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  [Illustration: "'STOP!'"]




     THE

     KIDNAPPED PRESIDENT

     BY

     GUY BOOTHBY

     AUTHOR OF

     'DR. NIKOLA,' 'A BID FOR FORTUNE,' 'THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL,'
     ETC.

     ILLUSTRATIONS BY STANLEY L. WOOD

     _LONDON_

     WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED

     NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE

     1902




'THE KIDNAPPED PRESIDENT'




CHAPTER I


I suppose to every man, at some period in his life, there comes some
adventure upon which, in after life, he is destined to look back with
a feeling that is very near akin to astonishment. Somebody has said
that adventures are to the adventurous. In my case I must confess that
I do not see how the remark applies. I was certainly fourteen years at
sea, but in all that time, beyond having once fallen overboard in
Table Bay, and, of course, the great business of which it is the
purpose of this book to tell you, I cannot remember any circumstance
that I could dignify with the title of an adventure. The sailor's
calling in these times of giant steamships is so vastly different from
what it was in the old days of sailing ships and long voyages that,
with the most ordinary luck, a man might work his way up the ratlines
from apprentice to skipper with little less danger than would be met
with in a London merchant's office. Though I was not aware of it,
however, I was destined to have an adventure, stirring enough to
satisfy the most daring, before my seafaring life came to an end.

How well I remember the day on which I was appointed fourth officer of
the ocean liner _Pernambuco_, running from London to South America. I
should here remark that I held a second officer's certificate, but I
was, nevertheless, glad enough to take what I could get, in the hope
of being able to work my way up to something better. It was not a bad
rise, when all was said and done, to leave a ramshackle old tub of a
tramp for the comparatively luxurious life of a mail boat; much
jollier merely to run out to the Argentine and back, instead of
dodging at a snail's pace from port to port all round the world. Then
again there was the question of society. It was pleasanter in every
respect to have pretty girls to flirt with on deck, and to sit beside
one at meals, than to have no one to talk to save a captain who was in
an intoxicated state five days out of seven, a grumpy old chief mate,
and a Scotch engineer, who could recite anything Burns ever wrote,
backwards or forwards, as you might choose to ask him for it. When I
had been six months on board the _Pernambuco_, I was made third
officer; at the end of the year I signed my name on the pay-sheet as
second. Eventually I got my Master's Certificate, and became chief
officer. Now everybody knows, or ought to know, that the duties of
chief officer on board a big liner, and, for the matter of that, on
any other boat, are as onerous as they are varied. In the first place,
he is the chief executive officer of the ship, and is held
responsible, not only for its appearance, but also for the proper
working of the crew. It is a position that requires consummate tact.
He must know when to see things and when not to see them, must be able
to please the passengers, and yet protect the interests of his owners,
must, and this is not the least important fact, be able to keep his
men constantly employed, yet not earn for himself the reputation of
being too hard a task-master. Finally, he has to see that all the
credit for what he does is not appropriated by himself, but goes to
increase the _kudos_ of his commanding officer. If the latter is a
gentleman, and can appreciate his officers' endeavours at their real
value, matters will in all probability go smoothly; on the other hand,
however, if the captain is a bully, then the chief officer is likely
to wish himself elsewhere, or at least that he was the holder of some
other rank. This was my case on my last and most memorable voyage in
the service of a particular Company that every one knows, but which,
for various reasons, shall be nameless.

I had never met Captain Harveston until he joined us in dock on the
day previous to sailing, but I had heard some scarcely complimentary
remarks about him from men who had sailed with him. I must confess,
therefore, that I was prepared to dislike him. In appearance he was as
unlike a sailor as a man could well be, was a great dandy in his
dress, and evidently looked upon himself as an undoubted lady-killer.
So far as I was concerned, he had hardly set foot on the vessel before
he commenced finding fault. A ship in dock, before the passengers come
aboard, and while the thousand and one preparations are being made for
a voyage, is seldom an example of tidiness. Surely a skipper, who had
been at sea for thirty years, must have realized this; for some
reason, however, best known to himself, it pleased Captain Harveston
to inaugurate our acquaintance by telling me that he liked a "<DW74> and
span ship," and that he judged his officers by what he saw of their
work.

"You shall have nothing to complain of as soon as I get the workmen
out, sir," I replied, a bit nettled at being called over the coals
upon such a trumpery matter.

"I trust I shall not," he answered superciliously, and then strutted
down the bridge to his own cabin, which was just abaft the
chart-room.

As it turned out, the Isle of Wight was scarcely astern before the
trouble began. Young Herberts, our second officer, was the first to
get a wigging, and Harrison, the fourth, quickly followed suit. I felt
sure my time would not be long in coming, and I was not wrong. On the
second day out, and during my watch below, I was talking to the purser
in his cabin, when the fourth officer appeared to inform me that the
captain wished to see me on the promenade deck. Thither I made my way,
to find him seated there with a number of lady passengers round him.

"Surely he is not going to be nasty before these ladies," I said to
myself as I approached him.

I discovered, however, that this was exactly what he was going to do.

"Mr. Helmsworth," he began, "I am told that you have refused the
passengers the use of the bull-board."

"Indeed, sir, I have not," I replied. "I informed one of the gentlemen
who spoke to me about it that I would have it brought up directly we
were clear of the Channel. As a rule we never produce it until we're
out of the Bay. I had Captain Pomeroy's instructions to that effect."

"I am captain of this vessel now," he returned. "Please see that the
board is brought on deck at once. I must ask you for the future to do
all that lies in your power to promote the pleasure of the passengers.
It is a duty I have a right to expect of my officers."

"Very good, sir," I answered and walked away.

From that day forward I saw that my service under Captain Harveston
was likely to be a short one, and, indeed, by the time we reached
Buenos Ayres, I felt as if I could throw up my appointment altogether.
He was never satisfied, never pleased, and did nothing but grumble and
find fault from morning until night.

After the usual fortnight's stay at the capital of the Argentine, we
commenced our homeward voyage. Our first port of call was Rio, where
Harveston and the third officer came to loggerheads. By this time the
whole ship's company had taken his measure, and I fancy he must have
known it. Being of a petty disposition, he attributed this to me, and
accordingly laid himself out to make my life aboard as disagreeable as
it was possible for him to do. How bitterly I regretted the loss of my
old skipper, who had been kindness and consideration itself, I must
leave you to imagine.

And now I must turn from a narration of my own misfortunes during
that miserable voyage to give you a description of a man, whose
personality is destined to play such an important part in my
narrative. He joined us at Rio, and was one of the last passengers to
come aboard. He was a Spaniard, and, as could be seen at a glance, a
well-bred one at that. He called himself Don Guzman de Silvestre. He
was very tall; I should say some inches over six feet, with the
darkest of dark eyes and hair, aquiline features, and a small pointed
beard, that he had a habit of stroking when thinking. Taken
altogether, a more romantic personality could scarcely be imagined,
and as he came up the gangway, I told myself that he was the best
figure of a man I had seen for some considerable time. When he asked
me at what hour we should sail, I noticed that he spoke English
perfectly, and in a musical voice that was very pleasant to listen to.
Before we had been many days at sea, he and I had had several talks
upon all sorts of subjects, considerably to Captain Harveston's
annoyance, for the latter did not approve of his officers being on
anything like friendly terms with the passengers. Having no desire to
quarrel with my chief, I endeavoured, as far as possible, to keep out
of his way, but for some reason this only had the effect of incensing
him more against me.

We were a full ship on the homeward voyage, and, as we generally did
a lot of painting between Barbadoes and Madeira, I found my time
pretty well taken up. It was in connection with this painting that the
climax came. We had left the West Indies behind us, and at the time
were steering a straight course for Madeira. The men, when the
incident I am about to describe happened, were at work on the port
rails of the promenade deck. One of them, who had been outside the
rail, climbed over, pot in hand, to obey an order I had given him. At
the moment that he did so, the long Atlantic swell caused the vessel
to give a big roll, and before he could save himself, he was flying
across the deck towards a chair in which a lady was seated. They came
into violent collision, with the result that the pot of white paint
was deposited in her lap. I hastened to her assistance, and did all
that was possible at the moment to remedy the mishap. Fortunately for
the man, who was overcome by the magnitude of the catastrophe, she
took the accident in excellent part.

"You must not blame the man," she said to me. "It was not his fault. I
shall have to sue the ocean for damages."

Then with a laugh she went below to change her attire.

As ill luck would have it, just after she had disappeared, the
skipper emerged from the companion, and saw the splashes of paint.

"What's the meaning of this, sir?" he asked, turning on me angrily.

"One of the men met with an accident, sir," I replied. "The roll of
the ship caused him to upset the paint-pot."

"You should not put that class of fellow to do such work," he
returned, oblivious to the fact that he was committing the
unpardonable sin of admonishing an officer before the men. "You seem
to have no discrimination at all, Mr. Helmsworth."

With that he walked away, leaving me to chew my cud of humiliation in
silence. After luncheon I received an order to go to the captain's
cabin. I could see that I was in for more trouble, but could not guess
what. One thing was very evident; he was in a towering rage.

"How is it, Mr. Helmsworth," he began, when I had entered the cabin
and had closed the door, "that you deliberately kept things from me
this morning that it was your duty to tell me?"

"I am not aware that I have kept anything back from you, sir," I
replied, as civilly as I knew how, for I had no desire to lose my
temper. "If it is with regard to the tiller of the port quarter
boat----"

"It has nothing whatever to do with the port quarter boat," he
answered savagely. "I want to know how it was that you did not tell me
about that lady's dress being spoilt this morning. You should have
reported the matter to me. Had it not been for my steward, I should
have known nothing whatsoever about it."

"I did not think it worth while to trouble you with it, sir," I
replied. "It was a pure accident, and Miss Burgess forgave the man,
and admitted that he was not to blame."

"Accident or no accident," he retorted, "you should have informed me
of the circumstance. I consider you sadly wanting in your duty, Mr.
Helmsworth. Of late, your manner has been most disrespectful to me,
and I tell you to your face, sir, that your ship is a disgrace to any
chief officer."

"I am sorry you should say that," I answered, endeavouring to keep my
temper; "I have always had the reputation of turning my ship out well.
If you will point out anything that is wrong, I will at once have it
rectified."

"Don't bandy words with me, sir," he stormed. "I am not used to it
from my officers. I repeat that your ship is a disgrace to any chief
officer, and I shall take care that the matter is duly reported to the
Board as soon as we reach London."

"Perhaps you will be good enough to tell me what you consider wrong,
sir?"

"Everything," he answered. "I thought yesterday I pointed out to you a
hole in the after awning."

"You did, sir, and it has been repaired. I put the sail-maker on to it
at once."

He rose from his chair with a look of triumph on his face.

"Kindly step aft with me," he said, "and let us examine it for
ourselves."

Feeling confident that what I had said was correct, I gladly
accompanied him, but to my horror, when we reached the place in
question, there was the rent gaping at us without a stitch in it.

"I regret exceedingly that you should consider it necessary to cover
your negligence by telling me what is not true," he said in a voice so
loud that some of the second-class passengers could hear it.

This was more than I could swallow.

"I'll not be called a liar by you, Captain Harveston, or by any man
living," I retorted, feeling that I would have given something to have
been able to have knocked him down. "If you will send for the
sail-maker, he will inform you that I gave him orders to do it this
morning. It is no fault of mine that he has neglected his duty."

"It is the fault of no one else, sir," returned the captain. "If you
kept the men up to their work, this would not have been left undone. I
shall be careful to enter this occurrence in the log-book."

So saying he stalked majestically away, and I went in search of the
sail-maker. The man, it appeared, had intended doing the work, but had
been called away to something else, and had forgotten it. After that,
I returned to my own cabin, and sat down to think the matter over.
There could be no sort of doubt that I was in an exceedingly
unenviable position. I could quite see that if Harveston reported me,
the Board would be likely to believe his version of the story, and
even if they did not consider me quite as negligent as he was
endeavouring to make me, they would probably argue that I was not all
I might be, on the basis that there can be no smoke without fire.
Whatever else might be said, a reputation for slovenliness and
untruthfulness would be scarcely likely to help me in my career. From
that day forward matters went from bad to worse. It seemed impossible
for me to do right, however hard I might try. What was more annoying,
I began to feel that, not content with disliking me himself, the
captain was endeavouring to set the passengers against me also.

During the run across the Atlantic I had, as I have said, several
long talks with Don Guzman de Silvestre. The man interested me
immensely. What his profession was I could not ascertain, but from
numberless little remarks he let fall, I gathered that he was the
possessor of considerable wealth. Certainly he had seen a variety of
strange life. Were it not that he narrated his adventures with an air
of truth that left no room for doubt, it would have been impossible to
have believed him. He had seen fighting in Mexico, in Nicaragua, in
Brazil, and with Balmaceda in Chili.

"I suppose in South America there will be Revolutions until the end of
Time," I remarked one evening, as we sat talking together in my cabin.

"I should say it is more than likely," he answered, taking his cigar
from his mouth and holding it between his long, slim fingers. "If you
take specimens of all the most excitable races in the world and graft
them on stock even more excitable than themselves, what can you
expect? In such countries Might must always be Right, and the weakest
will go to the wall."

"I shouldn't care much about being President in that description of
place," I returned. "It's a case of being in power and popular to-day,
unpopular and assassinated to-morrow."

"There is certainly a large amount of risk in this," the Don replied
meditatively. "And yet men are always to be found desirous of taking
up the reins of government."

I could not help wondering whether he had ever felt the ambition he
spoke of.

"I remember meeting a man in Paris some years ago," he continued after
a few moments' silence, "who was what one might call a world's
vagabond. He had been a soldier in French Africa, a shearer in
Australia, a miner at the Cape, a stockbroker in New York, and several
other things. When I met him, he was, as I have said, in Paris, and
practically starving. He could speak half the languages of the world
well enough to be thought a native, was absolutely fearless; indeed,
taken altogether he was about as devil-may-care a sort of fellow as I
had ever met in my life. Three years later he was Dictator of one of
the South American Republics we have been speaking of."

"And where is he now?"

"At the end of six months another man came upon the scene, won the
favour of the Standing Army, and began to make trouble for those in
power, with the result that my friend had to vacate his office, also
the country, at remarkably short notice. Some day he will go back and
endeavour to unseat the individual who supplanted him. The latter
gained his place by treachery, but if he is not careful he will lose
it by something else."

"Your friend is a man who does not forget an injury then?" I remarked,
with a well-defined suspicion that he was speaking of himself.

"I rather fancy he is," he replied. "At any rate, I am quite certain
he is not one who forgives."

Then he changed the conversation by inquiring how long I had been at
sea, and what countries I had visited. With some of them he professed
to be acquainted.

"It is rather impertinent of me to say so," he said, looking round to
see that there was no one near the door, "but I am afraid you and your
captain are not on the best of terms."

"I am sorry to say that we are not," I answered, and stopped there,
for I had no desire to discuss the matter with him.

"You hold a Master's Certificate, do you not?" he inquired.

I answered in the affirmative, and once more he was silent.

"I suppose you would have no objection to shipping as captain," he
went on after a long pause, "if the opportunity ever presented
itself?"

"Most certainly I should not," I replied, with a laugh. "I fear,
however, it will be some time before I shall have such an
opportunity."

"In this line, perhaps," he said, "but I suppose, if you had an offer
from another firm, you would accept it?"

"I should feel very much inclined to do so," I said, wondering at the
same time what he was driving at.

"Are you married?"

"No," I replied, "but I hope to be as soon as I can afford it. So far
as I can see, however, that event, like the captainship, is a long way
off. The good old days when skippers made money are past, and
now-a-days, what with entertaining and one thing and another, it's as
much as a man can do to make both ends meet. Sometimes I'm afraid they
don't meet at all. I wish some kind friend would come along and offer
me a comfortable shore billet on anything like pay--it would do him
good to see me jump at it."

"That may come yet," he replied, and then he rose and bade me
good-night.

A few evenings later, and as we were approaching the English Channel,
he again spoke to me on the subject. His persistent recurrence to it
gave me a feeling that there was something behind it all. But what
that something was I had no sort of idea. I was destined to find out,
however, even sooner than I imagined.




CHAPTER II


Four days later we reached England, and one of the most unpleasant
voyages I have ever made was at an end. Having seen everything right
on board, I left the ship. Captain Harveston had not said good-bye to
me, and for this reason I did not consider it necessary that I should
go out of my way to be civil to him. That the man intended doing me a
mischief I felt certain, but what form his enmity would take I could
only conjecture. The entry was in the log-book, and some action would
be taken of it without a doubt.

From London I took the train to Salisbury, intending to walk out to my
home at Falstead, one of the loveliest if not _the_ loveliest of all
the Wiltshire villages with which I am acquainted. It was delightful
to think that in a few hours I should see Molly, my pretty sweetheart,
again, and in her gentle company, and that of my dear old mother (my
father had been dead many years), endeavour to forget for a fortnight
the worries and troubles that had been my portion during the past two
months. Molly, I must tell you, or Miss Mary Wharton, was a lady of
much importance at Falstead. She was an orphan, and her father had
been the Vicar of the hamlet for nearly fifty years. When her parents
died she had received an offer of a home in London, but she could not
find it in her heart to leave the place in which she had been born, so
she remained on in the capacity of village schoolmistress and
organist, loved by the children, consulted by the mothers, and
respected by every one. My father had been the local medico, and I had
known Molly all my life. We had played together as children, had
received our first lessons together, had fallen in love later, and
were engaged when I was twenty-three and she two years my junior.

It was nearly four o'clock when I reached Salisbury and started on my
five miles' tramp to the village. My luggage I left to be brought on
next day by the carrier, taking with me a small hand-bag containing
sufficient for my immediate needs. I can remember the time when those
five miles had seemed to me the longest walking in all the world; now,
however, after so many weeks of sea, the green lanes, varied with open
stretches of down, were beautiful beyond compare. Every turn of the
road brought to light some spot of interest. I crossed the old stone
bridge at the entrance to the village, and noted the place where I had
caught my first trout, and further on, as I passed a certain stile,
upon which hundreds of initials had been carved, recalled the fact
that it was there I had fought Nathaniel Burse, the village bully,
and, unlike the heroes of most romances, had received a sound drubbing
for my pains.

About a quarter of a mile from my mother's cottage I overtook the
worthy Vicar, who, as he informed me, had been to pay a visit to a
farm on the Downs.

"Let me be the first to offer you a hearty welcome home," he said.
"You seem to have been away for a shorter time than ever this voyage."

"It has certainly not seemed so to me," I answered, and with a
considerable amount of truth. "I am the more glad to be back. How is
the village?"

"By the village, I suppose you mean Miss Wharton, do you not?" said
the old fellow with a chuckle. "She is wonderfully well, and I fancy
is looking forward to your return. Your mother keeps well also, I saw
her yesterday."

We walked on together until I could see ahead of us the little
ivy-covered house in which I had been born. At the gate I bade the
kindly old gentleman good-bye and entered, to be received on the
threshold by Molly and my mother. For the next few minutes I had to
submit, and I will leave you to imagine whether I did so willingly or
not, to such a kissing and hugging as the average man seldom receives.
Then I was escorted to the little drawing-room and given my favourite
chair, while Molly made tea and my mother sat beside me and
affectionately stroked my hand. Could you have seen Molly at that
moment, you would have declared her to be the true picture of an
English woman.

As you have probably observed by this time, I am not much of a hand at
describing people, but I must endeavour to give you some idea of what
my sweetheart was like. In the first place she was tall, possibly five
feet nine inches. Her eyes were blue, and her hair a rich nut-brown.
On the day of my arrival she was dressed in white, with a white belt
round her shapely waist; while on the third finger of her left hand
was the ring I had bought for her at Salisbury after our engagement
was announced. Even now, though ten years have elapsed, I can feel the
joy of that home-coming. I sat sipping my tea, and eating slice after
slice of real Wiltshire bread-and-butter in a whirl of enchantment.
Of course Molly remained to supper with us, and if afterwards we went
for a stroll down the shadowy lanes as far as Bellam Woods, where you
can stand on the hill and look down the valley to Salisbury, five
miles away, who shall blame us?

The next three days were about as happy, so far as I am concerned, as
a man could wish to spend. Fortunately it was holiday time with Molly,
and in consequence she and I were inseparable from morning until
night. We fished together, went for long walks together, and on the
third day I borrowed the Vicar's pony-cart and drove her into
Salisbury. Alas! however, that day was destined to end in very
different fashion to what it had begun. Having returned the pony-cart
to the vicarage, we strolled home together. My mother's
maid-of-all-work had brought in the letters that had arrived by
evening mail, and on the little table in the hall was one addressed to
me. I turned it over, to discover upon the back of the envelope the
monogram of the Company--my employers. With a heart full of
forebodings I opened it. It was very brief, and read as follows--

   "DEAR SIR,

   "I am desired by the Chairman to inform you that the Board will
   be glad if you will make it convenient to be present at their
   meeting on Friday next at three o'clock.

     "I am,
       "Yours very truly,
         "J. HOPKINSON, Secretary."

"What does it mean, Dick?" Molly asked. "Why do they want to see you?
I think it is very unkind of them to spoil your holiday by taking you
away when you only have such a short time at home."

"I am afraid it means trouble," I answered. "Captain Harveston and I
did not get on very well together, and I expect he has been making
complaints against me at head-quarters. He threatened to do so."

"Then he is a very unjust man," said my sweetheart, her eyes flashing.
"And I should like to tell him so!"

That the letter worried me a good deal I am not going to deny. My
bread-and-butter depended upon the Company's good opinion, and if I
lost that I should certainly lose my position too. On the appointed
day I bade my dear ones farewell, walked into Salisbury, and caught
the train to London, reaching the Company's offices, which were in
Leadenhall Street, about a quarter of an hour before the meeting was
due to take place. A liveried porter showed me into the waiting-room,
where I remained for something like twenty minutes, kicking my heels
impatiently, and wondering what the end of the business would be. Then
the door opened and the Secretary entered.

"The Board will see you now, Mr. Helmsworth," he said, and I
accordingly followed him to the room in which the meetings of the
Company took place. There I discovered a full Meeting. The Chairman
was seated at the head of the table--a dignified, portly
personage--while on either side of him were ranged the Directors, who
I could see regarded me with some curiosity as I entered.

"Mr. Helmsworth," said the Chairman, after the Secretary had returned
to his place, "we have requested your presence to-day in order to
inform you that Captain Harveston has felt it his duty to make a
serious complaint to us of your conduct during the voyage which has
just ended. To be candid, he charges you with general neglect of duty,
of insulting conduct towards himself, and, I regret to add, of
untruthfulness. We thought it better that you should have an
opportunity of hearing these charges, and giving you a chance of
defending yourself, should you care to do so. It is needless for me to
add how much the Board regrets that such a report should have been
made against you. What have you to say?"

"All I can say, sir," I replied, advancing to the bottom of the table,
and taking up my position there, "is that the report has not a word of
truth in it. It is a malicious invention on the part of Captain
Harveston, and, if he were here, I should tell him so."

"Come, come, Mr. Helmsworth, you must not talk like that," said the
Chairman; "Captain Harveston has been a long time in our service, and
we have never known him act unjustly to any one. Would it not be
better to admit that there is _some_ truth in what he says, and then
to leave it to the clemency of the Board, to deal with as they may
consider fair?"

"I am afraid, sir," I replied, "with all due respect to yourself and
the Board, that I cannot submit to being declared neglectful of my
duties, or allow myself to be called untruthful when I know the charge
to be unjust. For some reason, I cannot say what, Captain Harveston
took a dislike to me before the voyage commenced, and this report is
the outcome of that dislike."

I then proceeded to explain what had happened; pointed out that while
the dock workmen were engaged upon the ship, and she was of necessity
in an untidy condition, Captain Harveston had complained of her lack
of orderliness. I referred to the paint incident, and commented upon
the fact that he had charged me with concealing what had happened
from him. With regard to the ship being in an untidy state throughout
the voyage, I stated that I was prepared to bring witnesses to prove
that she was as perfect as it was possible for a ship to be. If a
little of the gloss had worn off by the time we reached the Thames, I
explained that it was due to the fact that we had experienced very
rough weather in the Bay and also coming up Channel. The charge of
untruthfulness I dismissed as being both petty and absurd. Towards the
end of my remarks I had some difficulty in restraining my temper, for
I could see that the Board was still inclined to side with the captain
against me. Perhaps my manner was not submissive enough to please
them. At any rate when they asked me to withdraw for a few minutes
while they discussed the matter, I began to feel that my case was, so
far as they were concerned, a hopeless one. After ten minutes' absence
I was recalled.

"Mr. Helmsworth," the Chairman began in his dignified way, polishing
his glasses with his pocket-handkerchief as he spoke, "we have most
carefully gone into the matter, and have arrived at the conclusion
that, taking into consideration the length of time you have been in
the Company's service, and the fact that there have never been any
complaints against you hitherto, we should be justified in permitting
you an opportunity of retrieving any little error you may have
committed. If, therefore, you will agree to apologize to Captain
Harveston, and will promise to do your best in the future, I may say
on behalf of the Board, that we are prepared to allow this most
painful matter to drop."

This was more than I had bargained for. I had at least hoped that they
would have given orders that I should be confronted with my accuser,
and that I should be allowed to call witnesses in my own defence.

"With all due respect, gentlemen," I said, with perhaps more freedom
than I should have used, "I cannot submit to such a thing. Captain
Harveston has brought these charges against me for some reason best
known to himself. It seems to me, if only in common fairness, that he
should be called upon to prove them, and if he is unable to do so, to
apologize to me for the wrong he has done me. I declare most
emphatically that I am innocent, and, if you will allow me, I will
prove it. I am sure my brother officers will be able to convince you
as to my ability, and to the state of the ship. The Dock
Superintendent should also be able to do the same."

"Unfortunately the Dock Superintendent has confirmed the captain's
opinion," said the Chairman.

To my chagrin, I remembered then that the Dock Superintendent and I
had had a quarrel some years before, and also that he was a great
friend of the captain's. It was not likely, therefore, that he would
side with me.

"If the Dock Superintendent says that, I suppose I must submit," I
answered. "Nevertheless, I contend that neither he nor Captain
Harveston is speaking the truth."

"Dear me, dear me," said one of the Directors, "this is really not the
sort of behaviour to which we are accustomed. Why not take the
Chairman's advice, Mr. Helmsworth, and apologize to your captain? I am
quite sure that he would bear no malice to you, and the matter could
then be amicably settled."

This had the same effect upon me as the waving of a red flag is said
to have upon an angry bull.

"I shall certainly not apologize," I answered. "Captain Harveston is
in the wrong, and I refuse to have anything more to do with him."

"In that case, I am afraid the consequences will be serious," said the
Chairman. "We should be loath to lose your services, Mr. Helmsworth,
particularly after your long service, but unless you apologize to
Captain Harveston, we have no other course open to us."

"I shall not do that," I returned, "and in case of my dismissal I
assure you I shall immediately take what proceedings the law allows
me, in order to prove that I have been slandered most grossly."

The Board stared at me in amazement. Was it possible, they were
doubtless asking themselves, that a miserable chief officer dared to
beard them in this fashion?

"What proceedings you take against Captain Harveston are no concern of
ours, after you have quitted our employment," said the Chairman, "but
if you will be well advised, you will think twice before you invoke
the assistance of the law."

"I am to understand, therefore," I said, "that I am dismissed."

"No, no," the Chairman replied; "we will not go as far as that, we
will call it a resignation."

"Allow me then to wish you good-day, gentlemen," I said, and bowing I
walked out of the room. "You will, doubtless, hear from me later."

"A pretty market I have brought my pigs to," I said to myself, as I
walked down Leadenhall Street, after leaving the offices of the
Company. "Poor little Molly, this will be a sad blow to her. It looks
as if my marriage is now further off than ever."

How little I guessed then that the interview I had just had, had
brought it closer than if the trouble with Harveston had never
occurred. Acting on the resolve I had made while waiting for the
Board's decision, I made my way in the direction of High Holborn. The
old lawyer who had conducted what little legal business my father had
required, and who had arranged my mother's affairs after his death,
had an office in one of the curious old Inns of Court in that
neighbourhood. I determined to lay the case before him and to act
according to the advice he gave me. On reaching the office I had the
satisfaction of finding him at home. The clerk, who received me, was
as old as his employer, and I believe had served him for upwards of
forty years. His memory for faces must have been a good one, for he
recognized me at once, although several years had elapsed since I had
last called upon him.

"Mr. Winzor is in his office, Mr. Helmsworth," he said, "and, if you
will be good enough to wait for a moment, I will place your name
before him." He disappeared, and presently returned and requested me
to follow him.

The old lawyer received me most cordially and invited me to take a
seat. He asked after my mother's health, then took a pinch of snuff,
looked at me fixedly, and then took another. After this he inquired in
what way he could serve me. I thereupon placed the case before him.

"This is a matter," he said, after a pause of about a minute, "that
will require very careful consideration. It is plain that the captain
in question is a vindictive man. His reason for being so bitter
against you is difficult to understand, but we have the best of
evidence before us that it does exist. It's one thing, however, to be
unjustly treated, and quite another to go to law about it. In a
somewhat lengthy career, it has always been my endeavour to impress
one thing upon my clients--Don't go to law if you can possibly avoid
it. Doubtless were you to take the case into court we could produce
sufficient evidence from your brother officers and the petty officers
of the ship to prove that you did your duty, and also that you were a
conscientious officer. But, even supposing you won the day, how would
you stand?"

"I should have reinstated my character," I replied somewhat sharply,
for the old man's manner grated upon me.

"And apart from the question of character, how much better off would
you be?" he asked. "The fact of your calling the officers of the ship
would put the Company to a considerable amount of inconvenience and
expense, which they would naturally resent. It would also have the
effect of putting them in an antagonistic attitude towards yourself,
which, at present, they do not appear anxious to take up. The case
would attract some attention, the various shipping companies would
read it, and, should you apply to them for a position, I fear you
would find them averse to taking an officer who, you must forgive my
plain speaking, was ready to invoke the aid of the law to settle his
disputes with his captain and his employers. Do you see my
contention?"

"Yes, I see it," I replied; "but, surely, you don't mean to say that I
am to have this injustice done me and say nothing about it?"

"I am afraid I do not see what else to advise you to do," he replied.
"I think you have been badly treated, but, upon my word, though if I
were in your place I should doubtless feel as you do, I should drop
the matter, and, to quote a familiar Stock Exchange expression, 'cut
the losses.'"

This was not at all what I had expected, and boiling over as I was,
the advice he gave me was most unpalatable. He must have seen this,
for he tapped me gently on the arm.

"Master Richard," he said, as if he were talking to a school-boy, "I
am an old man and you are a young one. Youth is proverbially
hot-headed, while Age is apt to stand off, and looks at things from
afar. I pledge you my word that, in giving you this advice, I am
acting as I deem best for your welfare. There is an old saying to the
effect that 'there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of
it,' and I fancy the same remark can be made to apply to the vessels
sailing upon that sea. Now will you leave the matter in my hands?"

"Most willingly," I replied, "provided I am not going to continue to
be suspected of being a malingerer and a liar."

"Sir Alexander Godfrey, the Chairman of the Company," he went on, "is
a personal friend of my own, and if you will allow me, I will make a
point of calling upon him to-morrow in order to have a chat with him
upon the subject. I cannot promise, but I think I shall be able to
induce him to persuade his brother Directors to either look over the
matter, or at any rate to make sure that you leave the Company's
service without any stain upon your character."

"But to do that I must be proved innocent."

The old man smiled a crafty smile.

"When you are as old as I am," he said, "you will have discovered that
there are ways and ways of doing things. Leave it to me to arrange and
I fancy you will be satisfied with the result."

"Let it be so, then," I replied.

"I am not a vain man," he said, "but I will say that I do not think
you could do better. Now tell me how the pretty Miss Molly is."

"She is very well indeed," I replied, "but I fancy this news will be a
disappointment to her."

"Not a bit of it," he answered. "It's just at such times as these that
the real woman comes out. Egad! you youngsters think you understand
women, but, bless my heart, you don't! And now you just trot back to
Wiltshire, and give my kindest remembrances to your mother, and, well,
if you like, you can give a kiss to Miss Molly for me. Tell her not to
bother herself; that I will see you out of this affair all right. I am
very glad, my lad, that you came to me. When you are in trouble I hope
you will always do so. Your father and I were old friends, and--well,
I am not going to say anything further, but I'll tell you this; if I
had met your mother before your father did----"

He stopped suddenly and tapped his snuff-box upon the table, then he
rose from his chair, shook me by the hand, and told me he would write
me immediately he had anything of importance to tell me.

I took this as a signal for dismissal, and thanking him for his
advice, left him. Twenty minutes later I caught the three o'clock
express at Waterloo, and in something under two hours was back in
Wiltshire once more.

Molly met me half-way out of Salisbury, and her loving sympathy
cheered me more than anything else could have done.

"Don't be miserable about it," she said, when I had told her
everything; "there are plenty of ships in the world, and lots of
owners who will value your services more than this Company seems to
have done. Remember, I believe in you with my whole heart, dear, and
if it is decreed that we are not to be married for some time to come,
then we must wait with all patience until that happy day shall dawn.
When you've had a little more holiday, you can begin to look about you
for something else."

Could any man have wished for a braver sweetheart? Alas! however,
matters were not destined at first to turn out as happily as she had
prophesied. I applied to firm after firm, but my efforts in every case
were entirely unsuccessful. At last I began to think that if my luck
did not mend very soon, I should have to pocket my pride and ship as
second or third officer, hoping by perseverance and hard work to get
back to my old position later on. This eventually I decided to do, but
even then I was not successful. The only line which could offer me
anything was in the Russian grain trade, and the best berth they had
vacant was that of third officer. As may be supposed, this was a bit
of a come-down for my pride, and before accepting it, for I had run up
to London to interview the firm in question, I returned to Falstead to
talk it over with my sweetheart. On my reaching home my mother greeted
me with an air of importance.

"A gentleman has been to see you this afternoon," she said, "a tall,
handsome man. He did not leave his name, but he said you would
probably remember him, as he had met you on board the _Pernambuco_. He
is staying at the George, and is most anxious to see you."

"I met a good many people on board the _Pernambuco_," I said a little
bitterly. "A lot of them were tall and handsome. I wonder who he can
be?"

She shook her head.

"You say that he is staying at the George," I continued. "Very well,
when I have had my tea, I will go down and find out who he is."

In due course I reached the little inn at the end of the village
street. The proprietress, old Mrs. Newman, had known me since I was so
high, and upon my entering her carefully-sanded parlour, she bustled
out of her little room at the back to greet me. I inquired whether
she had a strange gentleman staying in the house, and she answered in
the affirmative.

"He is smoking a cigar in the bower at the end of the garden," she
answered. "If you want to see him you will find him there."

I knew the place in question, and, passing through the house, made my
way down the garden towards the little summer-house in question.
Seated in it, looking just the same as when I had last seen him, was
the Spaniard, Don Guzman de Silvestre.




CHAPTER III


On seeing me Don Guzman sprang to his feet and held out his hand.

"My dear friend," he cried, "it is very good of you to come here. I
called at your house this afternoon, to learn that you were in London,
but that you were expected back this evening. Doubtless you are
surprised at seeing me, but when I tell you everything, I fancy your
wonderment will cease. Won't you sit down and let me offer you a
cigar? A more delightful spot than your village I have never met
with."

I accepted his cigar, and seated myself in the wicker chair he pushed
forward for my accommodation. What he was doing in our quiet
neighbourhood I could not for the life of me imagine. But when I
remembered the questions he had put to me on board the _Pernambuco_, I
began to feel my hopes rising. It would be a stroke of luck indeed if
he were to offer me a good berth, just at the moment when I needed it
so badly.

"And so our mutual acquaintance, Captain Harveston, played you a
shabby trick after all?" he remarked after a short pause.

"He could not very well have done me a greater injury," I replied.
"What is worse, I fear he has not only lost me my berth, but that he
has prejudiced other owners against me. Did the ship strike you as
being in a badly-kept condition when you were on board?"

"I never saw one better managed in my life," he answered. "At the same
time I must confess that I am not sorry that Harveston has got you
your discharge."

"As matters stand with me just now, that's not a particularly civil
thing to say, is it?" I inquired with some asperity, for, if the truth
must be confessed, I was not in a very good humour.

"My friend, I mean it in all kindness," he answered, "and presently I
will tell you why. Do you remember that story I told you on board,
about my acquaintance who had played the vagabond all over the world?"

"The man who was President of one of the Republics of South America?"
I inquired.

"Exactly, the same man."

"I recollect the story perfectly," I replied. "But what makes you
speak of that man?"

"Well, what I am going to say to you concerns that man. He has a very
strong notion that if he could only get his rival out of the country
in question, he might manage to win his way back to his old position."

"But will the other allow himself to be enticed out of the country?
That seems to me to be the question. Besides, it's one of the rules of
the game, is it not, that the President shall never cross the Border?"

"That is certainly so, but circumstances alter cases. In this affair,
if the man cannot be induced to go out of his own free-will, others
must make him do so."

"Rather a risky concern, I should fancy."

"Everything in this world possesses some element of risk," he replied,
"whether it is a question of buying Mexican Rails or English Consols,
backing a racehorse, or going a long railway journey. In this affair
there is a little more than usual, perhaps; at the same time the
reward is great."

"On the other hand, supposing you fail," I returned, "what then? You
would probably find yourself, in a remarkably short space of time,
standing against a wall, with your eyes bandaged, and half-a-dozen
rifles preparing to pump lead into you. Have you taken that fact into
your calculations?"

"I have not omitted to think of it," he replied gravely, as if it
were a point worthy of consideration. "Still, that is not what I am
concerned about just at present."

"But what have I to do with this?" I inquired, for, though it seems
wonderful now that I should not have thought of it, I had not the very
faintest notion of what he was driving at then.

"If you like, you can have a good deal to do with it," he answered,
blowing a cloud of smoke into the air, and bestowing an approving
glance at his exquisitely made boots. "I think when I had the pleasure
of meeting you on board the _Pernambuco_, you told me that you were
engaged to be married?"

"I certainly am _engaged_," I answered, "but when I shall be able to
get married is another and a very different matter. I've lost my
position, and with it has gone my hope of soon being made a skipper. I
can't very well risk matrimony on the pay of a third officer of a
grain boat, can I?"

"I should say that it would hardly be prudent," he answered. "May I
ask what capital you would require to start married life upon?"

"I should be perfectly happy if I had three hundred a year," I
replied. "I'm not a man with big notions, and I fancy that sum would
meet our wants."

"Capitalized at three per cent., shall we say ten thousand pounds? You
are certainly not of a grasping nature, Mr. Helmsworth!"

"It would be all the same if I were," I answered. "At the present
moment I stand as much chance of getting ten thousand pounds as I do
of getting a million."

"I am not quite so sure of that," he said, speaking very slowly. Then
he looked at me out of half-closed eyes, and eventually added: "What
if I were in a position to put in your way the sum you want?"

I stared at him in surprise. Then I grew distrustful. Experience has
taught me that our fellow-man does not pay away ten thousand pounds
unless he is very certain of getting a good return for his generosity.

"I should be inclined to think that you were jesting with me," I
replied, when I had recovered from the astonishment his remark had
caused me.

"No, no; don't say that," he answered. "I assure you I am not jesting
at all. I very rarely do so. I say definitely that it is in my power
to put that sum of money in your way. That is, of course, provided you
care to earn it."

"How am I to do that? That may make all the difference."

"Oh, you needn't look so scared," he returned; "the matter is a very
simple one. All I require in exchange for the ten thousand pounds is
your co-operation in a certain political act."

"Ah, I understand," I replied, as the truth dawned upon me. "The
ex-President of the South American Republic, whom you call your
friend, is in reality yourself, and you want me to help you get back
your position. Is that not so?"

He nodded.

"Yes," he answered, "and I pay you the compliment of saying that I
think you are just the man to bring that result about. I have not
arrived at this decision haphazard. I watched you very closely on
board the _Pernambuco_, and I have made inquiries about you since. It
is a piece of my usual good fortune that you should happen to be
disengaged at this particular time. Had you not been, I should have
made you an offer, in the hope of having been able to induce you to
leave the Company's service, and to join me. That would have been
unfortunate, and it might very probably have given rise to suspicion,
and suspicion is the one thing of all others I am naturally anxious to
avoid. In England they do not appreciate the subtleties of South
American politics, and in consequence they are apt to look at things
in a wrong light. Would you have any objection to assisting me to
regain my former position?"

"It all depends upon what you want me to do," I replied. "I have had
no experience in such affairs, and am afraid I should make a poor
conspirator."

"There is no need for you to be a conspirator at all," he said, with
one of his quiet laughs, "that is to say, not in the sense you mean.
All I am going to ask of you is the exercise of a little diplomacy,
and some of that nautical skill which I am so well aware you possess."

"In other words, you want me to assist in the deportation of your
rival from the country, whose chief he at present is."

"You've hit the mark exactly," he returned. "That is just what I
_want_ you to do, and it is for this that I am willing to pay the sum
of ten thousand pounds, which will enable you to marry the girl of
your heart. Now let me hear what you think."

"I scarcely know what answer to give you," I replied. "I have never
dreamt that I should be asked such a question. It is all so
unexpected."

"Is there not an English saying to the effect that it is the
unexpected always happens?" he inquired. "I want to have your decision
as quickly as possible, for the reason that, if you don't like the
thought of taking on the work, I must find somebody else who does. I
think I know your character as well as any man can do, and I am
certain I can trust you."

I thanked him for the compliment he paid me, and then informed him
that, before I could give him a definite answer, I must hear more of
his scheme.

"I am afraid it would take rather too long to tell you just now," he
replied, when he had consulted his watch. "Won't you dine with me? We
could talk the matter over more thoroughly afterwards. I suppose the
landlady can give us some sort of a meal?"

As it was the evening on which Molly had her choir practice, and I
knew that I should not see her until ten o'clock, I accepted his
invitation, on the condition that I should be allowed to go home first
in order to acquaint my mother of my intention. He agreed to this, and
I thereupon left him and went off on my errand. As I walked down the
quiet little street, I thought of the curious proposal the Don had
made to me. It seemed almost impossible that I, quiet Dick Helmsworth,
should be asked to undertake the abduction of a South American
President. So far, I knew next to nothing of Don Guzman's scheme; but
I had a very fair idea of the risk I should be called upon to run. Ten
thousand pounds was a very large sum; but would it be large enough to
compensate me for what I should have to undergo, should my attempt
prove unsuccessful, and I find myself in captivity? Then there was
another question. What would Molly say when she heard of it? Would she
approve, or should I refrain from telling her anything about it? This
was a point I felt that demanded most earnest consideration. Entering
the house, I informed my mother of the invitation I had received to
dine with Don Guzman.

"It will do you good, my boy," she said instantly. "You want a little
cheering up after the troubles you have had lately. Who is the
gentleman?"

I informed her that I had met him on my last voyage, that he was a
Spaniard, and also that he was presumably very wealthy.

"I have only known one Spaniard in my life," the old lady continued,
"and I cannot say that I liked him. Your father did not consider him
trustworthy. But there, your gentleman may be quite a different sort
of person."

On my way back to the inn I pondered over my mother's words. She had
all an old Englishwoman's innate distrust of foreigners; but her
innocent little remark had set my imagination working. What if Don
Guzman should be hoodwinking me, and that there was more behind his
offer than I imagined? I then and there made up my mind not to take a
step forward until I should be thoroughly convinced as to his _bona
fides_.

On reaching the inn, I was informed by Mrs. Newman that the Don, or
the foreign gentleman, as she styled him, was awaiting me in the
coffee-room. Thither I repaired, to discover the table laid and my
host standing at the window looking out upon the garden. He received
me with much politeness, and we presently sat down to our meal
together. During its progress nothing was said regarding the scheme we
had discussed an hour before. The Don did the honours of the table
with the greatest courtesy, and in numerous little ways showed me that
whatever else he might be, he was certainly a keen judge of Human
Character. As I have already remarked, he had travelled in well-nigh
every country, and if his own accounts were to be believed, he had met
with some strange people, and some still stranger adventures.

Our meal at an end, he proposed that we should go for a stroll, and to
this I assented. We accordingly left the inn, and walked down the main
street past the ancient village church, until we came to the stone
bridge that spans the river. It was a glorious evening; the sunset had
been a brilliant one, and the last faint tints still lingered in the
sky. Under the bridge the river stole noiselessly on its way to the
sea; the swallows darted up and down its glassy surface as if they
were resolved to make the most of the waning daylight; while, soft and
low, from across the meadow came the music of the church organ, where
Molly was instructing her boys in the music for the coming Sunday. It
was an evening I shall remember as long as I can recollect anything,
if only because of the strange events which might almost be said to
have dated from it.

"I hope you have been favourably considering my scheme," said Don
Guzman, when we had seated ourselves on the stone balustrading of the
bridge, and I was idly dropping stones into the stream below.

"Yes, I've certainly given the matter my consideration," I replied,
"but I want to hear something more of your plans, and to know exactly
what will be required of me, before I shall be able to give you a
definite decision. Remember, beyond the mere fact that you want to get
this man out of the country, I know nothing whatsoever of the
business."

"I promised you an explanation, and you shall have it," he said. "Of
course, before I begin, I can rely upon your treating the matter as
strictly confidential, can I not? You can see for yourself the
position I should be placed in were you not to do so."

"Most assuredly," I replied. "I pledge you my word that whatever you
may say to me regarding this matter shall go no further."

"In that case I will begin. First and foremost, let me inform you that
the country in question is the Republic of Equinata. As doubtless you
are aware, it is a most prosperous and fruitful one; indeed, I know of
no other that I like so well. I lived some of the most pleasant years
of my life there, and should in all probability be residing there now
if it were not for the treachery of the man whom I thought to be my
friend, who became my adviser, and eventually ended in ousting me from
my position and assuming the reins of Government himself. The name of
that man is Manuel Fernandez; he is about fifty years of age, of iron
physique, and I will do him the credit of saying, of indomitable
courage. His subjects do not love him, but they fear him, which is
much more to the point. Whether I was loved or not I am unable to
state, but the fact remains that a large number of the population are
most anxious that I should return to them to take up my former
position. This I am very anxious to do, but I do not see how I am to
accomplish it unless the present President is out of the way.
Doubtless I could enter the country by stealth, and sow the seeds of
another Revolution, which might, or might not, be successful. But
there would always be the danger of Fernandez discovering my
whereabouts and putting me out of the way. Now, my idea is this, if we
could only manage to get him out of the country, I could return, rally
my friends about me, prove his flight, and proclaim myself Dictator.
That done, even should he return in the end, I should be prepared for
him."

"But how do you propose to get him out of the country?"

"That's exactly what I want you to manage," he answered. "With the
plan I have in my mind, and a little care, it should not be a
difficult matter. This is my scheme. Lying at a certain port on the
Florida coast is a large steam-yacht, of upwards of a thousand tons.
She is the property of an old friend and sympathizer of mine in the
United States. He has offered to lend her to me for the purpose in
hand. Now, if you are willing to assist me, you might go out to the
West Indies, join her at Barbadoes, and board her in the capacity of a
rich Englishman. You steam away to Equinata, and go ashore, in order
to study the customs of her people. Most naturally you would call upon
the President to pay your respects. You are invited to call again, in
the end you strike up a friendship, then one evening he dines with you
on board, or perhaps you meet him somewhere, and then--well, I will
leave the rest to your imagination."

Here he looked at me meaningly, and I gathered what his thoughts were.

"And what is to happen to him then?"

"After that you steam away to a certain small island the name of which
I will give you, land him, and place him with some people who will
take charge of him until such a time as shall be agreed upon. It
should not be a difficult matter, should it?"

"No, as you put it, it is simplicity itself," I replied; "but what
about the officers and men of the yacht? How will you prevent them
from talking? And, what is more, will they assist in the scheme?"

"They will be most carefully chosen for the work," the other replied.
"You need have no fear that they will give trouble. Now what do you
say?"

"I do not know what answer to make. Supposing I am caught? What would
happen then?"

"You will stand a very good chance of being shot offhand," he
answered; "but that, of course, is your own risk. It will depend
entirely upon how you go to work."

"It would be running a terrible risk," I answered. "I have the girl I
am going to marry to think of."

"If you succeed, you will be able to marry her on your return to
England," he replied. "Surely _that_ counts for something."

"It counts for everything," I replied. "That's the temptation; if it
were not for that, I'd have nothing to do with it. I must have time,
however, to consider the matter."

"By all means," he answered, "but don't be any longer than you can
help. As I said a few minutes ago, if you don't care about undertaking
it, I must find some one else. Time presses."

"In case I do take it on, when will it be necessary for me to start?"
I asked.

"The sooner the better," he replied. "If you can see your way to doing
so, I should like you to leave by next week's mail boat for Barbadoes,
where the yacht will meet you."

"Will it satisfy you if I give you my answer to-morrow morning?" I
asked.

"Yes, to-morrow morning will suit me admirably," he answered. "And if
you decide in the affirmative, my cheque for five thousand pounds
shall be handed you at once, and the remainder on the day you deliver
the President to the representative whom I shall appoint. Do you
consider that proposition a fair one?"

"Very fair indeed," I replied. "I could not wish for anything more
so."

Then we strolled back along the road until we reached the lych-gate of
the churchyard. Here I bade him good-night, and he continued his walk.
On my part, I made my way into the church, and seated myself in one of
the pews until the practice should be finished. From where I sat I
could catch a glimpse of my darling's pretty figure at the organ in
the chancel, the light from the two candles on either side illumining
her face. When the practice was at an end, she dismissed her boys and
came down to join me. Then, bidding the old verger a good-night, we
made our way home together. She inquired how I had enjoyed my dinner,
and what my friend had had to say to me. This put me in rather a
dilemma, for, of course, having given my word, I could say nothing to
her regarding the subject of our conversation. I explained, however,
that he had come down to consult me on some important business
connected with Central America, and that he had proposed that I should
go over and transact it for him.

"He, at least, must have great faith in your ability then, Dick," said
my sweetheart. "I am prepared to like him, even though he does
monopolize your society. I know you will transact the business
beautifully, and then perhaps it may lead to something really good for
you." She paused for a moment, and then added a little nervously,
"When will you have to start?"

"Next week, if I go at all," I replied; "but I have not yet decided
whether or not I shall accept his offer."

"You must act as your own judgment dictates," she continued. "I know
that whatever you decide to do will be right."

All things considered, I was not quite so certain of this myself, and
for a moment I was tempted to declare I would have nothing whatsoever
to do with it. But the money and the knowledge that it would mean a
wife and happiness for me, if I succeeded, was a temptation I could
not resist.

As may be imagined, I did not sleep very much that night, but tumbled
and tossed upon my bed, turning the momentous question over and over
in my mind in maddening reiteration. There was one side of it that was
unpleasantly suggestive. I had to remember that, if I were caught, no
power on earth could save me. My own Government would certainly not
interfere in such a matter, while Don Guzman would, far from taking
any responsibility, in all probability, repudiate entirely any
connection with me and the affair. Then, from this, back I came again
in the circle of argument to the one absorbing question of the money.
Five thousand down, and five thousand when I handed over the
President. It would be a fortune to me. If I had it, I need never go
to sea again, and Molly would be my----

"Yes, by Jove," I said to myself as I sprang from my bed, "I'll do it!
Come what may, I'll do it, and chance the risk."

Having arrived at this resolve, I had my tub, ate my breakfast, and
after I had smoked a meditative pipe in the garden, and had given the
matter a bit more consideration, set off for the inn where Don Guzman
was staying. He had only just risen, and was about to begin his
breakfast when I entered the room.

"Well," he said, as we shook hands, "what news have you for me?"

"I have come _to accept your proposal_," I said.




CHAPTER IV


"I am indeed glad you have decided to help me," Don Guzman de
Silvestre replied, when he heard my reply. "I felt certain you would
accept, and I assure you I shall value your co-operation. Would it be
possible for you to leave England on Wednesday next?"

"If it comes to that I must make it possible," I answered. "From what
you said to me last night, I gather that there is no time to be lost."

"The sooner we get to work the better," he returned. "I will send a
cipher message to the States this morning, to ask my friend to have
the yacht in readiness. If you leave London on the sixteenth you
should reach Barbadoes on the twenty-ninth. The yacht will meet you
there, and from the moment you set foot on board her, you may regard
her as your own private property to use as you will. You will find her
captain a most reliable man, and he will receive orders to do his
utmost to assist you. He will discharge all expenses, and will be
held responsible for the working of the vessel and the crew. You will,
of course, be known on board by another name, which we must arrange,
and you will be supposed to be a young Englishman, of immense wealth,
whose particular hobby is yachting. In order to sustain the fiction,
it will be necessary for you to have a large and varied outfit, which
I think you had better order to-day. I shall leave England a week
after you do, and shall go direct to the island, where you are to hand
the President over to me."

"But you have not told me the name of that island yet," I answered.

He took a map from his pocket and unfolded it upon the table. Then
placing his finger on a small dot in the Caribbean Sea, some distance
from the Republic of Equinata, he continued--

"There it is! It is called San Diaz, and is a picturesque little
place. The man who owns it is monarch of all he surveys. If we can
once get Fernandez there, all will be well. No vessels call at the
island, and, unless he likes to attempt a long swim, which I should be
the last to prevent, I fancy he will find some difficulty in returning
to the mainland."

Another thought flashed through my mind.

"Before we go any further," I said, "there is one thing I should say
to you. It is this. Before I take any hand in the business, I must
have your positive assurance that no violence will be used towards the
man you are so anxious to secure. I could not be a party to anything
of that sort, nor could I possibly deliver him to you if I thought you
meant to do him any ill."

"I will give you the assurance for which you ask most willingly," my
companion replied without hesitation. "I merely desire to keep
Fernandez out of Equinata for a time, that is to say, while I
reinstate myself in my old position."

When I was satisfied on this point, we discussed various other details
connected with the scheme, and the part I was to play in it. It was
certainly a big business.

"So far as I am concerned," said Silvestre, "I'm going to be selfish
enough to say that I think it is a pity you are going to be married.
As President of the Republic, I could make your fortune for you in a
very short time. You wouldn't care to bring your wife out to Equinata
and settle down there, I suppose. I'd like to have a man beside me
whom I felt sure I could trust."

"Many thanks for the compliment you pay me," I replied. "I fear,
however, South American politics are a little too uncertain for my
taste."

"Well, perhaps you are right," he answered meditatively, as if he
were considering the matter; "but you must at least admit that, as
compared with the House of Commons, there is some life in them."

"I should be inclined to substitute the word 'death' for 'life,'" I
returned, thinking of the stories I had been told of the thousands who
had perished during the last Revolution. "And now I must go. I have
all my work cut out for me if I am to sail on Wednesday."

"Before you leave me," he remarked, "I had better give you this!"

So saying, he took from his pocket a Russian leather case. From it he
produced a draft on a London banking firm, which he handed to me. It
was for no less a sum than six thousand pounds. This was more than I
had expected to receive. I therefore asked his reason for adding the
extra amount.

"It is for your expenses," he replied. "For many reasons it would be
better that I should not be brought into the business. You had,
therefore, better book your passage yourself. You will also have to
get the outfit of which I spoke just now. That will cost a good deal.
What is left should suffice for your other expenses, which, in your
capacity of a rich young Englishman, you will probably find heavy."

This was generous treatment, and I said as much.

"Not at all," he answered. "Believe me, I am only too glad to do it. I
count myself lucky in having secured your services, and I am willing
to pay for that good fortune. Well, now that I have arranged matters
with you, I shall return to London and set the ball rolling in the
various directions. If you could make it convenient to meet me on
Monday next, I could then tell you how matters progressed, and we
could discuss future proceedings together. Here is my address."

With that he handed me his card, which I placed carefully in my
pocket-book with the cheque. After that, having promised to call upon
him on the day mentioned, I bade him good-bye, and returned to my own
home.

Great indeed was my mother's consternation on learning that she was to
lose me again so soon. She had counted, she declared, upon having me
for another month at least. Molly tried to be brave, but the effort
was not a conspicuous success.

"Never mind, darling," I said, "we must put the best face we can upon
it. It is a fine chance for me. If I am successful, we shall be able
to be married when I return, and I shall then be able to give up the
sea. So we must cheer up and look forward to that."

"It should be very important business you are to be engaged upon if
you will be able to do that," she answered, looking up at me with her
trusting, loving eyes.

"It is most important," I answered. "The biggest thing I have ever had
to do with. Some day, perhaps, I may be able to let you know more
about it, but at present my lips are sealed."

"Tell me nothing but what you wish, dear," she answered, like the good
little woman she was. "I am quite content to wait."

After lunch she walked into Salisbury with me, and did her shopping,
while I visited the bank, where I paid in my cheque, and then went on
to the tailor's to arrange about my outfit. It is doubtful whether the
firm in question had ever had such an order before, and for once in my
life I took rank as a person of importance in their eyes. They would
have been more surprised, I fancy, had they known the reason of my
wanting it all! The next thing to be done was to telegraph for a
passage to Barbadoes. This I did in my own name, and, as the
transaction was with my old firm, I could well imagine the surprise my
communication would cause them. A letter I had already written
followed the wire, and conveyed the passage money. After that the
matter was settled. I had nothing to do now but to make the most of my
time with my mother and Molly, before it should be necessary for me
to leave for London.

When that day arrived I walked into Salisbury and took the train to
Waterloo. Thence I made my way to the fashionable hotel at which
Guzman de Silvestre was staying. He was in the act of going out as I
entered, but on seeing me he led me back to his sitting-room and
carefully closed the door.

"I am very glad indeed to see you," he said, placing a chair for me as
he spoke. "I trust your preparations are progressing satisfactorily?"

"Everything is prepared," I answered. "I shall join the vessel on
Wednesday morning in the docks. The receipt for my passage money
arrived this morning."

"It does me good to meet so expeditious a person," he remarked, with a
smile. "I, on my side, have not been idle. I have received a cable
from the folk in Florida to the effect that the yacht will reach
Barbadoes on the twenty-sixth, where she will await your arrival.
After that I leave the conduct of affairs in your hands entirely."

"I trust I shall be able to carry it through," I answered. "I only
wish I had a little more confidence in my ability to succeed."

"You'll manage it, never fear," Silvestre replied. "I am as certain
that I shall one day see Fernandez coming ashore at San Diaz, as I am
of eating my dinner to-night."

"And that reminds me," I hastened to remark, "that there is still one
thing that puzzles me."

"And what may that be?" he inquired. "Don't hesitate to ask any
questions you may think of. This is no time for half confidences."

"I want to know why, with all your experience, and the number of men
you have met, you should have selected me for this business. Surely
you could have discovered hundreds of others better fitted for the
work."

"To be candid with you," he returned, "I chose you because I liked the
look of you. You seemed to be just the sort of man I wanted. I won't
deny that I know lots of men who might have been able to carry it
through successfully had it come to a pinch, but the chances are that
they might have failed in some little thing, and that would have given
rise to suspicion. I wanted an Englishman, and one possessed of the
manners and appearance of a gentleman. Allow me to pay you the
compliment of saying that in my opinion you combine both these
qualifications."

"It is very good of you to say so," I replied, "but I don't quite see
what the appearance of a gentleman has to do with the question."

"I will explain," he said. "Fernandez, as I have already told you, is
an adventurer himself. He knows the type, and, for that reason, would
be quick to detect a brother hawk. One suspicion would give rise to
another, and then, you may rest assured, the attempt to remove him
would be frustrated. Now you can see why I want some one who can play
the part and yet not rouse his suspicions."

"And so I am to be a gentleman in manners and appearances--and yet be
a traitor in reality. I don't know that I consider it altogether a
nice part to be called upon to play."

"You must settle that with your own conscience," he answered, with one
of his peculiar smiles. "Call it an act of political expediency, and
thus settle all qualms."

After that I put a few further questions to him concerning certain
contingencies that might occur in the event of the President obtaining
an inkling of what was toward. When all this was arranged, I left him,
at the same time promising to call upon him on Wednesday for final
instructions.

From the hotel I drove to Mr. Winzor's offices in High Holborn. He was
not in at the moment, but when I returned, half-an-hour or so later, I
found him ready to receive me.

"Well, young gentleman," he began, after we had greeted each other,
"and what can I do for you to-day. No more legal troubles, I hope?"

"I have come to you on two errands," I replied. "In the first place I
want to know what you have done concerning Harveston and the Company?"

"I have received a letter from the former gentleman this morning," he
answered, turning over some papers on the table as he spoke. "Let me
see, where is it? Ah! here it is! In it he states that, while he has
not the least desire to damage your reputation, or to prejudice your
career, he cannot retract what he has said, or withdraw what was
entered in the ship's log. The charge of untruthfulness, he admits,
might be reconsidered, and he is also willing to suppose that your
neglect of the ship might be due to a certain slackness which was
engendered by the easy-going habits of your late commander. In
conclusion, he begs to assure me that he has never, at any time,
entertained the least feeling of animosity for yourself, but that, in
reporting the matter to the Company, he merely acted in the manner
that he deemed to be consistent with his duty."

"A preposterous letter in every sense of the word," I cried angrily.
"Not content with injuring me, he must endeavour to reflect on Captain
Pomeroy, who is dead. Never mind, I'll be even with him yet--the
hound."

The old gentleman permitted a dry smile to appear on his face.

"I am glad at least to observe," he said, "that you have abandoned
your notion of taking immediate action against him."

"It would be impossible for me to do so, even if I had any desire that
way," I replied. "The fact is, I am leaving England for South America
on Wednesday next, and don't quite know when I shall be back. And that
brings me to the second portion of the business upon which I desire to
consult you."

"Am I to understand that you have obtained another situation?" he
inquired. "And, pray, what line of steamships are you now going to
serve?"

"I am not serving any line of steamships," I replied. "I am going out
on private business, and I want you, if you will be so kind, to take
charge of a certain letter I have written, and which I desire shall be
opened by the person to whom it is addressed, in the event of my not
returning within a year. One never knows what may happen in that part
of the world to which I am now going. Here is the letter."

So saying I produced the epistle I had written on the previous
evening, and which was addressed to my mother and Molly jointly. The
old gentleman took it and turned it over and over in his hands.

"I hope you are not going to get into any mischief," he said. "I
mistrust that part of the world. And now what else is there I can do
for you?"

"I want you," I replied, "to draw up my will. I have some little
property that I should like to leave to Molly and my mother. It is not
very much, but it would doubtless prove useful, should anything befall
me."

"We will hope that nothing will happen to you," said the lawyer. "At
the same time I will draw up your will with pleasure. What have you to
leave?"

When the old boy discovered the amount of my fortune his face
betrayed his astonishment. Knowing that I had not been left anything
by my father, I could see that he was anxious to question me
concerning the manner in which I had accumulated this amount.
Fortunately for my reputation for truthfulness, however, he repressed
his inquisitiveness.

"It is a very creditable sum for a young man to have got together," he
remarked. "Much may be done with five thousand pounds. It may interest
you to know that I myself started with my articles and not a penny
more than a hundred guineas to my name. To-day, however, I fancy--but
there, I understand that you wish this amount, in the event of your
death, to be divided equally between your mother and Miss Molly. And
supposing that one survives the other?"

"In that case the whole amount must pass to the survivor!"

He promised me that the document should be drawn up and forwarded to
me for my signature without delay, whereupon I shook him by the hand
and bade him good-bye. My one thought now was to get back to Falstead
as quickly as possible. I grudged every hour I spent away from it.
Perhaps it was the dangerous nature of my enterprise that was
accountable for it; at any rate, I know that I was dreading the
leave-taking that was ahead of me more than I had ever done before. No
one could say what the next few weeks would have in store for me, and,
as it happened, that very night I was fated to have a dream that was
scarcely calculated to add to my peace of mind.

It seemed to me that I was standing in a large yard, walled in on
every side. Some tropical foliage was to be seen above the walls. At
my feet was a large hole which I knew to be a grave. A squad of
slovenly soldiers, clad in a uniform I had never before seen, were
leaning on their rifles, some little distance away, watching me, while
their officer consulted his watch. Then he shut it with a snap and
nodded to me. I was about to throw down the handkerchief I held in my
hand, when there was a cry and Molly appeared before me. Running
towards me, she threw her arms about my neck. Knowing that at any
moment the men might fire, I tried to put her aside. But she only
clung the tighter. Every moment I expected to hear the rattle of
rifles, but it seemed an age before it came. Then the soldiers fired,
and Molly and I fell together, down, down, down, and I awoke with a
start, to find myself sitting up in bed, my face bathed in
perspiration. Never had I had such a dream before. More than
twenty-four hours went by before I could get the effect it produced
out of my mind. Molly noticed my condition after breakfast and asked
what ailed me.

"Cannot you guess, darling?" I asked, having no intention of telling
her the truth. "Is it likely that I could be anything but depressed,
when I am leaving you for I cannot say how long?"

"But you will be in no danger, and you will come back to me before
very long, will you not?" she said, looking at me seriously, as if she
were afraid I was hiding something from her.

"Of course, dear," I replied. "Every man, however, has to take his
chance of something befalling him when he puts to sea. I might go to
the end of the world--risk my life in a thousand different ways--only
to return to England to be knocked down in the Strand by a runaway
cab. I might go to the North Pole and come back safely, to fall
through the ice and be drowned in the Vicarage pond. You mustn't be
angry with me, dear," I continued, "if I am a little downcast. Let us
try to think of the day when I shall return to make you my bride. Oh,
how happy we shall be then!"

"Happy indeed," she answered. "God grant that day may come soon. I
shall pray for you always, Dick, and ask Him to send my darling back
to me, safe and sound."

We walked as far as Welkam Bridge and then home again across the
meadows to lunch. By the time we reached the house I had somewhat
recovered my spirits--but they were destined to fall to zero again
before the day was at an end. It was a sad little party that sat down
to dinner that evening. My mother could scarcely restrain her
tears--Molly tried to be cheerful and failed in the attempt; as for
myself--though I joked on every conceivable subject, save that of
foreign travel--my heart was heavy as lead, and my face, I'll be
bound, was as solemn as that of an undertaker's mute. For the reason
that I felt it would be too much for her to leave it until the last
moment, Molly and I bade each other good-bye that evening.

Next morning I rose early, breakfasted at seven, very much in the same
state of mind, I should say, as a man who is about to be led to
execution, and at eight o'clock gave my dear old mother one last kiss,
and left the house with a lump in my throat that came near to choking
me. I can see my mother's tear-stained face at the window even now, as
I waved my hand to her before turning the corner of the village
street. Little did I dream then how much I was to go through before I
should see that beloved countenance again.

When the last house of the village was behind me, I mended my pace and
struck out for Salisbury. It was a bright morning; the birds sang in
the hedges, the cattle grazed peacefully in the meadows, indeed, all
nature seemed happy but myself. I turned the corner of the Ridge Farm,
and, passing through the chalk cutting, began the descent of the hill
that, when you have left the cross roads and the gipsy's grave behind
you, warns you that you are half-way into town. As everybody who knows
the neighbourhood is aware, there is at the foot a picturesque
cottage, once the residence of the turnpike keeper, and, a hundred
yards or so on the other side again, a stile, which commences the
footpath across the fields to Mellerton. I was thinking, as I
approached it, of the last time I had walked that way with Molly, and
was wondering how long it would be before I should do so again, when,
as I drew near the stile, I became aware of a girlish figure leaning
against the rail. My heart gave a leap within me, and I cried out,
"Molly, can it be you?" Yet it was Molly sure enough.

"Oh, Dick, dear," she faltered, as I approached her, "do not be angry
with me. I could not stay away. I felt that I must see the last of
you!"

It was impossible for me to be angry with her, even though, as she
told me later, she had breakfasted at six o'clock, and had been
waiting at the stile for me since seven. However, I satisfied myself
by promising her a good wigging when I came home again, and then we
set off together. How short the remainder of that walk seemed, I must
leave you to imagine. It appeared scarcely to have commenced before we
had left the country and were in the quaint old streets of Salisbury,
making our way towards the railway station. We must have walked
somewhat slowly, for, when we reached it, I found that I had only five
minutes to spare. Over the parting that took place when the train put
in an appearance I must draw a veil.

Punctually at half-past eleven the train steamed into Waterloo and
disgorged its passengers upon the platform. I immediately engaged a
cab and drove direct to Silvestre's hotel, where, for upwards of
half-an-hour, I was closeted in close confabulation with him. Then I
bade him good-bye, for it was part of our arrangement that he should
not accompany me to the ship, and, having done so, returned to my cab
and bade the man drive me to the railway station, where I was to take
the train to the docks. By three o'clock I was on board, and
endeavouring to convince myself that I was only a passenger, and not
in any way connected with the working of the vessel. At a quarter to
four we were steaming down the river, and my one and only adventure
had commenced.

How was it destined to end? was the question I asked myself.




CHAPTER V


It was a new experience to me to find myself at sea as a passenger, to
have no watches to keep, and no round of irksome duties to perform. It
was a pleasant change to be able to turn into one's bunk at ten
o'clock and to enjoy a good night's rest, after being used to leaving
it at midnight in order to go up and pace a cold and cheerless bridge
for four long hours at a time. I had a vague premonition that I should
be recognized as soon as I arrived on board. Strangely enough this
proved to be the case, for I had no sooner set foot on the promenade
deck, before a well-known voice hailed me.

"Hulloa, Dick Helmsworth," it said. "What on earth brings you aboard
this hooker?"

I turned and recognized the speaker as an old shipmate, who, like
myself, had once sailed with Harveston. But, more fortunate than
myself, he had managed to retain his billet after so doing. In reply
to his question I informed him that I was proceeding to Barbadoes on
private business, and that I profoundly hoped I had abandoned the sea
as a profession. From him I learnt the names of the various officers
of the boat. For more reasons than one I was glad to hear that they
were unknown to me, and also that there was only one first-class
passenger for Barbadoes. He proved to be an old French priest, and
from what I saw of him, I gathered that he would not be likely to
remember me, or, indeed, any one else, when once he had left the
vessel.

A good passage down Channel and a smooth crossing of the Bay carried
us well on our way. We reached Madeira in due course, and afterwards
settled down for the voyage across the Atlantic. Among other things, I
had to familiarize myself with the character I was about to portray.
To be a rich young Englishman, with a passion for yachting, would not
at first thought seem a difficult part to play. It was not as easy,
however, as it would appear. In order that it might come the more
naturally to me, I determined to cultivate a manner while on board. I
accordingly spoke with a somewhat affected drawl, interlarded my
speech with "Reallies," "Bah Joves," "Don't you know," and other
exotic flowers of speech, until my old friend Kirby, the chief
officer, found occasion to remonstrate with me.

"What on earth has come over you, Dick?" he cried. "You're as
affected as a school-girl. You'll have to come back to sea, my lad, or
you'll be developing into a masher of the worst type. It's very
evident that lying in at night don't suit you. You ought to be back on
the bridge again, standing your watch like a man."

"Not if I know it," I replied. "I've had enough of that sort of thing
to last me a lifetime. Wait until you come into a bit of money, my
boy, and then you'll see how nice it feels to watch others work."

"Egad! I wish I could," he answered. "I'd never trouble the briny
again. Give me a cottage somewhere in the country, with a bit of
garden, and some fowls to look after, and I wouldn't change places
with the Czar of all the Russias."

Two days before we were due to reach Barbadoes, I made a resolve.
This, in due course, took me along the alley-way to the barber's shop.
As soon as the passenger whose hair he had been cutting departed, I
seated myself in the vacated chair, and when the barber asked me what
he could do for me, I put up my hand to my moustache.

"Take this off," I said.

The man gazed at me in astonishment. My moustache was a heavy one, and
it was plain that he thought me mad to want to get rid of it.

"You don't mean to say, sir, that you want me to take it off," he
remarked, as if he had not heard aright.

"That's exactly what I _do_ mean," I replied. "I want it out of the
way."

He thereupon took up his scissors and began his work of destruction,
but in a half-hearted fashion. When he had finished I sat up and
looked at myself in the glass. You may believe me or not, when I tell
you that I scarcely recognized the face I saw there.

"If I were to meet you in the street, my lad, I should pass you by," I
said to myself. Then to the barber I added: "What a change it makes in
my appearance."

"It makes you look a different man, sir," the barber replied. "There's
not many gentlemen would have sacrificed a nice moustache like that."

I paid him, and, when I left the shop, went to my cabin. Once there, I
unlocked my trunk, and took from it a smart yachting cap and a leather
case, containing various articles I had purchased in London. One of
these was an eye-glass, which, after several attempts, I managed to
fix in my eye. Then, striking an attitude, I regarded myself in the
mirror above the washstand.

"Good-day, Mr. George Trevelyan," I muttered. "I'm very pleased to
make your acquaintance."

"Really, bah Jove, that's awfully good of you to say so," I answered
in my assumed voice. "I hope, bah Jove, we shall be very good friends
for the time that we're destined to spend together."

"That will only be until we get back to Barbadoes," Dick Helmsworth
replied. "After that, Mr. George Trevelyan, you can clear out as soon
as you please. From that day forward I shall hope never to set eyes on
you again."

I thereupon placed the eye-glass in its case, put the cap back in the
trunk, and relocked the latter. After that I went on deck to receive
the chaff I knew would be showered upon me by my fellow-passengers.

Two days later, that is to say, on the twenty-ninth of the month, we
reached the island of Barbadoes and came to anchor in the harbour of
Bridgetown. When I had collected my baggage, I bade my friends on
board good-bye and made my way ashore. I had already carefully
searched the shipping, but I could see no sign of any yacht, such as I
had been led to expect I should find awaiting me there. I did not
worry myself very much about it, however, knowing that her captain had
been furnished with my address, and feeling sure that he would
communicate with me as soon as he arrived. On landing I drove to the
Imperial Hotel and engaged rooms in my own name. I had intended
adopting my assumed cognomen on quitting the ship, but to my dismay I
learnt that some of the passengers had also come ashore and were due
to lunch at my hotel. To have entered my name as Trevelyan upon the
books, and have been addressed as Helmsworth in the hearing of the
proprietor, might have sowed the seeds of suspicion in his mind. And
this I was naturally anxious not to do. Later in the day the
passengers returned to the steamer, and she continued her voyage. As I
watched her pass out of the bay I wondered whether I should ever see
her again. Before it would be possible for me to do so, many very
strange adventures would in all probability have happened to me.

On my return to the hotel, I inquired for the proprietor, who
presently came to me in the verandah.

"I expected to have met a friend here," I said, "a Mr. Trevelyan. I am
given to understand, however, that he has not yet arrived?"

"There is no one staying in the hotel at present of that name," he
replied. "There was a Mr. Trevelyan here last year, but, if my memory
serves me, he was a clergyman."

"I'm afraid it cannot have been the same person," I said, with a
smile. "By the way, should any one happen to call, and inquire for
him, I should be glad if you would give instructions that he is to see
me."

"I will do so with pleasure," the other replied. "At the same time
perhaps I had better reserve a room for your friend?"

"You need not do that," I answered. "There is no knowing when he will
be here. It is just possible I may pick him up in Jamaica."

Having thus put matters on a satisfactory footing I prepared to wait
patiently until news should reach me from Captain Ferguson. Though I
sat in the verandah of the hotel and carefully scrutinized every one
who entered, I went to bed that night without seeing any person who at
all answered the description I had been given of him. I spent the
following morning partly in the verandah of the hotel, and partly
searching the harbour for the yacht. I returned to lunch, however,
without having discovered her. In the afternoon I went for a short
stroll, leaving word at the hotel that, should any one call to see me,
he or she had better wait, for I should be back in an hour. When I
returned I questioned the head waiter, but he assured me that no one
had called to see either Mr. Trevelyan or myself. Once more darkness
fell, and once more after dinner I sat in the verandah smoking. The
evening was far advanced, and once more I was beginning to contemplate
turning in, feeling certain that Ferguson would not put in an
appearance that night, when a short, stout individual came briskly up
the steps and entered the building. He was dressed entirely in white,
and had a broad-brimmed Panama hat upon his head. He might have passed
for a merchant or a planter, but something, I cannot say what,
instinctively told me that he belonged to the seafaring profession.
After a few moments he reappeared again, this time accompanied by the
head waiter.

"This gentleman," the latter began, addressing me, "wishes to see Mr.
Trevelyan. I told him that we had no one of that name staying at the
hotel, but that you were Mr. Trevelyan's friend."

"That is certainly so," I said. "I presume you are Captain Ferguson?"

"That is my name," the other replied, and when the servant had
disappeared, he continued: "May I ask whom I am addressing?"

"My name is Helmsworth," I answered in a low voice, at the same time
motioning him to be seated. "A certain gentleman of the name of
Silvestre, however, thinks I had better be known by the name of the
person whom the waiter informed you had not yet arrived in the
island."

"In that case you are Mr. Trevelyan," he said in a whisper, drawing
his chair a little closer to mine as he did so, and closely
scrutinizing me. "Perhaps you have something for me?"

"I have a letter," I replied, thinking at the same time that I had
seen his face somewhere before. "What have you for me?"

"This," he replied laconically, and in his turn produced a small
silver coin, which he handed to me.

I rose from my chair and carried it down the verandah as far as the
hall door. The light there enabled me to see that it was stamped with
the name of Equinata. I thereupon returned to the captain, and handed
him the letter Don Guzman had given me for him.

"And where is the yacht?" I inquired.

"In the harbour," he replied. "We got in at dark, and she is coaling
now as fast as we can get the stuff aboard. When will you be ready to
start?"

"Whenever you please," I replied. "The sooner we are out of this place
the better for all people concerned."

"Would nine o'clock to-morrow morning be convenient to you?"

"It would suit me admirably. How am I to get my traps aboard?"

"If you will have them sent down to the wharf I will arrange the
rest," he answered. "The boat for Santa Lucia will be in shortly after
daylight, and the hotel folk will naturally suppose that you have gone
aboard her. Of course you understand, Mr. Helms--Mr. Trevelyan, I
mean, that in this matter I am acting under your orders, and that I
shall endeavour to do all in my power to bring the business upon which
we are engaged to a satisfactory conclusion."

"You quite understand what is required of me?" I asked.

"Perfectly," he answered. "My instructions have been most complete."

"And what do you think of it?"

"I think you will have all your work cut out for you," he replied.
"Don Fernandez is as sharp as a weasel and as cunning as a fox. But
perhaps it would be better for us to say no more upon the matter, at
least at present. We can talk it over if we want to, with greater
safety, on board. And now, if you don't mind, I'll bid you good-night.
I've got a lot of work to get through before we leave to-morrow
morning."

We shook hands, and after he had promised to have a boat ready for me
at nine o'clock next morning, he bade me good-night and left me.

From the little I had seen of him, I liked the look of the man. He
had a resolute air about him, and it struck me that in him I had found
one who was likely to prove himself a useful ally. But where on earth
had I seen him before? For the life of me I could not remember.
Lighting another cigar, I seated myself, and once more pondered over
the matter. When the cigar was finished I retired to my room to fall
asleep directly I was in bed, and to dream that I was abducting the
Chairman and Directors of my old Company, and that I was flying
through the air with them in a balloon built on the principles of a
motor-car.

Next morning I was astir early, had had my breakfast, had paid my
bill, and had seen my trunks on their way to the wharf, before a
quarter to nine. On my arrival at the water's side, however, there was
no sign of any yacht's boat. Some distance out I could perceive the
Inter-Colonial mail steamer with a crowd of boats about her, and a
dozen cables or so distant from her a handsome white yacht, which, I
gathered, was to be my home for the next few weeks. I had just
rewarded the porters, who had brought my luggage down, and had sent
them about their business, when a neat gig, pulled by four men and
steered by a fifth, came into view round the end of the jetty. Pulling
up at the steps below me, the coxswain touched his hat and inquired
whether he was addressing Mr. Trevelyan. Upon my answering in the
affirmative, two of his men jumped ashore, and carried my baggage down
to the boat. I thereupon took my place in the stern and we set off.

"That, I presume, is the _Cynthia_, lying astern of the mail-boat?" I
said to the coxswain, as we pulled out into the harbour.

"Yes, sir, that's the _Cynthia_," he replied. "When you get a bit
closer, sir, you'll say she's as fine a craft as you'd see in a long
day's sail."

He certainly spoke the truth. The vessel in question could scarcely
have been less than a thousand tons. (As a matter of fact that was her
tonnage.) To my thinking, however, she was somewhat heavily sparred
for her size, but the coxswain hastened to assure me a better sea-boat
could not be found.

Captain Ferguson met me at the gangway, and saluted me as if I were
really owner of the vessel and not a make-believe, such as I really
was.

"You will find your cabin prepared for you," he said. "If you will
permit me I'll show you to it."

Then, going on ahead, he conducted me into the main companion, and
through an elegant saloon to a large and most comfortable cabin,
evidently built and intended for the owner. It was a gorgeous affair.
Indeed, the luxury of the vessel, what I had seen of it, astonished
me. I had overhauled many yachts in my time, but had never seen one
like this before. She was as <DW74> and span as if she had only just
left the builder's hands.

When I had seen my baggage arranged, I ascended to the deck, where I
found Captain Ferguson in the act of getting under weigh. Ten minutes
or so later, our anchor was aboard and we were steaming slowly out of
the harbour. In an hour the island lay like a black dot upon the
horizon behind us, and a few minutes later had vanished altogether. I
was seated in the cabin with Captain Ferguson at the time, and when he
rang the bell and ordered the servant who answered it to bring up a
bottle of champagne, we pledged each other in it, and drank to the
success of our enterprise.

"It's a small world, sir," he said at last, as he set down his glass,
"and few of us really understand _how_ small it is. I wonder what
you'll say when you hear what I've got to tell you. I remember once
being in Hong Kong. It was in the wet season, and I was on my way out
to Japan to meet a boat in Nagasaki, that I was to take over on behalf
of the Company I was then serving. On the evening of my arrival in
Hong Kong I went ashore to dine with some friends, and didn't start to
come off to the mail-boat until pretty late. When I did I hired a
sampan and told one of the crew where my ship was. Thinking that he
understood, I took my place under the covered arrangement that those
boats have, and away we went. Perhaps I may have been a bit drowsy
after the festivities of the evening. I'll not say anything about
that, either way. The fact, however, remains, that we had not gone
very far before I became conscious that there was something wrong. It
seemed to me as if the tilt, or cover, under which I was sitting, was
coming down upon me. I sprang to my feet and endeavoured to push it
up, giving a shout as I did so."

All this time I had been listening to him with ill-concealed
impatience. As I have already remarked, it had struck me on the
previous evening that I had seen the man's face somewhere before.

"I think I can tell you the rest," I interrupted. "A ship's boat
happened to be passing at the moment, and, on hearing your shout, she
came alongside and a couple of men in her sprang aboard the sampan. I
was one of those men. We bowled over the owner of the craft, and
pulled you out from under the cover, just as you were about done for.
Good heavens! I thought I recognized you last night at the hall door,
and now you bring that adventure back to my mind, I remember you
perfectly."

"And I you," he answered. "I've been puzzling my brains about your
face all night. You had a moustache then, but I should know you now
again. I don't think, Mr. Trevelyan, you will find me go into this
business any the less warmly for what you did for me that night."

"You were right when you declared it to be a small world," I said.
"Fancy our meeting again and on such an errand as this."

I then proceeded to question him concerning the officers and men under
his charge.

"My chief officer," he said, "is a man of the name of Burgin. He has
seen a good deal of rough-and-tumble work in various parts of the
world, and, as I have satisfactorily proved, can be thoroughly relied
on when it comes to a pinch. The second is a young fellow of the name
of Brownlow. He took part in the last Cuban expedition, and had a bit
of fighting afterwards in the Philippines. The crew number thirty all
told, and have been most carefully selected. I have tested them in
every way, and feel sure they can be reckoned upon to do their duty.
Now perhaps you'd like to have a look round the vessel? You've seen
next to nothing of her yet."

He accordingly conducted me over the yacht from stem to stern, until I
was familiar with every detail. If I were to pose as a young
Englishman whose hobby was yachting, I could scarcely have had a finer
craft wherewith to indulge my fancy. She was a Clyde-built vessel of,
as I have already said, exactly a thousand tons; her length was not
far short of two hundred and fifty feet. Her engine-room was
amidships, and was as perfectly fitted as everything else. The
drawing-room was a model of beauty, while the saloon was capable of
seating at least fifty persons. The quarters of the officers and crew
left nothing to be desired on the score of comfort. Only on one
question was the captain at all reticent, and that was concerning the
identity of the yacht's owner. Her papers, I discovered, were made out
in my name, or rather, I should say, in my assumed name, but whether
she was the property of Silvestre, or of somebody else, I was never
able to ascertain.

Though Silvestre had informed me that, from the moment I set foot on
board, I should be considered the yacht's owner, I had not attached
any great importance to the remark. I soon discovered, however, that
there was more in it than I supposed. For instance, when I was told
that evening that dinner was upon the table, I made my way to my
cabin, prepared myself for it, and entered the saloon to find that I
was expected to dine in solitary grandeur. Two men-servants were
present to wait upon me, but there was no sign of the captain.

"Where is Captain Ferguson?" I inquired of one of the men when I had
waited some two or three minutes for him to put in an appearance.

"He dines in the officers' mess, sir," the man replied.

Resolving to remedy this state of things on the morrow, and feeling
that it was of no use my sending for him that night, I proceeded with
my dinner without further remark. Accustomed as I was to good living
on board a mail-boat, I can only say that, in all my experience, I had
never met with anything like the meal that was served to me that
evening. If Silvestre had given orders that my comfort was to be
studied, he had certainly been carefully obeyed. When I rose from the
table I went to my cabin, changed my coat, filled a pipe, and mounted
with it to the bridge. Ferguson met me by the chart-room door, and
expressed the hope that I had been made comfortable. I told him that
the only fault I had to find was on the score of company, and went on
to say that I expected him for the future to take his meals with me.

"It would be out of place for a captain to dine with his owner until
he is invited to do so," he said, with a laugh. "However, if you wish
it, I shall be very pleased to do so in the future."

I remember that it was a beautiful night; the sea was like glass, and
the great stars overhead were reflected in the deep as in a mirror. As
I smoked my pipe I thought of Molly, and wondered what she was doing
at that moment. That I was a trifle homesick I will not deny. At ten
o'clock Ferguson invited me to his cabin, and for about an hour we sat
there discussing the business that lay before us. He had never visited
Equinata before, but he was conversant with the character of the
country. Having procured a chart from a locker, he made me aware of
the whereabouts of the President's palace; showed me where he thought
it would be best for the yacht to lie, and various other details that
had struck him as being applicable to the case in hand.

"And now one other question: What do you know of Fernandez himself?" I
inquired, when he had rolled up the chart and replaced it in the
locker.

"Only what I have heard," he replied. "He is an exceedingly clever
man, and as unscrupulous as any president who has ruled in South
America, not excluding our friend Silvestre. It is quite certain that
if he has the least suspicion of what we are after, ours is likely to
be a short shrift. I presume you thought the whole business out well
before you embarked upon it?"

I answered to the effect that I had given it all due consideration,
and that whatever chances there might be I was prepared to take them.
There was one question, however, that I had been desirous of putting
to him ever since I had been on board, and now that we were alone
together I resolved to ask it, and to risk his refusal to reply.

"With regard to Don Guzman de Silvestre," I said, "what do you know of
him?"

Somewhat to my surprise he was quite frank with me.

"I know very little of him," he answered, "except that I owe my
present position to him. Of one thing, however, I am aware, and that
is the fact that he is not a man to be trifled with."

After a while I bade him good-night, and left him to go below to my
cabin. Before entering the companion, however, I leant upon the
bulwarks and gazed across the sea. Scarcely a sound broke the
stillness of the night; the monotonous pacing of the officer of the
watch, the look-out's cry, "All's well," and the throbbing of the
engines, were all that broke the silence. I went over my talk with
Ferguson again. After what he had said it appeared to me that the
task I had undertaken was an almost hopeless one. One little mistake
and my life would pay the forfeit. Failure seemed certain, and in that
case what would happen to Molly and my mother? They would hope against
hope, waiting for the man who would never return. I told myself that I
was a fool ever to have had anything to do with the business. What was
Don Guzman de Silvestre and his ambition to me? Why should I risk my
life and my dear one's happiness for the sake of a paltry ten thousand
pounds? In sheer disgust I turned on my heel and went to my cabin.
Whatever my thoughts may have been on deck, they certainly did not
trouble me very much below. I slept like a top all night, and when I
came on deck next morning I had well-nigh forgotten my melancholy
musings of the previous evening.

For the next four days our life scarcely varied. I read and smoked on
deck, chatted with Ferguson, improved my acquaintance with the other
officers, and counted the days until we should reach our destination.
As you may suppose, it was a welcome moment when the skipper announced
that we were only a matter of ten hours' steaming from the Republic of
Equinata. Next morning a faint smudge was discernible on the horizon
straight ahead of us; by breakfast-time this had taken to itself the
appearance of land, and when I returned to the bridge after my meal, a
range of mountain peaks were plainly to be seen. By ten o'clock we
were near enough to discern the entrance to the harbour, and by
half-past we were steaming in between the heads, to drop our anchor in
the bay.




CHAPTER VI


La Gloria, the chief port and capital of the Republic of Equinata, is
charmingly situated on the west side of an admirably shaped bay, and
is land-locked, save for a distance of about half-a-mile. It boasts a
population numbering upwards of thirty thousand, of which only some
ten or twelve thousand are white, the remainder being half-castes,
quadroons, mulattoes, and <DW64>s unadulterated. The city possesses
some fine buildings, notable among which is the Cathedral of San
Pedro, a handsome edifice, though somewhat damaged by the earthquake
of '83. The Houses of Parliament are also imposing structures, as
befits a land where every man is a politician, and no boy knows what
may be in store for him. There is also the President's palace, and, of
course, an opera house, and equally of course a long stretch of
barracks, where the soldiers would seem to spend their time smoking
cigarettes and hatching plots against their superiors.

As we passed through the Heads and entered the harbour, it struck me I
had never looked upon a fairer scene. The blue waters of the bay, the
white houses peeping out from amid the wealth of foliage, and the
mountains rising tier upon tier behind, made up as pretty a picture as
the eye of man could desire to dwell upon. We had scarcely come to
anchor before a boat put off to us, pulled by four stalwart <DW65>s,
and carrying a much-uniformed official, who sat beside the coxswain.
He proved to be the health officer--a voluble little Spaniard, with a
magnificent idea of his own importance. As soon as his boat was
alongside he ran up the ladder to the gangway with the agility of a
monkey, and made his way to the place where Captain Ferguson was
waiting to receive him. During the years I had been in the South
American trade, I had managed to pick up a considerable smattering of
Spanish, enough at any rate to make myself understood by the Dons. I
was not nearly so fluent with it, however, as was Ferguson, who, I
soon discovered, could talk the lingo as well as any swell of Aragon.
As soon as they had transacted their business, the latter brought the
health officer along to the saloon whither I had descended, and where
I was introduced to him as the owner of the yacht.

"You possess a most beautiful vessel, senor," he said, bowing before
me as if he would never be able to straighten his back again.

"And you a most beautiful harbour and city," I replied, resolved not
to be outdone in the matter of compliments.

"Am I to believe that this can be your first visit to Equinata,
senor?" he asked as if in astonishment.

"Yes, my first," I replied in my best Trevelyan manner. "I can assure
you, however, that I am charmed with it, most charmed."

"Ah, you must wait until you have been ashore," he continued, "then
you will indeed be surprised. The Plaza, the Almeda, the Opera House,
and the President's palace. Ah!" Here he paused and gave an airy wave
of his hand as if to signify that, when I should come to view these
wonders, I might indeed describe the city as being beautiful; until
then, however, I could not pretend to any real notion of its glories.

"I shall be delighted to make its acquaintance," I returned, "and also
to pay my respects to your most illustrious President, who, I hear, is
beloved by all his people."

"Ah, the good President," said the little man, but without any great
enthusiasm. "And his niece--the beautiful Senorita Dolores. I raise my
glass to the most beautiful woman in Equinata." Thereupon, with his
eyes turned to the deck above, he drank solemnly to the health of the
lady of whose existence I then heard for the first time.

A little more desultory conversation followed, in the course of which
I managed to extract from him, in a roundabout way, a quantity of
information of which I stood in need. Then the little man hoisted
himself out of his chair, and with a regret born of a bottle and a
half of excellent champagne, stated his intention of returning to the
shore once more. Having fired another salvo of compliments at me, he
carried this plan into effect, and we saw no more of him. Half-an-hour
later the Harbour Master and the Chief Customs official arrived, drank
more champagne, with which you may be sure I liberally plied them,
smoked a number of cigars, praised their city, their country, and
their excellent selves, but did nothing in the way of performing their
business, and in their turn departed for the shore. Then I lunched,
spent an hour in meditation in an easy-chair under the awning, and
then, having ordered a boat, prepared to set off on a tour of
inspection of the capital.

The landing-place at La Gloria is, or was, very similar to that of
most other South American seaports. That is to say, at some distant
date, harbour works on a very large scale had been commenced, but for
some reason had never been completed. Possibly a Revolution may have
been accountable for the stoppage of the work, or the President, or
Minister of Public Works, may have decamped with the funds. At any
rate all there was to show for the money voted was one substantially
built wharf, the commencement of a pier, and a quantity of uncut
stone, which still remained, moss-covered and weather-worn, just where
the contractors had dumped it down.

I landed at the wharf, and immediately dispatched the boat back to the
yacht. Trustworthy though the crew might be, I had no desire that they
should hang about the sea front and talk to the inhabitants. Then,
leaving the wharf, I made my way into the town.

It was a picturesque place of the true Central American type. The
Calle de San Pedro, which cuts the town proper in half, is a handsome
thoroughfare, and contains numerous fine shops, warehouses, and
merchants' offices. Indeed, the scene in the street on that particular
afternoon was a most bright and animated one, and would not have
discredited Rio or Buenos Ayres. Half-a-mile or so further on the
street in question enters the Great Square, in which stand the
Cathedral, the Houses of Parliament, the Law Courts, and, more
important than all, so far as I was concerned, the President's palace.
The centre is laid out as a public garden, and possesses a band-stand
and many fine statues of the heroes of Equinata in impossible garbs
and more impossible attitudes. Seating myself on a bench in this
garden, I took careful stock of my surroundings. Opposite me was the
President's palace, with a sentry lounging on either side of the
gates. While I watched the latter were opened, and a handsome carriage
drove in and pulled up before the massive portico of the palace. After
that the gates were closed once more.

I do not mind confessing that at this point in my adventure I was at a
loss to know how to proceed. I might visit the palace and inscribe my
name in the visitors' book, but, so far as I could see, that would not
do very much to help me. I consulted the card I had brought with me,
and on which was written the name and address of the man to whom, so
Silvestre had informed me at our last meeting, I was to look for
assistance. His name was Don Jose de Hermanos, and his address was No.
13 in the Calle de San Juan. Before leaving the yacht I had taken the
precaution to make myself familiar with the quarter in which the
street was situated, and had ascertained that it commenced at the
Houses of Parliament and ran straight through the western portion of
the city, towards the foot of the mountains. I accordingly made my
way thither, and having discovered it, proceeded in search of the
house in which the mysterious Don Jose resided, or had his place of
business. Greatly to my surprise it proved to be a wine merchant's
shop, and I accordingly entered the little square _patio_ and looked
about me. On the left was what was evidently the office, and in it an
old man, engaged on some mysterious manipulation of an empty cask. I
addressed him in my best Spanish, but he took no sort of notice of me.
I called to him again with the same result. Then having satisfied
myself that the old fellow was deaf, I touched him on the shoulder
with my stick. This had the desired effect, for he jumped quickly
round and stared at me in amazement.

A more comical countenance than he possessed I don't remember ever to
have seen. He was a mulatto, and, if one might judge from his
appearance, some sixty years of age. He asked me in Spanish who I
desired to see, and I replied to the best of my ability that I was in
search of a gentleman named Hermanos. From the signs the other made I
gathered that the latter was not at home. I endeavoured to question
him concerning him, but the old fellow was either naturally dense, or,
for some reason best known to himself, pretended not to understand. In
another moment I should have left the place in despair, but, just as
I was making up my mind to do so, the sound of a footstep in the
_patio_ outside attracted my attention. I turned to find myself face
to face with a tall, well-proportioned stranger, with a black beard
and a pair of bristling moustaches. The old mulatto forsook his task
and handed the other the card I had given him. He glanced at it, then
looked up from it to me, after which he politely returned it to me,
saying as he did so--

"You desire to see Don Hermanos, senor?"

"That is what has brought me here," I answered.

"You come from our neighbours across the frontier, perhaps?" he
continued, still eyeing me critically.

"On the contrary, I have come by sea," I replied. "I am an Englishman,
as you have doubtless already observed, and my yacht is anchored in
the harbour."

"In that case permit me to welcome you most heartily to Equinata," he
returned, but without any great show of enthusiasm. "Perhaps you will
accompany me to my private office, where I shall be pleased indeed to
be of any service I can to you."

I followed him across the _patio_ to a door on the further side. This
he opened, and when I had passed into the room, he followed my example
and closed it carefully after him.

"How am I to know that you are the gentleman whom I have been led to
expect?" he began, when I had seated myself and he had offered me a
cigar. "As wine of that particular vintage is very difficult to
obtain, you must see yourself that I have to be most careful that I do
not make the mistake of giving information concerning it to the wrong
person."

I thereupon took my watch from my pocket, opened the case, and took a
small piece of paper--which Silvestre had also given me at our last
meeting--from it. This I handed to the man before me, who read what
was written upon it very carefully, and then tore it up into tiny
fragments.

"I am quite satisfied," he said, "and now to arrange the matter you
desire." Then, dropping his voice almost to a whisper, he continued,
"Of course I recognize the fact that you would not have been chosen
for the work had you not been considered a person most likely to
accomplish it. Nevertheless, I feel sure that you can have but a very
small notion how dangerous it is likely to prove. The man in question
mistrusts everybody, and should but a breath of suspicion attach
itself to you, you would be in the cartel to-night, and most probably
in your grave to-morrow morning. Though my opinions have not changed
in a single particular, I am not at all certain that it is wise of me
to mix myself up in it. However, I don't see exactly in what way I am
to get out of it."

It struck me that the latter portion of his speech was spoken more to
himself than to me.

"Before we go any further, it would perhaps be as well that I should
convince myself that you are Don Hermanos," I said, for so far I had
had no proof of his identity.

He did not answer me, but crossed to a writing-table on the other side
of the room, and, unlocking a drawer, took from it a book. Turning to
a certain page, he showed me a series of portraits of the prominent
politicians of Equinata. One was a likeness of himself, and underneath
was printed his name in full--Don Jose de Hermanos, Minister of Mines.
I expressed myself as being quite satisfied.

"And now," I continued, "will you be good enough to tell me how you
propose to introduce me to the Pres----"--here he held up his hand as
if in expostulation--"to the individual whose acquaintance I am so
anxious to make?"

"As you may suppose, I have been thinking of that," he replied, "and I
have come to the conclusion that it would be better for me not to be
personally concerned in it. As it is, I am not at all certain in my
own mind that he looks upon me with a favourable eye. I have a
friend, however, with whom he is on terms of the greatest friendship.
Through this friend I will have you presented. It would be better in
the meantime if you will call at the palace and inscribe your name in
the visitors' book, according to custom. After that I will make it my
business to see my friend, and to arrange the matter with him. From
that moment, if you will permit me, I will retire from the business
altogether."

"You do not care about taking the responsibility of my endeavours, I
suppose?" I said.

"Exactly, senor," he answered. "You have guessed correctly. To be
quite frank with you, I am afraid of being shot. I have seen the
gentleman we are discussing deal with his enemies on various
occasions, and his behaviour impressed me with a desire to keep my
head out of the lion's mouth."

"May I ask in what capacity you intend introducing me to your friend?"
I went on. "Is it quite wise, do you think, to import a third party
into the transaction?"

"There will be no third party," he answered. "There will only be my
friend and yourself. As I understand the situation, you are a rich
Englishman, travelling in our country. You have given me an order for
some wine for your yacht, and as the leading wine merchant of the
city, and having the reputation of our country at stake, I am anxious
to do my best for you. I also desire, for the same reason, that you
should enjoy your stay. What could be more natural than that I should
introduce you to a friend who is also one of our most prominent
citizens? You need not fear, senor, that I shall be foolish enough to
compromise either you or myself."

From what I had so far seen of him I could quite believe the latter
portion of his remark. If all Silvestre's supporters were of the same
calibre, it struck me that he would experience some little difficulty
in regaining his lost position. Hermanos was certainly as rank a
coward as I had met for many a long day.

"In that case, I will make my way to the palace now, and write my name
in the visitors' book. But how, and when, shall I hear from you?"

"I will communicate with you to-night," he said. "I shall be sending
you some wine and cigars on board, which I hope you will accept, and I
will word the note that accompanies them, so that you will be able to
read between the lines. It would be as well, I imagine, that we should
not meet again."

From the way he said this I could see he was as anxious to get rid of
me as he was to preserve his incognito. I accordingly thanked him for
his assistance, and bade him farewell.

Recrossing the little _patio_, I passed into the street once more, and
retraced my steps to the Great Square. Having reached it, I made my
way through the garden to the President's palace. The sentries still
slouched beside the gate as I had first seen them. So far as I could
tell, their only object in life was to see how near sleep they could
go without actually dozing off. Then I entered the palace grounds, and
walked up the drive to the marble portico, where I entered my name in
the book placed there for that purpose. I had already practised the
new Trevelyan signature, and was by this time able to write it with
something of a flourish. This momentous act accomplished, I left the
palace and returned to the yacht, feeling that, although I had not so
far made any very important headway in the conduct of my enterprise, I
had at least set the machinery in motion.

Summoning Ferguson to the smoking-room, I gave him an account of all
that had transpired, furnishing him at the same time with my opinion
of Don Jose de Hermanos.

"It only bears out what I said to you the other night," he observed.
"When a man dabbles in Revolutions he is apt to burn his fingers. It
is very plain that this man Hermanos, to use a popular saying, has
taken the length of the President's foot, and as a natural consequence
he is most anxious to keep out of its way, lest he should be crushed
by it. I don't know that I altogether blame him. He has calculated
exactly how much he has to gain, which may not be very much, and he is
also aware that if he fails, he has everything to lose."

He then proceeded to inform me that the yacht had been an object of
considerable interest to many of the inhabitants of La Gloria that
afternoon. It is doubtful whether such a handsome craft had ever been
seen in those waters before.

"If only we can get things into proper trim ashore, they shall have an
opportunity of admiring her even more than they do now, and for other
reasons," I said. "We must have an At Home on board, and invite the
polite society of the capital."

An hour or so before sundown, the same curious individual whom I had
seen manipulating the cask in Hermanos' office, made his appearance
alongside in a boat. He brought with him a case of wine and a small
box wrapped in paper. I rewarded him, and dispatched him to the shore
once more. Then returning to the smoking-room with the smaller parcel
in my hand, I opened it to discover what I had expected I should find
there, a box of cigars and a note carefully placed inside. It was not
a very long epistle, and informed me that it gave the wine merchant
the greatest pleasure to comply with my esteemed instructions, and to
forward me a sample box of the cigars, concerning which his good
friend, General Sagana, had spoken so highly. Should more be required,
his agent would do himself the honour of waiting upon me on the
following morning to learn my wishes. That was all!

"That means, of course, that General Sagana is the agent," I said to
myself. "Well, let him come as soon as he pleases. He will find me
quite ready to receive him."

Next morning I was enjoying the cool breeze under the bridge awning,
when the second mate came up to inform me that a shore boat was
approaching the accommodation ladder. Rising from my chair I glanced
over the side to discover that what he had said was correct. A large
boat pulled by six men was approaching the yacht. In the stern, seated
beside the coxswain, was one of the most curious little specimens of a
soldier one would be likely to find in a day's march. His height could
not have exceeded five feet, but what he lacked in stature he made up
in self-importance. He was attired in full uniform, even to the extent
of spurs and a sword. A helmet with plumes was perched upon his head,
while upwards of a dozen crosses decorated his breast. His face was
small and puckered into a thousand wrinkles; his eyebrows were large,
bushy, and snow-white; while a fierce moustache of the same colour
curled up in corkscrew twists until it nearly touched his eyes. As
soon as the boat was alongside, he ascended the ladder to the deck.

"Have I the honour of addressing the most illustrious Senor
_Travillion_?" he inquired, after a wrestle with the name, from which
he imagined he had emerged victorious. Upon my answering in the
affirmative, he made me a sweeping bow that was so irresistibly comic
that I had some difficulty in restraining a smile. Then he
continued--"Senor, I have the honour to salute you, and to offer you a
hearty welcome to our beautiful country. Permit me to introduce myself
to you. I am General Sagana, of the army of the Republic of Equinata."

He said this with as much pride as if his name would rank in history
with those of Napoleon and Wellington.

"I am deeply honoured by your visit," I replied. "Allow me to conduct
you to a cool spot under the awning."

An hour later, when he left the yacht, we were on the best of terms.
Moreover, I had arranged that that selfsame afternoon I should pay a
visit of respect to Madame Sagana and her daughters, who, as I
gathered from his words, existed only until they should have the
extreme felicity of making my acquaintance.

"You must be prepared to stay with us for a long time," he cried, with
a cordiality born of the best part of two bottles of Perrier-Jouet.
"Ah! believe me, we shall not let you go so easily. We are hospitable,
we of Equinata. Farewell, then, senor, until we meet this afternoon."

Then he bowed once more in his best style, descended to his boat,
seated himself in the stern, and bade his men row him ashore with all
speed, as there was business of importance toward.

That afternoon, bearing in mind the importance of the occasion, I once
more made a most careful toilet, and having done so, returned to the
city. Hiring a vehicle of the cab description, I bade the driver
convey me to the residence of the most illustrious General Sagana. In
a whirl of dust, and accompanied by a swarm of beggar boys, we set
off, and in something less than a quarter of an hour found ourselves
drawn up before an elegant residence in what might have been described
as the suburbs of the town. After I had paid and dismissed my
charioteer, I rang the curious old bell I found hanging on the wall
before me, and when it was answered, followed the servant into a
charming _patio_, in which a fountain played, and from thence into a
large and lofty room, where, to my dismay, a considerable number of
people were assembled. It was fortunate for me that I am not easily
abashed. Had this been the case, I should most probably have furnished
the fashionable world of Equinata with a poor idea of the behaviour of
an Englishman of wealth and position. At the moment of my entrance,
the little General was paying considerable attention to a matronly
lady who was so tightly squeezed into her chair that it seemed she
would never be able to move from it again. Observing me, however, he
left her, and hastened forward to greet me, after which he led me
across the room to present me to his wife and daughters. The former
was a small, though more wizened, edition of her husband; the latter,
however, were handsome girls of the true Spanish type. Half-a-dozen
other presentations followed, after which I was at liberty to make
myself as agreeable as circumstances permitted and my knowledge of the
Spanish language would allow. Had only the General's daughters been
present, this would not have been such a very difficult matter, for
the very few minutes I spent in their company were sufficient to show
me that they were both past mistresses of the art of flirting. We
were progressing famously, when the door opened, and the ancient
man-servant who had admitted me, and who was older and even more
wizened than his master or mistress, said something in a low voice to
the General, who immediately hurried out of the room. A whisper ran
through the company, but what its purport was I could not discover.
All doubt, however, was presently set at rest when the General
returned, escorting with great pomp a tall, handsome man, the
possessor of a fine head and a singularly clever face. He saluted my
hostess and her daughters with considerable ceremony, bowed gravely to
the remainder of the company, and then looked at me, as if wondering
who I could be.

"Permit me, your Excellency," said the General with one of his
flourishes, "to have the honour of presenting to you Senor Travillion
from England, who, like so many others, has heard of the glories of
Equinata, and has now come to our country in order that he may see
them for himself."

Long before he had finished his harangue, I had realized that the man
standing before me was none other than the famous President
Fernandez--Silvestre's mortal enemy, and the man I was being paid to
abduct.




CHAPTER VII


As soon as I realized the identity of the man before me, you may be
sure I did my utmost to appear at my best to him. So much, I knew,
depended on his first impression.

"I am exceedingly pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Trevelyan,"
said the President, in a voice that struck me as being distinctly
pleasant. "I fancy I saw your yacht from a distance this afternoon.
She is a handsome craft, and, if I am not mistaken, was built on the
Clyde. Am I right in my conjecture?"

For a moment I felt inclined to ask myself how it was this man was
able to discriminate between a boat built on the Thames and another
built on the Clyde. I subdued the inclination, however, and fell back
upon my Trevelyan manner.

"Quite right," I answered. "She hails from the Clyde, and, like most
boats launched on that river, she is a credit to her builders. I don't
know that I have ever met with a better. I hope I may be able to
induce your Excellency to pay her a visit, in order that you may
inspect her for yourself."

"It will give me great pleasure to do so," he answered, and when he
had conversed with me for a few moments longer, he left me in order to
pay his respects to a lady at the further end of the room. I was not
sorry for this, as it gave me an opportunity of observing him a little
more closely. He was certainly a remarkable-looking man, and each time
I glanced at him the conclusion was more forcibly borne upon me that
he was one with whom it would be better to be on friendly terms than
anything else. Although there was an apparent kindliness in his
manner, one could not help feeling that it was only the velvet glove
masking the iron hand concealed below.

He remained in the room for upwards of half-an-hour and then took his
departure, not, however, until he had crossed to me once more and had
repeated his desire to visit the yacht, in order that he might inspect
her more closely.

"As I said just now, I shall be delighted to show her to you," I
hastened to reply, and thereupon suggested that he should breakfast
with me on board the next day, and that with his permission I would
include General Sagana and his family in the invitation.

"You are most hospitable, Senor Trevelyan," he answered, "and if you
will allow me I will also bring my niece, the Senorita Dolores de
Perera. I am sure she will be most pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I shall be more than honoured," I replied, in my best manner, feeling
that at last I was making real headway. "Would eleven o'clock suit
your Excellency's convenience?"

"Admirably," he returned. "Let us then say _au revoir_ until eleven
o'clock to-morrow."

I promised that a boat should meet them at the wharf, and then bowing
to the ladies, and accompanied by General Sagana, he left the room.
When the General returned he complimented me warmly upon the success I
had made with the President.

"A most remarkable man, Senor Travillion," he continued, twirling his
enormous moustaches, "the most remarkable man Equinata has yet
produced. His career has, indeed, been an extraordinary one in every
way."

"Indeed?" I answered, with an endeavour to conceal the interest I was
taking in what he said. "May I ask whom he succeeded?"

For a moment the situation possessed a flavour of embarrassment. I was
not aware that the General had been one of Silvestre's principal
adherents, and that it was only when he discovered the fact that
affairs were not as they should be with his master that he had
transferred his allegiance to the stronger party.

"His predecessor was a certain Don Guzman de Silvestre," the old
gentleman replied, but in a tone that suggested two things to me;
first, that he was not aware of my connection with the man in
question, and secondly, that the subject was a decidedly distasteful
one to him. Realizing this I did not attempt to pursue it further.

Having formally invited my hostess and host and their daughters to my
little _dejeuner_ on the following day, I bade them farewell and took
my departure. It was evident that my visit had been appreciated, and
that some importance was attached to it, for I found the General's
private carriage waiting outside to convey me back to the wharf. I was
careful to thank him for the courtesy he had extended to me, and then
drove off.

When I retired to rest that night, it was with the feeling that my day
had not been altogether wasted. Behind it, however, was a decided
impression that President Fernandez was by no means the sort of man to
be caught napping, and that, if I wished to trap him, it would be
necessary for me to have all my wits about me. Moreover, I fancied
that when I _did_ catch him, I should find him a somewhat difficult
captive to tame. As is very often the case in such matters, one
apparently inconsequent remark of his haunted me more than anything
else that had fallen from his lips. Why had he declared the yacht to
be a Clyde-built boat? Was it only a statement made haphazard, or had
he some previous knowledge of the craft in question? The mere thought
that he might know anything of her past made me anxious beyond
measure. The possibilities were that he did not, but the fact that he
might have an inkling of my intention was sufficient to prevent me
from sleeping and to cause me to tumble and toss in my bed, hour after
hour, endeavouring to find some satisfactory solution to the problem.
"I have seen what he can do to those who offend him," Hermanos had
said to me, "and I confess the picture did not please me." At the same
time I could not believe that it was possible that the President had
any idea of the real reason of my presence in Equinata. The secret had
been so jealously guarded that it could not have leaked out. These
thoughts, however, did not prevent me from looking forward with the
greatest possible interest to the festivity of the morrow. Immediately
on my arrival on board, I called Ferguson to a consultation. He
forthwith interviewed the chief cook, and the result was the
preparation of a repast that promised to equal anything ever seen in
Equinata before.

As you may suppose, the following morning was a busy one with us. The
arrangements were most elaborate. Flowers were procured from the
shore, and with them the saloons were decorated. A string band was
engaged to play on the bridge during the repast, and in the
President's honour the yacht was hung with bunting.

Half-an-hour before my guests were due to arrive, I descended to my
cabin and made my toilet. I had scarcely returned to the deck before I
was informed by the chief mate, who was on the look-out, that the
boats we expected were putting off from the shore. Ferguson stood
beside me and watched them come alongside. Out of compliment to the
President he had caused the flag of Equinata to be hoisted, and had
drawn up a Guard of Honour from the crew on either side of the
gangway. The first boat to come alongside contained the President, his
_aide-de-camp_, and a lady, whom I argued must be none other than his
niece, the Senorita Dolores de Perera. The President was the first to
set foot upon the deck, and, as he did so, the band struck up the
National Air of Equinata. His Excellency shook me warmly by the hand,
and then, turning to the lady who accompanied him, presented me to
her. I have met some very beautiful women in my time, but I am
doubtful whether I have ever seen one who could compare with the lady
I then had before me. She was slightly above the middle height, with
raven hair and dark flashing eyes, and carried herself with the grace
that is so characteristic of her nationality. Her manner towards me
was distinctly cordial, and under its influence I began to think that
our luncheon was not destined to be as dull an affair as I had feared
it might be. I escorted them to a cool spot under the awning, and then
prepared to receive my other guests. Upon their arrival, we proceeded
to the saloon for lunch. That the President was impressed, I could
plainly see. He paid me many compliments upon the beauty of the yacht,
and vowed that, when times improved in Equinata, he would have just
such another built for his own private use.

"How I envy you your lot, Senor Trevelyan!" remarked the Senorita
Dolores, when we had seated ourselves at the table, and as she said
it, she threw a beaming glance at me. "How beautiful it must be to
skim over the seas like a bird, to be always seeing new countries, and
receiving new impressions. Yours must be an ideal life, if ever there
were one."

"I fear you have omitted to take into your calculations the existence
of Custom House officials, the engagement of crews, and the fact that
a yacht, however beautiful, needs coaling, in order to be able to
properly perform her functions. There are also storms to mar one's
pleasure, Port Dues, Harbour Regulations, Quarantine, and a thousand
and one other little matters that, though not important in themselves,
are, nevertheless, sufficient to play the part of crumpled rose-leaves
in your bed of happiness."

"But in these seas you have all smooth sailing. You came here
from----?"

She asked the question so innocently that I felt sure it was without
any sinister intention.

"From Havana to Key West, and thence to Jamaica, Barbadoes, and so to
Equinata!"

"And your plans after leaving here?"

"I have scarcely formed any plans yet," I answered, and then I added
with a fair amount of truth, "You see, Senorita, it all depends upon
circumstances. I may go on to Rio, thence to Buenos Ayres, and perhaps
round the Horn to the Pacific Islands, or I may return to England at
once."

"While we remain on here leading our humdrum life," said the
President, toying with his champagne glass as he spoke, "and ending
the year almost as we began it, seeing few strangers and interested
only in our own little mediocre affairs."

"I fear your Excellency must speak ironically," I said. "What grander
or more interesting occupation can there be in the world, than the
work of building up a new country, a country which may ultimately take
its place among the greatest of the earth? While I am fluttering like
a butterfly from place to place, you are guiding, helping, and
benefiting your fellow-man, and through him the entire human race."

"You are an idealist, I perceive, Senor Trevelyan," the President
returned, with one of his peculiar smiles. "Unfortunately for your
theory, my fellow-man does not always wish to be benefited, as your
words would lead one to suppose. To my thinking he is very like that
noble animal, the horse, who, while being capable of great things,
must first learn the principles of subjection. What say you, General
Sagana?"

"I agree with your Excellency," replied the General with some little
embarrassment, though why he should have felt it I could not at the
time understand.

I turned to the Senorita Dolores.

"You are deeply interested in politics, of course, Senorita?" I said,
as innocently as I knew how.

"No, I do not mind admitting that I take no sort of interest in
politics," she answered. "I find it better for many reasons not to do
so. So long as I am not publicly insulted in the streets, and the mob
do not attempt to shoot my uncle, or to come to the palace and break
our windows, I am content to let whichever party pleases hold the
reins of power. But there, I feel sure, Senor Trevelyan, you did not
come to Equinata to talk politics. We must discover a way of amusing
you, and of making your time pass pleasantly while you are with us,
without that!"

As she said this, she glanced down the table at the two daughters of
General Sagana, who returned her smile with a look that said as
plainly as any words could speak, that if they were given the
opportunity, they would take care that my time was spent as pleasantly
as possible.

All things taken into consideration, my little _dejeuner_ was a
decided success, and the affability of the President, when the ladies
had withdrawn, helped to confirm me in this opinion. Nothing could
have exceeded his geniality. He narrated several amusing incidents
connected with his past life, and once even unbent so far as to
comment on a certain act connected with the reign of his predecessor.

"Silvestre was a clever man; a very clever man," he said; "but, as
events proved, entirely wanting in a proper appreciation of his
position. Had he used his opportunities as he might have done, he
would, in all probability, be occupying the position he held then and
which I hold to-day."

"And may I ask what has become of him?" I inquired, not without some
curiosity as to what his answer would be.

The President, however, shook his head.

"No one seems to have any idea where he is," he said. "After the last
crisis he disappeared from Equinata, but where he went I cannot tell
you. Very probably he is dead. Men of his calibre do not, as a rule,
make old bones."

His manner was so open, his speech so frank, that my suspicions that
he was aware of my errand in his capital were fast dying away.

Later on we left the saloon and joined the ladies on deck. A cool wind
was blowing, and it was very pleasant under the awnings. After
half-an-hour's conversation, followed by an inspection of the yacht,
the President declared his intention of returning to the shore. The
boats were accordingly ordered alongside, whereupon, having thanked me
for my hospitality, the President and the Senorita, attended by their
_aide-de-camp_, the latter a great lady-killer, took their departure.
General Sagana and his party followed suit a little later, and then I
was free to discuss the success of our entertainment with Ferguson.

"If all goes on as it is doing now," I said, lighting a fresh cigar,
and handing my case to him, "it should not prove a very difficult
matter to inveigle him on board to dinner some night, when we might
settle the affair once and for all."

"Unfortunately, the chances are a hundred to one that, if he came, he
would bring an _aide_ with him, as he did to-day. What should we do
then?"

"Take the _aide_ to the island with us," I replied promptly. "One more
prisoner would make little or no difference to Silvestre."

Next morning I was the recipient of an invitation from the President
to dine at the palace on the Thursday following. Needless to say, I
hastened to accept, and in due course presented myself at his
Excellency's magnificent abode. I was met in the hall by the
_aide-de-camp_ who had breakfasted with us on board the yacht, and by
him was conducted to the great drawing-room where the President and
his niece were receiving their guests. Some thirty or forty people
were present, among the number being General Sagana and Madame, and
their two fair daughters, who welcomed me like old friends. The
President took the General's wife in to dinner, while, for some reason
best known to them, I was permitted the honour of escorting the
Senorita.

"So you have not grown tired of Equinata yet, Senor Trevelyan?" said
my fair companion, as we made our way in our turn along the stately
hall in the direction of the dining-room.

"On the contrary, I grow more charmed with it every day," I replied.
"Who could help liking it, when its citizens are so hospitable to
strangers?"

"Before you praise us, remember that you set us a charming example,"
she continued. "It will be long before I forget the pleasant morning
we spent on board your yacht. I can assure you that my uncle also
looks back on it with the greatest pleasure."

"I trust it may not be the last time he will visit her," I answered,
with more truth than is usually attachable to an idle compliment.

The room in which we dined was a magnificent apartment, furnished with
a grandeur that gave it an almost regal dignity. The President's
_chef_ was evidently a treasure, for the dinner could scarcely have
been excelled. During its progress the President addressed himself on
several occasions to me, and invited me to accompany him on a visit to
some celebrated copper mines in the neighbourhood, also to a review of
the troops which was to take place in the Great Square in a week's
time. As may be supposed, I was quick to accept both invitations.

"And at the end of the week there is to be a grand ball at the Opera
House," the Senorita continued, when her uncle had finished speaking.
"It is in aid of the convent of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and is
one of our recognized gaieties of the year. I wonder if we shall be
able to persuade you to be present?"

"I shall be more than delighted," I replied. "That is, of course,
provided I am not compelled to leave Equinata in the meantime."

"You must not leave us too soon," she said, and then paused and
examined her plate attentively. I was about to answer her, when her
attention was attracted by her neighbour on her right, and I was
accordingly left to my own thoughts.

I looked down the long table, glittering with glass and plate, and as
I did so, I endeavoured to apprize the value of my extraordinary
position. Who at that board could have guessed the errand in Equinata
of the man whom, doubtless, so many of them envied for his wealth and
for his magnificent floating home? I could not help wondering what my
own feelings would have been had I known only three months or so
before, when I was standing watch as a mail-boat officer, that in a
few short weeks I should be the honoured guest of the President of the
Republic of Equinata, and the presumptive owner of a yacht valued at
upwards of a hundred thousand pounds.

I looked across the room and examined the pictures hanging upon the
walls. That exactly opposite me riveted my attention. I felt that I
could not be mistaken as to the likeness. It was the portrait of Don
Guzman de Silvestre, and the artist had managed to depict him to the
life. How it called me back to other days! As I looked at it, I seemed
to be sitting in the old inn garden at Falstead, listening to his
instructions for the campaign, and wondering how long Molly would be
at the choir practice.

"You have suddenly become very silent, Senor Trevelyan," said the
Senorita, rousing me from my reverie.

"I was thinking that I shall often look back with pleasure upon this
evening," I replied.

The look she gave me would probably have encouraged many men to embark
on a course of the maddest flirtation. I, however, was adamant.

"In reality," she said, "I suppose you are like all the other visitors
we have, and, as soon as you are away from Equinata, you will forget
us altogether."

"I assure you I shall never forget your beautiful city as long as I
live," I answered, and with more truth than she imagined.

She threw a quick glance at me and then, looking down the
dinner-table, gave the signal to the ladies to rise. I must confess
here that the Senorita interested me very strangely. At first I had
thought her merely a very beautiful woman, well fitted by nature to
perform the difficult task asked of her; it was not long, however,
before I came to have a somewhat better understanding of her real
abilities. In what light I regard her now, you will be able to realize
for yourself when you have read my story.

As had been arranged, three days after the dinner I have just
described, I accompanied the President and a considerable party to the
famous copper mines in the mountain range that began behind the city
and extended well-nigh to the further limit of the Republic. We were
only absent three days, yet in that short space of time I was
permitted an opportunity of studying the real character and
personality of Equinata's ruler more closely than I had yet done. At
first I must confess I had been prepared to dislike him, but little by
little, so gradually indeed that I scarcely noticed the change, I
found that he was managing to overcome my prejudices. Under the
influence of these new impressions I also began to see my own part of
the business in a new light. From what Silvestre had said to me, I had
up to that time regarded him as a traitor to his friends, and as a
tyrant and enemy to his country. I now discovered that he was neither
the one nor the other. He ruled according to his lights, and if he
held his people in an iron grip, it was for the good and sufficient
reason that he knew their character, and the sort of government they
required. My own position, when I came to overhaul it properly, I
discovered to be by no means edifying. I accepted his hospitality and
his kindnesses, yet I was only waiting my chance to prove myself a
traitor of the worst kind. I was posing as his friend, yet at the same
time was preparing to prove myself his worst enemy. Such thoughts as
these kept me company by day and night, and made me regard myself with
a contempt such as I had never dreamed of before. And yet I knew that,
at any hazard, I must go through with it. Had I not taken Silvestre's
money and pledged myself to serve him? Therefore I could not draw
back.

On our return to the city from the mountains, I was present at the
review of the troops in the Great Square, and witnessed the
redoubtable army of Equinata, headed by General Sagana, as you may
suppose in the fullest of full uniforms, march by and salute its
chief. That ceremony over, I returned to the yacht to while away the
hours as best I could until it should be time to dress for the great
ball that was to take place at the Opera House that evening.

Having rigged myself out for the occasion, I was rowed ashore, and, as
I had plenty of time to spare, I determined to walk to the Great
Square in preference to taking a cab. To do this it was necessary for
me to pass a certain fashionable _cafe_, whose little tables decorated
the broad pavement outside. At one of these tables two men were
seated, playing dominoes as they sipped their coffee. One of them
looked up at me as I passed. As my eyes fell on his face I gave a
start, for I recognized him instantly as a well-known Rio merchant,
who had made several voyages with me in the old _Pernambuco_, and with
whom I had been on the most friendly terms. He stared at me as if he
thought he ought to know my face, but, I suppose on account of the
absence of my moustache, could not quite remember where he had seen it
last.

I hurried on, with my heart in my mouth, as the saying has it, but I
had not gone very far ere I heard some one bustling after me. A few
seconds later a hand was laid upon my arm, and I turned to find the
individual I had seen seated at the table standing before me.

"Ten t'ousand pardons, senor," he began in English, "but am I mistaken
if I say your name is 'Elmsworth?"

I had to make up my mind.

"I'm afraid you're making some little mistake," I replied, and then
added what was worse than a lie, that is to say, a half-truth, "I know
no one of the name of 'Elmsworth."

"Den I must beg of you ten t'ousand more bardons," he continued. "I
t'ought you vas one of mine old vriends dot I vas at sea mit. Forgive
me dat I interrupt you in your valk."

I willingly forgave him and passed on.

The question that kept me company for the rest of the evening was--Had
my assurance satisfied him? If not, what would he be likely to do?




CHAPTER VIII


So long as I may live I shall never forget the ball at which I was
present that night. The scene was gay beyond description. All the Rank
and Fashion of La Gloria, and one might almost say of Equinata, were
assembled there. When the dancing had been in progress for some time,
the President and the Senorita Dolores put in an appearance and were
received by the committee to the strains of the National Air. I must
confess that Fernandez made a most imposing figure, with his broad
ribbon of the Order of La Gloria, and his wealth of foreign
decorations. As for his companion, it would be difficult for a mere
male mortal to find words in which to describe the picture she
presented. As soon as it was permissible I crossed the room to her and
humbly asked her for a dance. She was graciously pleased to give me
one, and presently we found ourselves circling round the room together
to the music of a long swinging waltz, excellently played. Afterwards
I escorted her from the ball-room into the balcony. It was a lovely
night, and so still, that in the pauses of the music the sound of the
waves upon the beach could be distinctly heard, though more than a
mile away. I procured my companion's mantilla for her, with which she
draped her head and neck, with characteristic grace. Never, I am
inclined to believe, had she looked lovelier than she did at that
moment, and when she leant upon the balustrading of the balcony, and
looked across the city towards the mountains, behind which the moon
was rising, I vowed that I had never beheld a fairer picture. Few men
could have stood beside her then and not have felt the fascination of
her presence.

"Senor Trevelyan," she said meditatively, in a voice that was as low
and musical as the deep notes of a guitar, "what a strange thing is
life! You and I stand here together now. Out of the infinite you hold
my attention for minutes that never can be recalled. Later we shall
separate, and then you will go your way, and I shall go mine. In all
probability we shall never meet again--yet through Eternity our
destinies will be linked, like the strands of a rope, by the
remembrance of a few minutes' conversation on a certain moonlight
night in Equinata."

I must confess that this sudden seriousness on her part puzzled me
considerably. A moment before she had been all gaiety, a few seconds
later she was gravity personified. The change was so instantaneous
that I found it difficult to follow her.

"I am afraid I must be very obtuse," I stammered, "but I cannot say
that I have quite caught your meaning."

"I am not sure that I know it myself," she replied. "The beauty of the
night has taken hold of me. The rising of the moon always has a
curious effect upon me. I am afraid you will think me very absurd, but
people say I have a strange way of looking at things. I was thinking
of our life. Consider for a moment how much we are governed by Chance.
We meet some one we like, some one whom we believe might prove a good
friend if ever occasion should arise. He, or she, crosses our path,
tarries perhaps for a moment with us, and then vanishes, never to be
seen by us again."

"But we have the consolation of recollection left us," I replied, more
impressed than ever by her curious mood. "Every day we put away
impressions in memory's store-house--mental photographs, may I call
them--which will conjure up the Past for us in fifty years' time if
need be. Think of the impression I am receiving at this moment. It
will never be effaced. The scent of the orange blossoms, the glorious
moonlight, the music of the ball-room yonder, and you leaning upon the
balustrading looking down upon the sleeping city. The picture will
still be with me even though I have the misfortune to be many thousand
miles from La Gloria. In fifty years' time I may be in an English
village, in a Chinese seaport, or on the South African Karroo; then
the shimmer of the moonlight on a leaf--a chance strain of music--even
a piece of black lace, like that of your mantilla--will be sufficient
to bring the whole scene before my mind's eye. In a flash I shall be
transported to this balcony, and you will be standing beside me once
more."

It seemed to me that she gave a little shiver as I said this.

"If your mental photographs are to be so vivid," she continued, "what
a sorry figure I shall cut in them, if through all time I continue to
talk as I have been doing to-night." Then changing her manner, she
went on, "I fear you will soon grow tired of Equinata."

"That could never be," I replied. "I only wish it were in my power to
stay longer."

"When do you think it will be necessary for you to leave?" she
inquired, as if the question were one of the utmost importance.

"It is difficult to say," I answered. "I am afraid, however, it will
not be many more days. I have received information concerning some
rather important business that may possibly necessitate my leaving for
Europe almost immediately."

"I am sorry to hear that," she said meditatively. "We had looked
forward to enjoying the pleasure of your society for some time to
come."

She spoke as if I were an old friend whom she feared to lose. Had a
stranger been present, he or she would have found it difficult to
believe that a fortnight before we had never set eyes on each other.
There are many men in the world who, had they been in my place, would
doubtless have been charmed, and perhaps more than charmed, by the
interest she displayed in my doings. She was a vastly pretty woman,
dangerously pretty in fact, but even her tender interest in my affairs
was not sufficient to shake my equilibrium. Ten minutes or so later we
returned to the ball-room, and I surrendered her to the partner who
came to claim her. Having done so, I was walking towards the further
end of the room, when the President accosted me. He was in a most
affable mood, and was evidently disposed for a chat.

"You do not appear to be dancing very much, Senor Trevelyan," he said,
dropping into English, as was his wont when we were alone together.
"Is it possible you feel inclined for a cigar?"

"I am more than inclined," I replied, "I am pining for one. I never
was much of a dancing man. The hard sort of life I have been compelled
to lead has not permitted me much opportunity for practising that
graceful art."

The words had no sooner escaped my lips than I realized what a slip I
had made. So far as he was aware, I was, to all intents and purposes,
a rich young Englishman, and should be without a care in the world. It
would therefore seem to him strange that I should not have had much
chance of perfecting my knowledge of the terpsichorean art.

"I mean to say," I went on, as we made our way across the grand lobby
to the smoking-room, "that after I left school, I was for some time
abroad, and--well, the fact of the matter is, I never laid myself out
very much for ladies' society."

"I think I understand," he replied gravely. "Like myself, you prefer
to look for your amusements in other directions. Your passion for the
sea I can quite appreciate, but I think, were I in your place, I
should prefer a somewhat larger craft than your yacht. A mail-boat,
for instance, such as the _Pernambuco_--or the _Amantillado_ would
come somewhat nearer the mark."

There was nothing remarkable in what he said, and his voice never for
a second rose above its customary pitch. Nevertheless, I looked at him
in overwhelming astonishment. It seemed to me his words were spoken
with a deliberate intent, and were meant to have a definite value
placed upon them. It was not the first time I had had the impression
forced upon me, and it was not a pleasant one, I can assure you, that
he had become aware of the real reason for my presence in Equinata. I
hastened to abandon the subject of the sea, and directed the
conversation into another channel. The result, however, was very much
the same. We thereupon discussed the possibilities of a European war,
which at that moment seemed not improbable.

"Power," he returned, _a propos_ of a remark of mine, "is in my
opinion precisely a question of temperament. Your London crowd is well
trained and will stand what would drive a Neapolitan or a French mob
to violence. Such speeches are delivered in your parks on Sundays as
would prove in these latitudes as intoxicating as brandy. I have known
a Revolution started by an ill-timed jest, a city wrecked, and a
thousand lives lost in consequence. Talking of Revolutions, have you
ever had the misfortune to be called upon to take part in one?"

Once more my suspicions were aroused.

"Good gracious, no!" I cried. "What makes you ask me such a question?
Do I look like the sort of person who would be likely to have to do
with such affairs?"

He glanced at me for a moment over the top of the cigar which he had
taken from his mouth and was holding between his long slim fingers, as
if to enjoy the beautiful aroma.

"I was merely venturing an inquiry," he continued, in the same quiet
fashion as before. "If you have not, you should try the experiment.
Believe me, there is a very fair amount of excitement to be got out of
it, particularly if you have not the good fortune to be on the winning
side. You have met Don Guzman de Silvestre, of course?"

"Don Guzman de who?" I asked, as if I had not quite caught the name.

"My predecessor," the President replied. "I thought that probably you
might have come across him in your travels. He knocks about the
Continent a good deal, and I am told he is well known at the various
ports at which the mail-boats touch."

The situation was momentarily getting beyond me. I felt that I could
not stand much more of it. He had referred to the _Pernambuco_, and
had recommended me to try my hand at a Revolution; he had mentioned
Don Guzman de Silvestre, and now he was speaking of the ports at which
the South American mail-boats call, and implying that I was familiar
with them. What did it all mean? Was it only a matter of chance, or
was he aware of my identity, and only biding his time to rise and
upset all my calculations? I think you will agree with me in saying
that it was not a pleasant position for a man to be placed in!

"I remember," he went on, "on one occasion smoking a cigar with Don
Guzman de Silvestre in this very balcony--he was sitting exactly where
you are now. Though he thought I was not aware of it, I happened to
know that he was at that time hatching a plot that he hoped would
upset my calculations, turn me out of my palace, and make him
President in my stead. He had been laying his plans for months, and
was quite sure that they would succeed!"

"And the result?"

"The result was that it failed. If he had not managed to escape when
he did, I am afraid his life would have paid the forfeit. In spite of
the advice I gave you just now, interference in Revolutions in
Equinata is not an amusement I should recommend to every one."

"I trust I may never be called upon to try it," I replied fervently.

"I hope you will not," he returned, without looking at me. "It's an
unprofitable speculation unless you are certain of your cards. The
strongest, of course, wins, and the loser generally goes to the wall."

I thought I understood to what wall he referred.

A few moments' silence followed his last speech. The President was the
first to break it by referring to what he hoped would be the future of
his country. It was evident that he firmly believed in it and its
capabilities. Then, rising from his chair, he bade me "good-night"
with an abruptness that was almost disconcerting.

When he had gone, and I had finished my cigar, I returned to the
ball-room in time to meet the Presidential party as they were leaving.

"Good-night, Senor Trevelyan," said the senorita. "The Little Sisters
are indebted to you for your most generous contribution. In their name
I thank you."

"And I am equally indebted to them for the pleasure I have been
permitted to enjoy this evening," I replied.

She bowed to me, and passed on, on her uncle's arm, towards the
entrance. When they had departed I obtained my hat and cloak, and in
my turn left the building. During the last ten minutes my spirits had
been dropping down and down until they reached zero. Never since I had
consented to Don Guzman's plan had my business in Equinata seemed so
hazardous or indeed so despicable to me. I felt that I would have
given anything never to have set eyes on my tempter, or to have
listened to his invidious proposal. However, I am not going to
moralize. I've my story to tell, and tell it I must, and in as few
words as possible.

When I left the Opera House, the moon was sailing in a cloudless sky,
and, in consequence, the streets were almost as light as day. It was a
little after midnight, and I had not ordered the boat to meet me at
the wharf until one o'clock. I had therefore plenty of time at my
disposal. As I passed out of the Great Square and entered the Calle de
San Pedro, the cathedral clock chimed the quarter past the hour. I
strolled leisurely along, so that it was half-past by the time I
reached the wharf. Then I lighted another cigar, and, seating myself
on a stone block, prepared to await the arrival of the boat. I had
perhaps been seated there ten minutes, when, suddenly, and before I
could do anything to protect myself, a bag or cloth, I could not tell
which, was thrown over my head, and my arms were pinioned from behind.
Then a voice said in Spanish, "Lift him up, and bring him along.
There's not a moment to lose." Thereupon a man took hold of my
shoulders and another my legs, and I felt myself being carried along,
though in what direction I could not of course tell. A few seconds
later, however, I was dumped down on the wooden floor of what was
evidently a cart. The crack of a whip followed, and we were off at a
brisk pace somewhere--but where? The bag by this time was coming near
to stifling me. It had been pulled so tight round my head that it was
only with the greatest difficulty I could breathe. Eventually, I
suppose, I must have lost consciousness, for I have no recollection of
anything that happened until I opened my eyes to find myself lying on
the floor of a small, bare room, through the grated windows of which
the moonlight was streaming in. Thank goodness, the bag was gone, but
my head ached consumedly, and I felt about as sick and wretched as a
man could well be.

  [Illustration: "I felt about as sick and wretched as a man could
   well be."]

After a while I sat up, and endeavoured to puzzle out my position.
Where was I? Who was it had made me prisoner? Was it a simple act of
brigandage, having plunder for its motive, or had the President
discovered the plot against him and ordered my arrest? Not one of the
questions could I answer. In the hope of being able to solve the
problem of my whereabouts, however, I got on to my feet and
endeavoured to look out of the window, only to discover that it was
out of my reach, and that I was too weak to draw myself up to it. I
therefore seated myself on the floor once more, for the room or cell,
whichever I cared to call it, was destitute of furniture, and resigned
myself to my miserable thoughts.

To use a stage expression, it was a pretty market I had brought my
pigs to! I had felt so confident that my errand was not known, and
that I should succeed in getting safely out of the country, that I had
neglected the most simple precautions, and in consequence here I was a
prisoner, with the pleasing possibility ahead of me of either having
my throat cut by a common murderer before the night was past, or, what
was more probable, of being propped against a wall and shot by
President Fernandez' soldiers at daybreak. The mere knowledge that I
was still alive, and that my watch, chain, and money had not been
taken from me, pointed to the fact that I was a prisoner of the State,
and not of a private individual. All things considered, it would be
difficult to say which would prove the worse fate.

Putting aside for the moment the question as to whose captive I was, I
examined my watch, and discovered that it was just half-past one. Only
an hour had elapsed since the episode on the wharf--to me, however,
it seemed an Eternity. After a while, feeling stronger, I got on to my
feet again, and began to pace the room. I also tried the door, only to
find it locked. They had got me fast enough. So much was certain. The
next time, I told myself, I crossed the threshold, it would in all
probability be to be haled to a place of execution. For upwards of an
hour I paced the room, calling myself a fool and idiot, and every
other name I could think of, for having allowed myself to be drawn
into such an affair. I recalled that quiet evening at Falstead, when
the idea of the adventure had appeared so attractive to me, and, as I
did so, it seemed to me I could hear Molly's gentle voice saying: "Act
as you think best, dear! I know that it will be all right then." I had
certainly acted on my own judgment, and here I was in consequence!

I was still thinking of Falstead when a sharp cry reached me from the
yard outside, followed by a prolonged scuffling noise. Then there was
a heavy fall, another, and yet another. After that all was silence
once more.

"What on earth is the matter?" I asked myself. "It sounded like a
struggle of some sort. Can they by any chance have captured Ferguson,
and have brought him here to be my fellow-prisoner?"

A few moments later some one approached my door. A key was placed in
the lock and turned, then the door opened, and a man, carrying a
lantern, entered quickly, closing the door behind him. The upper half
of his face was hidden by a black mask. My astonishment may be
imagined when, after he had removed it, I discovered that he was none
other than Don Jose de Hermanos.

"Hush!" he began, holding up his hand as a sign to me not to speak. "I
want you to listen to what I have to say, and not to interrupt me
until I have finished. In the first place, let me inform you that the
President has discovered everything! While you were talking to him
to-night at the ball, he knew why you were in Equinata, and, what is
more, had already laid his plans to effect your arrest. The reason why
he did it so secretly, and why you were not taken to the regular
cartel, is because he does not want, for reasons of his own, to
attract public attention just at present. I was warned in time, but
was unable to communicate with you. Now, by a stratagem, we have
overpowered your gaolers, and you are free!"

"But where am I?" I asked, in the same low voice.

"In the old cartel on the outskirts of the town," Hermanos replied.
"Now I want you to pay attention to what I am about to say to you.
There is still time to retrieve matters, if we go the proper way to
work about it. The President, when he left the ball to-night--and now
you will be able to understand his reasons for leaving so early--drove
out to consult with General Mopaxus, who is lying ill at his house six
miles distant on the road to Sarbassa. The road in question is hilly,
and it will take him at least an hour to get there. We will say that
he remains with the General an hour. In that case, he should not reach
the Capital until four o'clock at the earliest. Word must be sent to
the captain of the yacht to shift his moorings and to have a boat
ashore at the little bay of Horejos at three o'clock. Horejos is three
miles outside the city, and Fernandez will have to pass through the
village on his way home. We must catch him at any hazard."

"How many men have you with you?"

"Seven," he replied.

"Can they be relied upon?"

"To the death! They know that their own safety depends upon getting
Fernandez out of the way. Four of them he has suspected for some time
past. They would prefer to shoot him, and so make sure of him, but as
there are definite orders against that, they feel that the next best
thing they can do is to get him out of the country. And between
ourselves, that is exactly my own case."

"And what about the Guards here?"

"They are safe for the present," he answered. "But no time must be
lost, for it is more than likely that at daybreak others will come to
take their places."

"And how am I to communicate with Ferguson?"

He fumbled in his pocket for a moment.

"Here is a sheet of paper, an envelope, and a pencil. He knows your
writing, of course. When you have written it, one of my men shall take
it aboard. If he has to get steam up, there is not any too much time
for him to do so. Every moment is of the utmost importance."

I forthwith pencilled a hasty note to the captain, bidding him get up
steam, weigh anchor, and have a boat ashore in Horejos Bay at three
o'clock, and stand by to leave Equinata at latest by four o'clock.
This note I handed to Hermanos, and when I had done so, followed him
from the cell.

Once outside, I found myself in a large yard, illuminated by the
bright moonlight. I looked about me for the bodies of my captors, but
was informed by my companion that they had been securely bound and
placed in an adjoining cell. On hearing our steps, six figures
appeared from the shadow of the wall. They did not speak, but at a
sign from Hermanos, one went on ahead and opened the gates, whereupon
two of them passed out. After an interval of some thirty seconds, two
more disappeared in the same mysterious fashion, the remaining pair
making themselves scarce when the same duration of time had elapsed.

"Now it is our turn," Hermanos whispered. "With the exception of the
man who has gone to the yacht, each company will proceed to the
rendezvous by different routes through the city. Fernandez has spies
everywhere, and we must be careful that our behaviour does not attract
their attention. To that end I have brought this poncho and hat for
you."

I had noticed a bundle upon the ground, and had wondered what it might
be. My own hat had disappeared, goodness only knows where. So placing
the sombrero on my head, I pulled the poncho over my shoulders, and
then we, in our turn, left the cartel.

As Hermanos had said, the lock-up was on the outskirts of the city,
and the locality through which he led me was quite unknown to me.

What was the end of our adventure to be?




CHAPTER IX


It was evident to me that Hermanos had laid his plans most carefully,
for some hundred and fifty to two hundred yards from the gate, we
found a vehicle of the _volante_ description awaiting our coming. We
entered it, and the driver, without asking for instructions, set off
at a sharp pace. We had proceeded some distance before Don Jose spoke.

"I hope you understand, Senor Trevelyan," he said at last, "what a
serious risk I am running on your account?"

"Many thanks," I replied. "I am afraid, however, you do me too much
honour. I fancy if it had only been a question of _my_ safety, I
should have had to appeal to you for some time before I should have
had your assistance."

I spoke out of the bitterness of my heart, half expecting that my
words would offend him. To my surprise, however, they did not do so.
He only laughed in a quiet way, and then lapsed into silence once
more. The carriage rattled through the silent streets, and at length
passed out into the open country on the other side. So far we had not
attracted attention. Eventually we pulled up at the foot of a steep
hill, one side of which was formed by the mountain, the other looking
down upon a stretch of plain, beyond which again was the open sea.

"We must climb this hill," said Hermanos, "and when we have descended
it again we shall be at the rendezvous. Let us hope Fernandez has not
made his appearance yet."

We accordingly alighted from the vehicle, and, when we had seen it
return citywards, began to climb the steep ascent. At the summit, and
just before the hill begins to descend on the other side, were three
palms. When we reached these my companion uttered a low and peculiar
whistle. It was answered from the shadow, and a moment later a figure
emerged from the darkness and stood before us. Hermanos went to him
and said something in an undertone which I did not hear.

"It's all right," he remarked when he returned to me. "Fernandez has
not returned yet. They are watching for him in the valley below, and
we had better join them."

"With all my heart," I replied, for, as you may suppose, I was eager
to have the business over and done with.

We accordingly descended the hill in the direction indicated. The road
here was little better than a cart-track, and one that I should have
been very sorry to drive along on a dark night. In the moonlit valley
below could be seen the little fishing village of Horejos. I examined
my watch and discovered that it wanted twenty minutes to three
o'clock. Needless to say, I profoundly hoped that Ferguson had
received my message, and that we should find the boat awaiting us.

When we reached the foot of the hill, it was to discover that the road
ran between two walls of rock. Blasting operations were accountable at
this point for the existence of the track, which would otherwise have
been impassable. On the top of the rock on the right, and continuing
up the hill-side, was a thick wood, in which it would have been
possible for some hundreds of men to have lain concealed. Behind the
rock on the other side was a gentle <DW72> continuing to within a few
dozen yards of the shore. All things considered, a better place for
the work we had in hand could scarcely have been imagined. It would
have been out of the question for two carriages to have passed
abreast, owing to the width of the road; and one glance was sufficient
to show me that it would be quite possible for a determined man to
bring a vehicle to a standstill at such a spot. That Hermanos was in
a state of considerable trepidation regarding his share in the
business I could see. From what he had already said to me I gathered
that, had he not advanced so far in the business, he would even at the
eleventh hour have drawn back. Had he been left to himself, he would
doubtless have allowed General Fernandez' rule to continue without
bothering himself about Silvestre. Unfortunately, however, Silvestre
had obtained too great a hold upon him, and, in consequence, in order
to cover the shortcomings of his own past, he had been compelled to
take up arms at the very juncture when he was most desirous of
remaining quietly in the background. Who the men with him were I had
no sort of idea, nor did he inform me. That they were desperate like
himself I could very well imagine.

When we reached the spot just described, Hermanos again gave utterance
to the low and peculiar whistle I have already mentioned. This whistle
was answered by another, and then a voice from the darkness said in
Spanish, "All is well! He has not passed yet!"

A moment later a man scrambled down the bank and stood before us. He
wore a poncho, and had a broad-brimmed sombrero.

"No sign of him yet, Luiz?" Hermanos said.

"No, there is no sign yet, senor," the other replied. "But he can't
be long now. In another hour it will begin to grow light, and if he
does not come before daybreak, then our opportunity will be gone."

"When he comes, what do you propose to do?" I inquired.

"I thought that when the carriage arrives here some of us would appear
in the road and stop the horses, while you go to the door and cover
the President with your revolver."

I should here remark that when Hermanos had handed me the hat and
poncho, he had also given me a heavy Colt's revolver.

"And having done that?" I asked, more for the sake of seeing what he
would say than for any other reason.

"March him down by the path yonder to the sea, put him into the boat,
and take him out to the yacht," he answered. "After that you can do
with him as you please."

"I trust the boat has arrived," I said. "Is there no way of finding
out? We ought to make sure of that!"

"I will send a man to see," he replied, and then ordered the
individual named Luiz to go to the beach and discover whether the boat
was there.

The fellow made off; and after he had left us we walked a little
further down the road and seated ourselves upon the bank. A quarter
of an hour passed, during which time we discussed everything but the
business before us. Then the messenger returned with the information
that the boat was waiting for us, a couple of hundred yards or so
away, in charge of the chief officer.

"So far, all is well," I said, and as I spoke the sound of wheels
reached us from the distance.

"He is coming," Hermanos exclaimed, springing to his feet; then,
turning to the man who had just returned from the beach, he cried:
"Call the others, Luiz!"

His voice shook with excitement. The words had scarcely left his lips
before Luiz gave a loud whistle. In response to it three other men
made their appearance from the wood.

"Hermanos," I said, taking control of affairs, as the party began to
don their masks, "you and two of your men had better stand here to
stop the horses." Then turning to the others, I continued: "You two,
follow me; and, if you don't want to be recognized, let me do whatever
talking there is to be done."

The noise made by the approaching carriage could now be distinctly
heard. At most it could not be more than a quarter of a mile away. My
heart was beating like a sledge-hammer. Closer and closer came the
vehicle, then it turned the corner, and we could plainly see its
lights. In a very few minutes it would be upon us. Without exception
we had all drawn back into the shadow of the cliff, so that they could
have no idea of our presence. Descending the little decline, the
carriage entered the cleft between the rocks. The lights from the
vehicle flashed like angry eyes upon us.

"Stop!" I cried in Spanish, and as I did so Hermanos and his two
companions sprang into the centre of the road. The driver of the
carriage, seeing the revolvers pointed at him, pulled up his horses so
suddenly that they fell back upon their haunches. Meanwhile I had
sprung to the carriage-door and had opened it. "General Fernandez," I
cried, "you are my prisoner. I am armed, and if you move hand or foot,
I give you warning, I shall shoot you."

Meanwhile one of my companions had taken a lamp from the socket and
had turned it upon the interior of the carriage. By its light I was
enabled to convince myself that we had made no mistake. Fernandez was
seated in the corner nearest me, and, to my great astonishment, the
Senorita was beside him. I will do the President the justice of saying
that, at such a trying moment, he comported himself like a brave man.
His voice was as calm as ever I had heard it when he addressed me.

"Ah! so it's you, Senor Trevelyan, is it?" he said. "I thought I had
stopped your little game! What's the meaning of this?"

"It means that the scheme you did your best to frustrate has succeeded
after all," I answered. "But I have no time to spare. I must therefore
ask you to alight without further parley. Let me assure you it would
be no use your attempting to resist. There are six of us here, and we
are all armed."

"It is evident, then, that you have the advantage of me," he
continued, still with the same imperturbable good-humour. "Well, what
must be must, I suppose," and with that he descended from the carriage
and stepped into the road.

Before I could stop her the Senorita had done the same.

"Where you go I follow," she said, addressing the President. "I am
sure we can rely upon Senor Trevelyan's doing us no harm."

"If you do as I ask you not a hair of your head shall be harmed,
Senorita," I replied. Then turning to the President once more, I
added: "Before we proceed further it would, perhaps, be as well to
make sure that you are not armed, General! We cannot afford to run any
risk."

Fernandez gave a short laugh as he took a revolver from his pocket and
handed it to me.

"I was going to use this upon you as soon as I had an opportunity,"
he said. "I see, however, that I am not to be permitted to do so!"

I turned to the coachman.

"Now, off you go!" I cried. "If you stop anywhere between here and the
palace I'll take care that you hear about it later. You can tell them,
when you get there, that the President and the Senorita have gone into
the country for a change of air, and that you don't quite know when
they will be back."

The man did not answer, but looked at Fernandez as if for
instructions. Seeing that the other did not speak, he whipped up his
horses and drove off without another word, leaving his master and
mistress prisoners with us.

"Now we in our turn will be off," I said, as he disappeared over the
brow of the hill. "I must ask you, Senor President, to be good enough
to walk ahead. The Senorita and I will follow you."

It was a silent little party that made its way down the hill-side
towards the beach. First walked the President with an armed man on
either side of him, his niece and myself followed next, whilst
Hermanos and two of his fellow-conspirators brought up the rear. No
one would have imagined that, only a few hours before, the Senorita
and I had been waltzing round the ball-room at La Gloria as partners,
or that the President and I had been seated amicably together
discussing the politics of Equinata in all apparent friendliness. I
must say in common fairness that, even under these trying
circumstances, the Senorita behaved herself with as much coolness as
did her fellow-prisoner. Not once did she flinch or show the least
sign of fear.

The path from the road to the shore was an exceedingly rough one,
little better in fact than a goat-track, and as the Senorita was still
wearing her light dancing-shoes, it must have been an unenviable
experience for her. Once her dress was caught by a cactus leaf, and I
stopped to extricate it for her. I hoped that my action might break
the silence that had so far characterized our march.

"Thank you, senor," she said gravely, and, without another word,
continued her walk.

"Senorita," I said at last, "I can quite understand how angry you must
feel with me. I suppose it is only natural that you should be. Yet,
strange though it may appear, I cannot help feeling ashamed."

"I am not angry, senor," she replied. "My only regret is that we
should have been so weak as to have made such a miscalculation. I
thought my uncle had caused you to be arrested?"

"He certainly did have me arrested, but I managed to escape," I
answered. "Doubtless, if your uncle had had his way, he would have had
me shot at daybreak."

"It is more than likely," she replied, still with the same gravity.
"And all things considered, I am not at all sure it would not have
been better for the happiness of Equinata could this event have taken
place."

After such a speech there was not much to be said, so we continued our
walk in silence. Ten minutes later we reached the beach, walked along
it for a hundred yards or so, and then found ourselves beside the
yacht's gig, which had been pulled up on the shore to await our
coming. As soon as they saw us the boat's crew, led by the chief
officer, made their appearance from a hollow in the sand-hills where
they had been concealed.

"Permit me to help you into the boat," I said to the Senorita, moving
towards it as I spoke. "When you are on board we can push her out into
deeper water."

She accordingly took my hand and stepped into the boat, after which
the men ran it into the water.

"Now, Mr. President," I continued, "if you will be so kind as to get
in, I think we had better be moving."

He hesitated for a moment.

"Before we do so, might I have a word with you in private, Senor
Trevelyan?" he said. "I will not detain you more than a few moments."

I answered in the affirmative, and we moved a few paces away together.
To make sure that he played no trick upon me, I took my revolver from
my pocket and carried it somewhat ostentatiously in my hand. He
noticed the precaution and gave utterance to one of his peculiar
laughs.

"You need have no fear," he said. "I shall not run away. My heart, as
you may have heard, is a little weak, and I am afraid a sharp run on
this sand would not tend to improve it. Let us talk here. Now, Senor
Trevelyan, I am going to put a very simple question to you. I very
naturally presume that you have been well paid by my rival, Don Guzman
de Silvestre, to effect my capture and deportation?"

"It is scarcely necessary for me to admit that fact," I answered.
"Yes! All things considered, I am _very_ well paid."

"Needless to remark," he continued, "I have no desire to leave
Equinata. Nor am I anxious to find myself in my old enemy's hands. The
question I wish to put to you, therefore, is this: What would your
price be to let me go?"

"I cannot answer that question," I replied, "and for the simple reason
that I am unable to let you go at all."

"I should be willing to pay a large sum in cash, and, what is more, I
would give you a substantial guarantee that, if you would leave La
Gloria to-morrow, I would let you depart in peace."

"I am very sorry, General Fernandez," I said, "but I am afraid you
have made some little mistake in your estimation of my character. I
will be perfectly candid with you, and will admit that, if I could
live the past few weeks over again, I should not be treating you as I
am doing to-night. However, I have accepted Don Guzman's offer, and I
have taken his money. For that reason I cannot take yours, nor can I
let you go, glad as I should be to do so. I wonder what you would have
done with me, had I not had the good fortune to escape from the cartel
to-night?"

"I can tell you exactly," he answered. "You would have shared your
quarters with some of your fellow-conspirators, and I should have shot
you in the morning. Experience has taught me that there is nothing
like dispatch in these matters. Strike home, and strike hard, is my
motto."

"So I have been given to understand," I replied dryly. "And now let us
return to the boat."

"You are still determined not to let me go?" he said. "What do you
say to an offer of twenty thousand pounds, in English money?"

"I could not do it for fifty thousand," I replied. "Come along, sir,
the dawn will soon be here, and I am anxious to be out of Equinata
before it comes."

He gave a little shrug of the shoulders as I spoke, and then moved
towards the boat.

"One more question," he said before we joined the others. "Where are
you going to take me?"

"I shall hope to be able to show you that in a very short time," I
answered. "For the present, however, it must remain a secret. Now,
sir, into the boat, if you please."

Before he got in he turned to Don Jose de Hermanos, who was standing
with his friends by the water's edge.

"Farewell, Don Jose," he said, as genially as if he were addressing a
valued acquaintance. "I wonder whether you and I are destined to meet
again? As you are aware, I have a good memory for both friends and
enemies! I once imagined that you and I would have been able to work
together. I believe we should have done so, had not you committed
yourself too deeply to my rival before I was able to bring my
influence to bear upon you. I should put that mask in my pocket if I
were you. You forget that you have a mole upon your chin."

The man he addressed stepped back a pace as if he had been struck. He
had disguised himself so carefully that he thought detection was
impossible. Nevertheless, he had omitted to conceal a disfigurement on
the lower portion of his countenance that was sufficient to reveal his
identity to any one at all acquainted with him. His astonishment may
have accounted for his failure to reply to the other's speech.

The President having taken his place beside the Senorita, I prepared
to follow him, but before doing so I held out my hand to Hermanos.

"Good-bye, my friend," I said. "I owe you something for what you have
done for me to-night. I don't suppose we shall ever meet again, but,
if we do, I trust it may be under happier auspices."

"I never want to see your face again," he replied, with a candour that
was somewhat remarkable. Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he
continued: "For your own safety's sake, take care that you never come
back to Equinata. I cannot help thinking that it would have been
better if we had shot him out of hand. I fancy you will agree with me
before you have done."

His voice must have travelled further than he intended, for the
President heard it and uttered a quiet laugh.

"Always the same, always the same," he said mockingly. "You know what
ought to be done, but you don't do it. As somebody has said, you let
'I would' wait upon 'I dare!'"

At the same moment a sob escaped the Senorita. This decided me, and
springing into the boat I gave the order to shove off. The crew stood
up and pushed with their oars, and a moment later we were afloat. When
the men sat down and bent to their work I glanced back at the little
group of dark figures on the beach watching us. After a few minutes
they were lost against the dark background, and I turned my head to
search for the yacht. Already the sky was paling preparatory to the
dawn, and I knew that, if we did not hasten, we should scarcely be
clear of the coast by daylight. At last we reached the yacht, and
pulled up at the accommodation ladder.

"Allow me to help you, Senorita," I said, springing out and giving her
my hand.

Presently we stood together on the deck. Ferguson raised his cap, and
I could see that he was more than surprised at seeing a lady standing
before him.

"We will get away from here as soon as possible, Mr. Ferguson, if you
please," I said. "I want to be clear of La Gloria before daylight."

"Everything is ready, sir," he replied, "and as soon as we have got
the boat aboard I'll give the order for full steam ahead."

"In the meantime," I said, turning to the Senorita, "permit me to
escort you to the saloon. Doubtless you are ready for some supper
after your long drive."

I was determined that my coolness should equal hers. Nothing was to be
gained by acting the part of the stern gaoler. We accordingly passed
along the deck to the saloon. The electric bell summoned the attentive
chief steward, to whom I gave orders that a meal should be prepared
for us immediately.

I cannot attempt to make you understand how beautiful the Senorita
looked as she divested herself of her cloak and seated herself on the
luxurious divan that ran round the saloon. It must be remembered that
she had driven out from the city dressed just as she had been at the
ball, and as this thought crossed my mind I was struck with wonderment
as to what she would do for wearing apparel on board. She could not
spend the day in a low-necked dress, and with no stronger footgear
than a pair of white satin dancing-shoes. However, I postponed
consideration of the subject for the moment. Presently the steward
reappeared, the cloth was laid, and a meal placed upon the table. My
message from the cartel had given them time to prepare it, I suppose;
at any rate, it was as delightful a little supper as any one could
wish to partake of. We sat down to it, as strange a trio as you would
discover in a very long day's sail.

Fernandez still wore his ribbon and orders; the Senorita, as I have
already observed, was in evening dress with a _collet_ of diamonds
round her neck. I also was attired just as I had been at the ball,
though my raiment was somewhat dishevelled by my encounter with the
Presidential Forces on the wharf. We had scarcely sat down at the
table before the throbbing of the propellor announced the fact that we
were under way. Almost involuntarily I looked at the President.

"Our voyage has commenced," he said. "I drink to your health, Senor
Trevelyan!"

I drew a long deep breath of relief. It was something to know that we
were leaving Equinata at last, and that I had got the President
aboard. Since his treatment of me that evening, I felt no remorse for
having captured him. He had admitted that he would have shot me
without compunction had I remained in his power. He could scarcely
blame me, therefore, if I experienced a feeling of delight in having
turned the tables upon him.

"I must say your employer is by no means niggardly to you," remarked
Fernandez, when the servants had withdrawn. "As you do not provide
it, I suppose it is not a breach of good manners to observe that this
wine is excellent, while the cooking is all that can be desired."
Then, with a little sigh, whether real or assumed, he continued: "My
own _chef_ will now, I suppose, be obliged to seek another situation.
And in some respects he was unrivalled. Well, well, it's the fortune
of war!"

"Senor Trevelyan, is there no way of arranging for our return to
Equinata?" asked the Senorita, leaning a little forward and placing
one dainty hand upon my coat-sleeve, while she looked pleadingly into
my face.

"I am afraid not," I replied. "Don Fernandez and I have already
discussed that matter together, and have come to the conclusion that
it is impossible."

She rose from her chair. I thought she was going to break down, but
she managed to retain her composure.

"If you will allow me, I think I will retire to my cabin," she said.

I rang the bell for the steward and inquired what state-room had been
set aside for the lady. He informed me, and I immediately begged
permission to conduct her thither. She bade her uncle good-night and
we set off together. When she reached the door she turned to me.

"I feel sure you will be sorry some day for the part you have played
to-night," she remarked. "Why should you wish to take us away from the
country in which we were so happy, and for which we have done so
much?"

"For the simple reason that I am not my own master," I replied. "I am
a paid servant, and must do as I am ordered."

She heaved a heavy sigh, and then, without another word, turned and
entered the cabin. I thereupon returned to the saloon to find that
Fernandez had left it and had gone on deck. I discovered him upon the
bulwarks opposite the smoking-room entrance. He had just lit a cigar,
and was doubtless meditating on his position. The yacht was cleaving
her way through the water, and already the lights of La Gloria lay far
behind us.

"What are you thinking of, General?" I inquired as I took my position
alongside him.

"I was thinking how I could manage to outwit you," he replied.




CHAPTER X


It was with a feeling of profound thankfulness that I turned into my
bunk that morning. The clattering of feet on deck, and the slapping of
the water against the sides, greeted my ears like the sweetest music.
Only a few hours before I had deemed myself as good as a dead man. I
had been the prisoner of a man without the bowels of compassion, and,
what was worse, I knew that I had proved myself a traitor, and had not
the ghost of a chance of effecting my escape. Now, however, I was free
once more, and in a few days my mission to Equinata would be
accomplished; after which I should be at liberty to return to England,
to marry Molly, and to settle down to a very different life to that
which I had been leading for the past few weeks. When I fell asleep,
it was to dream that I was back at Falstead once more. I was smoking a
pipe in the front garden, and Molly, seated in the shade of our
favourite tree, was reading me an account of a terrible revolution
that had taken place in the Republic of Equinata.

"The President, Jose de Hermanos is his name," she said, "has been
assassinated. It appears that he married the niece of his predecessor,
General Fernandez!"

That would have been strange enough in all conscience!

Owing, I suppose, to the lateness of my retiring, I was not very early
astir, and when I reached the deck I made my way up to the bridge. It
was the second mate's watch, but I had not been there very long before
Captain Ferguson left his cabin and joined us. Thereupon the mate,
with a knowledge of what was correct under such circumstances, crossed
to the other side of the bridge, leaving us free to talk together
concerning the events of the previous night.

"You don't know what a fright I had, Mr. Trevelyan," said the captain.
"I sent a boat ashore as directed, and after waiting an hour and a
half it returned to report that you had not put in an appearance. I
had quite made up my mind that you had been captured."

"As a matter of fact, I was," I replied, and proceeded to give him an
outline of my adventures during the evening.

"This will be the last of this sort of business for me," he said,
when he heard me out. "The game is far from being worth the candle. I
wonder what the end of it all will be? From what I gathered when
ashore, and also from what you have told me, I have come to the
conclusion that whatever Don Silvestre's ambition may be, he has lost
his hold upon Equinata. If he is fool enough to return, I fancy he
will find that the other's party is still too strong for him. The part
of a President of a South American Republic is not an easy one to
play."

"The wonder to me is that they ever get any one to play it at all," I
answered. "Thank goodness, however, we have fulfilled our portion of
the contract; we have got Fernandez, and that's all that can be
expected of us."

"I think I understood you to say that the lady who accompanies him is
a relative?"

"She is his niece, and a very beautiful woman."

"If you were to ask me, I should say that I was more afraid of her
than of him. Stand by and keep your eye open for squalls, would be my
motto if I had to deal with her."

"You may be very sure that I will do that," I replied. "I think I know
the length of her ladyship's foot."

I thought of the time we had spent together in the balcony of the
Opera House, and how strangely her seriousness had affected me. It
was difficult to believe that it had all been a mere piece of acting.

Half-an-hour or so later, when I had left the bridge and had walked
aft, Fernandez made his appearance on deck.

"Good-morning, senor," I said, with a bow to him. "In compliment to
you we are favoured with a delightful morning."

"Delightful indeed," he replied, throwing a glance over the stern. "We
are well on our way, I suppose, and steering due north, I observe. Let
me see, if I am not mistaken, that should be in the direction of----"
Here he looked at me interrogatively, as if he expected me to answer
his question.

"In the direction of New York, shall we say?" I answered. "If we
continue as we are going long enough, I have no doubt we shall see the
Goddess of Liberty holding her torch aloft."

"The illustration is scarcely a pleasing one," he returned, "since I
am a prisoner. The Goddess of Liberty has not done very much for me.
But there, nothing is to be gained by repining! I have been in worse
positions than this before to-day, and have always managed to get out
of them with some sort of credit to myself."

"I hope you may do so in this instance," I answered, "but not while I
have the charge of you."

He looked at me steadily for a few seconds.

"Do you know, Senor Trevelyan," he said at last, "I have come to the
conclusion that I like you. I did not do so at first, but my opinion
of you has changed."

"I am very glad to hear you say so," I replied; "but I confess I can
scarcely see why you should have changed your mind regarding myself.
If there is one man in the world whom I despise, it is myself."

"And I fancy I can understand why," he continued, still with the same
grave look upon his face. "You must not, however, think badly of
yourself, for I can assure you, you have managed this business
remarkably well. The plot was excellently arranged. There is one
thing, however, that puzzles me; that is, how Hermanos managed to
overcome the Guards at the cartel? I quite imagined that the men were
to be relied on."

"I cannot give you any information on that point," I replied, knowing
that it was useless to endeavour to conceal the fact that Hermanos was
present on that occasion. "I had no knowledge of the affair until the
door was opened and I discovered that I was free."

"Some day I shall hope to be even with our friend Hermanos," Fernandez
replied, more to himself than to me. "I have always had my suspicions
about the man, but I never dreamt that he would rise to such a height
as he has done in this affair. I deemed him a coward throughout."

"And a coward he is," I answered. "He is scheming now to save his own
neck."

"The most dangerous conspirator you can have to deal with," Fernandez
remarked. "Such a man lacks the saving grace of Ambition. He who risks
his life for fame and fortune must have something good in him, but the
individual who embarks upon a conspiracy, and who would throw over and
denounce his friends on finding that his own participation in the plot
is about to be discovered, is neither fish, flesh, nor fowl. There was
a time when I could have had Hermanos for the holding up of a finger,
but I wanted men of firmer metal, men like yourself, for instance."

"You pay me a great compliment," I answered. "Unfortunately, however,
we met too late in the day. My services were already bespoken."

At that moment a steward approached him with a cup of chocolate and a
roll.

"This is luxury in bondage," he remarked as he took it. Then, with a
smile, he added: "If you had been breakfasting in the cartel this
moment, I should probably have only allowed you bread and water."

"With a dozen bullets in my body to help me digest it," I thought to
myself.

It was considerably past ten o'clock before the Senorita made her
appearance on deck. The question of her attire had occurred to me
earlier, and, in consequence, I had procured for her a cloth
pilot-coat from the third mate, who, as fortune had it, was only a
little fellow, and had placed it at her door. This she now wore, and
though the garment was somewhat incongruous, when the rest of her
attire was taken into consideration, the effect was by no means
unbecoming. On leaving the companion she looked about her, and then
ran her eye along the sky-line, as if in the hope of being able to
discover her whereabouts. The yacht was pitching a little at the time,
but I noticed that she balanced herself as cleverly as any old sailor
could have done. She bade us good-morning, but did not take the chair
I offered her.

"I wonder what they are doing at the palace," she said, more to her
uncle than to myself. "I hope they will not forget to feed my poor
little birds. I wonder if I shall ever see them again?"

"So long as there is life there is hope," replied the President. "Is
that not so, Senor Trevelyan?"

"I believe so," I answered. "Who knows but that you may be back in La
Gloria again before many months are past. Who is likely to be
appointed President in your absence?"

"General Sagana," Fernandez returned; "and, by the way, he was the man
who introduced you to me. I must endeavour to remember that fact when
next he and I meet!"

The expression on his face as he said this was not altogether a
pleasant one.

Hour after hour we steamed steadily on our course. The day was warm,
the sea as smooth as glass, and the sky a perfect blue. We passed two
vessels, but signalled neither. By midday our run totalled a hundred
and twenty-five miles, a very fair record, all things considered. As
for my passengers and myself we spent the greater part of the day
under the for'ard awning, where we amused ourselves and each other as
best we could. Had any stranger looked in upon us, he or she would
have found it difficult to realize our respective positions. I had not
the appearance of a gaoler, and no one would have guessed that the
President, leaning back in his chair, cigar in mouth, was the head of
an influential country and an abducted citizen.

The memory of our dinner that evening will never be effaced from my
mind. It forms one of a number of strange mental pictures connected
with that more than extraordinary time. The Senorita, who had
discarded the pea-jacket I have already referred to, appeared in all
the bravery of her previous evening's apparel. The President had
perforce to follow her example, and though he had discarded his
ribbon, he still wore his orders. I on my part, out of compliment to
them, dressed myself with great care, while Captain Ferguson, who
shared the meal with us, had also made an elaborate toilet. The
beautiful saloon, the noiseless servants, the lavish table
decorations, the excellent _menu_, and the rare wines, all combined to
play their parts in a scene that must almost be without a parallel.
After dinner we adjourned to the deck above, where we seated ourselves
and smoked until bed-time.

It would have been instructive to have known what thoughts were
passing in the minds of the various members of our party as we men lay
in our chairs upon the deck. That the Senorita was really the
President's niece I do not, and shall never believe. I have my own
reasons for making this statement, and they are fairly conclusive. The
President himself was an adventurer of the most determined
description. Ferguson was a sea captain and but little better--(he was
a married man, so I discovered later, and his wife kept a small girls'
school in a village near Plymouth), while I--well, you know all there
is to tell so far as I am concerned, so I need say no more on that
subject. Taken altogether, however, we were a queer quartette.

At ten o'clock the Senorita declared herself sleepy and retired to her
cabin, Ferguson went up to the bridge to see how things were there,
while the President and I started to patrol the deck. In the hour that
followed I learnt more of his past life than I had ever known before.
I knew very well that his career had been an extraordinary one, but I
had never dreamt that it had been so strange as his telling made it
appear. He was born in a village near Madrid. His parents were poor
but of noble birth. In due course he entered the army, but after a
time the life of a private soldier disgusted him, and he exchanged the
profession of arms for that of an assistant to a sugar planter on the
island of St. Vincent. An unfortunate love affair with the planter's
daughter threw him upon the world again, penniless. From the island he
drifted to the mainland of South America, saw a good deal of
Revolutionary fighting, and for the first time tried his hand at the
fascinating game of politics. The result was by no means satisfactory,
for he had the misfortune to throw in his lot with the losing side.
After a certain particularly stubborn battle he was captured and
condemned to be shot--a foretaste of the fate he had arranged for me.
At the last moment, however, the sentence was commuted to penal
servitude for life, and he was sent to the mines. Eventually he was
liberated and took service with the man who, up to that time, had been
his greatest enemy. He climbed the ladder of fame, and in time he
managed to win a fair amount of power in the land; another Revolution,
however, cast this power to the winds, and sent him flying post-haste
to the islands of the Pacific. In one way and another he enlarged his
experience there, saw life as a trader, a pearler, and an agent for
the native labour traffic as he euphemistically termed it. At last he
found himself on board a schooner returning to Valparaiso. It was then
that he first met Silvestre, and for some considerable time the two
men were on the most friendly terms. Fernandez, who had been warned as
to what was shortly to happen, discovered a post for the time being as
a clerk to an auctioneer. Then came the big Revolution--Fernandez
chose the winning side, Silvestre the losing. The latter departed to
Equinata--which country at that time was just coming into
notice--while his friend remained in Chili to derive what profit he
could for himself from his loyalty to the party he had assisted into
Power.

"As soon as I had saved sufficient money, however," he continued, "I
quitted the Republic and, after one or two other adventures with which
I will not trouble you, found myself stranded in Equinata. To my
astonishment I discovered that my old partner Silvestre had made the
best use of his time there, and by an extraordinary manipulation of
circumstances had managed to become a person of considerable
importance in the Republic. So far as I was concerned, however, there
was another _hegira_, and this time at a somewhat short notice. I next
visited the United States, afterwards crossed the Atlantic to Europe,
and, after an absence of some three years, found myself once more in
La Gloria. When I reached that country I discovered that a strange
change had taken place. Silvestre, who, though he had held a position
of some importance when I was last in Equinata, had shown no sign of
any great ability, was now President, and had even greater ambitions.
Needless to say I threw in my lot with him and----"

"Eventually ousted him from his position?" I put in. "I have heard
that part of the story from the man himself."

"Yes, I confess I did oust him," he answered, taking his cigar from
his mouth and knocking the ash off against the rail. "The victory is
to the strongest, and if Silvestre had been stronger than I--well--he
would have won. As it was, he fled the country. Whereupon I picked up
the reins of Government, played the game as I thought it should be
played, and now find myself and all my plans upset, I trust you will
forgive my plain speaking, by a man who only a few months ago was
chief officer on board a South American mail-boat. Who can say what
the next chapter of the story will be?"

"Well, you have had a very good innings, and I don't see that you have
any right to complain."

"Perhaps not," he replied. "But don't run away with the idea that,
because you've trapped me, I am beaten. I'm a long way off that!
Believe me, I know exactly how far you are concerned in the business,
and I tell you this, if you are wise, you will be advised by me, and
drop out of it as soon as you can. The time will come when Don Guzman
de Silvestre and I will have to settle accounts together, and if you
are a prudent man you will have balanced your books with him and have
departed long before that."

"I think I am very well able to take care of myself," I remarked.

"Ah! We all think that! Sometimes, however, we find we are wrong."

A few moments later he bade me good-night and retired to his cabin. I
accompanied him so far as the saloon companion entrance and then
returned to my chair on deck. I had not been there many minutes before
Ferguson joined me.

"We shall have to keep a sharp look-out on our friend, Don Fernandez,"
he said, after he had lit a cigar. "I don't trust him a little bit."

"How so?" I inquired. "What has he been up to now?"

"Nothing very much that I know of," the captain replied, "but I have a
sort of notion that he has been endeavouring to sound some of the men
as to the chance of seizing the boat. He has said nothing outright,
but Reston (the boatswain) tells me he dropped a hint to him that a
large reward would be forthcoming if he and his niece were helped
ashore again. He has a most persuasive manner, unlimited wealth, and
there's not very much, I fancy, that he would stop at."

"I suppose you can place implicit trust in your officers and crew?" I
said.

"Implicit trust," he answered. "But with a man like Fernandez aboard
one cannot take too many precautions."

"You are right," I replied. "At the same time, I must admit that I
like the man. More, perhaps, than I do--well, another gentleman with
whom we are both acquainted."

Ferguson understood my meaning.

"I understand," he replied. "And what's more I agree with you."

When we had chatted for upwards of an hour I bade him good-night, and
went below to my cabin to fall asleep and dream that Fernandez had
seized the boat and was going to make me walk the plank at daylight.

In two days we were due to arrive at the island. From the progress we
were making, and from the glimpse I had of the chart, it struck me
that we should reach San Diaz between six and seven o'clock in the
evening.

At four o'clock on the following afternoon I was standing at the
taffrail, looking at the frothing wake astern, and thinking of
something very far removed from Equinata and her President. As a
matter of fact I was wondering how long it would be before I should
see Falstead again, and what sort of welcome I should receive from
Molly and my mother on my return, when I caught the sound of a light
footstep behind me. I turned my head to discover the Senorita. She
came and stood beside me resting her jewelled hands upon the rail. It
did not take me long to become aware that she was in one of her
curious moods. Her manner was most persuasive and seductive to a
degree, and once or twice I found myself admiring her beauty, and for
the moment forgetting how dangerous a woman she was.

"I am afraid, Senorita," I said, "that since we danced together in the
Opera House I have fallen woefully in your estimation."

"Why should that be so?" she answered. "I admire your resource, and
however much I may deplore it, cannot help but admire the cleverness
with which you carried out your scheme, in spite of the opposition you
received. Had you been working for us I should have offered you my
heartiest congratulations, but since we are the victims of your skill,
you can scarcely expect me to be so magnanimous. Oh! Senor Trevelyan,
how I wish I could have persuaded you to side with us. But you had
already cast in your lot with the enemy. At one time I had almost
begun to think that I was deceived in you, but the other night when
you refused my uncle's bribe I realized your real character. To a man
of such enterprise as you possess anything is possible. Have you never
experienced a longing for power yourself? If I were a man, my ambition
would be limitless. As it is, I can only admire what I see of it in
others!"

Recalling that conversation now, it seems as plain to me as daylight
that she was doing her best to hoodwink me. I must confess, however,
that at the time I failed entirely to see through her motive. As I
have said before she was a beautiful woman, and she had the advantage
of also being an extremely clever one. No one will ever know the
temptations she placed before me that evening, and I think it says
something for my love for Molly--not to mention my sense of duty to
Silvestre, that I did not give way to her. By some mysterious means
she had discovered the bond that existed between Ferguson and myself;
she knew also that I was all-powerful aboard the yacht, and if she did
not prevail upon me to turn the boat's head about and convey them back
to Equinata, well, it was certainly not for want of trying. I proved
adamant, however, and when at last she left me and went below it must
have been with the consciousness that she had not only failed in her
scheme but had done herself harm into the bargain.

"You have had the pleasure of my niece's company for some considerable
time," said Fernandez, when I joined him some minutes later. "I hope
you have had a pleasant and instructive conversation!"

There was a scarcely-concealed sneer in his voice that I did not fail
to notice.

"The Senorita has been endeavouring to undermine my loyalty to
Silvestre," I said, blurting out the truth without fear of the
consequences. "She has promised me, on your behalf, all sorts of
rewards if I will turn traitor and run the boat back to La Gloria."

"And I gather from your tone that she was not successful," he replied.
"You are a very pillar of rectitude, my friend."

"What is more," I continued, ignoring his sneer, and making up my mind
to let him have it from the shoulder while I was about it, "I hear
from Captain Ferguson that you have been endeavouring to tamper with
the crew. I should be sorry, senor, to be compelled to confine you to
your cabin for the rest of the voyage, but if this sort of thing
continues I fear there will be no other course left open to me."

"You surely would not have me neglect an opportunity when it presents
itself?" he returned, still with the same curious smile upon his face.
"I have as much right to try to help myself out of this hole as you
had to get me into it. However, as your men appear to be as immaculate
and bribe-proof as their leaders, I will give you my assurance that I
will not tamper with their honour again. Will that satisfy you?"

"As long as you stick to it," I replied. "But I warn you that I shall
keep a strict watch upon you, and if you play me false you know what
you may expect."

From that moment I had no more trouble with either of them. The
Senorita adopted a haughty air towards me. The President, on the other
hand, made himself even more agreeable to me than he had been before.

One day later, and, as I expected, a little before sun-down, a small
speck appeared upon the horizon. This gradually increased in size
until it developed into a small densely-wooded island.

"That," said Ferguson, who was standing beside me on the bridge, "is
San Diaz!"

"And, thank goodness, our destination!"




CHAPTER XI


The island of San Diaz is some fifteen miles long by eight wide. From
end to end it is densely wooded; in fact, a large proportion of its
area is still primeval forest. The population numbers only a few
hundreds, and the majority of the inhabitants are black. For the most
part they are a retiring race. How they live, or what they live upon,
would at first glance seem difficult to understand; but they appear to
enjoy life in their harmless way, and, being cut off from certain
doubtful blessings of our so-called Civilization, they generally
manage to elude the clutches of old Boney for a longer space of time
than do their brethren in better known and more popular climes.

As I observed at the close of the preceding chapter, I was on the
bridge with Ferguson when we first sighted the island. After a close
consultation of the chart that he held in his hand, he put his helm
up, and hugged the shore for a distance of something like five miles.
Then, finding himself at the entrance of a fair-sized bay, he turned
in and prepared to seek an anchorage. The view from the deck at that
moment was a very pleasing one. First the blue water of the bay, then
a white beach, after which the ground began to ascend until it
reached, in a somewhat precipitous <DW72>, a plateau at an elevation of
something like two hundred feet above sea-level. On this plateau,
nestling among the trees, stood a long white house, with several
smaller buildings clustered round it. As we watched, the report of a
firearm reached us from the settlement, followed by another and yet
another in quick succession. It was the signal I had arranged for with
Silvestre, and it proclaimed the fact that he was aware of our
arrival.

"I'm a bit distrustful about the soundings," said Ferguson, as we
steamed slowly in. "This chart is no sort of good. However, I don't
think we can do much harm here."

Then holding up his hand to the chief mate, who was in charge of the
anchor on the fo'c'sle-head, he signalled to him to let go. The roar
of the cable through the hawse-hole followed, and a few seconds later
the yacht was at anchor. When the vessel was stationary I descended
the ladder from the bridge to find the President and the Senorita
leaning on the port-bulwarks attentively studying the shore. Still
Fernandez showed no sign of any sort of trepidation. Yet he must have
realized how dangerous was his position. He had admitted that he had
done Silvestre a great wrong, and he could scarcely fail to be aware
that the latter, having him at his mercy, would be certain to
retaliate. Yet here he was chattering as coolly with the Senorita as
if he were sitting on the terrace at his palace in La Gloria. The man
was the possessor of an iron nerve which nothing could shake.
Moreover, as he had informed me on another occasion, he was a
fatalist.

"What is arranged will certainly happen," he had then remarked to me.
"If I am to be assassinated in the street, it is quite certain I shall
not be drowned at sea. If I am to die in my bed, it will not be on the
battlefield. Why should I worry myself if the end is ordained for me?"

When he had seen everything secure, Ferguson left the bridge and
joined us.

"Are you going ashore, Mr. Trevelyan," he inquired, "or will you wait
on board until they send out to us?"

"I think it would be better to wait," I replied.

"If I am not mistaken, they are launching a boat now," Fernandez
remarked.

What he said was correct. Several men had descended the steep path
from the plateau already mentioned, and were even then running a boat
across the sands towards the water. When she was afloat, they hung
about her as if not certain what to do next. A few seconds later,
however, a man, dressed in white, appeared from among the trees and
joined them. He entered the boat, whereupon it began to move towards
us. As she approached I noticed that she was pulled by four stalwart
<DW64>s, and that the man steering her was not Silvestre as I had
expected, but a younger man, and a mulatto. As soon as the boat
reached the ladder, he sprang nimbly on to the grating and ran up to
us.

"Senor Trevelyan!" he said, looking from one to the other of us as if
to discover whom he should address.

"That is my name," I answered. "Have you a message for me?" Before he
replied, he took me on one side.

"Don Guzman de Silvestre is not well," he said. "He bids me say,
however, that you had better bring your prisoner up to the house
without delay."

"He is not aware, of course, that a lady has accompanied us?" I
remarked.

The other shook his head, and then turned his eyes in the direction of
the spot where the Senorita was standing.

"He will not be pleased," he said.

I felt that I would give something to know what preparations Silvestre
had made for Fernandez' reception; but I did not put any questions to
the messenger, feeling that in all probability his master had given
orders to him to be silent.

"Can you carry four people in the boat?" I inquired, going to the side
and looking down at the craft in question.

"Half-a-dozen, if you wish," he answered; "she will not sink with us."

I thereupon went back to the President.

"If you are quite ready, I think we will land at once," I said. "It
will be dark very soon."

He shrugged his shoulders, and remarked that he would go below and
fetch his cloak. The Senorita suggested that she should follow his
example. Fearing that there was a possible chance of their outwitting
me at the last moment, I declared that I could not hear of their
taking so much trouble, and thereupon despatched one of the stewards
in search of the articles in question. When they were brought on deck,
we descended to the boat alongside and started for the shore.

As soon as we reached it, I sprang from the boat and helped the
Senorita to disembark. Then, guided by the half-caste, whose name I
discovered was Manuel, we set to work to climb the steep ascent to the
buildings I had seen from the yacht. If the descent at Horejos had
been steep, this was ten times more so. The path, if path it could be
called, was one long climb, and wound its way in and out through the
thick undergrowth in a most disconcerting and leg-wearying fashion.

At last, when the whole party were out of breath, and the Senorita
quite exhausted, we tottered on to the plateau on which the houses
were situated. The principal building, that in the centre, was a long
low affair surrounded, so far as I could see, by a broad verandah;
that to the left was plainly the servants' quarters, while the
ramshackle huts, still further away, were probably the dwellings of
the native hands. Crossing the open space, Manuel led us towards the
largest building. The place was much fallen to decay, but it was still
quite habitable. French windows opened from the rooms into the
verandah, and towards one of these we were conducted. Opening it, and
standing in the entrance, he signed to the President and the Senorita
to pass into the room. I followed them, and when he had entered, he
carefully closed the windows after us. We found ourselves in a large
room, having a polished floor, whitewashed walls, and a raftered roof,
the latter without a ceiling. A large table stood in the centre of
the room, there were half-a-dozen curious chairs scattered about,
while in the corner beside the door was a wicker-couch, upon which a
man was stretched out at full length. One glance was sufficient to
tell me that he was Don Guzman de Silvestre, but so changed that, had
I not expected to see him, I doubt if I should have recognized him.
His face was pinched and haggard, his eyes shone with an unnatural
brilliance, while his hands trembled as if with the palsy.

"Welcome, Trevelyan, I congratulate you," he cried, as I entered the
room. "You have fulfilled your mission admirably." Then, turning to
his old enemy, he continued: "And so, my dear Fernandez, we meet
again, do we? It is long since we last saw each other. But, stay, who
is the lady? What is she doing here?"

I gave him the necessary information, whereupon he raised himself upon
his couch.

"I am more than honoured," he remarked. "I did not anticipate such a
pleasure. I presume, Trevelyan, you could not catch one without the
other? Was not that so?"

In reply, I admitted that it was, whereupon he bade Manuel move a
chair forward for the Senorita, then, turning to Fernandez, he began
once more.

"Yes, it is certainly a long time since we had the pleasure of
meeting," he said. "Let me see, I wonder if I can recall the day. It
was the anniversary of the battle of Pladova, was it not? I had
arranged to preside at a banquet that evening in celebration of the
great event. You called upon me in the morning, professing great
friendship. Prior to that you had undermined all my officials, and had
arranged that, at the conclusion of the banquet, I was to be arrested,
whereupon you were to proclaim yourself Dictator."

"I am glad to observe that, however poor your health may be, your
memory is as good as ever," Fernandez replied. "You have described the
situation exactly."

"Yes," Silvestre continued, "I have an excellent memory! Unfortunately
for your scheme, however, I happened to hear of it in time. At the
last moment a sudden indisposition kept me at the palace, and
prevented my being present at the dinner. So anxious were you
concerning the state of my health that you called at the palace later
to inquire after my welfare, only to find that I had taken time by the
forelock and had effected my escape. It was a pity, for I fancy you
would have found it more profitable to have shot me, and so have put
me out of harm's way at once."

"It certainly was rather a pity we could not do so," said the
President, "but you can have your revenge now. What are your
intentions regarding myself?"

"I must take time to think that matter over," Silvestre replied. "The
account I have to settle with you is a long one, and I am not the man,
as you know, to do things in a hurry."

I saw the Senorita look at him with a light in her eyes like that of a
beautiful trapped animal. She was trying to appear calm, but from the
way in which she laced and interlaced her fingers, I could see the
strain under which she was labouring.

"If there is likely to be anything disagreeable," said Fernandez, "I
should be glad if you would get it over at once. Nothing is to be
gained by delaying matters."

"As I said just now, I must have time to think it over," the other
replied. "Upon one thing, however, you can make up your mind, you will
never see Equinata again."

"At the present moment it certainly does not seem very probable that I
shall," Fernandez answered, still with the same good-humour. "And now
with regard to another matter! What are your intentions concerning
this lady?"

He made a movement with his hands towards the Senorita as he spoke.

"She shall, of course, be treated with all due consideration and
respect," Silvestre returned. "Let that content you!"

He turned to Manuel, who was standing at the window, and bade him call
the guards into the room. The latter accordingly made his way into the
verandah, and shouted something in a dialect with which I was not
familiar. In response to his summons, four gigantic <DW64>s, armed
with rifles (they had evidently been waiting somewhere in the
immediate vicinity) stalked into the room. Without waiting for
instructions, they took their places on either side of Fernandez. My
first fear was that they were going to dispatch the ex-President there
and then. Silvestre must have realized what was passing in my mind,
for he laughed and said:

"You need have no fear, my friend. I am not going to do him any
violence. Let him be conveyed to the hut," he continued to Manuel,
"and be sure that the door is locked when you come away. Place a
sentry over him, and bring me the key. Allow me to wish you
good-evening, Don Fernandez, and may pleasant dreams attend your
slumbers."

The Senorita had risen, and had taken a step towards Silvestre. She
tried to speak, but failed in the attempt. At last she sank back in
her chair with an ashen face, and then Fernandez was led away.

"Trevelyan, my dear fellow, may I ask you to be so good as to go to
that door and clap your hands twice," said Silvestre, when the other
had disappeared.

I did so, and after a few moments had elapsed an elderly negress,
whose curly hair was almost snow-white, put in an appearance. In all
my experience of the African race I had never seen so hideous a
creature.

"Palmyre," Silvestre began, "take this lady to a room and prepare it
for her." Then to the Senorita he continued: "If there is anything I
can do to promote your comfort, pray command me. I deeply regret that
my health is not sufficiently good to permit of my attending to
matters myself. Doubtless you will be gracious enough to take the will
for the deed."

She did not answer, but followed Palmyre from the room. When they had
disappeared Silvestre turned to me.

"You have managed the affair most excellently, friend Helmsworth," he
said. "I congratulate you heartily. Now tell me exactly what happened.
Remember I have no knowledge of your doings since we bade each other
good-bye in London."

I thereupon set to work and gave him a description of my adventures.

"You certainly had a narrow escape of it in the cartel," he remarked
when I had finished. "Had Hermanos not rescued you so opportunely,
Fernandez would have shot you without remorse. I wish, however, that
you had not been compelled to bring the Senorita with you. But perhaps
it was for the best. If you had left her behind, she would have made
mischief. You must have had a queer voyage with those two. I wonder
what your sweetheart in England would have said, could she have looked
in upon you?"

"We will leave her out of the question, if you don't mind," I said
quietly.

There was a time when I had liked and even admired the man, but two or
three things I had heard during my stay in Equinata, and the fiendish
pleasure he had just taken in gibing at his fallen enemy, had produced
in me a feeling that was very near akin to loathing.

"Don Guzman," I began, more seriously than I had yet spoken, "I trust
you will bear in mind the promise you gave me in England!"

"And what promise was that?" he asked suspiciously.

"You gave me your most positive assurance that no violence of any sort
should be used towards the man who is now in your power!"

"And I am not aware that I have said that any violence would be used,"
he answered angrily. "What makes you think that I want to harm him?
Didn't I tell you that my only desire is to keep him out of harm's way
until I have once more grasped the reins of government in Equinata?
Your part of the business is finished, and to-morrow I will pay you
the reward I promised you. Hand me up that quinine, there's a good
fellow. I've suffered agonies from this cursed fever for the last
three days. It's just my luck to be struck down just at the moment
when it is necessary for me to be most active!"

I helped him to a dose of the medicine.

"Where will you live during the time you are here?" he asked at last.
"Ashore or on board the yacht?"

"I should prefer the yacht if----"

"If you thought you could depend on my not knocking those miserable
beggars on the head in the meantime, I suppose? Come, come," he
continued with a laugh, "if you go on like this, I shall begin to
think that the ex-President's niece has proved herself more dangerous
than I at first imagined."

Then, doubtless seeing from my face that he was venturing on dangerous
ground, he made haste to appease me.

"Don't take offence at a harmless jest, my dear fellow," he said. "You
know very well I don't mean it."

Then, vowing that he was too ill to talk any more just then, he bade
me good-bye, promising to see me on the morrow, if I would come up.
Before I went, however, I had a proposition to make to him. I did not
like to leave the Senorita in his hands, so I begged that he would
allow her to return to the yacht, giving as an excuse the plea that
she would enjoy greater comfort there.

"There is not the least necessity," he replied. "She will be very well
taken care of here. Just for the present I prefer to have the lady
under my own eye. Sailors are impressionable beings, and there is no
telling what ideas she might put into their heads. Remember me to
Ferguson and the others, and be sure to be up here by eleven in the
morning. Good-night!"

I thereupon left him and returned by the path to the beach below. The
<DW65>s who had brought us ashore had departed, so taking my boat-call
from my pocket I blew a shrill blast upon it. They must have heard me
on the yacht, for a boat was immediately lowered and sent off to fetch
me. Arriving on board I went in search of Ferguson, to whom I stated
that I did not at all like the look of things ashore. I communicated
to him my fear that Silvestre, in spite of the assurance he had given
me to the contrary, contemplated doing some mischief to Fernandez.

"I should not be at all surprised if he did," my companion replied.
"The two men have a lot to settle between them, and Silvestre is not
the sort of man to forget or to forgive an injury."

"But he gave me his word of honour, when I undertook the task of
getting the President out of the country, that he only meant to keep
him locked up until all chance of his upsetting matters in Equinata
was past and done with."

"They say that promises, like pie-crust," Ferguson returned, "are made
to be broken. I wonder what Silvestre's promises are like? Heigho! I
shall be thankful when I have done with the whole concern."

"And when do you think that will be?"

"When I have landed Don Guzman on the mainland," he replied. "Then I
have to take this vessel back to a certain northern port, and to hand
her over to a man who is to meet her there. After that, old England,
and, if Allah wills, a life of an entirely different description."

Next morning I returned to the house on the hill, to find Silvestre's
health much improved, and his prisoners, as he found early occasion to
inform me, still alive.

"The lady," he said, "treated me to a pretty specimen of her temper
last night. She wouldn't leave her room, and declined to eat her food.
Realizing that it was not the least use arguing with her, I left her
to her own devices. Her condition, I understand, has somewhat improved
this morning."

Presently he produced from his pocket a bundle of bank-notes, which he
handed to me.

"Here is the payment I promised you for your work in Bank of England
notes," he said. "Just run your eye over them, will you, and see that
the amount is right?"

A few moments' investigation convinced me that the notes in question
amounted to the value of five thousand pounds. As I dropped the bundle
into the inside pocket of my coat, I reflected that it would be a big
sum to carry about with me continually. As I had no safer place,
however, I had to put up with it.

"And now there's a question I want to put to you," I said. "My work is
at an end, so when will it be possible for me to leave for England?"

"You can go when you like," he answered. "You will find that I am
prepared to stick to my side of the contract as faithfully as you have
done to yours. Shall we say the day after to-morrow? If that will suit
you, the yacht can take you across to Cuba, drop you on the coast
after dark, and you can then find your way to Santiago, or elsewhere,
as you please."

"The day after to-morrow will suit me admirably," I replied. "As you
may suppose, I am all anxiety to get home. And when do _you_ propose
sailing for Equinata?"

"When the yacht returns," he answered. "I desire to get to business as
soon as possible."

"And do you still think that you will be successful in your
enterprise?"

"Why not?" he asked. "I have run the risk before, and I am going to do
so again. I've got some powerful friends at my back, and with one or
two of my worst enemies, Fernandez and his niece, for instance, out of
the way, I am fairly confident I shall be able to manage it. I suppose
it would be no use asking you to come with me? I could make it worth
your while to do so."

"I would not go with you for all the money in the world," I answered.
"I have had enough of Equinata to last me a lifetime. I never want to
see the place again."

"Our tastes differ, I see; for I am as anxious to settle there for the
remainder of my existence as you are to remain away from it."

That afternoon I went for a somewhat lengthy stroll through the
island. I was ill at ease, and I wanted to make up my mind, if
possible, as to how I should act with regard to Fernandez and the
Senorita. Common humanity forbade that I should callously leave the
island and abandon them to the fate I felt sure awaited them. Yet how
could I remain, and what good could I do if I did so? I knew that in
his heart Ferguson was well disposed towards me, but even if he were
would he dare to interfere? And again, if he did would the others take
sides with us or with Silvestre? By the time I reached the beach once
more I had come to no sort of decision. For the time being I gave the
matter up as a bad job. I was in the act of stepping into the boat
that was to take me on board, when a shout from the wood behind
attracted my attention. It emanated from Ferguson. When he reached the
boat I noticed that he was deathly pale, and that there was a look in
his eyes I had never seen there before.

"What is the matter?" I asked. "You look as if you had seen a ghost!"

"Hush! I'll tell you when we get on board," he replied. "It would be
impossible to do so now."




CHAPTER XII


Of one thing you may be sure; that was the fact that I was more than
anxious to hear what Ferguson had to tell me. That the man was very
much upset I could see, while the hint he had given me in the boat,
concerning certain tidings he had to tell me, frightened me beyond
measure. Immediately on reaching the yacht I took him to the saloon
and poured him out a stiff glass of grog. He drank it off, and when he
had done so, seemed the better for it.

"Now come along to the chart-room," I said, "and let me hear what you
have to say. We shall be alone there, and I gathered from your manner
that what you have to tell me will not bear the presence of
eavesdroppers."

"Come along then," he replied. "Let us go up there at once, I shall
not rest happy until I have shared this with you."

We accordingly left the saloon and ascended to the bridge. Once in the
chart-room, and when we had shut the door carefully behind us, I
seated myself on the chart locker, while Ferguson took possession of
the couch.

"Now then, go ahead," I said. "What have you discovered?"

"It's the most fiendish plot I ever heard of," he replied. "I would
not have believed a man could have thought of anything so vile. If I
had not chanced to stray where I did no one would have been the wiser.
And then----" He stopped abruptly, as if the thought were too much for
him.

"But you have not told me yet what it is you have heard," I continued,
with some sort of impatience.

He rose and went to the door, opened it, looked outside, and then
returned once more to his place on the couch.

"This afternoon, as you know," he began, leaning forward on his seat,
as if he were desirous that no one but myself should hear, "I went
ashore to see Silvestre. He was anxious, he said, to consult me
concerning the business of taking you to Cuba, and also about the
landing of himself and the others on the Equinata coast. I had a long
talk with him, during which he was all graciousness and condescension.
Butter wouldn't have melted in his mouth. He praised all the services
we had rendered him. You can have no idea how pleasant he was. When he
became President, I was to have command, if I wished it, of an
Equinata man-o'-war, etc., and above all others I was to be his
trusted naval adviser. No post could be too big for me."

"It sounds very nice, but he also endeavoured to advise me to return
with him," I said.

"And what reply did you give him?" Ferguson inquired.

"I gave him to understand that I would not go back to Equinata for all
the money in the world," I said. "I had had quite enough of the place
to last me a lifetime."

"That was my reply exactly," Ferguson replied. "The next time they see
me there of my own free will, they may treat me as they please."

"Well, never mind that, continue your story," I returned. "What is it
you have discovered?"

"Well, after I left Silvestre, I had the misfortune--or the good
fortune--as you may consider it, to miss my way. How I came to do so I
am unable to say. It is sufficient that I did. You know how thick the
jungle is up there! Well! instead of taking the track that brings one
down to where we embark, I branched off to the left, and found myself
stranded in as thick a bit of scrub as ever I have seen in my life. It
was hot enough to roast the scalp on your head, and I was just
beginning to think of turning back, when I heard a voice come from
thick bushes on my right. 'Hulloa, what on earth is he doing there?'
I said to myself, for I recognized it as belonging to Manuel, the
half-caste. The words I heard him utter made me more than a bit
suspicious."

"What was it he said?" I inquired.

"'You can do it easily, nobody will ever find out,'" Ferguson replied.
"'But I can't, I can't,' a woman's voice answered. It was old Palmyre,
the negress, who spoke. 'You'd better do it, or he'll cut your throat
as he would a pig's,' Manuel continued. 'Why do you argue about the
matter? You know very well that you are out here gathering the herbs
yourself.' 'But their spirits will haunt me,' cried the old woman.
That made me all attention, you may be sure. The half-caste uttered an
oath in reply. The spirit that would haunt him would have to be a
fairly potent one. 'What does it matter,' he went on; 'you will be
well paid for it.' For a few seconds nothing more was said, but as I
listened I heard something that sounded very like a sob. Whatever he
was trying to persuade the old negress to do, it was very plain that
she did not relish the job. Presently she whispered, 'When must it be
done?' 'As soon as Silvestre leaves in the yacht,' the other replied.
'What difficulty is there in it? All you have to do is to stew the
herbs and to slip them into their food. You'll be a rich woman for
the rest of your life.' After that they moved further away from me,
and I came down to the boat."

"Good heavens!" I cried, the awful truth coming to me in a flash.
"Silvestre intends to poison them."

"There is not much doubt about that," said Ferguson. "When you are out
of the way and he has left for Equinata, the Senorita and President
will never trouble him or any one else again. And as far as I can see
nothing can save them!"

"It's too horrible! It's devilish," I cried, springing to my feet. "He
took his oath to me that not a hair of their heads should be harmed."

"He wished you to take his words literally, you see," Ferguson
returned. "He said nothing about giving each of them a dose of poison.
Look at the matter from his point of view. As long as they live they
are his enemies and he is not safe. He owes Fernandez a deadly grudge
and he means to pay it."

"But what is to be done? We cannot let them be murdered in cold blood.
Human nature couldn't stand that. And yet if he knows that we are
aware of his plot, he will take means to prevent our interfering and
kill them out of hand. For God's sake, Ferguson, advise me!"

"I don't see exactly what we can do," he replied sorrowfully.
"Silvestre has got us in a cleft stick and we can't help ourselves."

"But surely you are not going to stand by and allow him to carry out
his fiendish plot?" I returned hotly. "I can't believe that of you!"

"But you don't know what Silvestre is," said Ferguson, not daring to
meet my eyes. "It would be madness to thwart him."

"If I don't know what he is," I retorted, "I at least know what I am.
I brought these unfortunate people here. He shall not harm them, if it
costs me all I have on earth, even life itself. And what is more, if
you're a man you'll help me."

"But what can I do?" he answered helplessly. "I have always been
considered a fairly plucky fellow. I must confess, however, that this
business is too much for me. I've a wife and family to think of, you
know!"

"Your wife would despise you above all living men if she knew that you
were a party to the murder of that woman," I answered.

He scratched his chin and looked at me in a perplexed way. It was
evident to me that I must not expect very much assistance from him.

"To my mind a man ought to think of his wife and children before
anything else," he said at last, in a tone of apology. "If anything
happens to me what is to become of them? I'm beginning to think I was
a fool to have told you anything about it!"

"Not a bit of it," I answered. "There, at least, you did an honest
action. Don't spoil it by drawing back."

This only elicited his old query.

"But what can we do?"

"We must get them out of the island before Silvestre can do them a
mischief," I replied.

"And pray how is that to be done?"

"A way must be found," I answered. "Surely it should not be so very
difficult. Remember, Ferguson, I did you a good turn once. Repay it
now by helping me to save them. If they die, their deaths will be at
our doors. For my part, if that happens I shall never know a moment's
peace again, or be able to look an honest man or woman in the face. I
worked for Silvestre because I had given him my promise to do so, and
had taken his money; he has repaid it by breaking his oath to me. By
jove! whether I am bound to him or not, I will prevent him from
carrying out this terrible crime."

I could see that, and also realized, that whatever Ferguson's desire
might be to help me, he was not willing to run any great risks
himself.

"I must have time to think it over," he said. "In the meantime keep
your own counsel. If a hint of this gets about we are done for."

I did not reply, but left him and went below to my cabin, where I
threw myself down on my bunk and set to work to try and think the
question out. What a fool I had been to mix myself up in the matter at
all. One moment's thought should have told me that Silvestre was not
the sort of man to have any mercy upon his enemy. A dozen plans for
effecting the escape of the President and Senorita formed themselves
in my mind, only to be thrown aside at once as useless. Then the gong
sounded for dinner and I made my way to the saloon. I had just set
foot inside the companion, when a voice I knew so well, and had now
learned to hate, greeted me.

"Good-evening, my friend," said Silvestre cheerily. "I have come
aboard to be your guest this evening. As my fever has left me, I
thought a little sea air and congenial society would do me no harm.
Shall we go in to dinner?"

For a moment I was so surprised at seeing him that I could not answer.
I followed him, however, to the saloon, where I found that three
places had been laid. A few minutes later Ferguson made his appearance
and we sat down to our meal. As we did so I shot a glance at the
other's face. It was plain from the expression upon it that
Silvestre's presence had alarmed him considerably.

"We should really have invited the Senorita to join us," said
Silvestre, as he spread his serviette over his knees. "Senor
Fernandez, I regret to say, is suffering from a slight attack of fever
to-day. I have prescribed for him, however, and trust he will be
himself shortly."

As he said this I glanced sharply at him. Was he commencing his awful
crime already? The mere thought of it was sufficient to take my
appetite away. Had I been able to follow my own inclinations, I should
have laid down my knife and fork and have risen from the table without
touching another morsel. Prudence, however, bade me remain where I
was. I shot a glance at Ferguson, to find him wiping his face with his
handkerchief. Silvestre was also watching him.

"The evening is very hot," said the captain, by way of excuse, "very
hot indeed."

"I agree with you," Silvestre returned dryly. "If I am not mistaken,
we shall have a thunderstorm later."

During the remainder of the repast Silvestre continued to converse in
very much his usual fashion. He did not refer again, however, to the
prisoners. At ten o'clock he left for the shore, but before he did so,
he bade me be ready to start for Cuba on the following afternoon. I
tried to invent an excuse for remaining longer, but one would not come
to my hand.

"Needless to say I am anxious to get on to Equinata with all
dispatch," said Silvestre. "I cannot do so until I have carried out my
promise to you."

"Why not go first and let the yacht come back for me?" I suggested. "I
am in no particular hurry."

"I could not dream of such a thing," he answered politely. "It would
be better for you to go at once. Indeed, I have this evening given the
necessary instructions to Ferguson."

After that there was nothing more to be said.

As he went down the accommodation ladder an idea occurred to me. His
boat was not more than a dozen lengths from the yacht's side before I
had made my way up the ladder to the bridge and had entered the
chart-room. Above the chart-locker was a shelf on which were kept the
books of reference needful for the navigation of the yacht. In a fever
of impatience I ran my eye along them until I came upon the volume I
wanted. To consult the index and discover a certain island was a
question of a few moments. I read what the book had to say regarding
it, but I was not greatly relieved by so doing. Communication with the
island was evidently only a matter of chance. I thereupon took the
chart of that particular part of the Carribean Sea and studied it
attentively. The nearest island to San Diaz was that of Asturia,
distant something like a day and a half's steam. It was comforting to
learn that numerous trading boats touched there. Let me go at once, as
Silvestre had proposed, and, instead of proceeding to Cuba, induce
Ferguson to put into this island. If luck favoured me, I could charter
a vessel there and return to San Diaz to rescue the President and the
Senorita. Having once thought of this plan, I was eager to put it into
execution. I determined, however, to say nothing to Ferguson until the
morrow, and only then when we were well out at sea. Friendly though
the little man was to me, I had seen enough of him to feel sure that
it would need but little pressure from Silvestre to undermine that
friendship.

Next morning I left the yacht and went ashore to bid Silvestre
farewell. I could very well have dispensed with this ceremony, but I
was afraid of arousing his suspicions. I found him seated in the
verandah of his house when I arrived, a cigar in his mouth, and a book
in his hand. He greeted me pleasantly enough. As I looked at him I
could not help recalling the evening when I had seen him seated in the
little summerhouse of the inn at Falstead. How many things had
happened since that memorable afternoon!

He rose to receive me and held out his hand.

"I wonder whether we shall ever see each other again, Helmsworth?" he
said, when I had seated myself. "You have done me a great service, and
in the name of the people of Equinata I thank you for it. You will
return to Falstead at once, I suppose," he went on, after a short
pause, "marry the girl of your heart, and settle down to shire life. I
wonder what my fate will be?"

I thought that if Fernandez managed to escape, I could hazard a very
good guess. Before leaving him I touched upon the old subject, in
order to see what his reply would be.

"I presume you will not permit me to say farewell to your prisoners,"
I said.

"It would not be wise," he answered. "Fernandez, as I told you last
night, is down with fever, and the Senorita is not in the best of
tempers just now. However, I will convey all sorts of kind messages to
them from you when next I see them."

I rose from my chair.

"Don Guzman," I began, trying to speak calmly, "you are not playing me
false, are you? If any harm should befall Fernandez and his niece,
remember you will have all Civilization against you."

At this he fairly lost his temper.

"_Madre de Dios_, man," he cried, "do you want to make me angry with
you? Why do you harp so continually on this string? I have told you,
and reiterated the fact, that I do not intend to harm them. If I did,
don't you think I should have done so ere this? What's more, Mr.
Helmsworth, let me just give you a word of advice. When you return to
England, be sure you keep a silent tongue in your head. I can be a
good friend, and a particularly bitter enemy. I've a long arm, and
when I strike I strike deep. But there, my dear fellow, don't let us
quarrel at the time we're about to say farewell to each other. We must
part friends. Is it time for you to go? Then good-bye, and may good
fortune go with you."

When I left him I made my way towards the path leading to the beach.
As I crossed the open space in front of the house, I turned my eyes in
the direction of the hut where Fernandez was confined. One of the
gigantic <DW64>s that I had seen on the day of our arrival at the
island was standing on guard, rifle in hand, before it. Silvestre, I
knew, was watching me from the verandah, so there was no chance of
being able to communicate with the prisoner. I accordingly continued
my walk down to the beach. Two hours later the yacht was steaming out
of harbour, and so far as Silvestre knew, I was on my way to England
_via_ Cuba.

As I have already observed, it is a day and a half's steam from San
Diaz to the nearest island--Asturia. The latter is, if anything,
slightly bigger than its neighbour. It is certainly more prosperous.
Lying in the track of ships it has a number of visitors, and trade is
consequently fairly brisk--the principal exports being a peculiar
species of hard wood, and a small quantity of sugar, for which product
the soil is well adapted.

It was not until we had been several hours at sea that I broached the
subject that was uppermost in my mind to Ferguson. For reasons already
stated I was by no means certain how he would receive it. Would his
friendship for myself be sufficiently strong to stand the test?
However, the matter had to be decided, one way or the other, and what
was more there was no time to be lost. I accordingly took advantage of
the opportunity that presented itself, and came to business. He heard
me out in silence, but there was an expression upon his face that told
me he was not particularly in love with my proposal. Indeed, between
ourselves, I don't see how he could have been.

"Look here, Mr. Helmsworth Trevelyan, or Trevelyan
Helmsworth--whatever you please to call yourself--as I understand it
you are asking me to do a thing I have never done before. In other
words you are asking me to go back upon the man whose money I am
taking."

"Oh! come, now----"

"Just one moment before you reply. Let me put it in my own way, and
you can work it out as you like afterwards. I can't see for myself
that there is any other construction to be placed upon your proposal.
You'll admit, I suppose, that Silvestre is my employer? I am here to
run this boat according to his orders, and my instructions are to take
you to Cuba and to land you there. You want me to disregard them, and
to drop you at Asturia."

"But surely----"

"Hold hard until I have finished. You know that I'm not a particular
squeamish fellow. I've done a good many things that a number of people
wouldn't even look at; but--and mark you this 'but' is fairly
important, if I've got to choose between you and Silvestre--friendship
steps in and Silvestre goes to the wall. At the same time I don't mind
confessing that it's far from a nice position you have placed me in.
The world won't be big enough for me to hide in when it comes to
getting away from Silvestre. And when you come to think I've a wife
and family at home all depending upon me, I'll leave you to figure out
how much you value Fernandez' life at."

This was a way of looking at the question that I had not foreseen.

"But I cannot go away and leave the man there to be murdered," I
began. "Flesh and blood wouldn't allow that."

"Very well, then let us say no more about it. It's settled that I run
into Asturia and that you go ashore there."

"And after that?"

"I shall go on to Cuba!"

"Give me all the time you can," I said. "I've a big bit of work before
me when I get back to the island."

"And I wish you joy of it."

Darkness had fallen when we reached the island. I was anxious,
however, to lose no time, and determined to land at once. Immediately
on dropping anchor, therefore, I asked Ferguson to put me ashore. This
he willingly consented to do, and in due course I found myself with my
baggage on the beach. When I had seen the boat depart, I made my way
into the town. It was a queer little place, built on the side of a
hill, and with, so far as I could see, a very sparse white population.

From a <DW64> boy I inquired my way to the principal hotel, if there
should happen to be more than one. He grinned expansively and offered
to conduct me to it. It proved to be only a short distance away and
faced the sea-front. I rewarded the boy, entered it, and made my way
into the bar. The landlord was a Spaniard, and about as villainous a
specimen of his race as I'd ever seen. I told him I had just arrived,
and that I was anxious to charter a schooner at once, and inquired
whether he could help me in the matter, promising to reward him
liberally should he do so.

As it happened, he declared that he knew of exactly the sort of vessel
I wanted. I inquired the owner's name and asked the landlord where she
could be seen.

"She's anchored about a couple of cables from the pier, senor," he
replied, "and she is the property of my good friend, Maxime Blonde.
Maxime was lamenting to me only this evening that, having no cargo, he
must return to Martinique empty."

"Where can I find him?"

"On board, senor." Then, scenting business, he continued: "If you wish
it, I will escort you to him."

To this I willingly agreed, and then, when he had called his wife to
take charge of the saloon, and a <DW64> to accompany him, we made our
way to the pier. A boat was soon discovered, and in her, rowed by the
<DW64>, we set off for the _La Belle Josephine_ of Martinique.

She proved to be a small fore-and-aft schooner of about fifty tons,
nattily built, so far as I was able to judge in the darkness, and very
well suited to my purpose.

"Maxime, Maxime Blonde," screeched the hotel keeper, "a senor to see
you on business. Come forth!"

"What now?" cried a voice from the cabin aft. "Who is it calls Maxime
at this time of night?"

The hotel keeper went aft and explained matters. Presently he returned
and invited me to follow him to the cabin. Of all the dirty holes it
has been my misfortune to enter this was certainly the worst. Straw,
paper, and banana peel littered the floor. On the right-hand side of
the cabin was a narrow bunk, upon which a small, shrivelled-up mulatto
was seated. He explained that he was Monsieur Maxime, and that he was
owner and captain of the vessel. Being unable to bear the closeness of
the cabin I suggested that we should do our business on deck, and
thither the little man followed me. In something under a quarter of an
hour my arrangements were made with him, and it was settled that we
should sail for San Diaz at daybreak.




CHAPTER XIII


Of our voyage from the island of Asturia to San Diaz there is little
to chronicle. _La Belle Josephine_, as far as her sailing capabilities
were concerned, was all that her owner and captain had described her
to be. On the other hand, her dirt and slovenliness were exactly what
I had been led to expect it would be from my first inspection of the
cabin. To sleep in it, or to eat my meals there, was out of
the question. How the Senorita would manage, when she came
aboard--provided I was able to get her away from the island--I could
not imagine.

Monsieur Maxime's navigation, I soon discovered, was of the most
elementary description. However, perhaps by luck, and perhaps by a
measure of good judgment, he managed to pick up the island about noon
on the third day after leaving Asturia.

Fearing that Silvestre might have some one on the look-out, I bade
Maxime keep the schooner out of sight of land until nightfall. Then
we put in, and brought up in a small bay some five miles from the
settlement. Immediately it was dark I went ashore, bidding the hands
take the boat back, and when they got there to keep a sharp ear for my
whistle.

Fortunately for what I had in hand, it was a dark night, so dark
indeed that I could scarcely see the boat when I had walked a dozen
paces from it. What the jungle would be like I could not imagine.

When the boat had disappeared I set off along the beach in the
direction of the settlement. How I was going to reach the house
without attracting the attention of its inmates, and what I was going
to do when I got there, were two points about which I did not trouble
myself very much at that time. My lucky star had so far been in the
ascendant, that I was trusting to it to continue so. I knew very well
that it was a desperate enterprise I was embarking upon, for should
Silvestre discover me, my shrift was likely to be as short as that
which Fernandez had so obligingly arranged for me in La Gloria. At
last, when I reached the eastern side of the bay, that in which the
yacht had anchored, I turned towards the jungle and prepared to enter
it. I knew I was in for some hard work, but I did not imagine that it
would prove so difficult as I found it to be. The dense mass of
creeper that twined from tree to tree barred my progress at every
step. I had to climb, to twist, to crawl, in places unable to see more
than a few inches ahead, scratched by aloes and thorny bushes,
buffeted by low branches, and more than once tripped up and thrown
heavily to the ground by logs and other obstacles. How long it took me
to reach the plateau I cannot say, but I could scarcely have been less
than an hour upon the road. Yet the distance was certainly not more
than a quarter of a mile. Somewhat to my astonishment the plateau was
all darkness; not a light showed from the house, not a sound came from
the huts. With a stealth that would have done credit to a Sioux or an
Apache, I crept through the bushes towards the block-house in which
Fernandez had been confined when I had left the island. A sudden fear
had come over me that, during my absence, Silvestre might have done
away with him. If no sentry stood at the door I should believe this to
be the case. Closer and still closer I crept to it. At last I was only
a few yards distant from it. I was about to move forward on my hands
and knees in order to obtain a better view, when a guttural cough
reached me, coming, so it seemed, from only a few yards away. So close
was it, indeed, that I sprang back, fearing lest the man who uttered
it would become aware of my presence. Then the grounding of a
rifle-butt on the stones before the hut door reached me, and afforded
me indisputable evidence that the general was still imprisoned there.

At first a wild notion came into my head that I might be able to
overpower the <DW64> sentry, and, having done so, to free Fernandez. A
moment's reflection, however, told me that in all probability he would
prove more than a match for me, while he might also have time to fire
his rifle and so to give the alarm. More important still, even if I
did have the good luck to overcome him, I should not be able to get
into the hut, as Silvestre kept the key.

"No," I said to myself, "I must try again to-morrow night, and then
I'll bring the two men with me."

Creeping back as carefully as I had come, I reached the beach once
more as tired as if I had walked a dozen miles through heavy ground.
Going to the water's edge, I gave a shrill whistle, and then sat
myself down to await the boat's arrival. It was not long in coming,
and in less than a quarter of an hour I was back on board the
schooner. Calling up Monsieur Maxime, I bade him get sail on her and
put to sea once more. He seemed a little surprised, I fancy, and was
about to demur. A brief remonstrance on my part, however, sufficed to
put him on good terms with me again.

The next day was spent out of sight of the island, but as soon as
darkness fell we were back once more and anchored in the bay. By this
time, as you may suppose, I had perfected my scheme as far as
possible, and knew exactly what I was going to do.

To my delight the night proved as dark as its predecessor. When, after
some difficulty, I reached the shore, with the two men who had
volunteered to assist me, the wind was driving the sand upon the beach
in clouds, and was howling most dismally among the trees of the
jungle.

"We couldn't have chosen a better night," I said to my companions, as
we hurried along. "With the elements in our favour, however, we shall
have to be very careful how we act."

We made our way down the beach as I had done on the previous night,
and climbed the hill as before. Neither of the men had had any
previous experience of jungle-work, but they were to have some now
which would be sufficient to last them all their lives. More than once
they followed my example and went sprawling in the darkness, while
once the taller of the pair managed to get his foot entangled in a
mass of creeper, and it required all my efforts, and those of his
companion, to release him.

"Lord bless us, sir," the other whispered in my ear, "I hope there are
no snakes about. This seems just the sort of place to find them."

"You needn't be afraid," I replied. "I have been assured that there is
not a snake on the island."

"I'm glad of that," I heard him mutter. "I don't cotton to snakes
nohow."

At last we reached the plateau, whereupon I bade both men remain where
they were while I went to reconnoitre. Then, dropping on to my hands
and knees, I crept forward until I was on the edge of the jungle. It
was the same place from which I had watched the sentry on the previous
night. Either he or one of his comrades was there now, for I could
just see his dark figure standing at the corner of the hut. Across the
plateau streamed a bright light from the sitting-room of the house,
while the faint tinkling of some native instrument reached my ears
from the group of huts beyond. Having taken my observations, I crept
back again to my companions.

As may be supposed, I had already instructed them in their duties. In
consequence, each had brought with him a hank of thin rope, while I
had placed two or three carefully made canvas gags in my pocket in
case their services should be required. The idea I had in my mind was
that we should creep up to the hut from behind. The two men would then
take the right-hand side and make their way round the building with as
little noise as possible, while I was to imitate them on the left.
When I reached the sentry I was to saunter slowly up to him as if it
were the most natural thing in the world for me to be there. Before he
could recover from his astonishment at seeing me, they were to spring
upon him and make him secure--I obtaining possession of his rifle
before he could fire it.

"Come along," I whispered, "and don't make a sound as you love your
lives."

Scarcely daring to breathe, I led them from the jungle and across the
open space that separated us from the hut. Having gained its shelter,
we paused to prepare for the struggle.

  [Illustration: "One had clutched him by the throat."]

Since I had left England I had been in some tight places, but I had
never felt so nervous as I did at that moment. There was so much to be
thought of, so much to be provided for, and yet so much to be left to
chance. What if the sentry did not prove as surprised as I hoped he
would be? Suppose the men did not come up in time and gave him an
opportunity of discharging his rifle, what would our fate be then? But
it did not improve matters thinking of what might happen. I had to
carry out my portion of the scheme and leave the rest to Fate. So,
having seen the men ready with their ropes in their hands, I calmly
strolled round the side of the hut towards the spot where the sentry
was standing. It seemed to me that on the outcome of those few steps I
was staking all that was worth having in the world--Molly's happiness,
my mother's, Fernandez' and the Senorita Dolores' lives, and in all
probability my own. Then I turned the corner and the giant figure of
the <DW64> was before me. He looked up and saw me, uttered an
exclamation of surprise, and then took a step forward as if to make
sure of my identity.

"Have you a light for my cigar, friend?" I inquired, as coolly as I
could force myself to speak.

As I said it the two figures of my companions appeared round the
further corner. Before the man could reply they had thrown themselves
upon him; one had clutched him by the throat, while the other pinioned
his hands behind him. Springing forward, I seized the rifle he had
dropped. The man made a desperate struggle for his liberty, but we
were too much for him, and almost before he could realize what had
happened, we had got him on the other side of the hut, where we could
make him secure and do with him as we might think best. In almost
less time than it takes to tell, my two companions had lashed him so
securely that it was impossible for him to move hand or foot or, what
was more important still, to cry out.

"So far so good," I said, rising from my knees, where I had been
kneeling beside the prostrate man. "He will give us no more trouble.
Now you, Williams, take his rifle and stand sentry in front of that
door, while Matthews and I go across to the house and see what we can
do with Silvestre. We've got to find that key somehow."

Williams took the rifle and proceeded to the front of the hut, where
he stood in very much the same attitude as the <DW64> had adopted. Then
Matthews and I, in our turn, made our way quietly back to the jungle,
and through it towards the spot where it approached nearest the house.
The light was still streaming from Silvestre's window, and once, as we
waited, I heard the sound of his laugh. It was evident from this that
he was not alone.

"Now, Matthews," I said, "what we have to do is to get across to that
verandah without any one seeing us. If we are caught, remember our
lives will pay the penalty."

"I hope we shan't be caught then, sir," the man replied.

The night was as still as the grave; the music had ceased at the huts,
and not a sound came from the house towards which we were making our
way. At last we reached the verandah and ascended the two steps that
led up to it. Silvestre's sitting-room was now only a few yards
distant. Would it be possible for us to reach it without giving him
warning of our approach? Fortunately for us, the floor of the verandah
was of earth, beaten hard, and for this reason, unless we were more
than usually careless, the odds were in our favour. Keeping as close
to the wall of the house as possible, we approached the window, which
was open. As we did so, Silvestre spoke again.

"Well, I have given you plenty of time to think it over," he remarked.
"What have you to say?"

"Only that I refuse," the Senorita replied, for she was his companion.
"You could not expect me to do anything else."

"Think well what you are doing," the other continued, and as he said
it I advanced a couple of steps. "You know that when I say a thing I
mean it. I tell you plainly Fernandez' life is not worth an hour's
purchase. He chose to come between me and my ambition, and I have
tossed him aside as I should have done a straw. When he is out of the
way Equinata will listen to me, and when she has observed how I deal
with such as oppose me, I don't think she will make any more mistakes.
I know that you are dangerous, but I fancy I can manage you. Give me
the information I require, and I'll spare you and perhaps do more. Why
should you bother yourself about Fernandez?"

"Do you think I have no heart?"

"I suppose you have about as much as any other woman," was the
sneering reply. "Come, Senorita, you must admit that my patience has
held out pretty well. But you mustn't overstrain it. Give me the
information I require and I, on my side, will pledge myself to send
you to Europe, and also to allow Fernandez to remain here in safety,
provided he passes his word never to return to Equinata or to molest
me further. I cannot make you a fairer offer than that, and I am
afraid I am foolish to do so much."

"And if I refuse to accept your terms?"

"Then I shoot Fernandez at daybreak, and when the yacht returns sail
away, leaving you here in Palmyre's charge. I am afraid you would find
the life a trifle lonely after La Gloria."

Knowing as I did what his real intentions were, I was able to form a
very fair estimate of the man's villainy. What the information could
be that he was so anxious to obtain from her I could not imagine. I
had not much time, however, to think about it, for as the thought
flashed through my brain I heard some one rise from a chair and cross
the room, then Silvestre's voice continued, in a more persuasive tone
than he had used before: "Senorita, you and I together could govern
that country as it has never been ruled before. I know who are my
friends there, and I am also acquainted with my enemies. The first I
shall take care to render even more loyal than they were before, the
others I shall deal with in such a fashion that they will give no more
trouble. Come, make up your mind. Go home to Europe for a year until I
have everything in order and then come out and join me. Who knows what
happiness may be in store for us? What have you to say to my
proposal?"

"I cannot," she answered in a heart-broken voice; "and yet, oh Heaven!
I cannot let you kill him."

"You must decide one way or the other," he said remorselessly, "and
you'd also better be quick about it. My patience is well nigh
exhausted."

There was another interval of silence.

"Will you let me see Senor Fernandez for a moment before I give you my
answer?" she pleaded.

"Not for an instant," he replied. "You must have known what answer I
should give you when you put the question. I know Senor Fernandez too
well to allow you two to meet. I see it is half-past ten! Now I will
give you five minutes in which to make up your mind, and if you don't
tell me what I want to know then, I will carry out my threat and
Fernandez will finish his career at daybreak."

She uttered a piteous little cry, followed by an appeal for mercy.

"Don't talk to me of mercy," he answered. "What mercy did he show me?
What mercy would he have for me if our positions were reversed? He
would have shot me like a dog. Bear the fact in mind, Senorita, that
if he comes to an untimely end you will be responsible for it!"

There was another pause.

"Time is flying. You have only four minutes left!"

It was impossible that I could listen to this sort of talk unmoved. He
had the unfortunate woman at his mercy, and I knew him well enough by
this time to feel convinced that as soon as he had extracted his
information from her he would throw his promises to the wind, and
carry out the infamous project of which Manuel had spoken to Palmyre.
He knew well that even if he killed Fernandez and allowed her to go
free she would begin to intrigue against him. His insinuation that she
should return from Europe to him in Equinata was only a subterfuge to
prevent her becoming suspicious as to his real intentions.

"Three minutes gone!"

The Senorita said nothing in reply, but although I could not see her I
could very well imagine the agony she was suffering. The memory of the
night we had spent together in the balcony of the Opera House at La
Gloria came back to me. Then I took my revolver from my pocket, and
gave the magazine a turn to see that it was in working order.

Once more Silvestre spoke.

"Time is up," he said. "I will call Palmyre and give the necessary
orders about Fernandez."

"No, no," she cried in the expostulation of despair. "Take my
life--kill me! But for the Blessed Virgin's sake, let him go free."

"Will you give me the information?" was Silvestre's reply.

The Senorita uttered a little cry as if she were suffering physical
pain.

"And send them to their deaths? No, no, I should be less than human if
I were to do that."

"Fernandez will be less than human if you do not," was the other's
brutal response. "Permit me, and I will call Palmyre."

As he said this, I turned to the man behind me and signalled that I
was about to enter the room. Then, revolver in hand, I strode in.

"That will do, Silvestre," I cried, covering him with the revolver as
I approached him.

"Good heavens! you here?" he shouted, as if he found it difficult to
believe the evidence of his own eyes. The Senorita was leaning against
the table with a look of bewildered astonishment upon her face.

"As you see, I have returned," I answered. "But I have not time to
discuss that matter with you now. I give you fair warning that if you
speak again I shall shoot. Sit down in that chair and put your hands
behind you!"

With an oath Silvestre complied with my request.

Turning to Matthews, I signed to him to carry out the work we had
previously arranged. In less time than it takes to tell, Don Guzman de
Silvestre was securely fastened in his chair, a gag had been placed in
his mouth, and it was then out of his power to do any mischief. From
the expression upon his face I could gather some notion of what his
feelings were. It was very evident that if I should have the
misfortune to fall into his hands again I should be likely to
receive but little mercy from him. As soon as he was secure, and I had
abstracted the key of the block-house from his pocket, I turned to the
lady.

  [Illustration: "'I give you fair warning that if you speak again I
   shall shoot.'"]

"Come, Senorita," I whispered, "you had better prepare for departure.
If we are to release the President and to get away before daylight
there is not much time to be lost."

"I am quite ready to leave," she replied.

"Then be good enough to accompany this man, and be very careful to
keep in the shadow of the house," I returned. "Above all, see that you
do not make a sound. I want to have a few words alone with Silvestre."

Matthews led the way from the room and, with one last look at the man
in the chair, the Senorita followed him.

When I had seen her turn the corner of the verandah, I approached
Silvestre, who glared at me as though he hoped the fire in his eyes
might consume me.

"Don Guzman," I began, speaking in a low voice, "before I take leave
of you, I want to let you know why I have played this trick upon you.
You will remember that at Falstead you gave me your assurance that if
I helped you to secure Fernandez you would do him no harm. And yet you
have given orders that, as soon as you had left the island for
Equinata, the Senorita and her uncle were to be poisoned. I
distinctly heard you tell the former that the latter would die at
daybreak. I am afraid you will find yourself mistaken in your
prophecy. By daybreak Fernandez should be well on his way back to
Equinata. There is one other matter before I go. Here is the last
money you gave me." So saying, I threw upon the table the roll of
notes he had handed to me before I left the island for Asturia.

A hideous scowl was the only response I received.

Then, when I had placed my revolver in my pocket, I made my way down
the verandah in the direction of Fernandez' prison. To my delight I
discovered that no change had taken place there. The giant <DW64> still
lay where we had placed him, while my own man stood sentry before the
door.

Bidding the Senorita and Matthews remain concealed, I crept quietly
forward. The plateau was as silent as the grave, while the only light
to be seen was that which streamed from the window of the room we had
just left.

I had passed through some momentous moments in the past six months,
but I do not think that, in the whole course of this extraordinary
affair, I experienced anything like the sensation that took possession
of me as I made my way towards the door of the hut. I had begun by
taking service under Silvestre; I had carried out his instructions to
the best of my ability; I had found him a traitor, and now, here I
was, throwing him over and rendering assistance to the other side.
What was the end of it all to be? Should I escape with Fernandez, or
would Silvestre catch us before we could reach the boat?

Signing to the sailor to stand aside, I placed the key in the lock. As
I opened the door a voice, which I instantly recognized, said as
calmly as though its owner were addressing me in the President's study
at La Gloria:

"So it's you, Trevelyan, is it? I had an idea you'd come round to my
way of thinking. I heard your scuffle with the sentry. I suppose you
managed to overpower him?"

I answered him in a whisper that his conjecture was correct.

"You must get up at once," I continued hurriedly. "There is no time to
spare. The Senorita is waiting for you in the jungle, and I have a
schooner in the bay."

"But I can't get up," he replied. "Our worthy friend, Silvestre, has
taken good care of that."

"The deuce, he has!" said I. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I am chained to the leg of the bed," Fernandez returned.
"Before you can release me you must have the key of the padlock."

In a flash I realized what a fool I had been. It had never struck me,
when searching Silvestre's pockets, to find out whether he had any
other key in his possession. Now we were in a pretty fix. It seemed as
if I had defeated Silvestre only to give him a very fair opportunity
of turning the tables upon me. At any other time I should have sworn
at the contrariness of my luck; now, however, I had too much upon my
mind to have time to seek relief in that direction. It was a problem
that any man might have been excused for feeling diffident about. The
Senorita was concealed in the scrub; the lives of Matthews and his
companions depended upon my prompt and successful treatment of the
difficulty, and the only possible way I could see of accomplishing
that was to return to the room in which I had left Silvestre, and,
once there, to overhaul him in the hopes of discovering the
all-important key. This time, however, the risk would be increased a
thousandfold. It was only too probable that the old negress Palmyre,
or the half-caste Manuel, would have entered to find their master in
the lamentable condition I had left him; in which case, for all the
good I could do, I might just as well take my revolver, shoot myself
and Fernandez, and so bring the whole desperate affair to a
conclusion.

"You are quite sure, I suppose," I remarked, "that Silvestre has the
key upon his person?"

"Quite," he answered. "He has been kind enough to dangle it before my
eyes every time he has visited me. Only this afternoon he wittily
described it as the isthmus connecting the continents of Equinata and
Death!"

That was Fernandez all over. Even when my heart was beating like a
wheat-flail in my breast with terror, and when every moment I expected
to see Silvestre make his appearance in the doorway, he must have his
joke.

"Well," I said at last, "I suppose there is nothing for it but for me
to return to the house and to endeavour to obtain possession of the
key. Heaven alone knows whether I shall be successful. In the meantime
the Senorita had better make her way down to the shore. You will of
course keep very quiet until I return."

"You may depend upon my doing that," he replied. "You will find me
here when you return."

Without another word I left the hut and crept round it to the spot
where the Senorita and the faithful Matthews were anxiously waiting
for me. So dark was it in the jungle that I could see nothing of them,
and it was not until I called to them that I could discover their
whereabouts. Then, drawing the lady a little on one side, I hastened
to explain the situation to her.

"You will find the key hanging round his neck," she said in a fierce
whisper. "If you only knew what a miserable part it has played in my
life of late, you would easily understand how familiar I am with its
hiding-place."

I did not reply, but, turning to Matthews, bade him escort the
Senorita down the hillside to the shore, where they were to await our
coming. When they departed I began my journey to the house. The light
still shone from Silvestre's window, though the remainder of the
building was in complete darkness. Revolver in hand I crept carefully
along until I reached the steps leading to the verandah. These I
ascended, and eventually reached the room in question. Every creak of
the boards brought my heart into my mouth; and yet, if Silvestre had
been discovered and released by Manuel or Palmyre, why had he not come
in search of us? That he was no coward I knew too well.

When I reached the open window I was able to obtain a glimpse of the
room. It may be imagined with what delight I assured myself that
Silvestre was still there and, what was more, lying just as I had left
him. Softly I crept in and approached him. I could fancy the
satisfaction he had felt when he had witnessed my departure before
without the key of the padlock which fastened Fernandez' fetters to
the bed. From the way he glared at me, when he became aware of my
presence, it was evident that he realized that I had come to rectify
my mistake. As quickly as I could do it, and without wasting any words
upon him, I unfastened the collar of his shirt to discover, suspended
on a string round his neck, that tiny talisman that, at that moment,
was worth more to me than anything else in the world. To take
possession of it was the work of a second, and then I once more
tiptoed towards the verandah. I had barely reached it, however, when I
heard the door, communicating with the central passage of the house
open, and looking back I saw Palmyre enter the room.

As I arrived at the end of the verandah I heard a shrill scream, and
as I heard it realized the fact that, unless I could succeed in
releasing Fernandez within the next few minutes, all was lost, and
that I should, in all human probability, never see old England again!




CHAPTER XIV


To say that I made my way from the house to the hut in which Fernandez
was imprisoned with as much speed as I could command, would be to
express my meaning very inadequately. As soon as I realized the fact
that the trick I had played upon Silvestre was discovered, I threw
prudence to the winds, and ran as I had not done for years across the
plateau towards the building in question. The sailor was still on
guard at the door, which was open, while the <DW64> lay bound just
where we had thrown him down.

"Stand by, they're after us!" I cried, regardless of who might hear.

With that I plunged headlong into the dark hut, shouting to Fernandez
as I did so to prepare the padlock for the key. South American
politics produce some curious incidents, but I am not sure that they
could find another to equal that which I am now so inadequately
attempting to describe.

Dropping on my knees beside the bed, I felt about for the chain and,
running my hand along it, at length obtained possession of the
padlock, inserted the key, and in a trice the President was free.

"By this time they must have released Silvestre," I whispered. "For
heaven's sake let us get away from here!"

"Nobody could be more willing to do that than myself," the other
answered, springing from the bed as he spoke, and coming in violent
contact with myself, whom he could not see. "You are in command, so
you had better lead the way."

Bidding him follow me, I hastened out of the hut, ordered the sailor
to accompany us, and plunged into the jungle. As we did so a shout
from the house proclaimed the fact that Silvestre was free once more
and thirsting for vengeance. We had not stumbled forward many paces
before other shouts followed, showing that he had called Manuel and
his gang to his assistance.

A very small percentage of the readers of my story have, I trust, been
called upon to run for their lives through a West Indian jungle in the
dead of night. Those who have done so, however, will be able to
understand the sufferings of the wretched trio who stumbled, reeled,
scraped, and fought their way down from the plateau to the shore. The
darkness was opaque, the obstacles so multifarious, that never for a
moment did we seem to have a yard's clear going. Take a sack, a
three-legged, and an obstacle race, throw in a game of blind-man's
buff, in which you are the blind man, and you will have some faint
idea of our difficulties.

Once, from the hill behind us, the sound of a shot reached us, though
what its meaning was, I could not even conjecture. At last, wearied to
the point of dropping, our faces streaming with perspiration, our
flesh cut and bruised, we emerged from the forest and stood upon the
seashore. Unfortunately, in our haste, we had not steered as true a
course as we would have desired, and instead of coming out in the
centre of the little bay where the schooner's boat had been ordered to
await us, we found ourselves at the end of the small promontory which
separated the bay from that in which the settlement was situated. This
was unfortunate in more ways than one, but it could not be helped. The
worst part of it was that we could not see the boat or the figures of
the Senorita or Matthews.

"Look! what is that?" cried the President at last, pointing along the
beach to the left. "Is it a man?"

I have fairly good eyes, but I must confess that I could see nothing
that in any way resembled a human figure in the direction he
indicated. He, however, seemed positive that he was right; so,
realizing that we could do no good by remaining where we were, we
hurried along the beach without further loss of time. We had not
proceeded more than fifty yards, however, when the crack of a rifle
came from the scrub on our left. If it were aimed at me, the man who
fired it was certainly a very fair marksman, for the bullet whistled
by within a few inches of my head. It was plain that Silvestre, or at
least one of his myrmidons, were not very far behind us. We were
destined soon to be convinced as to their numbers and also as to their
identity. For the sound of the shot had scarcely died away before
three men emerged from the jungle, and Silvestre's voice called upon
us to throw up our arms, and then added that unless we did so we
should be shot down without mercy. I could well believe this, and I
also knew the sort of mercy we should be likely to receive should we
allow ourselves to fall into his hands. The fate he had arranged for
Fernandez and his niece would be nothing to the cruelty he would
practise upon us.

"_Nombre de Dios!_" cried the President, "why haven't I a weapon of
some sort!"

He was destined to have one somewhat sooner than he imagined, for as
he finished speaking another rifle-shot rang out, and instantly my
revolver fell from my hand and I realized that I had been shot
through the forearm. The President coolly stooped and picked up the
weapon.

"Look, sir, look, there's the boat!" cried the sailor a few seconds
later.

Sure enough there it was, but unfortunately a considerable distance
ahead.

"There's nothing left but to run for it," I cried. "Come on!"

With that we took to our heels and scurried along the beach.
Silvestre, as soon as he became aware of our intentions, sent a volley
after us, doubtless meant as an inducement to heave-to. We paid no
attention, however. Though we did not look round we knew that they
were after us; but we had a fair start, and if only they did not
manage to hit us, there was the bare possibility of our reaching the
boat in time. Already I could see Matthews standing knee-deep in the
water in order to keep the little craft afloat. He shouted to
encourage us. Then there came another shout from our left, and three
other figures ran down between ourselves and the boat we were striving
so hard to reach. All three were armed, and in the man in the middle,
when he called upon us to surrender, I recognized the blackguardly
half-caste Manuel. For the moment it looked as if our case were
hopeless.

It is at such moments that all the inventive faculties in one's
possession hasten to one's aid. Had I been permitted half a day to
think the question out, I should probably never have hit upon a plan
half as promising as that which then flashed through my mind. The men
in front were little more than a couple of dozen paces away; Silvestre
and his party were perhaps a hundred yards behind, and were every
moment coming closer. The thought had scarcely occurred to me before
the crack of rifles sounded from behind. Fortunately none of us were
hit.

"Down! down!" I cried to my companions. "Let them suppose that they
have winged us!"

As I spoke we all threw ourselves with one accord upon our faces on
the sand. As I expected, the men in front immediately jumped to the
conclusion that we had been shot by their friends behind. They
accordingly rushed forward to make sure of us. My ruse must have
dawned upon Fernandez, for, to this day, I am certain that I heard a
chuckle escape him. Almost at the same moment Manuel ran up to us, his
two companions being only a few yards distant.

"Shoot them," I whispered; and as I spoke I saw Fernandez roll over on
his side and raise his right arm. His revolver gave three vicious
little cracks, and one by one each man stopped, performed a curious
spin, and then fell forward on the sand.

I don't know that I am a particularly imaginative man. As a matter of
fact my friends have on several occasions informed me that I am a
somewhat prosaic individual. All I know is that at that moment, though
why I should have done so, no one, least of all myself, will ever be
able to tell (for I have never participated in a hunt in my life), I
let out a wild "yoicks" and sprang to my feet.

"Make for the boat!" cried Fernandez.

Without a word I did as I was directed. The boat was now only a matter
of some fifty yards ahead. How I covered this distance I shall never
be able to understand. All I do know is that when I reached the spot
where Matthews was standing, I came an ignominious cropper at the
water's edge. The fact was I was done for, wholly and completely done
for. It may seem an absurd statement to make, but I will leave it to
the charity of my readers to remember that I had been through a great
deal that night, and also that a shattered arm does not add to one's
strength.

At that moment Fernandez rose to a moral height, far above that I had
expected to find in him. Turning to Matthews, who, as I have said, was
standing knee-deep in the water, keeping the boat afloat, he cried:
"Hold the boat steady while we get Senor Trevelyan in."

I was so far done for that he must have thought I was dead;
nevertheless, and although Silvestre and his men were by this time
little more than thirty yards behind us, he did not abandon me, but
with the other man's assistance picked me up, then waded with me into
the water and dropped me into the boat, where I lay like a log. I
heard Fernandez order Matthews and the other man into the boat, and
then wondered what was going to happen next. I saw the Senorita half
rise from her seat in the stern. She uttered a little cry. Then I
heard a swish of water alongside, as if the boat were being turned
round.

"Take care, Silvestre," cried Fernandez, "there's Equinata at the end
of my barrel, and a good deal more beside."

What Silvestre said in reply I do not pretend to know. All I can say
is that I heard the sharp crack of his revolver, followed by a laugh
from Fernandez, and a wild shriek that might have been anything, but
which told me nothing. A moment later, and just as I was feeling as if
nothing in the world mattered to me, I was conscious of some one
saying: "Pull up, my lads, we'll get away yet!" At the same instant a
soft hand touched my cheek, and a low voice whispered: "May the
saints be merciful to you!" Then I lost consciousness.

When I recovered my senses I was lying off the top of the main hatch
of the schooner. Fernandez was standing near me, but it was impossible
to see his face.

Lying on my back I could not tell what was happening. I could,
however, hear Monsieur Maxime arranging sundry nautical details with
his crew, and with all his accustomed fluency. The little man had
accepted the position from his own standpoint, which, as you may be
sure, was theatrical to a degree. As I have since heard, he avers
that, had it not been for his influence and exertions at that
momentous time, the President of Equinata would never have returned to
his country at all. For this reason he is looked upon as a hero in
Martinique to this day.

"Heaven be praised you are not dead, senor," said a very soft voice,
and, on turning my head, I found the Senorita seating herself beside
me.

It was some few minutes after dawn, and in the dim light her face
looked very wan and haggard. Allowing for the wear and tear of time
and the exigencies of a most anxious and untoward experience, she was
dressed very much the same as she had been when she left the
ball-room at La Gloria on the night on which I had effected their
capture. But the woman in her extraordinary beauty was still the same.
She was certainly one female in a thousand, and he would have been a
curious individual who could have shown himself insensible to her
fascinations. Then Fernandez turned his head, saw her bending over me,
and came over and also seated himself beside me.

"Dear friend," he began, in a voice that was full of kindliness, "I am
not going to attempt to thank you for all that you have done for me.
For the present it is sufficient for me to do what I can to mitigate
your sufferings. I won't deny that there have been people who have
doubted my medical ability; I am about to prove to you, however, that
I am more capable than they suppose."

So saying, he removed the wrappings from my arm and commenced
operations. The bullet, it seemed, had shattered the bone, and was
fortunately now lying quite close to the surface. To extract it was
the work of a few painful minutes, after which the limb was set and
bound up. That accomplished I was at liberty to rise from the hatch.

All this time our behaviour towards each other was as diffident as
could well be imagined. For once the President had dropped his
cynicism, while the Senorita regarded me with eyes that overflowed
with gratitude.

The island had long since disappeared below the horizon, and now the
little schooner was cleaving her way through the water under the
influence of a capital breeze. Escorted by the Senorita I made my way
aft.

Monsieur Maxime himself was at the wheel, presenting a curious figure
as he hung upon the spokes. I found a shady spot for the Senorita, and
then walked across to where the President was standing before the
taffrail.

"I want you to tell me everything," I said. "How did you manage to
effect our escape? Remember, I know nothing of what occurred after you
placed me in the boat."

"There's not very much to tell," he answered. "I might mention,
however, that Silvestre and the half-caste will give no further
trouble."

"You shot Silvestre, then?"

"I did," he replied, "and I don't know that I ever enjoyed doing
anything so much. It was a close thing between us. Look here!"

He pointed to his left ear, on the lobe of which was a small scar.

"It couldn't have been much closer, could it?" he remarked. "My luck,
however, stood by me as usual." Then in a lower and more kindly tone,
he added: "My luck and the luck of Equinata!"

For a few moments we stood side by side thinking our thoughts in
silence. I recalled the day when I had first seen the dead man in Rio,
and also that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon on which he had made the
proposal to me that was destined to cost him his life on the beach of
an island in the Carribean Sea and to return me to Equinata a wounded
and ruined man.

At last Fernandez turned to me and, placing his hand upon my shoulder,
looked me full and fair in the face.

"Trevelyan--Helmsworth--Helmsworth--Trevelyan--whatever your name may
be, you have put upon me a debt of gratitude I shall never be able to
repay. I must confess, however, that I cannot quite understand what it
was that so suddenly made you change sides. I offered you excellent
terms on the beach on the night that I fell into your hands, and I
repeated it on board the yacht. You were a pillar of rectitude then.
When, therefore, the game had been played and your employer had won,
why did you so suddenly come to my rescue? I think I know you well
enough by this time to feel sure that your conversion was due to no
mercenary motive."

"You may make your mind easy on that score," I replied. "It was not a
question of money."

"Then will you tell me why you did it? Silvestre, when his chance
came, would doubtless have proved himself an excellent patron, of
course providing it didn't suit his book to put you out of the way!"

"That's exactly it," I replied. "You have put the matter in a
nutshell."

"I am afraid I am dense enough not to be able to grasp your meaning,"
he returned.

"You suggest that it might possibly have suited his book to have put
me out of the way. Well, that is why I threw in my lot with you. It
would make rather a long story, but I will endeavour to tell it to you
as briefly as I can. When I agreed with Silvestre in England to effect
your----"

I paused for a moment with a little embarrassment. Fernandez' eyes
twinkled.

"Shall we say _deportation_?" he inquired.

"To effect your deportation! I did so upon his giving me his word of
honour that no harm should happen to you. I had no objection to his
keeping you a prisoner as long as he pleased----"

"Which he certainly did. Proceed!"

"I have already confessed to you that had I known you first I would
not have undertaken the work; but I was out of employment----"

"The mail steamer _Pernambuco_--stormy interview with the Board of
Directors in London--meeting with Silvestre in the garden of the Inn
at Falstead--five thousand pounds down--and five thousand when I
should be handed over to him----"

He laughed good-humouredly as he noticed my almost overwhelming
surprise.

"My dear fellow, to rule a country like Equinata one must possess a
faculty for obtaining information. Allow me to frankly admit that I
was conversant with Mr. Trevelyan's history and of his acquaintance
with ex-President Silvestre, when he made his appearance in his
beautiful yacht in the harbour of La Gloria. But in telling you this I
am interrupting your narrative. Pray proceed! You remarked, I think,
that you were out of employment."

"I was; and the money offered me by Silvestre was too tempting to be
refused. I came, I saw you, and as you know, I conquered. I handed you
over to Silvestre, as I had contracted to do, and once more secured
from him his promise that, with the exception of imprisonment, no harm
should befall you. It was then agreed that I should leave the island
at once in the yacht for Cuba, _en route_ for England. The money
promised me for the work I had done was handed to me, and I left
Silvestre."

"But you could not have reached Cuba in the time?"

"I did not attempt to do so. A certain conversation I had with Captain
Ferguson changed all my plans."

"And the purport of that conversation?"

"It appears that Ferguson had by chance overheard the half-caste,
Manuel, discussing with the negress, Palmyre, certain instructions
they had received from Silvestre. Immediately the yacht returned from
conveying me from Cuba it would appear that Silvestre was to set sail
for Equinata, and as soon as he was out of the way you and the
Senorita were to be poisoned by Palmyre."

"Good heavens! The cowardly scoundrel!"

For the first time since I had known Fernandez I saw a look of fear
pass over his face. It was not until later that I learnt that
assassination by poisoning was the one thing in the world he dreaded.

"Well," he went on when he had regained his composure, "what happened
after that?"

"I arranged with Ferguson that, instead of taking me on to Cuba, he
should drop me at Asturia. I was fortunate enough to secure this
schooner, and hurried back in her--in the hope of effecting your
release. The rest you know!"

He nodded.

"Yes," he said, "the rest I know!"

He turned away from me almost abruptly, and stood for some moments
looking down at the bubbling water under the counter. When he
addressed me again it was in quite his old manner.

"We live in an extraordinary world," he remarked. "You plot to
separate me from my country and end by restoring me to it. Silvestre
agrees to make your fortune and finished by placing you in a worse
position than you were before. Even the Senorita yonder has found
things turn out contrary to her expectations. On the night of the now
famous ball at La Gloria, she was by no means satisfied, so I was
given to understand, with her ball dress; yet that strange taskmaster,
Force of Circumstances, has decreed that she should wear it, without
intermission, longer than any festive costume ever purchased?"

"And what of yourself?"

"Ah! My case is perhaps stranger still. I began by looking upon you as
my enemy and end by finding you my staunchest friend. I imagined that
I had you in my power, and a few hours later found myself in yours.
Silvestre bought your services for ten thousand pounds--I get them for
nothing."

If ever there was a strange voyage it was that one. The schooner
herself was a very fair sea boat; that, however, was about all that
could be said in her favour. It was her cabin accommodation that
proved most trying. After the first attempt the Senorita declared
emphatically that nothing could induce her to sleep in it again.
Monsieur Maxime might say what he pleased, she declared, but her mind
was made up. It was offered to the President, but he declined. As for
myself, I had already tried it on the voyage from Asturia, and had no
desire to repeat the experiment.

The living on board was but little better. Monsieur Maxime was wont to
declare that the cook, Adolphe, was a past master of the culinary art.
In this statement, I fear, he somewhat exaggerated; indeed, had I not
laid in a stock of provisions before setting out, I dare not think how
we should have fared.

On one occasion the Senorita had the temerity to explore his galley.
She emerged with a white face and a settled determination to partake
no more of his _ragouts_, _bouillons_, etc.

"Really," she observed to me, "one scarcely knows where to go on board
this wretched vessel. The cabin is too terrible, and as for that
kitchen----"

She made an expressive gesture with her hands as if to express her
horror of the place in question.

The same evening I was destined to have a somewhat curious interview
with the Senorita. We had partaken of our evening meal, such as it
was, and had gone forward into the bows to enjoy the cooler air there.
It was a perfect night, and surely no mortal man could have desired a
fairer companion than I had then. We settled ourselves down
comfortably, and, having obtained her permission, I lit a cigar. I do
not know why I should have done so, but I could not help feeling that
I was booked for a sentimental scene. Some men would doubtless have
welcomed it. For myself, however, I must confess, that I dreaded it.
The Senorita was dangerous always, and never more so than when
inclined to be sentimental.

"Senor Trevelyan," she began, when we had been seated some minutes,
and had talked of the beauty of the evening, the freshness of the
breeze and a hundred different subjects, "you of course know that
there was a time when I was your avowed enemy?"

"I am afraid I must say that I _do_ know it," I answered, "and I
should add that you were justified. No one could wonder at your
distaste for me."

"Oh, I don't mean that," she cried, with a little protesting movement
of her hands. "For see how nobly you have behaved since. No, do not
interrupt me. I want to say what is in my mind, for I know that I owe
you an apology. It was all my fault. I hoped to have won you to our
side." She paused for a moment. "Unfortunately, I did not know that
you were already in love!"

"Then the information the President gave her was not altogether
complete," I said to myself. And on thinking it over since I have
often been struck by the omission of this one, and probably the most
important factor in the whole affair. For the fact cannot be denied
that had it not been for my love for Molly, and the consequent desire
to make money, I should, in all probability, not have embarked upon
the matter at all.

"Senorita," I returned, "I fear I stand before you in an altogether
despicable light, so far as my time in Equinata is concerned. The
pitiful part of the whole business is that, had it to be gone over
again, I should probably act as I have done. However, I have shot my
bolt, and, though I managed to hit the bull's-eye, that is to say, I
succeeded in capturing the President, I have failed to receive the
prize. Let that be my punishment."

"But you mustn't talk of punishment," she cried. "You are mistaking my
meaning. Do you think that I am here to reproach you? No, no, far from
that! What I want to suggest is that you should permit us to show our
gratitude. Had it not been for you Equinata would never have seen
General Fernandez again, and I should not be here with you now. How
grateful the President is you can see for yourself. Why should you not
stay in Equinata? It is destined to be a great country. There are
always opportunities for the man who can seize them. You are that man.
Why not try? Would _my_ help count for nothing?"

As she said this she drew a little closer to me. The perfume of her
hair was as intoxicating as the finest wine.

"Think! think!" she continued. "Fernandez cannot rule for ever. He
might not last a year even. Then----"

She was so close to me that her lips almost touched my face.

"Don't you think we had better be walking aft?" I said. "Your _uncle_
is probably wondering where we are!"




CHAPTER XV


Between ten and eleven o'clock on one never-to-be-forgotten evening,
the _La Belle Josephine_ sailed into the harbour of La Gloria, and
dropped her anchor a short distance from the old coal hulk. Who that
witnessed the arrival of that tiny craft imagined the important part
she had played in the destiny of that small but exceedingly excitable
Republic? For my part I know that as I stood on deck and watched
Monsieur Maxime take her in between the heads, and scientifically
bring her to her anchorage, I found myself experiencing a series of
emotions, the like of which I have never before known. The President
stood on my right, the Senorita on my left, and as we watched the
twinkling lights ashore, I fancy all three of us recalled the eventful
morning when we had said good-bye to the town under such very
different circumstances. Our arrival had evidently been signalled from
the forts, for we had scarcely dropped our anchor before a hail from
the bows announced the fact that the harbour-master's boat was
approaching.

Most men, I suppose, have at some time of their lives a touch of the
theatrical. For myself at that moment I was distinctly desirous of
giving a dramatic turn to the situation. The plot of my drama is an
exciting one. The President of the Republic is missing; the supposed
villain is believed to have abducted him. Time goes by. A mysterious
vessel enters the harbour at the dead of night, when, to the amazement
of every one, the missing President is found to be on board, and the
man who has saved him, and has brought him back to the nation he loves
so well, turns out to be the very individual who is supposed to have
wrought his ruin. What situation could have been more thrilling? I had
already walked a short distance along the deck, but as soon as I
recognized in the boat coming alongside the pompous little official
who had boarded the yacht with so much ceremony on the occasion of my
first appearance in the country, I changed my mind, and hastened back
to the President!

"What does your Excellency desire?" I inquired. "Would you prefer the
news of your return to reach the city at once, or would you rather
that it should be announced in the morning?"

"It is immaterial to me," he replied. Then he added quickly, "No! No!
On the contrary, it is most material. There is a considerable amount
of business to be transacted first!"

I could guess what was passing in his mind.

"Yes, to-morrow morning would certainly be better," he continued
reflectively.

"In that case," I replied, "it would be as well for you to retire with
the Senorita to the cabin. From what I know of our friends who are now
coming aboard, the secret of your arrival would not be a secret many
minutes after they got ashore."

"You are still in command, Senor Trevelyan," the President returned,
with one of his short laughs. "Permit me, Dolores, to escort you to
the saloon. I trust that you will not keep us there longer than you
can help."

"If you will permit me I shall join you there myself as soon as I have
given instructions to Monsieur Maxime," I replied. "For several
reasons I have no desire to be recognized in Equinata at present."

Having seen them depart to the miserable little hole aft, I went
forward to Monsieur Maxime, and gave him his orders in a low voice.
After that I rejoined my friends. From what we could hear of the
conversation that followed, the port officials were in by no means
good tempers, and poor Maxime was roundly taken to task for putting in
an appearance at such an hour, for giving them the trouble of boarding
his vessel, and, it would appear, for his remissness in having no
cases of infectious disease on board. After about a quarter of an hour
the officials departed as they had come, that is to say, grumbling.
When the sound of their oars had died away we left the cabin.

"Now the question to be decided is how to get ashore without
attracting attention," said Fernandez. "If they recognize me in the
streets, the news will be all over the city by breakfast-time."

"Maxime must put us ashore further down the bay," I replied. "If we
are discovered we shall then only run the risk of being taken for
smugglers."

I had heard Fernandez boast of the completeness and efficiency of his
coastguard service. This was certainly a good opportunity of putting
it to the test.

Fernandez agreed to the arrangement, and, as soon as all was quiet
ashore, we began our preparations for leaving the schooner. A boat was
lowered, and four of Monsieur Maxime's ebony crew took their places in
her. Then we bade the owner good-night, ordered him to call at the
palace on the morrow for his reward, and in our turn descended to the
boat.

It was an exquisite night, and so still that we could distinctly hear
the ripple of the waves upon the beach, more than half-a-mile away.
Carrying out the plan we had arranged we did not make for the shore
near the city, but steered a course more to the south, in the
direction of the little fishing village where we had captured the
President. At last the boat's nose touched the shore, and the men
leapt out and pulled her out of the water on to the beach. I landed,
and gave my hand to the Senorita, who sprang nimbly ashore; the
President followed.

"Welcome back to Equinata, your Excellency," I said, with a bow.

For once his composure deserted him. He did not answer me, but turning
his back upon us, walked for a short distance along the beach. When he
rejoined us he was himself again. In the meantime I had ordered the
men to take the boat back to the schooner, and had promised them that
a liberal reward should be sent them in the morning. After that we
took council together as to how we should reach the city. It would be
impossible for the Senorita to walk so far in the shoes she was then
wearing; there was also the risk of the President and Senorita being
recognized to be considered. We were still discussing this momentous
question when a noise behind us attracted our attention. We
immediately turned to find three men hastening towards us. They wore
the uniform of the Equinata Coastguard Service, and the individual in
the centre was plainly an officer.

"Confound them," I muttered to myself, "they're smarter than I
imagined. If I'm not mistaken, this will upset our plans, and the
President's arrival will be known after all."

This was not the case, however. Their appearance was destined to prove
a blessing in disguise.

"What brings you ashore, senors, at such an hour?" the officer
inquired, addressing me. "And what boat was it that landed you?"

I was about to invent some story, but the President, with his
customary quickness, had grasped the situation, and was prepared to
make capital out of it.

"A word with you in private, senor," he said, addressing the officer
before him. "I fancy I can satisfy you as to our honesty."

The other threw a glance at the Senorita, bowed, and acquiesced. They
walked a few paces together, and though I could hear the President's
voice, I could not catch anything of what he said. Their conversation
lasted something like five minutes, after which they rejoined us.

"Our friend here," said Fernandez, "quite understands the situation,
and has kindly offered to arrange matters for us."

The officer bowed with ceremonious respect to the Senorita. Then to me
he said, with a pomposity that was almost ludicrous--

"Senor, Equinata thanks you for the service you have rendered her."

Then, having invited us to follow him, and bidding his men continue
their patrol, he led us across the beach by a rough footpath to the
high road above.

"If your Excellency will do me the honour to wait here," he said, "I
will hasten to the house of my friend, Senor Rodriguez Cardaja, and
obtain from him the loan of a carriage in which to convey you to the
palace."

"We will await your return," answered the President. "I may, of
course, rely upon your impressing the necessity of silence upon Senor
Cardaja?"

"He will be as silent as the grave, Excellency," the other returned,
and added somewhat inconsequently, "we are old friends!"

Then, begging us to excuse him, he hastened on his errand.

"I trust he will not be long obtaining the carriage," said Fernandez,
offering me a cigar, and lighting one himself. "As I said a short
time ago, I have a large amount of business to get through before
daylight. Dolores, my dear, I fancy you will not be sorry to exchange
that dress for another."

"If you knew how I hate it," she replied passionately, "and yet--" she
stopped suddenly, and I fancied that she shivered. "Oh, how glad I am
to be back!"

A long silence fell upon us, which was eventually broken by the sound
of carriage-wheels. A few moments later a lumbering vehicle made its
appearance round the side of the hill. To our surprise it was driven
by the lieutenant himself. He explained that he had not brought his
friend's coachman, having regard to the desire for secrecy expressed
by the President. He would himself drive us into the Capital, and
return the carriage to his friend afterwards. Then we took our places
in it and set off. During the journey the officer informed us of all
that had transpired in the country during our absence. General Sagana,
it appeared, had assumed the office of President--much against his
will--while Hermanos and his band of patriots boldly announced the
return of Silvestre to power.

"Hermanos and I must discuss the matter together," said the President
quietly, and I fancied I could see the smile upon his face as he said
it.

In something under half-an-hour we reached the palace. We descended
from the vehicle at a side door, thanked the lieutenant for the
services he had rendered us, and then watched him drive off on his
return journey. So far matters had prospered excellently; but I am
prepared to admit that I did not quite see what was going to happen
next. Fernandez, however, seemed to have made up his mind. Taking a
bunch of keys from his pocket, as calmly as if he were only returning
after a short stroll, he approached the door and opened it. A small
gas-jet illumined the vestibule. We entered and softly closed the door
after us. From the vestibule we passed into a narrow passage, which in
its turn communicated with the great hall and the State apartments.
Surely never had the ruler of a country returned to his palace in a
more unostentatious fashion. We made our way through the great glass
doors into the magnificent entrance hall, between the lines of
statuary, and finally entered the President's private study. So far
our presence in the house had not been discovered. General Sagana, his
wife and daughters, their _aides-de-camp_ and secretaries, to say
nothing of the household, were all in bed and doubtless asleep.

"I wonder if the Gas Company, which, by the way, my dear Trevelyan, is
capitalized almost exclusively by Englishmen, realizes what an
important part it is playing in the history of Equinata," Fernandez
remarked, as he applied a match to one of the jets. "Now, if you have
no objection, we will proceed to business. It would be a pity to
disturb the family of Sagana; they will know everything in due course.
Dolores, you may remember that there is an excellent sofa in your
boudoir. Permit me to conduct you thither!"

Before replying she looked at me, and there was something in her
glance that I was at a loss to understand. She was tired, draggled,
and altogether different to her real self, and, strange to say, there
was also a curious hunted look in her eyes for which I could not
account. She seemed to be appealing to me, and yet I was not conscious
of any reason why she should do so. However, she rose and went away
with the President, leaving me alone in the room.

It was a fine apartment, hung with the portraits of many past
Presidents. I looked from one to the other, as if in the hope of
gathering information from them. But they only regarded me with stony
indifference, as if the fate of Equinata was a thing in which they no
longer took any interest.

It would be difficult to express in words my feelings at that moment.
As a matter of fact, I knew that I was between two fires. I had gone
out of my way to save Fernandez; at the same time, unless I allowed
him to reward me, which I was determined not to do, I had lost all I
possessed (for I was resolved not to keep the first five thousand
pounds of Silvestre's money) in the world. I must begin life over
again, in which case my marriage with Molly was as far off as ever. I
was aware of Fernandez' friendship, so far as I was concerned, yet I
knew him well enough to feel sure that he would repay old scores
against Hermanos and his other enemies. That being so, could I stand
by and let them be punished, when, but for me, they would have escaped
scot-free. It was not a cheerful outlook for any of us.

A few minutes later Fernandez returned.

"Now to business," he said. "Do me the favour of seating yourself at
that writing-table."

I did so, wondering, and he placed a sheet of notepaper before me.

"I want you to write to Senor Hermanos, asking him to come to the
palace with all haste. Tell him that the rightful President has
returned, and at the same time request him to bring his friends with
him to welcome him!"

"One moment," I said. "Before I do that I must know your intentions. I
am going to speak plainly, General Fernandez! You must remember that
I have already had experience of the manner in which Presidents of
Equinata deal with their rivals."

He was not in the least put out by my candour. On the contrary, he
laughed good-humouredly.

"You need not be afraid," he said. "I am not going to harm them. As a
matter of fact I intend making them very good friends--not for to-day,
but for all time. What assurance can I give you?"

I could not see that there was any. What was more, I could not see how
my refusal to write the letter could save Hermanos, if Fernandez were
determined to be revenged on him. I accordingly took up my pen and did
as he requested. When I had finished, he read the letter carefully,
possibly to make sure that I had not said anything in it that might
serve as a warning to the conspirators. Would his ruse succeed? Would
Hermanos fall into such a very simple trap? The mere fact that
Silvestre had not written it himself would surely make him suspicious.
Fernandez, however, evidently thought otherwise. When I had addressed
the envelope he placed the letter inside, and then, begging me to
excuse him once more, left the room. When he returned a quarter of an
hour later, he informed me that he had dispatched the letter by a
trustworthy messenger.

"You should have seen the worthy Antoine's face when I woke him," he
said. "He thought he was looking at a ghost. In an hour or so our
friends should be here."

To while away the time of waiting we made a raid upon the palace
larder, carried the spoil we obtained there to the smaller
dining-room, where presently the curious spectacle might have been
observed of a lady in a sadly-dilapidated ball-dress, the President of
the Republic of Equinata, and your humble servant, demolishing cold
chicken with considerable gusto.

Our meal was barely finished before the door opened and a little
grey-haired man entered the room. He was Antoine, the old major-domo
of the household, who had served more Presidents than any other
official in Equinata.

"Well, Antoine, what is it?" the President inquired.

"They are coming, your Excellency," said the little man.

"And they do not suspect?"

"No, Excellency," the other replied. "I told Senor Hermanos that if he
desired to be the first to welcome President Silvestre, he must make
haste."

"Excellent! Immediately they arrive, meet them yourself, and conduct
them to the small audience chamber. I will receive them there!"

Half-an-hour or so later, and just as we had finished our second
bottle of champagne, Antoine again made his appearance to inform us
that Hermanos and his companions had arrived and were awaiting an
interview in the room above mentioned. I saw Fernandez' mouth twitch
and then set firm; there was also an ominous twinkle in his eyes as he
said--

"Come with me, my friend, and we will interview them."

"You will remember the promise you have given me?" I said, laying my
hand upon his arm.

"You will find that I shall keep it," he replied curtly.

I followed him from the room along the hall to a door on the right, at
which Antoine was waiting.

"Have my instructions concerning the guard been obeyed?" he asked in a
low voice before he turned the handle.

"They have, Excellency," Antoine replied.

Then we passed into the room.

If I live to be a hundred I shall not forget the scene that followed.
Hermanos was standing on the opposite side of the room, and grouped
about him were three men whom, to the best of my knowledge, I had
never seen before. It is possible they might have been Hermanos'
assistants on that memorable night when we had secured the President,
but as they then wore masks I cannot speak on that point with any
degree of certainty.

The light in the room was not particularly good, and for a moment I
thought that Hermanos did not realize who it was that entered the
room. Had he done so he would scarcely have taken those two or three
quick steps forward. When he grasped the situation his surprise was
overwhelming.

"Fernandez?" I heard him mutter, as if he were thunderstruck.

His companions also seemed taken aback.

"Ah, my dear Hermanos," said the President genially, "and so we meet
again. Gentlemen, I am delighted to find you here to welcome me."

"We've been tricked," cried Hermanos hoarsely. Then fixing his eyes on
me, he continued, "So you've turned traitor, after all, senor? I
congratulate you on the facility with which you change sides."

"Pardon me," interposed the President, "but I cannot permit you to
insult my friend. I owe more to Senor Trevelyan than I can say, and
when you have heard the story I have to tell, I fancy you, and
Equinata with you, will regard his behaviour in the light that I do.
But before we say anything about that, let us endeavour to come to an
understanding of our relative positions."

He paused for a moment to allow his audience to appreciate his words.

Then he went on--

"I cannot forget that you, Hermanos, are one of the gentlemen to whom
I owe my abduction. The complicity of your companions I have yet to
discover. Now for such an offence what is the punishment to be? My
only desire is to be just."

I felt really sorry for Hermanos at that moment. He was familiar with
the form that Fernandez' justice usually took.

"Come, come, my friend, why do you not answer me?" said the President
banteringly. "You know how Silvestre would have acted under similar
circumstances. What am I to do? Shall I call in the guard, have you
arrested, and shot at sunrise, or shall I let you go free? You know my
reputation, I think, and surely even a President should live up to
that?"

"We are in your power and cannot help ourselves," the unfortunate
Hermanos replied.

"I am very much afraid you cannot," the President returned. "You
should have thought of that, however, before you took to kidnapping
the head of your country. You were never a man, Hermanos, who could
make up his mind!"

Once more the President paused, and looked from one to the other of
the wretched men before him.

"Don't play with us," cried one of the others. "If you have made up
your mind to shoot us, do so, but don't keep us in suspense."

"Forgive me, it was remiss of me," Fernandez replied with dangerous
politeness. "Antoine."

The door was opened immediately, and the major-domo appeared.

"Call up the Guards," said the President.

Antoine disappeared, to return a few moments later with the officer of
the Guard and his men.

"Take these gentlemen to the cartel," said the President, "and stand
guard over them until daylight. I will send you word within an hour as
to what you are to do with them. In the meantime I hold you
responsible for their safety."

I was altogether unprepared for this move. Was Fernandez about to
break his promise to me? It certainly looked very much like it. I was
on the point of expostulating, when the door opened and the Senorita
entered hurriedly. She glanced from one to the other of us with a
frightened expression upon her face. Then she turned to Fernandez.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, holding out her hands to him
as if in supplication.

"Forgive me, my dear, but I think it would be better if you leave us,"
the President replied. "I shall be very happy to give you full
particulars later."

"No, no," she cried. "Senor Hermanos, you helped to bring this trouble
upon us, and--ah! I see it all. Why are you here at this hour, and
what is the meaning of the Guard?" Then turning to the President she
continued, "Oh, sir, are we never to be free from this sort of thing?
Is it impossible for us all to be friends?"

"It certainly seems difficult," Fernandez replied. "Thanks to Senor
Hermanos and his friends, I have passed through an extremely dangerous
and unpleasant crisis. Had matters gone as they intended they should
do, by this time I should have been in my grave. Fortune favoured me,
however, and now I have returned to my own. Who can blame me if I
repay those who would have worked my ruin?"

Turning to the captain of the Guard, he bade him remove his prisoners.
On hearing this the Senorita completely broke down. She fell on her
knees at the President's feet and implored him to forgive. Whether it
was a mere matter of acting and had all been previously arranged, as I
am sometimes tempted to believe, or whether it was genuine, I am not
in a position to say. Whatever else it may have been, however, it was
at least effective. Then I saw my opportunity and took advantage of
it.

"Your Excellency must forgive me if I interfere," I said. "There seems
one point, however, that has escaped your attention. If Senor Hermanos
and his companions are to be held guilty for your abduction, it is
only fit and proper that I, who was the leading spirit in it, should
take my place with them. If they are to be shot then I must share
their fate."

My decision seemed to stagger them. He looked from me to them and then
back again. Then he laughed outright, but I could not help thinking
that his merriment lacked sincerity.

"You are certainly an extraordinary man, my dear Trevelyan. You abduct
me and then save my life. You rejoice at being friends with me again
and then ask me to shoot you. It seems to me, Hermanos, that you are
fortunate in your advocates. The Senorita, to whom I can deny nothing,
pleads for you; Senor Trevelyan, to whom I owe my life, refuses to let
you die unless he dies too. I should be more than human to resist!"
Then, waving his hand to the captain of the Guard, who had been
watching us with a puzzled expression upon his face, he continued,
"Well, well, since it must be, let it be so! You can leave us."

The captain retired with his men, and a somewhat awkward silence fell
upon us. There was still a look of pleading upon the Senorita's face.
The President, however, seemed thoughtful. It was evident that he had
no desire to forego his vengeance. He paced the room for a few
minutes, while we watched him with anxious faces. Heaven alone knows
what Hermanos and his friends were thinking of, but I know very well
what I thought, and I can assure you, my dear reader, I was far from
happy. At last he stopped, and, after a momentary pause, faced
Hermanos.

"Hermanos," he said, "you threw in your lot with my enemies, and you
could not blame me if I made you answer for so doing. I certainly
intended to do so; but I suppose we are none of us infallible, and
with such pleading in your favour, I have nothing left me but to
surrender. From this moment you are free. I give you your lives,
gentlemen! Is it possible, since Silvestre is dead, for you to give me
your allegiance? Now, shall we shake hands, endeavour to forget the
past, and live only to promote the happiness of the country, for which
we have risked so much?"

One by one they advanced and solemnly shook Fernandez by the hand.
Then, at a signal from the President, Antoine left the room, to
appear a moment later with a tray of glasses and two bottles of
champagne.

"Gentlemen," cried Fernandez, holding his glass aloft, "I give you the
toast, 'Peace and prosperity to the fair State of Equinata.'"

When they had departed, Fernandez turned to me with a queer smile upon
his face.

"I don't think they will trouble us again," he said.

I did not reply! What I was thinking was that I would have given
something to have heard their conversation as they crossed the
Square!




CHAPTER XVI


Strange to say, the populace of La Gloria did not appear to trouble
themselves very much, either one way or the other, concerning their
President's re-appearance. The officials, however, were, as behoved
them, considerably more demonstrative. They were well acquainted with
Fernandez' temper, and, like sagacious mortals, realized that it would
be wiser for them to allow him to suppose that, whatever their own
private opinions might be, they desired no better leader than himself.
With Hermanos, and his fellow-conspirators, he was not likely, as he
observed, to have very much trouble. They professed to have seen the
error of their ways, and were as enthusiastic in Fernandez' praise as
they had hitherto been in his detriment. As for my own part in this
singular business I allowed Fernandez to tell the story in his own
fashion. This he did, to such good purpose that in a very short time I
found myself the hero of La Gloria, an honour with which I could very
well have dispensed. Monsieur Maxime and his crew were most liberally
rewarded by the President, as were Matthews and his fellow-sailor.
They remained in Equinata for a short time, but what became of them
later I cannot say.

"My dear Trevelyan," said Fernandez to me one morning, "I really
intend that we should have a serious talk together. Now you know that
whenever I have broached the subject of a recompense to you for the
trouble you have taken, you have invariably put me off with some
excuse or another, but I will be denied no longer. Forgive me if I say
I am well acquainted with the state of your finances."

"It is not a fine prospect, is it?" I said, with a laugh.

"If you had stood by Silvestre and had left me to my fate, you would
have been a comparatively rich man. And even if you did turn the
tables upon Silvestre, why were you so quixotic as to hand him back
the money?"

"I think you can guess," I answered. "If you can't, I am afraid I must
leave you to work the problem out."

"And if you would not take _his_ money, why should you be equally
particular in my case? It is only fair that I should recompense you
for the inestimable service you have rendered me."

"I am afraid that it is impossible," I answered, for, as I have
already said, I had long since made up my mind upon this subject.

Fernandez endeavoured to press me, but I remained adamant. Nothing he
could do or say would induce me to change my mind. I knew that it was
only by adhering to my resolution that I could salve my conscience. I
had still sufficient money of my own left to pay for my passage to
England.

Important as the capital of Equinata may appear in the eyes of its
inhabitants, it is, nevertheless, scarcely so prominent in the
maritime world as certain other places I could mention on the South
American coast. It was true I could wait for the monthly mail-steamer
which would connect with a branch line at La Guayra, or I might take
one of the small trading-boats and proceed along the coast until I
could find a vessel bound for Europe. But having had sufficient of
trading schooners in _La Belle Josephine_ to last me a lifetime, I
eventually made up my mind to await the coming of the mail-boat,
which, if all went well, would put in an appearance in a fortnight's
time.

During that fortnight I was permitted a further opportunity of
studying the character of the Senorita under another aspect. Since her
return to La Gloria she seemed to have undergone a complete change.
Her temper was scarcely alike for two days at a time. She was
capricious, wilful, easily made angry; then she would veer round, and
be tender, repentant and so anxious to please, that it was impossible
to be vexed with her.

"The President will miss you very much when you leave us," she said to
me on the evening before my departure, as we stood together on the
marble terrace overlooking the palace gardens.

It was a lovely night, and the air was filled with the scent of the
orange blossom. I do not think my companion had ever looked more
beautiful than she did at that moment. Indeed her beauty seemed to me
to be almost unearthly.

"I fancy every one likes to feel that he or she will be missed," I
answered. "You may be sure I shall often think of Equinata. Perhaps
some day I may be able to return."

"Who knows where we shall be then?" she replied gloomily.

"What do you mean?" I asked in a tone of surprise. "You will, of
course, be here, leading the Social Life of Equinata as you do now!"

"I am afraid that even now you do not realize how quickly affairs
change in South America," she replied. "Some one else may manage to
catch the Public Fancy, there will be a Revolution and we shall go out
of power--perhaps to our graves!"

"I cannot believe that. In any case your uncle would take care your
safety is assured!"

She gave a little impatient tap with her foot upon the stones.

"Of course he would protect me if he could," she answered, "but he
might not be able to do anything. Had you not come to our rescue on
that island, what use would his protection have been to me? How do I
know that we may not be situated like that again? Oh, I am tired of
this life--tired--tired!"

Almost before I knew what had happened she was leaning on the
balustrading, sobbing as if her heart would break. I was so taken by
surprise, that for a moment I did not know what to say, or do, to
comfort her. Then I went forward and placed my hand gently upon her
shoulder.

"Senorita," I said, "is there anything I can do to help you?"

"No, no," she answered. "You can do nothing! Leave me to my misery.
Does it matter to you, or to any one, what becomes of me?"

"It must matter a good deal to your friends," I replied.

"Friends?" she cried, facing me once more and speaking with a scorn
impossible to describe. "I have no friends. The women hate and fear
me, the men cringe to me because of my influence with the President.
Even he may grow tired of me before long, and then----"

I allowed this speech to pass uncommented on. At the same time I
wished the President would make his appearance and put an end to what
was becoming a rather dangerous _tete-a-tete_. When she spoke again it
was in a fierce whisper.

"Do you remember that night when we stood together in the balcony of
the Opera House, and talked of ambition and of what a man might rise
to? Senor Trevelyan, I tell you this, if I loved a man I could help
him to rise to anything. Do you hear me? To anything!"

There was only one way to treat the matter, and before I answered her
I knew perfectly well what the result would be.

"Enviable man!" was all I said.

She drew herself up to her full height. Then, turning on her heel, she
made her way swiftly towards the house. My silly compliment had
succeeded where expostulation or reserve would have failed.

Next morning the mail-boat which was to carry me away from Equinata
made her appearance in the harbour. She was to sail at midday, and up
to eleven o'clock I had seen nothing of the Senorita. About ten
minutes before I left the palace, however, she made her appearance in
the President's study. Her face was somewhat paler than usual, and
though she endeavoured to lead me to suppose that she had forgotten
our conversation on the previous evening, I could see that the memory
of it still weighed heavily upon her. The President had declared his
intention of personally escorting me on board the steamer, and at the
last moment, not a little to my surprise, the Senorita decided to
accompany him. We accordingly set off, and in due course reached the
vessel, a miserable packet of some six hundred tons, whose captain, on
hearing of our arrival, hastened forward to receive his distinguished
guests. After he had paid his respects he offered to show the Senorita
the saloon, and thus gave me a few minutes alone with the President.

"It is needless for me to say how sorry I am that you are going," said
the latter. "I wish I could have persuaded you to stay with us. But I
suppose you know your own business best. Remember this, however!
Should you ever need a friend, there is one in La Gloria to whom you
can always turn!"

I thanked him and promised that I would not forget, and then the
Senorita rejoined us. We had only time to exchange a few words before
the whistle sounded for strangers to leave the ship.

"Good-bye," said the President, giving me his hand. "Think sometimes
of Equinata."

"You may be sure I shall do that," I answered, with a glance at the
white town ashore.

Then the Senorita in her turn held out her little hand. I took it, and
as I did so looked into her eyes.

"Good-bye," she said, and in a low voice added:--"May the Saints
protect you."

Then she followed the President to the gangway. A quarter of an hour
later we were steaming between the Heads, and in half-an-hour La
Gloria was out of sight.




CHAPTER XVII


It was a cold and foggy day in November when the steamer which I had
boarded in Barbadoes reached the Thames. I had been absent from
England more than four months, and the veriest glutton for excitement
could not have desired more than had fallen to my lot.

Having bade my fellow-passengers good-bye, I caught the first
available train to town only to discover, when I reached Fenchurch
Street, that I should have some considerable time to wait at Waterloo
before I could get on to Salisbury. I accordingly cast about me for a
way of employing my time. This resolved itself in a decision to call
upon my old friend, Mr. Winzor, in order to obtain from him the letter
I had entrusted to his charge. As I made my way along the crowded
streets I could not help contrasting them to the sun-bathed
thoroughfares of La Gloria. In my mind's eye I could see again the
happy-go-lucky _cafes_ on the tree-shaded pavement, the white houses
with their green shutters; and, behind the city, the mountains
towering up, peak after peak, into the azure sky.

At last I turned into the street I remembered so well, and approached
the office of my old friend. I ascended the steps and pushed open the
glass door. Somewhat to my surprise a strange clerk accosted me. When
I inquired for Mr. Winzor, the surprised look upon the youth's face
told me that something unusual had happened.

"Don't you know that he is dead?" he inquired.

"Dead?" I cried, in genuine consternation. "Good heavens! you don't
mean that!"

"He died more than six weeks ago," the young man replied. "He had some
papers to sign in that room, and when his chief clerk went in to get
them he found the old gentleman stone dead."

I was more distressed than I could say at this news. The little lawyer
had been a kindly friend to me, and also to my mother.

Thanking the clerk for his information I left the office and made my
way to Waterloo. There I took the train to Salisbury, and, on arrival
at the cathedral city, set out for Falstead.

At this last stage of my story I will not weary you with a long
description of my home coming. Let it suffice that I at last reached
the village and found myself approaching the house of my childhood.
The tiny gate had scarcely closed behind me when the front-door opened
and my mother hastened to greet me.

When we reached her little drawing-room I questioned her concerning
Molly.

"I expect her every moment," said my mother.

As she spoke the click of the gate caused me to go to the window with
all speed.

Shall I describe what followed? Would it interest you to know how
Molly and I greeted each other? I think not. I will inform you,
however, that I was more than repaid for all I had been through by the
way in which I was received.

Later in the evening we went for a walk together.

"Dick, dear," said my sweetheart, "you have not told me how your
venture prospered."

This was the question I had been dreading.

"It has not prospered at all," I said. "The fact is, I have made
nothing out of it. I am ashamed to say so, but I am poorer than when I
left England four months ago."

To my surprise she received my information with perfect equanimity.

"But I am afraid you don't understand what it means to me, darling," I
said. "And, before we go any further, I am going to tell you the
whole story. Though it may make you think differently of me, I feel
that I should let you know all."

I thereupon set to work and told her everything, from the moment of my
first meeting with Silvestre on board the _Pernambuco_ to my return to
Falstead that evening. I finished with the information that there was
still upwards of five thousand pounds of Silvestre's money to my
credit in the Salisbury bank. I told her that it was my intention not
to keep a halfpenny of it, but to send it anonymously to a London
hospital.

"And I think you would be right, Dick," the sweet girl answered. "Do
not keep it. It would only bring us bad luck. And now, what about our
marriage?"

I shook my head.

"I fear, dear, we shall have to go on waiting," I said. "I must try
and get another berth, but whether or not I shall be able to do so
Heaven only knows."

"Dick, dear," she said, slipping her arm through mine as she spoke, "I
cannot keep the secret from you any longer. I ought to have told you
before."

"And what is this wonderful secret?" I inquired.

"I doubt whether I look it, Dick, but I am a very rich woman."

"A rich woman!" I cried incredulously. "What do you mean by that?"

For the moment I thought she was joking, but one glance at her face
showed me that she was serious.

"I mean what I say," she answered. "I am a very rich woman. When poor
old Mr. Winzor died he left me all his fortune--nearly forty thousand
pounds."

I could scarcely contain my astonishment.

"Was it not good of him?" she continued. "Forty thousand pounds at
three per cent. is twelve hundred pounds a year, is it not?"

Even then I was too much surprised by her information to be able to
realize the change that had taken place in Molly's position.

"Are you not glad, dear?" she said at last.

"Yes, yes," I replied, "but I cannot quite understand it yet. It seems
too good to be true."

"We shall be able to do so much with it," she said, drawing closer to
me and lifting her sweet face to mine.

"I am luckier than I deserve to be," I answered.

And doubtless, my dear reader, you will say it was the truth.

       *       *       *       *       *

Molly and I have been married five years. We have a boy of three, and
a baby girl who promises to be the manager of her mother. We lead a
very quiet life in a house we have built for ourselves on the
outskirts of Falstead. There is not a happier man in the world than I
am, nor has any man a sweeter wife. So far I have not returned to
Equinata. As a matter of fact I do not suppose that I shall ever do
so, for grievous changes have occurred there. As all the world is
aware, Fernandez was assassinated while reviewing his troops on the
Grand Plaza, two years after I left, while Sagana met with the same
untimely fate a year later. Immediately on hearing the news I made
inquiries as to the whereabouts of the Senorita, only to hear that she
had fled the country and had entered a convent in the neighbourhood of
Rio.

Perhaps she is happier there!

THE END

_Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, London & Bungay._




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Each volume attractively Illustrated by Stanley L. Wood and others.
_Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, Trimmed Edges_, 5s.

     MY STRANGEST CASE

     FAREWELL, NIKOLA!

     SHEILAH McLEOD

     MY INDIAN QUEEN

     LONG LIVE THE KING!

     A SAILOR'S BRIDE

     A PRINCE OF SWINDLERS

     A MAKER OF NATIONS

     THE RED RAT'S DAUGHTER

     LOVE MADE MANIFEST

     PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN

     ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE

     THE LUST OF HATE

     BUSHIGRAMS

     THE FASCINATION OF THE KING

     DR. NIKOLA

     THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL

     A BID FOR FORTUNE; or, Dr. Nikola's Vendetta

     IN STRANGE COMPANY: A Story of Chili and
     the Southern Seas

     THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER: A Torres Straits
     Sketch.




Novels by Joseph Hocking.

_Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt, =3/6= each. Each volume uniform._

   =GREATER LOVE.= Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE.

   =LEST WE FORGET.= Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS.

   =THE PURPLE ROBE.= Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS.

   =THE SCARLET WOMAN.= Illustrated by SYDNEY COWELL.

   =THE BIRTHRIGHT.= Illustrated by HAROLD PIFFARD.

   =MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH.= Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND.

   =FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by J.
     BARNARD DAVIS.

   =ALL MEN ARE LIARS.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by GORDON
     BROWNE.

   =ISHMAEL PENGELLY: An Outcast.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by
     W. S. STACEY.

   =THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by
     GEO. HUTCHINSON.

   =AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE?= Illustrated by LANCELOT SPEED.

   =JABEZ EASTERBROOK.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by STANLEY L.
     WOOD.

   =WEAPONS OF MYSTERY.= With Frontispiece and Vignette.

   =ZILLAH.= With Frontispiece by POWELL CHASE.

   =THE MONK OF MAR-SABA.= With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S.
     STACEY.




WORKS BY

E. Phillips Oppenheim.


=_The Illustrated London News_= says:--"Humdrum is the very last word
you could apply to (a tale by) E. P. Oppenheim, which reminds you of
one of those Chinese nests of boxes, one inside the other. You have
plot within plot, wheel within wheel, mystery within mystery, till you
are almost dizzy."

=_The British Weekly_= says:--"Mr. Oppenheim has boundless imagination
and distinct skill. He paints in broad, vivid colours; yet, audacious
as he is, he never outsteps the possible. There is good thrilling
mystery in his books, and not a few excellent characters."

     =THE GREAT AWAKENING.=
     Illustrated by F. H. TOWNSEND. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =6s.=

     =THE SURVIVOR.=
     Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =6s.=

     =A MILLIONAIRE OF YESTERDAY.=
     Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =6s.=

     =THE MYSTERY OF MR. BERNARD BROWN.=
     Illustrated. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =3s. 6d.=

     =THE WORLD'S GREAT SNARE.=
     Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt,
     =3s. 6d.=

     =A DAUGHTER OF THE MARIONIS.=
     Illustrated by ADOLF THIEDE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =3s. 6d.=

     =THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM.=
     Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt,
     =3s. 6d.=

     =MYSTERIOUS MR. SABIN.=
     Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt,
     =3s. 6d.=

     =AS A MAN LIVES.=
     Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt,
     =3s. 6d.=

     =A MONK OF CRUTA.=
     Illustrated by WARNE BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, =3s. 6d.=




  NEW COMPLETE LIBRARY EDITION
  OF
  G. J. Whyte-Melville's Novels
  COMPLETE IN 25 VOLUMES.

_Large Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt_, =3s. 6d.= _each_.

Each volume is well printed from type specially cast, on best
antique paper, illustrated by front-rank artists, and handsomely
bound.


     =1 Katerfelto.=               Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH

     =2 Cerise.=                    Illustrated by G. P. JACOMB HOOD

     =3 Sarchedon.=                      Illustrated by S. E. WALLER

     =4 Songs and Verses and The True Cross.=
                                         Illustrated by S. E. WALLER

     =5 Market Harborough and Inside the Bar.=
                                        Illustrated by JOHN CHARLTON

     =6 Black but Comely.=               Illustrated by S. E. WALLER

     =7 Roy's Wife.=                Illustrated by G. P. JACOMB HOOD

     =8 Rosine, and Sister Louise.= Illustrated by G. P. JACOMB HOOD

     =9 Kate Coventry.=            Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH

     =10 The Gladiators.=           Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON

     =11 Riding Recollections.=         Illustrated by JOHN CHARLTON

     =12 The Brookes of Bridlemere.=     Illustrated by S. E. WALLER

     =13 Satanella.=               Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH

     =14 Holmby House.=            Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH

     =15 The White Rose.=                Illustrated by S. E. WALLER

     =16 Tilbury Nogo.=               Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD

     =17 Uncle John.=                    Illustrated by S. E. WALLER

     =18 Contraband.=                 Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD

     =19 M. or N.=                       Illustrated by ADOLF THIEDE

     =20 The Queen's Maries.=      Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH

     =21 General Bounce.=                Illustrated by FRANCES EWAN

     =22 Digby Grand.=              Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON

     =23 The Interpreter.=         Illustrated by LUCY E. KEMP-WELCH

     =24 Good for Nothing.=         Illustrated by G. P. JACOMB HOOD

     =25 Bones and I.=                   Illustrated by A. FORESTIER




2/= Copyright Novels.

_Crown 8vo, Litho Picture Boards, Cloth Backs._

The Novels included are by some of the most noted authors of the
day, beautifully printed and produced.

   =1 The Curse of Clement Waynflete.= By BERTRAM MITFORD.
     Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD.

   =2 The Crime and the Criminal.= By RICHARD MARSH. Illustrated
     by HAROLD PIFFARD.

   =3 Captain Shannon.= By COULSON KERNAHAN. Illustrated by F. S.
     WILSON.

   =4 Chronicles of Martin Hewitt.= By ARTHUR MORRISON. Illustrated
     by D. MURRAY SMITH.

   =5 "The Queen of Night."= By HEADON HILL. Illustrated by HAROLD
     PIFFARD.

   =6 A Man's Foes.= By E. H. STRAIN. Illustrated by A. FORESTIER.

   =7 A Secret Service.= By WILLIAM LE QUEUX. Illustrated by HAROLD
     PIFFARD.

   =8 A Veldt Official.= By BERTRAM MITFORD. Illustrated by STANLEY
     L. WOOD.

   =9 Woman, the Mystery.= By HENRY HERMAN. Illustrated by GEORGE
     HUTCHINSON.

   =10 Martin Hewitt, Investigator.= By ARTHUR MORRISON.
     Illustrated by SIDNEY PAGET.

   =11 A Stolen Life.= By M. MCDONNELL BODKIN. Illustrated by
     FRANCES EWAN.

   =12 A Social Highwayman.= By E. P. TRAIN. Illustrated by F.
     MCKERNAN.

   =13 The Datchet Diamonds.= By RICHARD MARSH. Illustrated by
     STANLEY L. WOOD.

   =14 At Midnight.= By ADA CAMBRIDGE. Illustrated by P. FRENZENY
     and others.

   =15 Lady Turpin.= By HENRY HERMAN. Illustrated by STANLEY L.
     WOOD.

   =16 Adventures of Martin Hewitt.= By ARTHUR MORRISON. Illustrated
     by T. S. C. CROWTHER.

   =17 The Expiation of Wynne Palliser.= By BERTRAM MITFORD.
     Illustrated by STANLEY L. WOOD.

   =18 A Sensational Case.= By ALICE MAUD MEADOWS. Illustrated by
     ST. CLAIR SIMMONS.

   =19 The Dorrington Deed Box.= By ARTHUR MORRISON. Illustrated by
     STANLEY L. WOOD, &c.

   =20 The Right Sort.= By MRS. E. KENNARD. Illustrated by EDGAR
     GIBERNE.

   =21 Beacon Fires.= By HEADON HILL. Illustrated by STANLEY L.
     WOOD.

   =22 Fordham's Feud.= By BERTRAM MITFORD. Illustrated by STANLEY
     L. WOOD.

   =23 The Dwarf's Chamber.= By FERGUS HUME. Illustrated by PERCY F.
     S. SPENCE.

   =24 The Voyage of the "Pulo Way."= By W. CARLTON DAWE.
     Illustrated by J. AMBROSE WALTON.

   =25 Lord Edward Fitzgerald.= By M. MCDONNELL BODKIN. Illustrated
     by LEONARD LINSDELL.

   =26 The Unseen Hand.= By LAWRENCE L. LYNCH. Illustrated by ST.
     CLAIR SIMMONS.

   =27 The Crime of a Christmas Toy.= By HENRY HERMAN. Illustrated
     by GEORGE HUTCHINSON.

   =28 The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings.= By Mrs. L. T. MEADE.
     Illustrated by SIDNEY PAGET.

   =29 Out from the Night.= By ALICE MAUD MEADOWS. Illustrated by T.
     W. HENRY.

   =30 The Rebels.= By M. MCDONNELL BODKIN. Illustrated by J.
     AMBROSE WALTON.

   =31 The Last Stroke.= By LAWRENCE L. LYNCH.

   =32 A Master of Mysteries.= By Mrs. L. T. MEADE. Illustrated by
     J. AMBROSE WALTON.

   =33 The Eye of Fate.= By ALICE MAUD MEADOWS.

   =34 A Bear Squeeze.= By M. MCDONNELL BODKIN.

   =35 L19,000.= By BURFORD DELANNOY.

   =36 Willow, the King.= By J. C. SNAITH.

   =37 The Man and His Kingdom.= By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM.

   =38 The Sanctuary Club.= By Mrs. L. T. MEADE.

   =39 Between the Lines.= By BURFORD DELANNOY.

   =40 The Man of the Moment.= By MORICE GERARD.

   =41 Caged.= By HEADON HILL.

   =42 Under Fate's Wheel.= By LAWRENCE L. LYNCH.

   =43 Margate Murder Mystery.= By BURFORD DELANNOY.




The Minerva Library.

NEW SERIES.

_Large Crown 8vo, Art Linen, Extra Gilt, Fully Illustrated, 2s._

   _VOLUME I._

   =Missionary Travels and Researches in South Africa. Including a
   sketch of sixteen years' residence in the Interior of Africa.=
   With portrait and full-page plates. By DAVID LIVINGSTONE, LL.D.,
   D.C.L.

   _VOLUME II._

   =A Journal of Researches into the Natural History and Geology of
   the Countries visited during the voyage of H.M.S. "Beagle" round
   the World.= By CHARLES DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S., Author of "Coral
   Reefs," "The Descent of Man," etc. Containing a biographical
   introduction by G. T. BETTANY, M.A., B.Sc., with portrait of
   Darwin, and other illustrations.

   _VOLUME III._

   =Life and Correspondence of Thomas Arnold, D.D.= some time
   Head-master of Rugby School, and Regius Professor of Modern
   History in the University of Oxford. By ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY,
   D.D., Dean of Westminster. With a portrait of Dr. Arnold, and
   other illustrations.

   _VOLUME IV._

   =Travels on the Amazon and Rio <DW64>. With an Account of the
   Native Tribes, and Observations on the Climate, Geology, and
   Natural History of the Amazon Valley.= By ALFRED RUSSEL WALLACE,
   LL.D., Author of "Darwinism," "The Malay Archipelago," etc., etc.
   With a biographical introduction by G. T. BETTANY, M.A., B.Sc.,
   portrait of the Author, and other illustrations.

   _VOLUME V._

   =Macaulay's Essays, Historical and Literary, from the "Edinburgh
   Review."= By LORD MACAULAY, Essayist, Politician, and Historian.
   With a biographical introduction by G. T. BETTANY, M.A., B.Sc.
   Fully illustrated from portraits.

   _VOLUME VI._

   =Lavengro: The Scholar, The Priest, The Gipsy.= By GEORGE BORROW,
   Author of "The Bible in Spain," etc., etc. With introductory
   notes by THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON. Illustrated from portraits.

   _VOLUME VII._

   =Emerson's Prose Works.= The complete Prose Works of RALPH WALDO
   EMERSON. With a critical introduction by G. T. BETTANY, M.A.,
   B.Sc., and a portrait of the Author.

   _VOLUME VIII._

   =Coral Reefs, Volcanic Islands, and South American Geology.= By
   CHARLES DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S. With critical and historical
   introductions by Professor JOHN W. JUDD, F.R.S. With various
   maps, illustrations, and portrait of the Author.

   _VOLUME IX._

   =The Romany Rye. A Sequel to Lavengro.= By GEORGE BORROW.
   Illustrated from old prints and portraits.

   _VOLUME X._

   =The French Revolution: A History.= By THOMAS CARLYLE. With
   introduction by G. T. BETTANY, M.A., B.Sc., and full-page
   illustrations.

   _VOLUME XI._

   =Sartor Resartus; Heroes and Hero Worship; and Past and Present.=
   By THOMAS CARLYLE. With Critical Introduction. Illustrated from
   photographs.

   _VOLUME XII._

   =Macaulay's Biographical, Critical, and Miscellaneous Essays and
   Poems=, including "The Lays of Ancient Rome." With notes and
   introduction. Illustrated from photographs.

   _VOLUME XIII._

   =Society in China.= By ROBERT K. DOUGLAS, Keeper of Oriental
   Books and Manuscripts in the British Museum. Professor of Chinese
   at King's College. Illustrated from photographs.

   _VOLUME XIV._

   =The Bible in Spain.= By GEORGE BORROW, Author of "Lavengro,"
   etc., etc. With biographical introduction by G. T. BETTANY, M.A.,
   B.Sc. Illustrated from photographs.

   _VOLUME XV._

   =Cromwell's Letters and Speeches.= By THOMAS CARLYLE.
   Illustrated.

   _VOLUME XVI._

   =On the Origin of Species: By Means of Natural Selection.= By
   CHARLES DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S., etc. Illustrated from photographs.

   _VOLUME XVII._

   =Bacon's Essays; Civil and Moral Advancement of Learning; Novum
   Organum, etc.= With biographical introduction by G. T. BETTANY,
   M.A., B.Sc. Illustrated from photographs.




 THE
 Windsor Library
 OF
 FAMOUS BOOKS.

_Large Crown 8vo, Cloth Gilt. Each with Four Illustrations._ 1s. 6d.

A remarkable feature of the world of fiction is that the yearly
increasing supply of fresh romances, by both new and established
authors, has no effect on the unfailing popularity of the recognised
masterpieces. The demand for attractive editions of these books has
never been greater than it is to-day, and it is to meet this want that
the publishers are issuing this new series. The volumes are well
printed from clear type on good paper, tastefully bound in a design
that will grace the bookshelf, and splendidly illustrated. In a word,
for value, it is the best and cheapest series that has ever been
placed on the market.

     =1 Pickwick Papers=                CHARLES DICKENS

     =2 David Copperfield=              CHARLES DICKENS

     =11 Vanity Fair=                   W. M. THACKERAY

     =12 The History of Pendennis=      W. M. THACKERAY

     =16 Westward Ho!=                 CHARLES KINGSLEY

     =17 Hypatia=                      CHARLES KINGSLEY

     =21 It is Never too Late to Mend=      CHAS. READE

     =26 Jane Eyre=                    CHARLOTTE BRONTE

     =27 Shirley=                      CHARLOTTE BRONTE

     =31 Ivanhoe=                      SIR WALTER SCOTT

     =32 Old Mortality=                SIR WALTER SCOTT

     =41 The Last Days of Pompeii=          LORD LYTTON

     =42 The Last of the Barons=            LORD LYTTON

     =43 Harold=                            LORD LYTTON

     =46 The Three Musketeers=          ALEXANDRE DUMAS

     =47 The Count of Monte Cristo=     ALEXANDRE DUMAS

     =51 Cranford=                         MRS. GASKELL

     =52 Mary Barton=                      MRS. GASKELL

     =56 Autocrat of the Breakfast Table=  O. W. HOLMES

     =61 Charles O'Malley=                CHARLES LEVER

     =62 Jack Hinton=                     CHARLES LEVER

     =71 The Toilers of the Sea=            VICTOR HUGO

     =72 The Hunchback of Notre Dame=       VICTOR HUGO

     =76 John Halifax, Gentleman=            MRS. CRAIK

     =81 Adam Bede=                        GEORGE ELIOT

     =86 Geoffry Hamlyn=                 HENRY KINGSLEY

     =91 Katerfelto=               G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE

     =92 The Gladiators=           G. J. WHYTE-MELVILLE

     =96 A Study in Scarlet=             A. CONAN DOYLE

     =98 Out of the Hurly Burly=             MAX ADELER

     =103 In Strange Company=               GUY BOOTHBY

     =109 Orley Farm=                  ANTHONY TROLLOPE

     =115 Danesbury House=              MRS. HENRY WOOD

     =120 Ben Hur=                          LEW WALLACE




     Some Magazines are
             MERELY MASCULINE ...
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             FRIVOLOUSLY FEMININE.

     ... THE ...

     WINDSOR

     _Stands alone as
     The Illustrated Magazine
     for Men and Women._

=ITS STORIES=--Serial and Short alike--are by the leading
Novelists of the day; =Its Articles=, ranging over every branch
of our complex modern life, are by recognised Specialists; =Its
Illustrations= represent the high-water mark of current
Black-and-White Art.

These features combine to make =The Windsor's= contents, month by
month, a popular theme for conversation in circles that are weary
of the trivialities of the common-place periodicals.

In addition to its strong interest for =MEN and WOMEN=, the
=Windsor= makes a feature of publishing the Best Studies of
=Child-Life= that the modern cult of youth has yet produced in
fictional literature.

_The WINDSOR'S recent and present Contributors Include:--_

     Rudyard Kipling
     Mrs. F. A. Steel
     S. R. Crockett
     Cutcliffe Hyne
     Max Pemberton
     Hall Caine
     E. Nesbit
     Guy Boothby
     Ian Maclaren
     Frankfort Moore
     Anthony Hope
     Ethel Turner
     Robert Barr
     Barry Pain
     Gilbert Parker

WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Kidnapped President, by Guy Boothby

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