CHAPTER XVIThe Priest Takes a Hand
Howlong this continued––this pressing forward, following the spitting fire of his hot rifle––Wilson could not tell. From the first he could make nothing out of the choking confusion of it all, finding his satisfaction, his motive, his inspiration in the realization that he was adding the might of his being to the force which was pounding the men who had dared to touch this girl. He was drunk with this idea. He fought blindly and with the spirit of his ancestors which ought long since to have been trained out of him. So foot by foot he fought his way on and knew it not when brought to a standstill. Only when he found himself being pressed back with the mass did he realize that something had happened; reënforcements had arrived to the enemy. But this meant only that they must fight the harder. Turning, he urged the men to stand fast. They obeyed for a moment, but the increased force was too many for them; they were steadily beaten back. For a second it looked as though they were doomed to annihilation, for once they were scattered among those narrow streets they would be shot down like dogs. At this point186Wilson became conscious of the presence of a gaunt figure, dressed in a long, black robe, bearing upon back and chest in gold embroidery the figure of a blazing sun.
He stood in front of the men a second gazing up at the sky. Even the enemy paused to watch him. Then turning to the hill men who had wavered in the rear, he merely pointed his outstretched arm towards the enemy. The effect was instantaneous; they swept past the mercenaries, swept past Wilson,yelling and screaming like a horde of maniacs. They waved queer knives and spears, brandished rifles, and then, bending low, charged the frightened line of rifles before them. Wilson paused to look at this strange figure. He recognized him instantly as the priest of whom he had heard so much and who had played in his own life of late so important a part. The man was standing stock still, smiling slightly. Then with some dignity he moved away never even looking back, as confident of the result as though he were an instrument of Fate. If he had seen the man he had struck down in the house of Sorez, he gave no evidence of it. And once again Wilson found himself moving on steadily towards the old palace.
The men from the hills swept everything from before them; the superstitious enemy being driven as much by their fear as by the force of the attack. Behind them came the mercenaries to the very gates of the palace. Here they were checked by a large oaken door. From the windows either side of this puffs of smoke,187fire-pierced, darted viciously. The men behind Wilson answered, but their bullets only flattened against the granite surface of the structure. He realized that this was to be the centre of the struggle. They must carry this at any cost. He heard oaths in the rear and turned to see Stubbs whipping on three men who were dragging the small Gatling gun brought from the ship. It looked like a toy. As Stubbs stooped to adjust it, Wilson saw one of the men dart from the line and disappear into the open doorway of a house to the right. Stubbs saw it, too, and now, suddenly turning, put two shots at the fellow’s heels. Then he turned to the gun, with a warning to the others. But he never finished it. He sank to the street. Danbury rushed up from somewhere and bent over him, but Stubbs was already getting to his feet.
“Damned thing only glanced,” he growled, putting his hand to his head, “but––it came from behind!”
As he faced the men for a second, one man slunk back into the rear. Wilson raised his revolver, but Stubbs pushed it to one side.
“Later,” he said.
The gun was wheeled into place and it became the center for all the firing from the palace. In a few seconds it was pouring a steady stream of lead into the oaken door and splintering the lock into a hundred pieces. With a howl the men saw the barrier fall and pressed on. Danbury led them, but halfway he fell. Forty men swarmed over him.
Once within the palace walls, Wilson and Stubbs188found their hands full. They realized as they charged through the outer guardroom and down the dark, oak-furnished hall that this gang at their heels would be difficult to control within the intricate mazes of this old building. But their attention was soon taken from this by a volley from the antechamber to the right which opened into the old throne room. The men rallied well and followed at their heels as they pressed through the door. They found here some twenty men. Wilson had emptied his revolver and found no time in which to reload.
He hurled himself upon the first man he saw and the two fell to the floor where they tumbled about like small boys in a street fight. They kicked and squirmed and reached for each other’s throats until they rolled into the anteroom where they were left alone to fight it out. Wilson made his feet and the other followed as nimbly as a cat. Then the two faced each other. The humor of the situation steadied Wilson for a moment. Shot after shot was ringing through the old building, men fighting for their lives with modern rifles, and yet here he stood driven back to a savage, elemental contest with bare fists in a room built a century before. It was almost as though he had suddenly been thrust out of the present into the past. But the struggle was none the less serious.
His opponent rushed and Wilson met him with a blow which landed between the eyes. It staggered him. Wilson closed with him, but he felt a pair of strong arms tightening about the small of his back.189In spite of all he could do, he felt himself break. He fell. The fellow had his throat in a second. He twisted and squirmed but to no purpose. He tried a dozen old wrestling tricks, but the fingers only tightened the firmer. Cheek against cheek the two lay and the fingers with fierce zeal sank deeper and deeper into Wilson’s throat. He strained his breast in the attempt to catch a single breath. He saw the stuccoed ceiling above him slowly blur and fade. The man’s weight pressed with cruel insistence until it seemed as though he were supporting the whole building. He heard his deep gulping breathing, felt his hot breath against his neck.
The situation grew maddening because of his helplessness, then terrifying. Was he going to die here in an anteroom at the hands of this common soldier? Was he going to be strangled like a clerk at the hands of a footpad? Was the end coming here, within perhaps a hundred yards of Jo? He threw every ounce in him into a final effort to throw off this demon. The fellow, with legs wide apart, remained immovable save spasmodically to take a tighter grip.
The sounds were growing far away. Then he heard his name called and knew that Stubbs was looking for him. This gave him a new lease of life. It was almost as good as a long breath. But he couldn’t answer––could make no sound to indicate where he was. The call came again from almost beside the door. Then he saw Stubbs glance in among190the shadows and move off again. He kicked weakly at the floor. Then he heaved his shoulders with a strength new-born in him, and the fellow’s tired fingers weakened,––weakened for so long as he could take one full breath. But before he could utter the shout the merciless fingers had found their grip once more. The man on top of him, now half crazed, snapped at his ear like a dog. Then he pressed one knee into the pit of Wilson’s stomach with gruelling pain. He was becoming desperate with the resistance of this thing beneath him.
Once again Stubbs appeared at the door. Wilson raised his leg and brought it down sharply. Stubbs jumped at the sound and looked in more closely. He saw the two forms. Then he bent swiftly and brought the butt of his revolver down sharply on the fellow’s temple. What had been a man suddenly became nothing but a limp bundle of bones. Wilson threw him off without the slightest effort. Then he rolled over and devoted himself to the business of drinking in air––great gulps of it, choking over it as a famished man will food.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“No.”
“Can ye stand up?”
“In a minute.”
“Pretty nigh the rocks that time.”
“He––had a grip like iron.”
“Better keep out in the open sea where ye can be seen.”
191
Wilson struggled up and, except for a biting pain in his throat, soon felt himself again.
“Where’s Danbury?” he asked.
“Dunno. But we can’t stop to look for him. That gang has gone wild. Guess we’ve pretty nigh cleaned out the place an’ now they are runnin’ free.”
“Won’t Otaballo reach here soon?”
“Can’t tell. If he doesn’t he won’t find much left but the walls. I’m goin’ arter them an’ see what I can do.”
“Better keep your eyes open. They’ll shoot you in a minute.”
“Mebbe so, mebbe not.”
He led the way along an intricate series of corridors to a broad flight of stairs. Above there was a noise like a riot.
“If I can git ’em inter one room––a room with a lock on ’t,” he growled.
As they hurried along, Wilson caught glimpses of massive furniture, gilded mirrors, costly damask hangings brought over three hundred years before when this was the most extravagant country on the face of the earth. They took the broad stairs two at a time, and had almost reached the top when Wilson stopped as though he had been seized by the shoulder. For, as distinctly as he had heard Stubbs a moment ago, he heard Jo call his name. He listened intently for a repetition. From the rooms beyond he heard the scurrying of heavy feet, hoarse shouting, and the tumble of overturned furniture. That was all. And yet that other call still rang in his ears and echoed192through his brain. Furthermore, it had been distinct enough to give him a sense of direction; it came from below. He hesitated only a second at thought of leaving Stubbs, but this other summons was too imperative to be neglected even for him. He turned and leaped down the stairs to the lower floor.
In some way he must find the prison and in some other way get the keys and go through those cells. If he could find some member of the palace force, this would be simple. He wandered from one room to another but stumbled only over dead men. The wounded had crawled out of sight and the others had fled. A medley of rooms opened from the long halls and Wilson ran from one of these to another. Finally, in one he caught a glimpse of a skulking figure, some underling, who had evidently returned to steal. In a second he was after him. The chase led through a half dozen chambers, but he kept at the fellow’s heels like a hound after a fox. He cornered him at the end of a passageway and pinned him against the wall.
In the little Spanish he had picked up Wilson managed to make the fellow understand that he wished to find his way to the prison. But the effect of this was disastrous, for the man crumbled in his hands, sinking weak-kneed to the floor where he began to beg for mercy.
“It’s not for you. I have friends there I wish to free.”
“For the love of God, go not near them. It is death down there.”
193
“Up,” cried Wilson, snatching him to his feet. “Lead the way or I shoot.”
He placed the cold muzzle of his revolver against the nape of the fellow’s neck and drew a shriek from him.
“No! No! Do not shoot! But do not go there!”
“Not another word. On, quickly!”
“I do not know where,––I swear I do not know, signor!”
But hearing the sharp click of the weapon as Wilson cocked it, he led the way. They passed the length of several corridors which brought them to an open courtyard on the further side of which lay a low, granite building connected with the palace proper by a series of other small buildings. The fellow pointed to an open door.
“In there, signor. In there.”
“Go on, then.”
“But the signor is not going to take me in there? I pray,––see, I pray on my knees not.”
He slumped again like a whipped dog and Wilson in disgust and not then understanding his fear, kicked him to his feet. The fellow trembled like one with the ague; his cheeks were ashen, his eyes wide and startled. One would have thought he was on his way to his execution. Half pushed by Wilson, he entered the door to what was evidently an outer guardroom, for it contained only a few rough benches, an overturned table which in falling had scattered about a pack of greasy cards and a package of tobacco. Out of this194opened another door set in solid masonry, and this, too, stood ajar as though all the guards had suddenly deserted their posts, as doubtless they had at the first sound of firing. Still forcing his guide ahead, they went through this door into a smaller room and here Wilson made a thorough search for keys, but without result. It was, of course, possible that below he might still find a sentry or turnkey; but even if he did not, he ought at least to be able to determine definitely whether or not she were here. Then he would return with men enough to tear the walls down if necessary.
They passed through an oak and iron door out of this room and down a flight of stone steps which took them into the first of the damp under-passageways leading directly to the dungeons themselves. The air was heavy with moisture and foul odors. It seemed more like a vault for the dead than a house of the living. Wilson had found and lighted a lantern and this threw the feeblest of rays ahead. Before him his prisoner fumbled along close to the wall, glancing back at every step to make sure his captor was at his heels.
So they came to a second corridor running in both directions at right angles from that in which they stood. He remained very still for a moment in the hope that he might once more hear the voice which would give him some hint of which way to turn. But the only sound that greeted him was the scratch of tiny feet as a big rat scurried by. He closed his eyes and concentrated his thought upon her. He had heard that so195people had communicated with one another and he himself had had proof enough, if it were true that she was here. But he found it impossible to concentrate his thoughts in this place,––even to keep his eyes closed.
Then the silence was pierced by a shriek, the sweat-starting, nerve-racked cry of a man in awful pain. It was not an appeal for mercy, or a cry for assistance, but just a naked yell wrung from a throat grown big-veined in the agony of torture. Wilson could think of only one thing, the rats. He had a vision of them springing at some poor devil’s throat after he had become too weak to fight them off. The horrible damp air muffled the cry instantly. He heard an oath from his guide and the next second the fellow flew past him like a madman and vanished from sight toward the outer door. For a second Wilson was tempted to follow. The thought of Jo turned him instantly. He leaped to the left from where the cry had come, holding the lantern above his head. His feet slipped on the slimy ooze covering the clay floors, but by following close to the wall he managed to keep his feet. So he came to an open door. Within, he saw dimly two figures, one apparently bending over the other which lay prostrate. Pushing in, he thrust the lantern closer to them. He had one awful glimpse of a passion-distorted face; it was the Priest! It sent a chill the length of him. He dropped the lantern and shot blindly at the form which hurled itself upon him with the flash of a knife.
Wilson felt a slight sting upon his shoulder; the196Priest’s knife had missed him by the thickness of his shirt. He closed upon the skinny form and reached for his throat. The struggle was brief; the other was as a child before his own young strength. The two fell to the floor, but Wilson got to his feet in an instant and picking up the other bodily hurled him against the wall. For a second he tasted revenge, tingled with the satisfaction of returning that blow in the dark. The priest dropped back like a stunned rat.
The light in the overturned lantern was still flickering. Snatching it up he thrust it before the eyes of the man who now lay groaning in the aftermath of the agony to which he had been subjected. The lantern almost dropped from his trembling fingers as he recognized in the face distorted with pain, Don Sorez. In a flash he realized that the Priest had another and stronger reason for joining this expedition than mere revenge for his people; doubtless by a wile of some sort he had caused the arrest of these two, and then had led the attack upon the prison for the sake of getting this man as completely within his power as he had thought him now to be. The torture was for the purpose of forcing the secret of the hiding place of the image. For a second Wilson felt almost pity for the man who lay stretched out before him; he must have suffered terribly. But he wasted little thought upon this; the girl was still to be located. Wilson saw his eyes open. He stooped:
“Can you hear?” he asked. “Is the girl in this place?”
197
The thin lips moved, but there was no distinct response.
“Make an effort. Tell me, and I will get you out of here too.”
The lips fluttered as though Sorez was spurred by this promise to a supreme effort.
“The key––he has it.”
“Who?”
Wilson followed the eyes and saw the brass thing lying near the Priest.
He turned again to Sorez––
“Can you tell me anything about where she is? Is she near you?”
“I––don’t know.”
There was nothing for it but to open each door in order. It was of course likely that the two had been thrust into nearby cells, but had these been filled she might have been carried to the very end of the passageway. He fitted the ponderous brass thing into the first lock. It took a man’s strength to turn the rusty and clumsy bolt, but it finally yielded. Again it took a man’s strength to throw open the door upon its rusted hinges. A half savage thing staggered to the threshold and faced him with strange jabbering. Its face and hands were cruelly lacerated, its eyes bulging, its tattered remnants of clothes foul. Wilson faced it a second and then stepped back to let it wander aimlessly on down the corridors.
The cold sweat started from his brow. Supposing Jo had gone mad? If the dark, the slime, the rats,198could do this to a man, what would they not do to a woman? He knew her; she would fight bravely and long. There would be no whimpering, no hysterics, but even so there would be a point where her woman’s strength would fail. And all the while she might be calling for him and wondering why he did not come. But hewascoming,––hewas! He forced the key into the next door and turned another creaking lock. And once again as the door opened he saw that a thing not more than half human lay within. Only this time it crouched in a far corner laughing horribly to itself. It glared at him like some animal. He couldn’t let such a thing as that out; it would haunt him the rest of his life. It was better that it should laugh on so until it died. He closed the door, throwing against it all his strength with sudden horror. God, he might go mad himself before he found her!
At the end of a dozen cells and a dozen such sights, he worked in a frenzy. The prison now rang to the shrieking and the laughter of those who wandered free, and those who, still half sane, but savage, fought with their fellows, too weak to do harm. The farther he went the more hopeless seemed the task and the more fiercely he worked. He began to sicken from the odors and the dampness. Finally the bit of metal stuck in one of the locks so fast that he could not remove it. He twisted it to the right and to the left until his numbed fingers were upon the point of breaking. In a panic of fear he twisted his handkerchief in the handle and throwing all his weight upon it tried to199force it out. Then he inserted the muzzle of his revolver in the key handle and using this for a lever tried to turn it either way. It was in vain; it held as firmly as though it had been welded into the lock. In a rage he pounded and kicked at the door. Then he checked himself.
If ever he hoped to finish his task, he must work slowly and calmly. With his back to the door, he rested for so long a time as a man might count five hundred. He breathed slowly and deeply with his eyes closed. Then he turned and began slowly to work the key back and forth, in and out. It fell from the lock. He reinserted it and after a few light manipulations, turned it carefully to the right. The bolt snapped back. He opened the door.
Within, all was dark. The cell seemed empty. In fact, he was about to close the door and pass on to the next cell, when he detected a slight movement in the corner. He entered cautiously and threw his light in that direction. Something––a woman––sat bolt upright watching him as one might watch a vision. He moved straight forward and when within two feet paused, his heart leaping to his throat, his hand grown so weak that he dropped the lantern.
“Jo!” he gasped tremblingly, still doubting his own senses.
“David. You––you came!”
He moved forward, arms outstretched, half fearing she would vanish.
CHAPTER XVII’Twixt Cup and Lip
Hetook her in his arms and she lay there very quietly, her head upon his shoulder, in the lethargy of exhaustion. She clasped her hands about his neck as a very tired child would do. The curve of her cheek lay near his lips and, though he yearned to do so, he would not kiss it. He did not speak to her, but was satisfied to hold her there in silence. The feel of her heart beating against his, the warmth of her breath as it brushed his bare throat, the perfume of her hair––those things were enough now. After the last long weeks of doubt, after the last day of gruelling fear, after the terror of the last half hour, such things as these were soul-satisfying. So he allowed himself to stand a few minutes there in this dark cell which to him had become suddenly fairer than any garden. Then he spoke softly to her:
“Come,” he said, “we will go out into the sunshine now.”
She raised her head, looking at him through half-closed eyes.
“I––I don’t want to move, David.”
He unclasped the hands from about his neck and, placing an arm about her waist, led her slowly out201into the corridor. She followed his guidance, resting her weight upon him. And he who had come into this foul place in terror and despair walked out in a dizzy bewilderment of joy. As he passed the open door of Sorez’ cell he hesitated. The evil prompting of his heart was to pass by this man––so to let him go forever out of his life. He had but to move on. He could find a refuge for the girl where she would be safe from this influence, but this would not be possible if he stopped to take Sorez with them. Once the girl knew the man was alive and in this condition her sympathies would be so aroused that she would never desert him. Wilson knew that he must decide instantly. To leave that prison without him was to leave him to his death. He turned towards the cell door; he had promised.
The man had evidently recovered his strength somewhat, for he sat upon the edge of the wooden bunk staring about him. He was alone in the cell––the Priest was gone! On the whole, Wilson was glad of this. He felt the better for not having the burden of his death, however richly it was deserved, upon his hands. The girl apparently was still in too much of a daze to recognize Sorez. Wilson spoke to him.
“Can you walk?”
“God,” he cried. “Who are you? You speak English!”
Wilson repeated his question impatiently.
“If you can walk, follow me and I’ll take you out of this hole.”
202
The man tottered to his feet, groping with his hand along the wall.
“Here,” said Wilson, overcoming a shrinking repugnance he now felt for the man, “take my arm.”
Sorez grabbed it and with this much help was able to get along. And so, with the girl he loved upon one arm and the man he hated upon the other, Wilson made his way along the slippery subterranean galleries. He was practically carrying them both, but the lightness of the one almost made up for the burden of the other. The only thing for which he prayed was that none of those whimpering things he had loosed from their cells should cross his path. This was granted; for all he saw or heard he might have been treading the catacombs.
When he came again into the sunlight he was blinded for a second, while the other two clapped their hands over their eyes, suffering for quite a few moments intense pain. Except for being a bit pale, the girl did not look badly. Her hair had become loosened and her gown begrimed, but Wilson still saw her as she was that night when she lay curled up asleep in the big chair. As for Sorez, whether it was the pain of the torture or what, his hair, which before was an iron gray, had turned almost white.
The three made their way across the courtyard and again into the palace. He heard noise and confusion on the floors above. The halls were rank with the smell of powder. As they went on they found the floor covered with splinters, and on either side saw the203panels rent and torn as though by a huge iron claw. There was still hoarse shouting and the occasional snap of a pistol above, which showed that Stubbs had not yet succeeded in controlling the men.
He had no idea as to where it was possible to take the girl and Sorez, but he hoped that he might come upon a room in the palace here where it would be safe to leave them until it was possible to get out into the city. Perhaps, too, if he reached the entrance, he might find Stubbs. Sorez was beginning to weigh heavily upon his arm, and he resented having to sacrifice to him any of the strength he needed for the girl. So he staggered on to the very room where a short while before he had fought for his life. But here he was checked by a noise from without––cheering as from the advance of several hundred men. Was it possible that reënforcements had arrived for the government? If so, this meant immediate danger. They would exact vengeance swiftly and surely upon any man known to be associated with the revolution. This would leave the girl in as bad a plight as that from which he had just rescued her. He shook off Sorez and, picking up the girl, started into the small anteroom; but before he was out of sight the first of the soldiers had sprung up the steps. With an oath three of the men seized him and drew him back, the girl still in his arms, to the door. Jo roused herself and struggled to her feet, facing the strange soldiers without a sign of fear. Wilson reached his holster, but the girl checked his hand, realizing, even in her torpid204condition, the uselessness of it. In a minute others flocked up the stairs and around them with noisy demonstration, and soon, following these, the main body of the regiment with a snappy gray-haired officer at their head. The crowd, save for the two guards, gave way from before the trio and left them confronting their leader. By some description of Danbury’s or by instinct, Wilson recognized him as none other than Otaballo. This then was the main body of the Revolutionists! Before he had time to speak Wilson saw that his own identity was beginning to dawn on Otaballo. He stepped forward and spoke the single word:
“Americans?”
The effect was magical. The soldiers drew back to respectful attention.
“Americans,” answered Wilson.
The general spoke in broken English.
“How came you here?”
“I am with Danbury,” answered Wilson. “The girl and the man were in the dungeons below.”
“Ah! These are the two captured by the––the late government?”
“Yes. I would like shelter for the girl. She is very weak.”
“Dios!you shall have refuge at once.”
He turned to one of his lieutenants and in Spanish gave his command.
“In the name of the Queen seize the house opposite.”
He turned back to Wilson.
“I will leave you five men; is that enough?”
205
“Thanks.”
Otaballo at the head of his men proceeded to sterner business, throwing out guards through the palace and making the victory secure.
Half carrying the girl, Wilson followed the soldiers across the street. Two of them supported Sorez. The house opposite was empty, the occupants having deserted it at the approach of the enemy. It was a rambling, story-and-a-half structure, somewhat elaborately furnished. Wilson placed a guard at the front and rear of the place with orders to admit no one until he had first seen them, and then carried the girl upstairs. She was not asleep, but so nearly numb with the strain that she could neither think nor speak. It seemed to him that there was only one thing to do––let her sleep. Rest at present was more necessary than food. On the second story there was a fine large bedroom, with a big bed covered with snow-white linen. He placed her upon this.
“Sleep as long as you wish,” he bade her, though he knew she scarcely heard his voice. “I shall be outside.”
Before he closed the door he turned and saw her breathing deeply with closed eyes. It seemed only humane to care for Sorez. On the first floor he found a divan and, with the help of the soldiers, arranged him upon this, where he, too, was soon fast asleep.
Then he returned to the second floor and, lying down before her door, was soon unconscious himself. How long he lay so he could not tell, but he was aroused by206the sound of shouting outside the house. Springing to his feet, he listened at her door; there was no sound. He opened it and looked within; she lay where he had left her, still sleeping. Going to the window he looked out and was surprised to find the street crowded with citizens. It must have been long after noon, as he could tell by the sun. From all appearances this was some sort of a patriotic demonstration before the old palace. He watched it with indifferent interest until a closed carriage drove up. At this moment he saw Stubbs himself step from the palace and at the side of Otaballo approach the carriage. Here was his opportunity to make known his whereabouts to his partner. He tiptoed to the stairs and descended to the first floor. He warned the guard at the exit once more to admit no one and hurried out to push his way to Stubbs’ side. The crowd recognized him as an American from his dress and opened up a path for him. But even so he would not have reached his goal had not Stubbs seen him and, with a glad shout of welcome neglected his diplomatic duties to grasp the hand of the man he thought dead. At this moment the princess herself stepped from the vehicle and, ignoring the applause of the multitude, turned her attention to Wilson. She hesitated a moment, and then addressed him, speaking faultless English:
“Pardon me, but are not you one––one of Mr. Danbury’s friends?”
“We both are,” answered Wilson.
“Your name is–––”
207
“Wilson.”
“Ah, how fortunate! It is you of all men I wished most to see. If–––” A shout from a thousand throats rent the air. She looked dazed.
“If your Highness would bow,” suggested Otaballo.
She turned to the gathering, smiled, and bowed. But her scant courtesy was scarcely finished before her eyes were again upon Wilson and the anxious look uppermost in them.
“I must see you,” she commanded. “Follow me into the palace.”
She raised the hem of her light dress and tripped up the stairs looking more like a schoolgirl than a queen. Wilson and Stubbs followed after Otaballo, who appeared somewhat worried. They entered the palace, and at her request a guard led them into the privacy of a small room––as it happened, the room which Wilson had twice before visited that day.
“I asked you to come,” she began a bit nervously, “because you seemed to be the friend of whom Dicky talked to the last–––”
“The last!” exclaimed Wilson.
“Oh, not that,” she assured him, grasping his fear. “He isn’t––isn’t dead. But you knew he was wounded?”
“No,” he answered quickly, “I had not heard.”
“Before the palace here and––he was brought to me. His wound isn’t so very serious, the doctor says,––it’s in his leg and he won’t be able to walk for some time.”
208
“I am sorry for him,” said Wilson, sincerely. “If there is anything I can do–––”
“There is! There is! I have had him carried to his boat. He was unconscious and the doctor gave him something to make him sleep.”
“Drugged him?” he demanded roughly.
“Only so that he would go quietly. Then I gave the sailors orders to sail back home with him.”
“But why did you wish him to go back?”
“I must tell you, and you will understand. Oh, please to understand! He wanted to––to stay and––and I wanted him to stay. I think if––if it hadn’t been for this trouble we––we would have been married. But now–––”
“Your station forbids it,” he finished for her with a note of harshness in his voice.
She answered very quietly––so quietly that it chided him.
“No, it is not that. He doesn’t need any title men might give him. I would have him King––but my people would only kill him. That is the reason.”
“Pardon me,” begged Wilson. “I––I did not understand.”
“They are very jealous––my people. He would have many enemies here––enemies who wouldn’t fight fair.”
“And he made you Queen for this!” gasped Wilson.
“He didn’t know––did he?”
“I should say not.”
“Now I want you to talk to him if he returns, and209tell him he mustn’t come back and get killed. Won’t you?”
“I will talk to him if I see him, but––he will come back just the same.”
“He mustn’t. You don’t understand fully the danger.”
“You couldn’t makehimunderstand.”
“Oh!” she cried.
She put her clasped hands to her hot cheeks a moment.
“If we could keep him away for a month––just a month. Then perhaps I could let someone else––be––be here.”
“You mean to abdicate?”
“Yes, couldn’t I? The General told me that if I didn’t send him away at once you would all be killed; but perhaps later––when things have quieted–––”
“There will always be,” he warned, “a republic in the heart of your kingdom. The quieter––the more danger.”
General Otaballo had remained in the rear of the room doing his best to control his impatience, but now he ventured to step forward. He saluted.
“Pardon me, your Highness, but they wait to make you their Queen.”
“Don’t! Don’t!” she pleaded. “Leave me for to-day just a maid of Carlina. To-morrow–––”
“Your Majesty,” answered the General, with some severity, “to-morrow may be too late for all of us.”
210
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“That the situation now is a great deal more serious than your Majesty seems to understand. We are victorious, yes. But it is as difficult to maintain a victory as to win one. To-day the crowd throw up their caps for Beatrice, but if Beatrice spurns them and ignores their loyal cheers, it takes but a trifle to turn their thoughts the other way. Let me escort your Majesty through the city; let me establish you in the palace which has been graced by so many of your kin; let them see you where their grandfathers saw your brave aunt, and the last drop of blood in their veins is yours.”
She pouted like a child, her thoughts still upon other things than crowns of human make.
“But I don’t want their blood. I don’t want to be Queen. I want to be left alone.”
She looked out the window to the blue sky so full of gold and peace, where the birds tumbled at will, their throats bursting with song.
“General,” she said, “leave me to-day, at any rate. That is all I ask,––just to-day.”
“Your Majesty,” he answered slowly, “it is not mine to grant, not yours to take. Many things may happen in a night,––too many. There will be much talking in the cafés this evening, many gatherings of men, much afoot before dawn. The forces brought in by General Danbury already belong to anyone who will pay them. It is not his fault,––they fought well for their money; but now they are equally ready to fight again for someone else. You alone can hold211them to your cause. President Arlano escaped us and is doubtless busy. If we gain the crowd, we are safe against anything he may do; without the crowd, we are in jeopardy. Once the people see you crowned––once they can shout for Beatrice with her before their eyes, a living thing to fight for––they are ours forever.”
“But–––”
“Your Majesty has not fully considered the alternative; it is that you and I and all the brave men who fought to-day for you will be at the mercy of Arlano,––at the mercy of the man whose father slew your aunt,––at the mercy of the man who tortured to death Banaca. It is a bloody mercy we would get. Beside your own, a thousand lives depend upon what you do before night.”
The girl drew back from him in fright. With the memory of her quiet yesterday in the sun; the drowsy yesterdays which preceded it; with the picture of this very man who in the past had never stood to her for anything but a pleasant companion at tea, the present situation seemed absurd and unreal. What was she that her insignificant actions should be of such moment? She had but one object in mind: to place Danbury without the power of all this strife, and she was even balked in that. For the first time she realized fully what a serious crisis he had precipitated. But it was too late for her to check its results. If she went now with General Otaballo, it would leave no possible outlet for her to avoid assuming the title of Queen;212she must mount the throne at once. To do this meant to give up the greatest thing in her life. There was no possible escape from it. Only by renouncing Danbury utterly, by keeping him from Carlina, could she save his life. The only alternative was to fly, but this meant the sacrifice of too many other lives dear to her. The loyal, aged man before her who had thrown the remnant of his years into the cause was in itself enough to banish such a thought from her mind.
And this was what Dick had come across the seas to accomplish. It was a cruel jest of Fate. In his desire to secure for her all that he in his big heart thought she deserved, he had cheated her of the very thing her soul most craved. Yes, it was cruel, cruel. It would have been easier if he had not told her of his love, if he at least had left it a thing merely to be guessed at, a pleasant dream which she could have kept always as a sort of fairy possibility.
Her cheeks lost their color as she faced the man who watched her with fatherly solicitude. He stood waiting like some Nemesis,––waiting with the assurance that she would act as all the royal women of her race had always acted, bravely and loyally. From without there came a fresh cheer from the impatient men who waited for her.
“You hear?” he asked gently.
Her lips scarcely moved.
“Yes, I hear.”
For a moment she smothered her face in her hands. This meant so much to her. It was not a matter of a213day, a week, a year; it was for a whole weary, lonesome lifetime. Then she faced him.
“I will come,” she said.
He raised her fingers to his lips.
“Your Majesty has the blood of her race.”
She turned a white face to Wilson.
“That’s it,” she said. “They call me Queen, but you see how helpless I am. You must tell him this and you must not let him come back.”
Otaballo held the door wide for her and she passed out. From the bottom of his heart Wilson pitied her, but this very pity brought to his mind that other woman whom he himself had left behind. He hurried out of the building after telling Stubbs where he could be found, and across the street. He took the stairs joyously, three at a time. The door of the room where he had left her stood open. The bed within was empty.
CHAPTER XVIIIBlind Alleys
Fora moment he stood there staring, wondering if it could be only a dream that he had held her in his arms, that he had brought her up here, that she had lain upon this white bed which now mocked him with its emptiness. Then he took a step into the room, where he saw still the imprint of her head upon the pillow. He turned at this and ran into the hall, shouting her name. He was down the stairs in three bounds. The couch where he had left Sorez was also empty. The guard at the front door would not believe when told; but the proof lay in the absence of the guard in the rear. This door opened upon a small garden surrounded by a low wall. A gate led from this into a narrow street in the rear. If they were gone far they must have left in a carriage, for neither of them was strong enough to walk.
With a feeling of more bitter hatred than he had ever felt against any man, he realized that Sorez must have been in part shamming. That he was weak and exhausted there could be no doubt; but it was equally clear now that he was by no means so weak as he had led Wilson to believe. Not even Stubbs could have215drawn Wilson from the house, had he suspected Sorez of being able to move from that couch within twelve hours.
Wilson blamed himself for stupidity, for carelessness, for almost criminal negligence in thus leaving the girl. And yet one might as soon reckon on the dead coming to life, as for this dénouement. It was clear that he was dealing with no ordinary man, but he should have known this after the display of nerve he had witnessed as Sorez had climbed the stairs in his own house. He was a man with an iron will, with the ability to focus whatever energy remained within him upon a single objective. Through this Wilson gained a ray of hope; even if he found it impossible to locate him before, he knew that Sorez would press on to the lake of Guadiva. No power, no force less than death would serve to prevent him. Sooner or later Wilson would meet his man there. The present pity of it was that with the information he possessed, the secret of the parchment, he might possibly have prevented this journey and saved the girl much hardship.
So his brain reasoned, but back of this was the throbbing ache that would not listen to reason. He wanted her again within his arms; he wanted again to look into her dark eyes, to feel again the warmth of her breath against his neck. He wanted, too, the sense of protecting and caring for her. He had meant to do so much; to find a comfortable lodging place for her until he could take her back; to forage food and clothing for her. A hundred things unsaid whirled216about in his brain; a hundred plans unfulfilled mocked him; a hundred needs unsatisfied. For a few precious moments he had held her in his arms,––a few moments when he craved years, and then he had lost her. Perhaps there was still a chance. His own head was too confused to form a plan at present. He determined to return to the palace and seek Stubbs.
With the aid of two of Otaballo’s lieutenants he was able to locate Stubbs, who was assisting the General in an attempt to bring the mercenaries into some sort of order. These men finally worn out, he had succeeded in enticing into one of the big rooms where he had calmly turned the lock upon them. Wilson greeted Stubbs with the single exclamation:
“They’ve gone again.”
“What––the girl?”
“Gone,” groaned Wilson. “But within the hour. I want you to help me find them.”
“Like huntin’ fer a loose dory in th’ dark, ain’t it?”
“Yes, but you’d hunt even for your dory, wouldn’t you?”
“Right, m’ boy, an’ I ain’t suggestin’ thet yer change yer course, only––these seas are uncharted fer me. But how’d she git outern yer hands once yer had her?”
“Oh, I was a fool, Stubbs. I thought she would sleep until night, and so came over here to let you know where I was. That would have been all right if I hadn’t stayed, but the Queen came and––she told you about Danbury?”