CHAPTER III
MISTAKE, OR BLUNDER?
With eager pleasure Conrad gazed from his car window the next morning atthe narrow bright ribbon of verdure with which the Rio Grande pranksitself on its southward course through New Mexico. The unkempt fields,the orchards and meadows, and the softened and caressing sunlight wereas balm to his eyes, accustomed to the pale, grim southern plain and itsfierce white sunshine. As the train rushed northward along the banks ofthe muddy stream, he looked at the little adobe houses, wondering howlong these peaceful Mexican homes could withstand the pressure of thedominant American. He became aware that the men behind him werediscussing the same question.
"It will be only a few years," one of them was saying, "until this richvalley with all this water for irrigation will be in American hands."
"The greasers are safe enough," said his companion, "until they begin toborrow on mortgages. Then their fate is settled."
"I heard the other day," responded the first, "that Dell Baxter's beencorralling a lot of mortgages on the land hereabouts."
The other chuckled. "You bet. Dell ain't the man to let a little chancelike this slip by him. These _paisanos_ look on him as a sort of 'littlefather' and borrow money of him with utter heedlessness of the day ofreckoning. He jollies them along and tells 'em they're good fellows andhard workers, and he's sure they'll be able to pay when the time comes.Of course they never pay back a blessed _peso_, and Baxter gets theranch. I'll bet it won't be long till he'll be exploiting a big landimprovement company and selling these 'doby farms for ten times whatthey cost him."
The talk of the two men drifted into politics, and presently Conradheard them discussing Bancroft's loyal support of Baxter for Congress."He's got to do it," said one of them. "Dell's been loaning him moneyand taking mortgages until Bancroft couldn't do anything else if hewanted to. Dell knows that Bancroft's support is a mighty importantasset on account of the confidence people have in him, and Dell's beencareful to cinch it good and tight."
As Curtis bought an Albuquerque morning paper from the train-boy hethought indignantly, "That's all poppycock! Aleck's got too much grit tolet anybody throttle him with a few dirty _pesos_. Hullo! What's thisabout Jenkins?" His eye had caught the name of the man he wished to seein a column of local news. As he read, "Rutherford W. Jenkins came downfrom Las Vegas yesterday and is stopping at the Metropolitan," his faceshone with satisfaction. "Good luck!" he thought. "We'll be inAlbuquerque in half an hour, and I'll go for my man like a steer on theprod!"
At the hotel he found Jenkins, with a number of other men, smoking andtalking on the porch. He did not expect to be remembered, for they hadmet only once, months before. But Jenkins came forward with his handoutstretched in greeting. "How do you do, Mr. Conrad! You don't get upto this part of the Territory very often; but we're always glad to seeyou."
"Thank you, Mr. Jenkins. I've come this time especially to see you, andas soon as you have a moment or two to spare I'd like a privateconversation."
"Certainly! With pleasure! Just excuse me for a minute, will you, till Ifinish up the business I have with these men, and then we'll go up to myroom."
Conrad waited, tense and expectant, the quite apparent fact that Jenkinswas engaged in mere desultory chat and story-telling increasing hisirritation at the delay. He had jumped to the conclusion that Jenkinsknew who Delafield was, and his breath came short and chokingly at thethought that in a few minutes he, too, would know. To know would be toact. His revolver was in his hip-pocket, and he intended to go straightfrom the interview to that meeting which for half his years had been theone goal of his thought. He glanced at Jenkins, saying to himself, "Helooks like a weasel, and I reckon he is just enough of one to havewormed around and worked this thing out." Jenkins was tall, slender, andslightly stooped, his face long and thin, with its salient featurescrowded too close together. "I reckon he knows, all right," Conrad'sthought went on, "and he'll tell me if I make the inducement bigenough--he'd do anything for money!"
Under cover of the conversation Jenkins had been doing his share ofrapid thinking, prolonging the talk for that very purpose. He wasputting together, with the acumen of a man in whom detective processesare a natural endowment, enough facts to convince him of the reason forConrad's visit, considering the while just what he should do. He feltsure that he must expect a direct question about Delafield's identity,but he put off decision upon his response until he should hear theinquiry.
"Now, Mr. Conrad, we'll go straight up to my room," he said cordially,laying a familiar hand upon the other's shoulder. Curtis shrank back alittle, falling behind with a promptitude that left no doubt of hisintention to keep the interview entirely formal. Jenkins licked his lipswith an unwholesome smile, and led the way in silence. As the doorclosed behind them, Conrad became aware of an increase of repugnancetoward this man so great that the necessity of dealing with him was anirritation.
"Well, Mr. Conrad," said Jenkins, cheerfully, giving the other no timeto state his mission, "I hear you are putting in some good licks forJohnny Martinez down in Silverside. What do you think of his chancesdown there? Pretty good, aren't they?"
"Yes, I think so," Curtis replied curtly; and plunged into his ownaffair. "I have understood, Mr. Jenkins, from my friend Mr. Littleton,of Chicago, whom you met last week, that you are interested in a matterof prime importance to me, and that you have some information I want toget hold of."
"Oh, yes; I remember meeting Littleton last week," Jenkins broke in. "Agood fellow, too. So he's a friend of yours, is he? Yes; he and Iscraped up quite a friendship and had a good time together. But say,Conrad, the amount of throat varnish that man can stand is somethingamazing!"
Curtis straightened himself in his chair impatiently. "He wrote me thathe had some conversation with you about Sumner L. Delafield, formerly ofBoston, but now, I have reason to believe, living here in New Mexicounder an assumed name."
"Yes; I believe we did have a little talk about Delafield," Jenkinsinterrupted again. "But I'll have to confess," he went on jocularly,"that my mental condition wasn't perfectly clear and it's likely myremarks were a little foggy too. But I recall that we did have someconversation about the Delafield affair. Littleton had some personalinterest in Delafield's failure, didn't he?"
"No; all the work he has done on the case has been for me. I haveconsiderable interest in it."
"Have you, indeed? Now, this is a coincidence! For some time past I'vebeen a good deal interested in that matter myself. I suppose you wereroped into some of his schemes?"
For a moment Curtis took counsel with himself upon what and how much heshould say, only to thrust back his repulsion against saying anything atall to this man and plunge frankly into his narrative. With the utmostbrevity he told of his father's ruin and of his own trailing of theculprit through so many years. Of his motives he said nothing, and ofhis work in tracking Delafield no more than was necessary. Few, even ofhis best friends, knew anything about the secret scheme of vengeance hehad nursed from boyhood. Even Littleton, the detective who had aided himin the quest, did not know that he wanted to face Delafield for anyreason other than to demand restitution.
Having briefly outlined his story, Conrad went on to say that Littletonhad led him to think that Jenkins must be engaged in the same search,and suggested that an exchange of their discoveries might be for theirmutual benefit.
Jenkins listened with evident interest, asking questions here and thereconcerning certain points in the other's long chase of the fugitive."Yes; you've done very well, Conrad," he said, admiration in his voice,"very well indeed. That was a damned crooked trail and you've done afine piece of work in following it through."
Curtis gnawed his moustache and frowned. Jenkins's evasive speeches wereincreasing his irritation and repugnance almost beyond his control. "Theamount of the matter is," he burst out, "I've got the notion that youknow who Delafield is, and I'm willing to pay you for the information. Ishall undoubtedly be able to find out for myself if I keep at it alitt
le longer, but it happens that I want to know at once. If you knowpositively who he is, I am willing to pay you three hundred dollars forthe knowledge."
Jenkins walked to the window and stood there silently. He was weighingone thing against another, and deciding whether he should tell thewhole truth, a part of it, or none at all. Presently he said to himselfthat a bird in the hand to-day is worth a whole flock that may be in thebush to-morrow.
"Before I decide about your offer, Mr. Conrad," he began cautiously,"there are two or three things I would like to know. You are doing somegood work for Martinez for Congress, I understand."
"The best I can," answered Curtis with surprise.
"Well, as you know, I am warmly in his favor myself. I want to get himthe support of as many leading men in the Territory as possible. Thisman Delafield is one of Baxter's influential lieutenants, and Iparticularly want to win him over to Martinez. You, I happen to know,have some influence with him."
A nervous start betrayed the strain Conrad was under, and an eager looklighted his face. Jenkins saw it, smiled blandly, and inwardly decidedto demand another hundred dollars. "It has occurred to me," he went on,"that you might be able to influence him when I couldn't. Combine thisleverage with your friendship, and I believe almost anything ispossible. If I let you have this information will you agree to use itand your influence in such a way as to induce him to join in with JohnnyMartinez?"
The look that blazed in Conrad's eyes, coupled with the same involuntaryshrinking movement that he had made in escaping Jenkins's hand at thefoot of the stairway, showed the rapid ebbing of his self-control.Jenkins noticed both look and movement, and a gleam of angry resentmentflashed into his dark eyes. But it was quickly repressed, as he suavelyasked, "Well, what do you say?"
"I don't know that I can promise," said Curtis, stiffly, "that myinfluence would count as much as that. Possibly it will be enough tokeep him from supporting Dellmey Baxter. Yes," he went on with a grimlook, "I think I can assure you he will be neutral through the rest ofthis campaign."
"That might perhaps be satisfactory," said Jenkins meditatively,inwardly deciding to raise the price another hundred dollars in lieu ofthe aid for Martinez. "But if that is all you're sure of doing I shallhave to ask more money for the information. It has cost me a great dealof time and effort, and if I can't bring about this result with it Imust repay myself some other way. I will tell you what you want toknow, Mr. Conrad, if you will give me five hundred dollars and yourpromise to do your best to get him to support Martinez."
"That is what I said I could not do; and you are asking more moneybecause I could not promise it."
"Well, then, if you will promise to induce him to remain neutral duringthis campaign."
"Yes; I will promise that, and I will give you the five hundreddollars."
"Very well; it's a bargain."
Curtis wrote his check for that sum on the First National Bank ofGolden. Jenkins examined the bit of paper, folded it away in hispocket-book, rubbed his hands, and smiled at Conrad.
"You will be surprised," he said, "when you hear the man's name. He iswell known to you, and he is universally regarded, all over New Mexico,as a model citizen, as square and honest as any man in theTerritory--and much more so than most of them."
"Yes?" said Conrad, rising and reaching for his hat.
"Yes, you will be astonished, I promise you," Jenkins went on, risingand facing Curtis, still smiling and rubbing his hands together insatisfaction. "For Sumner L. Delafield, the fugitive from justice,"--hebegan speaking slowly and impressively,--"the absconding defaulter, theman who sank the fortunes of hundreds of people, the man who had to hidein Canada and slink around in out-of-the-way places for so many years,is now known as"--there was a brief pause to give his revelation itsfullest dramatic effect--"is now known in New Mexico as AlexanderBancroft, president of the bank on which your check is drawn."
Conrad started, and his attitude of eager attention stiffened. For aninstant half a dozen Jenkinses seemed to be whirling about the room. Outof the repugnance, contempt, and anger boiling in his veins shot adefinite idea,--the desire to choke the man who had said this thingabout his best friend. He leaped forward, seized Jenkins by the collar,and shook him as if he had been a ten-year-old boy. Although his armswere flying hither and yon Jenkins grabbed wildly for the pistol in hispocket. Curtis saw the movement, and with his left hand seized the butt.As he pulled it out Jenkins caught its barrel; but with a twist of hisright arm and a jerk with his left Conrad wrested the gun from theother's hand and threw it under the bed.
His face white and his eyes blazing, he grasped Jenkins by the shouldersand jammed him against the wall until the windows rattled. With twoquick, backward strides he gained the door. Opening it with a handstretched behind him, Curtis spoke with deliberate emphasis, pointinghis words with a menacing forefinger:
"Rutherford Jenkins, you are the damnedest liar and vilest skunk thatever made tracks in New Mexico, and if you ever tell that lie aboutBancroft to another living soul I'll wring your neck!"
Jenkins sprang toward the door, but as it closed from without hestooped, shook himself together, and swore under his breath. He took outthe check, and chuckled. "I'll get it cashed before he changes hismind," he thought. Then a wave of anger and resentment rolled over himand he shook an impotent fist at the closed door. "Damn him!" he saidaloud, "I'll get even with him yet."