In Strange Company: A Story of Chili and the Southern Seas

  CHAPTER II.

  A STRANGE NIGHT.

  Just a week, night for night, after the events recorded in the previouschapter, Marcos Veneda was making his way slowly along the Sea-Front,towards a distant portion of the city. The short winter day, made allthe shorter by a thick pall of cloud stretched across the sky, was fastdrawing to a close. Far out beyond the harbour a faint streak of silverlight still lingered, as if loth to say farewell; but nearer the wharvesthe water lay black and sullen like the mantle of approaching night. Inthe streets, though the hour still wanted twenty minutes of six, but fewpeople were abroad; for such was the lawless condition of Valparaiso atthat time, that walking after nightfall had become not only anunpleasant, but in many districts an exceedingly dangerous undertaking.

  But though, after he had proceeded a little way, Marcos Veneda stoppedabruptly in his walk and stood for some moments gazing out to sea, therewas nothing in his face to show that he was in any way conscious ofeither the atmospheric effects or the personal danger to which I havejust alluded. It might rather have been inferred, from the frown thatcontracted his forehead and the expression which fixed itself round hismouth, that his thoughts were very far removed from any such minormatters. Certain was it that he was more than a little disturbed in hismind, and it was equally probable that, so far as he saw at present, hewas no nearer a solution of his problem than he had been at any timeduring the previous twenty-four hours. Twice since he had come to astandstill his lips had moved in commencement of a sentence, and twicehe had dug his stick impatiently into the ground before him, but thefrown did not relax nor the expression change. The truth was he foundhimself in a very awkward predicament, one which will readily explainitself when I say that he had been summoned to, and was on his way toattend, a council meeting of the Society, to confer _as to the bestmeans of obtaining possession of Bradshaw's treasure_. As he walked hewas trying to arrange his course of action, for he was the victim of anatural delicacy, which he knew would prevent him from informing hiscolleagues of the fact that he had already appropriated and disposed ofthe money.

  Presently, however, he seemed to have decided upon some course, for hepulled himself together, adjusted his hat, which had slipped somewhatout of its usual position, and resumed his walk with the air of a manwho had only made up his mind after mature consideration. Just as he didso the clouds opened their store, and a heavy shower descended.

  While he is passing along the Front, perhaps we may be excused if weseek to become better acquainted with one in whose company we aredestined to travel many thousands of miles.

  He is indeed a strange man, this Marcos Veneda, a man of such perplexingmixtures that I doubt very much whether his most intimate friend could,under any circumstances, properly describe him. Gifted by nature withsuch advantages, both personal and otherwise, as but seldom fall to theshare of one man, it seemed the irony of Fate that he should be debarredfrom deriving the slightest real or lasting benefit from any one ofthem. Hated with a cordial and undisguised hatred by the Chilanosthemselves, and barely tolerated by the English section of thecommunity, he supported an existence in Chili that was as unique as hisown individuality was complex and extraordinary. To any one moresensitive such a life would have been unendurable, but Marcos Venedaseemed to derive a positive enjoyment from his social ostracism, and tobecome more and more satisfied with his lot in life as the gulf whichcut him off from his neighbours widened. Among other things, it wascharacteristic of the man that he treated every one, high and low,alike; he unbent to nobody; but if it could be said that he was moreamiably disposed towards one class than another, it was to those whowould be the least likely ever to repay his cordiality. How helived--for he practised no profession, and he certainly served no tradeor master--no one knew; he made it a boast that he had never received aremittance from the outside world, and yet he was well known to have noincome of his own. On the other hand, though he owed nobody anything,he had always money to spend, while those who had been privileged tosee, reported that he occupied quarters in a semi-fashionable portion ofthe town that were very far removed from poverty-stricken.

  Like most other people in Chili, in the year 1891, he had been drawninto the bitter civil war then proceeding, and he knew, if only on thescore of party politics, the next twenty-four hours would decide muchfor him.

  And not to Veneda alone, but to many other unfortunates compelled toremain in Valparaiso that night, was the question which the morrow woulddetermine, of vital moment. The fierce struggle which for the betterpart of a year had been raging between the forces of the DictatorBalmaceda and those of the Opposition or Congressionalist Party, as theywere more usually called, had at length reached such a pitch that itrequired but one more vigorous battle to find a termination.

  From being spread over the land, the two opposing armies were now comeface to face. The previous week had proved a deeply exciting one. Eventshad crowded thick and fast upon each other, beginning with the battle ofColmo; when, after a stubborn, hard-fought engagement, lasting somethinglike five hours, the Opposition had gained a well-earned victory.Balmaceda's army had marched into battle 14,000 strong, and had beenobliged to beat a retreat, having lost, besides 1000 men killed and manymore than that number wounded, 18 field-guns, and 170 mules laden withstores and ammunition. So signal was the disaster that, on realizing it,no less than 1500 men of the Government forces threw down their arms andfled into the mountains, while twice that number changed their uniformsand went over _holus bolus_ to the enemy.

  Immediately this crushing news became known to him, Balmaceda reinforcedthe garrison of Valparaiso with troops from the south, and then, with anarmy of 8000 men, perched himself on the heights above the city, andprepared to fight the last and decisive battle of the campaign.

  In Valparaiso the result of the impending engagement was, as may beimagined, anxiously awaited by every one, Gobiernistas and Oppositoresalike. The former made no secret of their intention, in the event ofvictory crowning their arms, to wreak vengeance upon their enemies. Butthe Oppositores, on the other hand, though equally sanguine of success,wisely refrained from giving vent to their feelings, for not only werethey located in the enemy's camp, so to speak, but they could not helpforeseeing that even a victory for their cause would involve them ingreat risk, inasmuch as the Government troops would undoubtedly fallback upon the town, when they would in all probability commence to sackand burn Opposition property.

  Such was the position of affairs on the evening described at thecommencement of the chapter.

  As I have said, Marcos Veneda appeared to have made up his mind. Thismight have been gathered from the set of his shoulders and his carriageof his body when he resumed his walk. There was also a new andsingularly defiant look in his face as he passed into the Calle deVictoria which had not been there five minutes before.

  Half-way down the street he paused to try and decipher a notice newlypasted on a wall. As he read, he became conscious that he was beingwatched. Looking up, he found himself confronted by one of the mostrespected English residents then remaining in the town. This gentleman,whose personal appearance would not have been out of place in a Londonboard-room, had always shown himself one of Veneda's most inveteratefoes, and for this reason the latter was inclined to cross over the roadwithout a second glance at him. That, however, the elder man would notpermit; he advanced and button-holed his victim before he had time toleave the pavement.

  "I think you are going in my direction," he began, in order to giveVeneda time to recover from his astonishment. "In that case I shall notbe trespassing upon your time if I ask you to allow me to walk a littleway with you. I have something I want to say to you."

  "I object to being button-holed in this fashion," the other replied, anangry flush mantling his face.

  "Not when it is to enable you to learn something to your advantage, Ithink," his companion said quietly. "However, don't let us quarrel, Isimply stopped you because I want to do you a good turn. I know verywell you dislike me."

/>   "It may be bad policy to say so," Veneda sneered, "but I must own I donot exactly love you; you see, you have never given me an opportunity."

  "Well, we won't discuss that now. What I want to say is, that I think intimes like these we Englishmen ought to hang a bit closer together,don't you know; to try and help each other in any way we can."

  The old gentleman, whose intentions were really most benevolent, gazedanxiously at his companion, to see how his speech would be taken. ButVeneda's only answer was to laugh in a peculiarly grating fashion. Itwas an unpleasant performance, born of the remembrance of snubs andbitter discouragements received at the other's hands in by-gone days.For the space of thirty seconds neither spoke, and then it was theyounger man, who said abruptly--

  "Well?"

  "You don't mind my going on?"

  "I certainly should if I could prevent it," replied Veneda; "but you'vegot me at a disadvantage, you see. I must listen to you."

  "Well, the long and the short of it is, I want to warn you."

  "That's exceedingly good of you; and pray what of?"

  "Of yourself. It is--forgive my saying so--an openly discussed subjectin the town that you are playing a double game."

  Veneda stopped suddenly, and leaning his back against a wall, faced hiscompanion.

  "A double game," he said slowly, as if weighing every word before heallowed himself to utter it; "and in what way is it supposed that I amplaying a double game? Think carefully before you speak, for I may becompelled to hold you responsible."

  The worthy merchant experienced a sensation of nervousness. His memoryrecalled several little episodes in Veneda's past, the remembrance ofwhich, under the present circumstances, was not likely to contribute tohis peace of mind.

  "Now don't get angry, my dear fellow," he hastened to say, "I'm onlytelling you this for your own good. I mean that it is said you areendeavouring to stand with a leg in either camp; that while you poseamong us as an active Oppositionist, you are in reality in communicationwith Balmaceda's leaders. In other words, that, while we have beentrusting you, you have been selling our secrets to our foes."

  "Well?"

  Now it was a remarkable fact, that while the old gentleman expected andeven dreaded an exhibition of wrath from his companion, he was inreality a good deal more frightened by this simple question than hewould have been by the most violent outburst. And yet there was nothingstartling in the word itself, nor in the manner in which it was uttered.Veneda still lounged in the same careless attitude against the wall,looking his companion up and down out of his half-closed eyes, as if tocause him any uneasiness would be the one thing furthest from his mind;but it was noticeable that his right hand had stopped fingering thetrinkets on his watch-chain, and had passed into his coat-pocket, wherea certain bulginess proclaimed the existence of a heavy object.

  "Go on," he continued slowly, "since you seem to be so well informed;what else do my kind friends say?"

  "Well, if you want it bluntly, Veneda, they say that if our side winsto-morrow, of which there seems to be little or no doubt, and you remainin the city, your life won't be worth five minutes' purchase."

  "And--and your reason for telling me all this?"

  "Simply because I want to warn you. And because, in spite of yourSpanish name, which every one knows is assumed, you are an Englishman;and, as I said before, Englishmen ought to do what they can to help eachother at such times as these. You don't think I've said too much?"

  "By no means. I hope you'll understand how grateful I am to you for yourtrouble."

  "No trouble; I only wish the warning may prove of some use to you. Lookhere, we haven't been very good friends in the past, but I do hope----"

  "That in the future we may be David and Jonathan on a substantial NewJerusalem basis, I suppose. Do you hear those guns?"

  The noise of cannonading came down the breeze. And as he heard it themerchant shuffled uneasily.

  "What does it mean?"

  "Well, I think it means that to-morrow will decide things more importantthan our friendship. That's all. You're not coming any farther my way?Then good-night!"

  With a muttered apology for having so long detained him, the oldgentleman continued his walk to the left hand. When he had quitedisappeared, Veneda resumed _his_ walk, saying softly to himself, "Thisis what comes of listening to the voice of woman. I was an idiot ever tohave mixed myself up with Juanita. I might have known she would havegiven me away. Never mind, the money's gone to England, and if I canmanage to stave Macklin off to-night, and Boulger comes to terms abouthis schooner, I shall beat them yet. But suppose Juanita _should_suspect? What on earth should I do then?"

  This thought was evidently of an absorbing nature, for he walked brisklyon, regarding no one, and turning neither to the right hand nor to theleft, until he had gone about three hundred yards. Then finding himselfface to face with a tall and narrow archway, guarded by a substantialiron gate, he paused irresolute. To all appearance he was endeavouringto make up his mind whether he should enter. Having decided in theaffirmative, he knocked upon the iron-work of the gate. It wasimmediately opened, and an old man holding a lantern looked out, cryingas he did so--

  "Quien este ahi?" ["Who is there?"]

  Submitting his name, after a brief scrutiny he was admitted into thepatio, or courtyard of the building, of which the gate formed the outerguard. The wet stones (for it was still raining), the dripping gutters,and the weird moaning of the wind round the corners and between thehousetops, did not add to the cheerfulness of the place.

  Half-way across the patio Veneda turned to his guide.

  "Hold on, Domingo," he said, "in these matters it is just as well to beprepared. Whom have we here to-night?"

  "Pablos Vargas, Jose Nunez, and the Englishman, John Macklin, senor."

  "All three? Very good. Go on!"

  They approached a small door in the wall on the left hand of thecourtyard; between its chinks a bright light streaked forth. A subduedmurmur came from within, which was hushed as if by magic when the oldman rapped upon the panel. Next moment Veneda was inside the room,endeavouring to accustom his eyes to the bright light of a common tinlamp hanging upon the wall.

  It was but a small apartment, destitute of any furniture save a roughtable and a chair or two, and filthy to an indescribable degree. Thethree men, for whose presence Veneda had been prepared, were evidentlyawaiting his coming. It was doubtful, however, judging from theirexpressions, whether they were pleased or annoyed at his punctualappearance. Though the heads of that mysterious organization which hadso much frightened Bradshaw, with one exception they were notinteresting. Pablos Vargas and Jose Nunez were simply Chilanos of themiddle class, but the Englishman, John Macklin, was altogetherextraordinary.

  Besides being in many other ways peculiar, he was an Albino of the mostpronounced type, possessed of the smallest body and the largest headimaginable in a human being; his arms were those of a baboon, so longthat his fingers, when he stood upright, could touch his legs below hisknees. His complexion was as delicate as the inside of a rosebud, hiseyes were as pink as those of a white rabbit, while his hair was nothingmore nor less than a mop of silkiest white floss. Added to thesepeculiarities, his voice was a strangely high falsetto, and when hebecame excited, he had a habit of cracking his finger-joints one afterthe other, a thing which in itself is apt to be a disconcerting trick.

  His history, so far as could be gathered, was an eventful one, and wouldrepay perusal. By his own statement he was a native of Exeter, England,in which city his father had at one time conducted a school for the sonsof small tradesmen. At the age of ten, young Macklin became a choir boyin the Cathedral, but his personal appearance and moral characterproving too much for his fellow-choristers, after a month some chargewas preferred against him, and he was dismissed with ignominy. Thiscircumstance, very naturally, was hardly of a kind calculated tostraighten his already warped nature, and then and there, with aprecocity beyond his years, he embarked upon a war against society,whic
h, as I shall endeavour to prove later, had suffered no diminutionwhen our history opens.

  At the age of seventeen he became a lawyer's clerk in Bristol, followingthis vocation until his majority from which time until his thirtiethbirthday nothing definite can be learnt of him. It is believed, however,that for the greater part of that period he served a sentence in one ofher Majesty's convict prisons for fraud; and a semblance of truth islent to the belief by the knowledge that directly he re-appeared insociety he took ship for America.

  The record of his doings across the Atlantic would form interestingreading, if only for its variety. For three years, from thirty tothirty-three, he followed many professions, including those of railwayscalper, book fiend, and insurance tout, eventually figuring as "TheWild Man of New Guinea" in a dime museum in San Francisco, eating rawmeat in a cage, and growling at the public from behind substantial ironbars. When this latter enterprise panned out unsatisfactorily, it lefthim no alternative but to migrate into Mexico, where he supported achequered career as a money-lender, a lottery runner, keeper of a Montehell, and suspected leader of a gang of most notorious thieves. Mexicono longer affording sufficient scope for his peculiar talents, herepaired to Brazil, thence drifting by easy stages into Chili, where, atthe time of the Revolution, he had embarked on this new and exceedinglyremunerative line of business.

  Veneda looked from one to the other before he spoke, but his eyes restedlongest on the face of the Albino and it was to him he addressed hisopening salutation. It was a part of his policy to ignore Vargas andNunez, as if they did not exist.

  "Well," he said, by way of introduction, "gentlemen of the Executive,you're annoying, to say the least of it. What may be the reason of thisunexpected meeting? I had more important business to-night."

  "You always seem to----" Nunez commenced.

  "Be silent," sneered the Albino, with truculent courtesy, "you'rewasting the honourable gentleman's time. Can't you see he's in a hurryto attend the Council of the President? Ho! ho! Senor Veneda, you can'tbluff me, so don't attempt it."

  "Who wants to bluff you?" said Veneda. "Don't be a fool, Macklin. Tellme why this meeting has been called."

  "Because there is a lot of important business to be got through, and byreason of the disturbances we may not be able to hold another for a weekor two."

  Veneda seated himself, and the meeting commenced.

  "In the first place," said the Albino, who acted as chairman, "there issome important correspondence from the branches to be considered. I havehere a letter from London, informing us that on the 13th May, EmanuelBendalack, secretary of a well-known Building Society, absconded fromEngland with L18,000. He left in the steamer _Royal Sceptre_, bound forCape Town; he is disguised as a Wesleyan missionary, and booked hispassage in the name of Blander. If you will allow me to make asuggestion, I would advise that our agents in South Africa be directedto meet Mr. Blander on his arrival, and that the Greek, Manolake, bedespatched from here as soon as possible to attend to the affair. Doesthat meet with your approval?"

  Assent having been given, the Albino made an entry in a book, and tookup another letter.

  "This is a communication from Buda-Pesth. It is to the effect that thewell-known merchant, Julius Karlinska, left that city on the 6th June,taking with him a sum equivalent to L22,000, the property of hiscreditors. He is believed to be making for Australia, and has beentraced as far as Port Said. Photograph enclosed. What do you desireregarding Herr Karlinska?"

  Nunez was the first to offer a suggestion.

  "I would advise communicating with our agent in Melbourne, and sendingsome one at once to take over the affair."

  "Who is at liberty just now?" asked Veneda.

  "Emil Valdor, Shivaloff, and Maunders of the men, that is if Manolakegoes to Cape Town; Marie Darnee and Juanita Valdores of the women."

  "Juanita? The very person; despatch her!"

  "Impossible! She is wanted here."

  Veneda gave a little sigh of disappointment.

  "Where is the Italian, Automa?" asked Nunez.

  "In New York, shadowing Clifford Blake-Ganon, who is expected to bolt atany moment," answered Macklin.

  "Then send the Darnee," urged Vargas; "she will find him and do thebusiness better than any."

  "Is that your wish, senors?" the chairman asked.

  They signified that it was.

  "Very good, then the Darnee goes. And now we come to another matter, onenearer home."

  Veneda gave a start, so small that it was unnoticed save by the Albino.

  "What matter?"

  The dwarf cast a look at him full of withering contempt.

  "Now, see you," he said angrily, "it's not a bit of good your cominghere and trying to make me believe that you want the whole storyoverhauled again. You know very well what I mean."

  "That poor hunted devil of an English banker in the Calle de San Pedro,I suppose?"

  "You suppose! Look here, Marcos Veneda, what the devil's the use of yourwasting our time playing 'possum like that?'

  "How was I to know to what you alluded? we've so many irons in the fire.But since we are on that subject, Macklin, I've got something to sayabout it. Don't you think we might give the poor cur a run for hismiserable life? From all accounts he's pretty well frightened out of hissenses already!"

  The Albino, Vargas, and Nunez stared with astonishment; in all theirexperience of him, they had never known Marcos Veneda behave like thisbefore. The Albino laughed suspiciously.

  "I wonder what your little game is, my friend," he said. "This is a newline for you. Want us to spare him, do you? Very pretty, I'm sure; wouldlook well in a tract, wouldn't it, with a devil dodger's head on thefrontispiece!"

  "Stow that, Macklin; I only want fair play for the wretch."

  "Fair play, is it? Oh, I promise you he shall have _dead_ loads ofthat."

  The Albino laughed uproariously at his own vile joke. He was joined byVargas and Nunez.

  Veneda's face grew black as thunder.

  "That's enough," he said, with a sudden outburst of passion. "Stop that!I'll not be laughed at by a set of greasy scattermouches like you."

  The merriment ceased abruptly, and the Albino took the opportunity ofre-commencing business.

  "To-morrow, whichever way the fighting goes, there'll be rioting andsacking of houses. That's our opportunity."

  "And who is to do the work?"

  "We will decide that by lot."

  "But how do you know that he hasn't taken flight, or that theinformation hasn't leaked out, and the _cache_ been rifled already?"

  "Because, my friend, as you're perfectly aware, the house has beenwatched day and night ever since he sneaked into the town. No, no, don'tbe afraid, we have taken very good care of ourselves; nobody has comeout, not even the old mole himself; and certainly no one has gone in.You needn't be alarmed, the money is safe enough. He would be a cleverand courageous man who managed to play false with us."

  Veneda breathed again. It had been an anxious moment; but he flatteredhimself he had not betrayed his uneasiness, while at the same time hehad learnt all he wanted to know. The questions he was about to ask wereonly intended to disarm any suspicions his manner might have aroused.

  "And after the money is our property?"

  "It will be divided here, on the capstan-head, so to speak; and wheneach man has received his share, he can up stakes, and go to the devilwith it his own way."

  "And how much do you say it will amount to? Remember the old man's had agood slice out of it himself."

  "Lord grant me patience! How many more questions do you want to ask?Why, as near as we can fix it, Two Hundred and Twenty-five ThousandPounds; isn't it enough for you?"

  "Pretty near," Veneda answered, with a laugh; "and now, if you've gotanything else to do, let's get to it at once. I've business down town."

  At a signal from Albino, Vargas placed dice upon the table, and thegamble commenced. Luck was with Veneda, for finally Vargas and theAlbino were elected to carry
out the robbery. When that point had beendecided, the hour for meeting on the following night, and a few otherminor matters arranged, Veneda wished them a sneering "good luck" oftheir work, and started homewards as fast as his legs would carry him.As he went he laughed softly to himself, as one who enjoys a joke ofextraordinary humour. He was decidedly in better spirits than when weaccompanied him to the house. He even forgot himself so far as towhistle.

  Considering the state of Valparaiso at the time, and the fact that therewas no protective power at hand to quell disturbances, the city waswonderfully quiet. A great anxiety was upon everybody, a disquiet thatwas not at all attuned to noise.

  Veneda strode briskly along, occupied with his own thoughts. But strangethough it may seem, he was not thinking of the scene he had just left,nor of the impending battle of the morrow; he was recalling a certainbox and letter he had despatched to a London merchant a week previous,and reflecting that by the time the Society could discover histreachery, he would in all probability be on the high seas, far beyondthe reach of vengeance or defeat. There was only one thing; at any riskhe must prevent the woman Juanita from suspecting his intentions.

  So absorbed was he in his thoughts, that he had arrived at his house,let himself in, and ascended the stairs to his own peculiar sanctumbefore he was really conscious that he had done so. The staircase andthe room were in total darkness. He crossed to a bracket where matcheswere usually kept, and striking one, turned to light a candle close athand. As the flame caught, a low, musical laugh, distinctly feminine,greeted his ears. His nerves must have been overstrung, for he startedviolently, and came within an ace of dropping both candle-stick andmatch. Holding the light aloft, he glanced in the direction whence thesound proceeded. The room was big enough to contain many shadows, andthe candle did not give a very good light.

  "Juanita?"

  "Yes, Juanita certainly; are you so surprised to see me?"

  He paused to light two other candles before replying. His visitor didnot fail to notice the trembling of his hand. Then the room beingilluminated to his satisfaction, and the door carefully closed, heremembered his duty as host, and bade her welcome in proper form. Whenshe heard him say that he was glad to see her, she laughed very softly,and said--

  "Marcos, I wonder when you will learn to tell a falsehood with an air oftruth?"

  Evidently he did not deem this question worthy of a reply, for he threwhimself into a chair, and began to roll a cigarette, without vouchsafingone.

  Now, when I say that Juanita Encarnacion Valdores, whose name we haveheard mentioned so many times before, was altogether an uncommon woman,I desire to imply that she was uncommon not only in a physical, but inseveral other senses besides. Her beauty alone was such as to arrestimmediate attention. Of rather more than middle height, she carriedherself with an erectness calculated to give one the idea that she wasseveral inches taller than her real stature. Even for one owning Spanishblood, her complexion was dark almost to swarthiness, while her upperlip was not without a suspicion of what is irreverently termed amoustache. Yet it was strange that these two things, counted in otherwomen serious defects, in Juanita not only failed to detract from thegeneral effect, but in a great measure added to it. Her hands and feetwere in keeping with the rest of her frame, neither too large nor toosmall; her manner could be anything she chose, from caressing tofiendish; and her voice and laugh, when she so desired, sounded on theear like sweetest music. Like Marcos Veneda, she was all mysteriousness.Many curious stories were told of her past, and as a faithfulchronicler, I must admit that they did not all redound to her credit.She had been in Chili nearly four years; but where she had hailed frombefore that I am not prepared to say. It only concerns us that, at thetime of which I write, she was without a protector, and indeed itappeared as if she would be likely to remain so, for no man wascareless enough of his reputation with the public to take such aposition upon himself. It is possible that this may have been the reasonwhy she drifted towards Veneda, whose predicament, as we have seen, wasnot altogether dissimilar to her own.

  "Come, come, Marcos," she said, "I cannot say that you're the best ofcompany to-night. Tell me, don't you think I'm a plucky woman to ventureout on such a night, and to call on you of all people?"

  "I am proportionately honoured," he replied gravely; "but I suppose youhave some very good reason, or you wouldn't have run the risk."

  She shrugged her shoulders, and made a little gesture with her hands, asone who would say, "who knows." Then her manner changed completely, andleaning forward, she placed one hand on his arm. He had been earnestlyregarding her all this time, endeavouring to read in her face what waspassing in her mind. Now he prepared himself for the struggle he feltwas imminent.

  "My Marcos," she said softly, and the name came very prettily from herlips, "I suppose you have heard that people call me a witch, becausethey say I turn men's heads. They also say--no, do not speak till I havedone--that sometimes I can read men's thoughts, and not unfrequentlyforetell future events."

  "Then, Juanita," he answered, as soon as he could get a word in, "youcertainly could not have come at a better time. You shall read my fate,and advise me as to what course I should pursue regarding it."

  Without another word she lifted his hand, which lay upon the arm of herchair, and examined it carefully. The flickering candle-light fell uponher bent head, and danced amid the luxuriant tangle of her hair.

  "Shall I tell you everything I see?" she asked. He saw that her face hadgrown suddenly very serious.

  "Why not?" he replied.

  "Because I am frightened, Marcos," she answered, shuddering, "becausethere is something terrible written on your hand."

  "In what way?"

  "Treachery, Marcos, and for a large sum of money!"

  He snatched his hand angrily away, and to cover his embarrassmentaffected entire disbelief.

  "You are indeed a fortune-teller! You will accuse me of havingassassinated the President directly. And pray what else did you see?"

  "I had better not tell you, you will only be angry with me."

  "Angry with you! Never!"

  "Marcos, I saw on your hand more than you dream. Hush, listen to me; youare contemplating flight."

  "That is not a difficult thing to see. If things do not improve here,many of us will be driven into clearing out. You must be smarter thanthat, Juanita."

  "Oh, but that is not all. I see that you have sent great treasure awayto a far country, and that you intend to follow it."

  "This is beautiful! What--what else?"

  "That your professed love for me is only lip service, for you intend todesert me."

  "That is about as true as the rest. Have you anything further?"

  "That your treasure amounts to over L200,000 of English money, and thatit is directed to a--let me see,"--here she pretended to study his handagain,--"Sir Benjamin Plowden (bah! your English names!) who lives inthe East India Avenue of your great smoky London. Is that true? Ah! Isee it is."

  There was a ring of triumph in her voice. She had played a doubtfulcard, and scored a victory. For the moment Veneda was totally unnerved;his face, pale before, was now snow-white; large beads of perspirationcovered his forehead.

  "How did you learn all that nonsense?" he stammered.

  "Why, from your hand, of course," came the mocking reply. "And is itsuch nonsense? Marcos, Marcos, I have always said you were a clever man,but you must be cleverer still to deceive me. Woman's wit--you know theproverb. Will you have more? Shall I tell you, for instance, whatMacklin and the Society would say of it, and what key guards yourtreasure-chamber?"

  "By all means, if there is such a thing," he cried, his nervousnesslifting his voice almost to a falsetto. Meanwhile his eyes seemed to beattempting to read her very soul. Perhaps his scrutiny relieved him, forthe expression on his face changed.

  "I knew you couldn't do it," he said quietly. "I return your compliment;you're very clever, but you must be cleverer still to deceive me."

  "How d
o you know that I don't understand it?" she inquired, with just asuspicion of nervousness now in _her_ voice. "Since I can tell so much,how do you know that I can't tell all?"

  "Because, my dear"--he had quite recovered himself by this time, and wasbitterly regretting having betrayed his feelings so openly--"even if Ihad any such business on hand, I am certain you don't know what youpretend, otherwise you would have it in your eyes. Ah!"

  His attention was attracted to a small writing-table standing in acorner of the room. The blotting-book lay upon it turned upside down.Seizing it, he fell to turning the leaves. One was missing.

  "Ha! ha! my little sorceress!" he cried mockingly, "you are discovered.It is an old trick and a good one. I remember blotting the first twosides of the letter on a fresh page. To obtain your information, youhave simply torn that out, and held it against the light. But the rest,the most important part, was not blotted at all. So you can do me noharm after all."

  "Why should you think I wish to harm you?"

  "I don't think you do; I only think you might. And you see, of L200,000,two hundred thousand pounds' worth of care must be taken. By the way,since you know so much, I doubt if it would be prudent to let you out ofthis house again."

  Ignoring the threat entirely, she continued the conversation as if ithad not been uttered.

  "At least you might have trusted me, Marcos."

  "Have I said that I do not?"

  "You have not said so in so many words, but I know you don't. Besides,you are leaving Chili to-morrow night."

  "How do you know that?"

  "I forget, but it's true, isn't it, Marcos?--and you will take me withyou, won't you? Even if you no longer love me, you will have pity on me?You will not leave me to their mercy? I am so tired of this life ofspying and conspiracy, and I would be so faithful to you."

  Her voice trembled. He stopped his restless pacing up and down the room,and looked at her. As far as he could see there was only a great lovefor himself shining in her eyes. She looked wondrously beautiful. It wasa temptation and a danger; yet perhaps, all things considered, it wasthe safest course. A second later he had made up his mind, and as he didso a corresponding light came into his eyes. It would have been hard totell which was more in earnest. Resuming his seat beside her, he said--

  "Juanita, I do love you, and I believe I can trust you; come what may,we will go together."

  "My own dear love!"

  He took her hand and gravely kissed it. The crisis was past.

  Both felt they had scored a victory, but both felt it would require verylittle to overthrow it. Five minutes later she was speeding homeunaccompanied, for she would not hear of his being seen in the streetswith her. In the security of her own room she regarded herself in herglass, and as she did so she said half aloud--

  "He did his very best to put me off the scent, but I beat him in theend. One thing is certain, he carries the piece of paper that is toauthorize the payment of the money about with him, in a large locketfastened round his neck with a double chain. I felt it when my headrested on his breast. Two hundred thousand pounds--it's the greateststake I ever played for. With that I should be a free woman again. Comewhat may, my Marcos, I'll never desert you till I have shared it withyou or relieved you of it."

  When she had left him, Veneda threw up his window, and leant out intothe night. The rain had ceased. He could see watch-fires gleaming allalong the heights, and myriads of lights twinkling among the shipping inthe harbour; but though he looked at them, I don't think he wasconscious that he saw them. He was reviewing in his mind all he hadpassed through that evening, and wondering whether or not the balancestood in his favour.

  From the consideration of his present position, his thoughts passed outacross the open ocean to a mail-boat homeward bound. And so piercing wasthe gaze of his mind's eye, that it penetrated even through iron andtimber to the vessel's bullion-room, where reposed a certain chest, withwhich his fortunes were not altogether unconnected. Then dropping thegood ship behind it, as if she were standing still, on his fancy spedacross the seas to the land he had not known for fifteen years. There ina smiling valley, nestling among beech woods, he found for himself ahome, a life of honest independence, of love, of respect, and, above allthings, of forgetfulness of Chili and the past! His imagination paintedit for him with realistic touches, but would it ever come true? WithGoethe he might very well have said, "When, how, and where? That is thequestion!"

  After a while he drew in his head, and shut the window. Then from roundhis neck he took a locket. Opening it, a curious slip of ragged paperfell to the floor. Picking it up, he gazed at it for a few seconds, andthen replaced it, saying to himself--

  "Boulger's squared--the _Island Queen_ is ready, and with to-morrownight's tide I bid good-bye to Chili for ever and a day. They'll neverthink of looking for me in the South Pacific, and I'll work my way homeby Australia and the East. Confound Juanita! I ought to have anticipatedthis trick of hers. It's the deuce and all, but there's no other way outof it, I must take her with me. It would be madness to leave her behindto act with the Albino and the Society against me; but before I get tothe other side, if I don't hit out some plan to rid myself of her, myname's not Marmaduke Plowden!"