the iron store shed, I understand. They would have been sent for at night to-morrow.”“Get them out,” said Appleby, turning to Harper. “They will be safer lying on the cane trucks in the open than anywhere.”Harper went out, and Maccario poured out a glass of wine. “It is fortunate you are a friend of mine, and one in whom I have confidence,” he said. “Had it been otherwise you would have run a very serious risk, Don Bernardino.”Appleby laughed, though he was glad that he sat in the shadow. “I can at least, let you have four hundred pesetas if the Sin Verguenza want them; but you will remember that if more rifles arrive here I will send them to Morales.”“In silver?” said Maccario. “I have samples of tobacco to carry, and a mule.”Appleby brought out two bags of silver from the chest in his office, for golden coin was almost as scarce in Cuba then as it usually is in Spain, and the two talked of different subjects with a frankness that concealed their thoughts, until there was a rattle of wheels as Harper passed below with several men pushing a little truck along the cane tramway. By and by he came in and sat down.“The cases are marked as he told us, and I’ve left them on the line,” he said. “I guess nobody would think of looking for rifles there. When are your friends coming for them, Maccario?”“I think that is better not mentioned,” said Maccario. “Those cases will, however, not be there to-morrow.”“And your men?” said Appleby. “I cannot have them here.”“You will listen to reason, my friend. I know you are one who keeps his word, and we will send no more rifles here. Still, those men work well, and the Señor Harding is not a Loyalist. He is here to make the dollars, and because the Spaniards are masters of Cuba he will not offend them. By and by, however, there is a change, and when it is we who hold the reins it may count much for him that he was also a friend of ours.”“You know he is not a Loyalist?” said Appleby.Maccario laughed a little. “Can you doubt it—while the hacienda of San Cristoval stands? There are many burnt sugar mills in Cuba, my friend.”“Now,” said Harper dryly, “it seems to me he’s talking the plainest kind of sense. Make him promise he’ll give you warning, and take his men out quietly when he wants them for anything.”Maccario gave his promise, and they sat talking for awhile until there was a knocking at the door below, and Pancho, who came up the stairway in haste, stopped where the light showed the apprehension in his olive face.“Comes the Colonel Morales, and there are cazadores in the cane,” he said.There was a sudden silence, and Maccario, who started to his feet, seized one of the bags of silver. He, however, nodded and sat down again when Appleby’s hand fell on his shoulder. There was, it was evident, no escaping now, for a quick tread showed that the officer was already ascending the stairway. Maccario made a little gesture of resignation.“He has never seen me as a merchant of tobacco, and if he notices too much it is assuredly unfortunate for him,” he said. “Pancho will already have the affair in hand.”Appleby said nothing, but he could feel his heart thumping painfully as he leaned on the table until Morales came in. He carried his kepi in one hand, and though he greeted Appleby punctiliously there was a little gleam in his eyes, while for just a moment he glanced keenly at Maccario. In the meanwhile Appleby saw Pancho’s face at the lattice behind his shoulder, and surmised that Morales was running a heavy risk just then. He had little esteem for the Spanish colonel, but it seemed to him that the fate of the San Cristoval hacienda, as well as its manager, depended upon what happened during the next five minutes.“You will take a glass of wine, and these cigars are good,” he said.Though every nerve in his body seemed to be tingling his voice was even; but while the officer poured out the wine Maccario laid a bundle of cigars before him, and smiled at Appleby.“Your pardon, señor—but this is my affair,” he said. “It is not often I have the opportunity of offering so distinguished a soldier my poor tobacco, though there are men of note in Havana and Madrid who appreciate its flavor, as well as the Señor Harding.”Morales glanced at him, and lighted a cigar; but Appleby fancied he was at least as interested in the bag of silver on the table.“The tobacco is excellent,” he said.Maccario took out a card. “If you will keep the bundle it would be an honor,” he said. “If you are still pleased when you have smoked them this will help you to remember where more can be obtained. We”—and he dropped his voice confidentially—“do not insist upon usual prices when supplying distinguished officers.”“That is wise,” said Morales, who took the cigars. “It is not often they have the pesetas to meet such demands with. You will not find business flourishing in this country, which we have just swept clean of the Sin Verguenza. They have a very keen scent for silver.”“No,” said Maccario plaintively. “There are also so many detentions and questions to be answered that it is difficult to make a business journey.”Morales laughed, “It is as usual—you would ask for something? Still, they are good cigars!”“I would venture to ask an endorsement of my cedula. With that one could travel with less difficulty.”He brought out the strip of paper, and Morales turned to Appleby. “This gentlemen is a friend of yours?”Appleby nodded, and the officer scribbled across the back of the cedula, and then, flinging it on the table, rose with a faint shrug of impatience.“A word with you in private!” he said.Appleby went out with him into the veranda, and set his lips for a moment when he saw, though Morales did not, a stealthy shadow flit out of it. He also surmised there were more men lurking in the patio beneath, and felt that a disaster was imminent if Maccario’s apprehensions led him to do anything precipitate. Then it seemed scarcely likely that the colonel of cazadores would leave the place alive. Still, his voice did not betray him.“I am at your service, señor.” he said.“The affair is serious,” said Morales dryly. “I am informed that there are arms concealed in your factory. Ten cases of them, I understand, are in your store shed.”If he had expected any sign of consternation he did not see it, for Appleby smiled incredulously.“If so, they were put there without my consent or knowledge, but I fancy your spies have been mistaken,” he said.“Will you come with me and search the shed?”Morales made a little gesture of assent. “I have men not far away, but I am a friend of the Señor Harding’s, and it seemed to me the affair demanded discretion,” he said. “That is why I left them until I had spoken with you. Still, if we do not find those arms nobody will be better pleased than me.”They went down the stairway, and Appleby bade a man in the patio summon his comrades. Then they walked along the tramway towards an iron shed, where there was a delay while one of the men lighted a lantern and opened the door When this was done they went in, and for almost an hour the peons rolled out barrels and dragged about boxes and cases of which they opened one here and there. Still, there was no sign of a rifle, and when they had passed through two or three other sheds Morales’ face was expressionless as he professed himself satisfied. They walked back silently side by side, until the officer stopped by a cane truck and rubbed off the ash from his cigar on one of the cases that lay upon it. He also moved a little so that he could see Appleby’s face in the light of the lantern a dusky workman held. The latter was eyeing Morales curiously, and Appleby fancied by the way he bent his right hand that very little would bring the wicked, keen-pointed knife flashing from his sleeve.“It seems that my informants have been mistaken,” said the colonel. “I can only recommend you the utmost discretion. It is—you understand—necessary.”He turned with a little formal salutation and walked down the tram-line, while the dusty workman smiled curiously as he straightened his right hand. Appleby gasped and went back slowly, while he flung himself down somewhat limply into a chair when he reached his living-room, where Harper sat alone.“Where is Maccario?” he asked.“Lit out!” said Harper dryly. “He’d had ’bout enough of it, though I guess his nerves are good. Kind of a strain on your own ones too?”Appleby’s face showed almost haggard, and he smiled wearily.“It is evident that if we have much more of this kind of thing I shall earn my salary, though the Sin Verguenza will apparently get most of it,” he said.
THE hot day was over, and the light failing rapidly when Appleby, who had just finished comida, sat by a window of the hacienda San Cristoval with an English newspaper upon his knee. The room behind him, where Harper lay in a cane chair, was already shadowy, but outside the saffron sunset still flamed beyond the cane, and here and there a palm tuft cut against it hard and sharp in ebony tracery. Inside the air was hot, and heavy with the smell of garlic-tainted oil; but a faint cool draught flowed in between the open lattices, and Appleby, who had been busy since sunrise that day, sighed contentedly as he breathed it in. Beneath him the long white sheds still glimmered faintly, and a troop of men were plodding home along the little tram-line that wound through the cane; while in the direction they came from the smoke of the crushing-mill floated, a long, dingy smear, athwart the soft blueness, out of which here and there a pale star was peeping.
Appleby was dressed in spotless duck, with a gray alpaca jacket over it, and the thin garments showed his somewhat spare symmetry as he lay relaxed in mind and body in his chair. He felt the peaceful stillness of the evening after the strain of the day, for Harding had left him in sole charge for some months now, and the handling of the men who worked for him had taxed all his nerve and skill. By good-humored patience and uncompromising grimness, when that appeared the more advisable, he had convinced his swarthy subordinates that they would gain little by trifling with him, though he had wondered once or twice when an open dispute appeared imminent why it was that certain peons had so staunchly supported him against their discontented comrades. It was not, however, his difficulties with the workmen which caused him most concern, but the task of keeping on good terms with an administration that regarded aliens, and especially Americans, with a jealous eye, and appeasing the rapacity of officials whose exactions would, if unduly yielded to, have absorbed most of Harding’s profits. To hit the happy medium was a delicate business, but hitherto Appleby had accomplished it successfully.
The cigar he held had gone out, but he had not noticed it for the paper on his knee had awakened memories of the life he had left behind him. He could look back upon it without regret, for its trammels had galled him, and the wider scope of the new one appealed to him. In it the qualities of foresight, quick decision, daring, and the power of command were essential, and he had been conscious without vanity that he possessed them. Also, though that counted for less, his salary and bonus on the results of the crushing was liberal.
Still, he was thinking of England, for a paragraph in the paper had seized his attention. There was nothing to show who had sent it him, though two or three had reached him already, and he knew that Nettie Harding was in England. He could scarcely see, but he held up the journal to the fading light, and with difficulty once more deciphered the lines:—
“The electrical manufacturing company have been very busy since the consummation of their agreement with Mr. Anthony Palliser. Already their factory at Dane Cop is in course of construction, and they have an army of workmen laying the new tramway and excavating the dam. It is also rumored that negotiations are in progress for the establishment of subsidiary industries, and it is evident that Northrop will make a stride towards prosperity under the enterprising gentleman who has recently succeeded to the estate.”
Appleby smiled curiously as he laid the paper down. Tony, it was evident, would no longer be hampered by financial embarrassments, and Appleby did not envy him the prosperity he had not hitherto been accustomed to. Still, he wondered vaguely why Tony had never written to the address in Texas, from which letters would have reached him, especially since it appeared that Godfrey Palliser was dead. He was also curious as to whether Tony was married yet, and would have liked to have heard that he was. That, he felt, would have snapped the last tie that bound him to the post, and made it easier to overcome the longing he was sensible of when he remembered Violet Wayne. It would, he fancied, be less difficult if he could think of her as Tony’s wife. Then he brushed away the fancies as Harper noisily moved his chair.
“Hallo!” he said. “Another of their blamed officers coming to worry us!”
Appleby heard a beat of hoofs, and looking down saw a man riding along the tramway on a mule. It was too dark to see the stranger clearly, and he sat still until there was a murmur of voices below, and a patter of feet on the stairway.
“He is coming up,” he said, with a trace of displeasure in his voice. “I fancied I had made it plain that nobody was to be shown in until I knew his business. Still, we can’t turn him out now. Tell Pancho to bring in the lights.”
Harper rose, but as he did so the major-domo flung the door open, and stood still with a lamp in his hand as a man walked into the room. He made a little gesture of greeting, and Appleby checked a gasp of astonishment. The major-domo set the lamp on the table, and then slipped out softly, closing the door behind him.
“Don Maccario!” said Harper, staring at the stranger. “Now, I wonder where he got those clothes.”
Maccario smiled, and sat down uninvited. He was dressed in broadcloth and very fine linen, and laid a costly Panama hat on the table. Then he held out a little card towards Appleby.
“With permission!” he said. “Don Erminio Peralla, merchant in tobacco, of Havana!”
Harper laughed when he had laid out a bottle and glasses, and the faint rose-like bouquet of Canary moscatel stole into the room.
“That’s a prescription you are fond of,” he said. “The tobacco business is evidently flourishing.”
The last was in Castilian, and Maccario delicately rolled up the brim of the hat and let it spring out again to show the beauty of the fabric, while his dark eyes twinkled.
“It seems that one’s efforts for the benefit of his countrymen are appreciated now and then, but my business is the same,” he said. “One does not look for the patriot Maccario in the prosperous merchant of tobacco, for those who would make mankind better and freer are usually poor. That is all—but I am still a leader of the Sin Verguenza, and as such I salute you, comrade.”
He made Appleby a little inclination, which the latter understood, as he drank off his wine. It implied that he, too, was still counted among the Sin Verguenza.
“There is business on hand?” he said quietly, signing to Harper, who moved towards the door.
Maccario, somewhat to his astonishment, checked Harper with a gesture. “It is not necessary,” he said. “There is nobody there. Morales is sending his troops away, and by and by we seize the Barremeda district for the Revolution.”
“You want me?” asked Appleby very slowly.
A curious little smile crept into Maccario’s eyes. “Where could one get another teniente to equal you?”
Appleby sat very still. He had, he fancied, started on the way to prosperity when he became Harding’s manager, and while he sympathized vaguely with the aspirations of the few disinterested Insurgents who seemed to possess any he had seen sufficient of the Sin Verguenza. If he could cling to the position it seemed not unlikely that a bright future awaited him; and while free from avarice, he had his ambitions. On the other hand, there were privations relieved only by the brief revelry that followed a scene of rapine, weary marches, hungry bivouacs, and anxious days spent hiding in foul morasses from the troops of Spain. Still, he had already surmised that he would sooner or later have to make the decision, and while he remembered the promise the ragged outcasts had required of him a vague illogical longing for the stress of the conflict awoke in him.
“Well,” he said quietly, “when I am wanted I will be ready.”
Maccario made him a very slight inclination, which was yet almost stately and expressive, as only a Spaniard’s gesture could be.
“It is as one expected, comrade; but perhaps we do not want you to carry the rifle,” he said. “It is the silver we have in the meanwhile the most need of.”
“What I have is my friends’, to the half of my salary.”
“We do not take so much from you. A little, yes, when the good will goes with it; but there is more you can do for us.”
“No!” and Appleby’s voice, though quiet, had a little ring in it. “There is nothing else.”
Maccario lifted one hand. “It is arms we want most, my friend, and now the patriotic committee are liberal we are getting them. There remains the question of distribution and storage for the rifles as they some from the coast, which is difficult. Still, I thing Morales would not search one place, and that is the hacienda San Cristoval. It is evident how you could help us.”
“No,” said Appleby grimly. “Not a single rifle shall be hidden here. When the Sin Verguenza send for me I will join them, but in the meanwhile I serve the Señor Harding. That implies a good deal, you understand?”
Maccario appeared reflective. “A little hint sent Morales would, I think, be effectual. Arrives a few files of cazadores with bayonets, and the Señor Harding will want another manager.”
“Oh yes,” said Harper dryly as he sprang towards the door. “That’s quite simple, but the hint isn’t sent yet. A word from me, and I guess the Sin Verguenza would be left without a leader!”
Maccario looked round, and laughed softly as he saw the American standing grim in face with his back to the door and a pistol glinting in his hand.
“It is Don Bernardino I have the honor of talking with,” he said.
“You have heard all I have to tell you,” said Appleby. “I cannot embroil the Señor Harding with Morales.”
Maccario rose, and smiled at Harper. “It saves trouble when one has an understanding; and now, my friends, I will show you something. The major-domo had orders not to send up anybody without announcing him, but he admitted me. Will you come out with me into the veranda?”
“Put your pistol up, Harper,” said Appleby; but Maccario shook his head.
“Not yet, I think,” he said. “Open that lattice so the light shines through. Will you send for the men I mention, Don Bernardino?”
They did as he directed, and when they went out into the veranda Appleby blew a whistle. It was answered by a patter of feet, and Appleby spoke swiftly when a man appeared below.
“I have sent for the men. They are among the best we have, and supported me when I had a difference with the rest,” he said.
Maccario smiled. “They did as they were told, my friend.”
Appleby could not see his face because the light from the room was behind them, but his tone was significant, and he waited in some astonishment until the patter of feet commenced again, and half-seen men flitted into the patio. The latter could, however, see the men above them, for a threatening murmur went up when they caught the glint of Harper’s pistol, and two of them came running to the foot of the stairway. Maccario laughed, and laid his hand on Harper’s shoulder. Then the murmurs died away, and the men stood still below, while Maccario turned with a little nod to Appleby.
“One would fancy they would do what I wished,” he said. “The Sin Verguenza have, it seems, friends everywhere. It is permissible for one to change his mind.”
“Yes,” said Appleby, who hid his astonishment by an effort. “Still, in this case you have not been as wise as usual, Don Maccario. There are men who become more obdurate when you try to intimidate them. You have already heard my decision.”
Maccario laughed, and waved his hand to the men below. “I commend these two gentlemen to your respect. They are good friends of mine. There is nothing else,” he said. “Now we will go back again, Don Bernardino.”
The men apparently went away, and Maccario, who walked back into the room, smiled when he seated himself again.
“The Señor Harding is to be congratulated upon his manager,” he said. “Still, there is a difficulty about the rifles. There are ten cases of them here already. They are marked hardware and engine fittings.”
Harper gasped. “Well, I’m blanked!” he said. “I guess it’s the only time any kind of a greaser got ahead of me.”
“Then they must be taken away,” said Appleby. “Where are they, Don Maccario? If you do not tell me I shall certainly find them.”
“In the iron store shed, I understand. They would have been sent for at night to-morrow.”
“Get them out,” said Appleby, turning to Harper. “They will be safer lying on the cane trucks in the open than anywhere.”
Harper went out, and Maccario poured out a glass of wine. “It is fortunate you are a friend of mine, and one in whom I have confidence,” he said. “Had it been otherwise you would have run a very serious risk, Don Bernardino.”
Appleby laughed, though he was glad that he sat in the shadow. “I can at least, let you have four hundred pesetas if the Sin Verguenza want them; but you will remember that if more rifles arrive here I will send them to Morales.”
“In silver?” said Maccario. “I have samples of tobacco to carry, and a mule.”
Appleby brought out two bags of silver from the chest in his office, for golden coin was almost as scarce in Cuba then as it usually is in Spain, and the two talked of different subjects with a frankness that concealed their thoughts, until there was a rattle of wheels as Harper passed below with several men pushing a little truck along the cane tramway. By and by he came in and sat down.
“The cases are marked as he told us, and I’ve left them on the line,” he said. “I guess nobody would think of looking for rifles there. When are your friends coming for them, Maccario?”
“I think that is better not mentioned,” said Maccario. “Those cases will, however, not be there to-morrow.”
“And your men?” said Appleby. “I cannot have them here.”
“You will listen to reason, my friend. I know you are one who keeps his word, and we will send no more rifles here. Still, those men work well, and the Señor Harding is not a Loyalist. He is here to make the dollars, and because the Spaniards are masters of Cuba he will not offend them. By and by, however, there is a change, and when it is we who hold the reins it may count much for him that he was also a friend of ours.”
“You know he is not a Loyalist?” said Appleby.
Maccario laughed a little. “Can you doubt it—while the hacienda of San Cristoval stands? There are many burnt sugar mills in Cuba, my friend.”
“Now,” said Harper dryly, “it seems to me he’s talking the plainest kind of sense. Make him promise he’ll give you warning, and take his men out quietly when he wants them for anything.”
Maccario gave his promise, and they sat talking for awhile until there was a knocking at the door below, and Pancho, who came up the stairway in haste, stopped where the light showed the apprehension in his olive face.
“Comes the Colonel Morales, and there are cazadores in the cane,” he said.
There was a sudden silence, and Maccario, who started to his feet, seized one of the bags of silver. He, however, nodded and sat down again when Appleby’s hand fell on his shoulder. There was, it was evident, no escaping now, for a quick tread showed that the officer was already ascending the stairway. Maccario made a little gesture of resignation.
“He has never seen me as a merchant of tobacco, and if he notices too much it is assuredly unfortunate for him,” he said. “Pancho will already have the affair in hand.”
Appleby said nothing, but he could feel his heart thumping painfully as he leaned on the table until Morales came in. He carried his kepi in one hand, and though he greeted Appleby punctiliously there was a little gleam in his eyes, while for just a moment he glanced keenly at Maccario. In the meanwhile Appleby saw Pancho’s face at the lattice behind his shoulder, and surmised that Morales was running a heavy risk just then. He had little esteem for the Spanish colonel, but it seemed to him that the fate of the San Cristoval hacienda, as well as its manager, depended upon what happened during the next five minutes.
“You will take a glass of wine, and these cigars are good,” he said.
Though every nerve in his body seemed to be tingling his voice was even; but while the officer poured out the wine Maccario laid a bundle of cigars before him, and smiled at Appleby.
“Your pardon, señor—but this is my affair,” he said. “It is not often I have the opportunity of offering so distinguished a soldier my poor tobacco, though there are men of note in Havana and Madrid who appreciate its flavor, as well as the Señor Harding.”
Morales glanced at him, and lighted a cigar; but Appleby fancied he was at least as interested in the bag of silver on the table.
“The tobacco is excellent,” he said.
Maccario took out a card. “If you will keep the bundle it would be an honor,” he said. “If you are still pleased when you have smoked them this will help you to remember where more can be obtained. We”—and he dropped his voice confidentially—“do not insist upon usual prices when supplying distinguished officers.”
“That is wise,” said Morales, who took the cigars. “It is not often they have the pesetas to meet such demands with. You will not find business flourishing in this country, which we have just swept clean of the Sin Verguenza. They have a very keen scent for silver.”
“No,” said Maccario plaintively. “There are also so many detentions and questions to be answered that it is difficult to make a business journey.”
Morales laughed, “It is as usual—you would ask for something? Still, they are good cigars!”
“I would venture to ask an endorsement of my cedula. With that one could travel with less difficulty.”
He brought out the strip of paper, and Morales turned to Appleby. “This gentlemen is a friend of yours?”
Appleby nodded, and the officer scribbled across the back of the cedula, and then, flinging it on the table, rose with a faint shrug of impatience.
“A word with you in private!” he said.
Appleby went out with him into the veranda, and set his lips for a moment when he saw, though Morales did not, a stealthy shadow flit out of it. He also surmised there were more men lurking in the patio beneath, and felt that a disaster was imminent if Maccario’s apprehensions led him to do anything precipitate. Then it seemed scarcely likely that the colonel of cazadores would leave the place alive. Still, his voice did not betray him.
“I am at your service, señor.” he said.
“The affair is serious,” said Morales dryly. “I am informed that there are arms concealed in your factory. Ten cases of them, I understand, are in your store shed.”
If he had expected any sign of consternation he did not see it, for Appleby smiled incredulously.
“If so, they were put there without my consent or knowledge, but I fancy your spies have been mistaken,” he said.
“Will you come with me and search the shed?”
Morales made a little gesture of assent. “I have men not far away, but I am a friend of the Señor Harding’s, and it seemed to me the affair demanded discretion,” he said. “That is why I left them until I had spoken with you. Still, if we do not find those arms nobody will be better pleased than me.”
They went down the stairway, and Appleby bade a man in the patio summon his comrades. Then they walked along the tramway towards an iron shed, where there was a delay while one of the men lighted a lantern and opened the door When this was done they went in, and for almost an hour the peons rolled out barrels and dragged about boxes and cases of which they opened one here and there. Still, there was no sign of a rifle, and when they had passed through two or three other sheds Morales’ face was expressionless as he professed himself satisfied. They walked back silently side by side, until the officer stopped by a cane truck and rubbed off the ash from his cigar on one of the cases that lay upon it. He also moved a little so that he could see Appleby’s face in the light of the lantern a dusky workman held. The latter was eyeing Morales curiously, and Appleby fancied by the way he bent his right hand that very little would bring the wicked, keen-pointed knife flashing from his sleeve.
“It seems that my informants have been mistaken,” said the colonel. “I can only recommend you the utmost discretion. It is—you understand—necessary.”
He turned with a little formal salutation and walked down the tram-line, while the dusty workman smiled curiously as he straightened his right hand. Appleby gasped and went back slowly, while he flung himself down somewhat limply into a chair when he reached his living-room, where Harper sat alone.
“Where is Maccario?” he asked.
“Lit out!” said Harper dryly. “He’d had ’bout enough of it, though I guess his nerves are good. Kind of a strain on your own ones too?”
Appleby’s face showed almost haggard, and he smiled wearily.
“It is evident that if we have much more of this kind of thing I shall earn my salary, though the Sin Verguenza will apparently get most of it,” he said.