CHAPTER XLV.TWO LACONIC ORDERS.
While the American minister’s daughter was visiting theKearsarge’scommander, Señor Lopez was dashing back to the capital, working the motor of his car to its utmost capacity in his desire to get there as soon as possible. He had watched the girl go aboard the warship, and then he had proceeded to the fortress. What he learned there had caused him to realize the necessity of reaching the palace without delay.
President Portiforo was in consultation with his cabinet when the spy reached the palace. They were discussing a dispatch which had recently arrived, and that the missive contained news of a startling character was evident from the worried, scared expression on the countenance of the chief executive of Baracoa.
“The report seems incredible,” Portiforo declared, his voice quavering. “If it is true—and I suppose there can be no doubt of that—I must admit that thing looks bad—exceedingly bad. Villa’s defeat is a blow we can scarcely hope to survive. There is now practically nothing to keep Rodriguez from reaching the capital. By forced marches he ought to be here within another twenty-four hours.” A sickly smile creased his face. “By this time to-morrow the crowds on the street will shout: ‘Viva el Presidente Rodriguez!’ It looks to me, gentlemen, as if the time had come forus to take a little trip abroad for the benefit of our health.”
The members of his cabinet received this suggestion with gloomy nods of assent.
Portiforo leaned forward in his chair. “But before we go,” he went on, lowering his voice, “there is one little matter we must not overlook. To-morrow, no doubt, the enemy will be in possession of El Torro.” He turned to a tall, bearded man with a very pale face who sat at his right hand. “Surely you will agree with me, my dear Replife, that before that happens we must do—what would have been done long ere this if it had not been for your sentimental objections.”
Minister of War Replife, just out of the hospital, sighed, and a shadow flitted across his pallid countenance. “I don’t like it,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t bear the thought of it. It is impossible for me to forget that he was once my friend. We have done him enough wrong, as it is, without——”
“We’ve got to think of ourselves now,” Portiforo broke in impatiently. “This is no time for maudlin sentiment, my friend. Unless we—er—take steps to remove the evidence, by to-morrow night the whole world will know our secret, and there will be no refuge for us, wherever we may flee. As political refugees, we should be received with honor and sympathy abroad, but as fugitive criminals we could not expect nearly so pleasant a reception.”
All the members of the cabinet except Replife received this argument with approval. While they werediscussing it, a secretary entered the room and announced that the spy, Lopez, was outside insisting that he must see the president immediately on a matter of the greatest importance.
Lopez was admitted at once. The tidings he brought caused Portiforo and his cabinet to exchange glances of alarm.
“You are positive that it was a roll of film Miss Throgmorton had in her hand?” the president inquired.
“I am absolutely sure of that, Señor Presidente. And I am equally sure that she took it to the British minister’s residence to have the film developed, and that the picture is now in the hands of the commander of the Yankee warship.”
A scowl darkened the president’s bloated face. “Then why didn’t you get it away from her?” he growled. “Surely you must have had plenty of opportunity.”
Lopez bared his large, exceedingly white teeth in a deprecatory smile. “If I had known then what I know now, of course I should have taken that step, Señor Presidente—although I am not a man of violence. But I must admit that Señorita Throgmorton’s actions puzzled me—until after I had been to the fortress. I was content to watch her, to find out what it all meant. But when I learned at the fortress that the prisoner Hawley had handed her a tobacco pouch to send as a keepsake to his editor, the significance of that incident dawned upon me. I happen to know that the daughter of the British minister is an amateurphotographer, so it was easy to guess why Señorita Throgmorton visited her—and why she then hurried to the Yankee warship.”
The scowl on Portiforo’s face deepened. “But I can’t understand how that confounded photographer could have managed to retain possession of the snapshot!” he muttered. “I took his camera away from him that night, and it was loaded with film.”
Lopez shrugged his shoulders. “Señor Hawley is an exceedingly ingenious and resourceful young man,” he remarked. “After the several exhibitions of his cleverness which he has given us, I think we can assume that he had the sagacity and foresight to change the film roll of his camera immediately after taking the picture.”
The president nodded gloomily. “Yes; he might have done it that way. We ought to have been more careful in searching him afterward,” he said. “I suppose, my dear Replife,” he continued, turning with a grim smile to the secretary of war, “you now fully agree with the rest of us as to the necessity of carrying out immediately the step we were discussing. The startling news that Lopez has brought us emphasizes the danger of delaying the matter.”
General Replife shook his head. “On the contrary, I think the news which Lopez has brought is a strong argument why you should spare the life of the unhappy Felix,” he urged. “What good would it do you to put him out of the way now? Such a step would only make things worse for ourselves. The photographic evidence of our guilt is now in the handsof the United States government. Whether he is found in El Torro or not, the world will know from that snapshot that hewaslocked up there. And if he is done away with it will, of course, add to the price which we will have to pay later on.”
Some of Portiforo’s advisers were impressed by this argument. They looked at their chief anxiously. The latter leaned back in his chair, a look of uncertainty on his face. It was evident from his demeanor that he appreciated the force of this plea for their victim’s life.
Then suddenly his beady eyes snapped, and his cruel lips parted in a snarl. “We will take our chances on the price we may have to pay—if we are caught,” he said. “There is a possibility that we shall be able to convince the world that the snapshot is a daring fraud. Photographic evidence has been manufactured before now; and”—he smiled sardonically—“the man who took the picture will not, then, be here to refute our claims.”
He reached for pen and paper on the big mahogany table before him, and began to write rapidly. When he had finished, he turned to Lopez. “Go back to the fortress and deliver these immediately,” he said to him. “One of them is for the commandant; the other for Captain Reyes. Wait there until both orders are carried out, and then come back and report.”
Lopez bowed, and put the two papers in his pocket. Then he hurried back to Puerto Cabero. During the journey, he read the two papers, and their contents caused him to bare his teeth in a malicious smile.
The missive addressed to Captain Reyes was somewhat ambiguous. It said merely, “The time has come.”
Portiforo knew Reyes would have no difficulty in grasping the purport of that laconic sentence. The other order, addressed to the commandant of the fortress, was less vaguely worded. It commanded that official to proceed immediately with the execution of the American prisoner, Hawley.
Before two hours had elapsed, Lopez returned to the palace. The cabinet members had departed. Portiforo was in his private suite, nervously pacing the floor.
“Well?” he said hoarsely, as his envoy entered. “Has it been done?”
The spy shook his head. His face was white, his manner agitated. His breath came in great gasps, as though he had been running hard.
“I was too late, Señor Presidente,” he answered.
“Too late?”
“When I arrived there, I found El Torro in possession of marines from theKearsarge. I can’t understand how they managed it—I didn’t wait to gather particulars—but they took the garrison by surprise, and captured the fortress with scarcely a struggle.”
Portiforo sank weakly into a chair. “Incredible!” he gasped. “And the prisoners?”
Lopez made a despairing gesture. “I regret to say that our birds have flown, Señor Presidente. Felix, Hawley, and Ridder are now safely aboard the Yankee warship.”