CHAPTER IXTHE DISAPPEARANCE OF HOCKLEY
“Whata truly magnificent place!”
Such was Frank’s comment when they entered the opera house and took the seats Professor Strong had purchased. Frank had been to the Metropolitan Opera House in New York city, yet the present place struck him even more favorably, with its immense size, its gorgeous decorations and its many and varied lights.
“It’s all right,” returned Mark. “But I can’t say as much for the crowd. It’s quite a mixture.”
And it certainly was, for to-day Havana has a sprinkling of nearly every nation under the sun. As Darry put it, there were white folks there and black folks, and a good many who weren’t one or the other. But all were well dressed, and in the assemblage were a number of ladies who were truly beautiful.
The Shakespearian play was well produced, and all followed it with interest, although the boys understoodbut little of what was said. Between the acts they strolled around and looked into the various smoking and lounging rooms, and had some soda water at the refreshment place. Nearly everybody was smoking and the atmosphere was decidedly “hazy” in consequence.
“They used to have a curious custom here,” said the professor. “By paying a little extra you could go behind the scenes and see how the play looked from the actor’s standpoint.”
“Well, I’d like to see it that way, once,” answered Sam. “Especially when they were playing something with great mechanical effects, like a snow-storm, a landslide, a waterfall, or a smash-up on a railroad.”
At last the play was over, and they walked out to where their carriage was in waiting. A good part of the crowd lingered, and some went for a stroll in the cool night air.
“They don’t believe in going to bed early,” was Mark’s comment. “Well, I don’t blame them, it’s so nice and cool now and so hot during the middle of the day.”
It had been arranged that all the boys should occupy two large rooms, while the professor had asmaller room adjoining. As they went in Amos Strong cautioned them not to disturb Hockley should the latter be asleep.
“Why, he isn’t here!” exclaimed Mark, who was the first to look around and make the discovery.
“Isn’t here?” came from the professor.
“No, sir, and the bed hasn’t been disturbed either.”
At once the professor’s face grew grave, and his mind went back to a certain night in Caracas when Hockley had gone off with Dan Markel and lost all his money. Had the youth been equally misguided on this occasion?
“I will go below and make inquiries concerning him,” he said, and left them.
“I’ll wager Glummy has gone and done it again,” said Frank in a low voice.
“More than likely,” answered Sam. “How foolish for him if he has! He might have had a very pleasant evening with us.”
“Oh, Glummy has a big head and thinks he knows it all,” came from Darry. “Some time he’ll catch it worse than he did when he went out with that Markel.”
So the comments of the boys ran on. In themeantime Professor Strong had followed up Hockley from the hotel proper to the café and here learned that the lad had come in early in the evening for a package of cigarettes and then gone out on the street.
“Did he have any liquor?” asked Professor Strong, sharply.
“I do not think so, señor,” was the reply. This was a deliberate falsehood, but the proprietor of the drinking resort did not wish to get himself into any trouble.
More mystified than ever the professor went out on the street and looked up and down. He could see nothing of Hockley, and now the thoroughfares were becoming gradually deserted.
It must be confessed that Amos Strong was in a quandary. What had become of his charge he could not imagine, although he strongly feared that Hockley had gone off to see the sights and gotten into some sort of trouble.
“I can learn nothing of him,” said he, on returning to the rooms assigned the party. “All of you had better go to bed.”
“And what will you do, Professor?” asked Mark.
“I shall try to hunt him up. I cannot go to rest until I know something about him.”
“Don’t you think it would be better for one of us to go with you?”
“No, I think I can get along alone.”
Such was Amos Strong’s decision, and he told them they had better go to bed without delay. Mark and Frank were willing enough and were soon in the land of dreams. But Darry and Sam sat by an open window discussing the situation.
“After his experience with Dan Markel in Caracas you would think Hockley would turn over a new leaf,” said Darry. “But he seems bound to be wild, no matter what the cost.”
“We mustn’t judge too hastily, Darry. It is barely possible that everything is all right.”
“Or that Glummy has gotten into trouble through no fault of his own. If he is in trouble, he will certainly try to put it off on somebody else—he always does.”
“It must be his nature. He can’t seem to help it.”
“He doesn’t try to help it. He wants to be smart, and when he fails he isn’t man enough to shoulder the blame.”
For nearly an hour the boys remained at the window discussing the strange disappearance. Then they followed Mark and Frank to bed, and were soon sleeping with equal soundness.
The disappearance of Hockley, coupled with the fact that Professor Strong did not return, awoke the lads early, and by seven o’clock Darry and Sam were downstairs.
“Let us see if the professor is anywhere about,” suggested Darry, and they were on the point of moving off when a hotel attendant came up to them, a man from Florida who spoke English.
“Are you Samuel Winthrop?” he asked.
“I am,” answered Sam.
“I have a private note for you,” went on the attendant.
“A note? What can it mean?”
“Perhaps it’s from the professor?” suggested Darry.
Sam lost no time in tearing open the communication, which ran as follows:
“Dear Sam: I have got myself in a tight hole and don’t know how to get myself out of it. I am afraid the professor will give me rats for gettinginto it. I think you can help me a good deal—in fact, I know you can, if you will. Please come to me at the Fairfax House—an English hotel. If you bring anybody along let it be Darry. I don’t want the professor to know of it, and please don’t tell Mark or Frank, for they would only have the laugh on me. If the professor wants to know, tell him you want to go on a little private errand. Do this much for me and I will always be,“Yours gratefully,“J. Hockley.”
“Dear Sam: I have got myself in a tight hole and don’t know how to get myself out of it. I am afraid the professor will give me rats for gettinginto it. I think you can help me a good deal—in fact, I know you can, if you will. Please come to me at the Fairfax House—an English hotel. If you bring anybody along let it be Darry. I don’t want the professor to know of it, and please don’t tell Mark or Frank, for they would only have the laugh on me. If the professor wants to know, tell him you want to go on a little private errand. Do this much for me and I will always be,
“Yours gratefully,“J. Hockley.”
“Well, what do you make of that?” asked Sam, as he passed the note over to his companion.
“Glummy is in some sort of fix, that’s certain,” answered Darry, after reading the communication twice.
“He doesn’t say anything about money. I wonder what the fix can be?”
Neither could imagine, but Sam determined to go to the Fairfax House without delay, and inside of two minutes both were on the way, without leaving word of their destination.
It was an easy matter to find the hostelry named,although to walk there took longer than they had expected, for the Fairfax House was situated in a new section of Havana and well toward the outskirts. It was a modest, well-kept hotel, and on seeing this the boys felt relieved.
“Looks all right,” was Sam’s comment. “Glad it isn’t the other kind.”
There was an old Cubanvolantedriver standing in front of the hotel, and as they came up he accosted them in broken English.
“Pardon, señors,” he said. “Be you de gen’men by de name Winthrop or de name Carane?”
“Yes, my name is Winthrop,” answered Sam. “And this is Mr. Crane.”
“Dat is verra fortunate, señors. You come to see Señor Hockley, not so?”
“We did? Is he here?”
“He no here now. He had to go to udder house. He send me here to drive you dare, señors,” and the Cuban bowed low.
“To drive to another house?” queried Darry.
“Yes, Señor Carane. Dare is my volante. Please to step in, señors.”
“Wait.” Sam caught Darry by the arm. “Is it far?” he questioned.
“Not verra far, señor—verra nice drive dis a-morning.”
“What is the matter with our friend, Mr. Hockley?”
At this the Cuban shrugged his shoulders. “Cannot tell, señor. He is hurt in de back, I t’ink.”
“Hurt in the back!” came from both Sam and Darry.
“That looks bad,” continued the former. “Let us go to him by all means.” And he followed the Cuban to thevolante.
“It’s a wonder Hockley didn’t come straight to our hotel if he was hurt,” said Darry. “But it’s just like him. He is as stubborn as an ox when he wants to be.”
In Cuba thevolante, or “flyer” is the national carriage. It is a two-seated vehicle, slung on leathern straps between two very high wheels. The shafts are fifteen feet long, and the horses are harnessed tandem, the leader being for the postillion, or driver. It makes a very comfortable turnout and, because of the width from wheel to wheel, such a thing as a volante turning over is unknown.
They were soon moving over the highway at a good rate of speed. The Cuban offered no more explanationsand merely shrugged his shoulders when questioned.
“Either he is very dumb or he doesn’t wish to explain,” whispered Darry.
“I don’t suppose Glummy told him everything, Darry. Perhaps the poor fellow is hurt too much for that.”
“He can’t be so badly off, or he wouldn’t have been able to write that letter. By the way, what did you do with it?”
“Tore it up.”
They were now passing several private residences and a moment later turned into a road which seemed almost deserted. Here the trees grew so low down that they frequently brushed the boys’ heads.
“How much further?” demanded Sam.
“We come dare soon,” shouted back the Cuban, and whipped up his horses harder than ever.
There was a small brook to cross and then they turned into another side road. Here they beheld an old stone building, which looked somewhat like a deserted convent. The windows were barred, but the doorway stood open.
“He in dare, señors,” said thevolantedriver. “He have a fall not far from here.”
The Cuban pointed to the old stone building.
“I don’t understand this,” muttered Sam. “First he said that Hockley had to go to ‘udder house.’ Now he said he had a fall here.”
“Come on, I’m not afraid, Sam.”
So speaking Darry walked through the open doorway into the stone building. There being nothing else to do, Sam followed, and thevolantedriver came after the pair.