CHAPTER XXVII
HANDS DOWN
Cliffe had spent some time at Villa Paz when President Altiera sent forhim one morning. It was with mixed feelings that Cliffe obeyed thesummons, for his business had proved longer and more difficult than heexpected, and he was anxious about Evelyn. Indeed, he wondered whetherhe should let the concessions go and return to the coast; but hedetermined to be guided by what took place during the interview.
It was getting hot when Altiera received him, and a glare of reflectedlight shone through the unshuttered window. Cliffe, looking out over thelittle town, thought there was an ominous quiet. An hour earlier he hadwatched a company of slouching, dusty soldiers, equipped as if forservice, march through the narrow streets; but there was now no oneabout. It struck him as significant that all the green shutters wereclosed and the entrances to the _patios_ barred. This might have somebearing on his business, but it was not of the first importance, and heturned to the President and studied him closely.
There was a subtle change in Altiera since their last meeting. Hismanner was somehow less cordial, and suspicion seemed to lurk in hisdark eyes. When he had indicated a chair he looked at Cliffe steadily.
"You have, no doubt, thought over the matter we talked about not longago," he began. "It is necessary that I should know when we may expectthe loan."
"That, as I think you understand, depends on when I may expect theconcessions."
"I cannot sign the papers yet. It would provoke a storm of indignationthat I cannot risk. My enemies have taught the people that I am robbingthem when I make a grant to foreigners."
"In short, you mean to put down the rebels before you conclude the dealwith me."
"You have guessed right. There will be no complaints when I have shownthat I have the upper hand."
"If I had known your plans at the beginning, I'd have acteddifferently," Cliffe said.
Altiera gave him a piercing glance.
"Senor, I do not think you are justified in charging us with a want ofcandor, because there is evidence that you have not been quite honestwith us. Our most dangerous enemy is Martin Sarmiento, and we find himstaying at your hotel in Havana, where the senorita Cliffe helps him inan attempt to escape observation."
"I do not know the man," Cliffe protested with a puzzled air.
"Then it is strange that we should have caught a messenger bringing youa note from him," Altiera answered. "I think we shall gain nothing byfencing, senor."
Cliffe frowned.
"I've just got to say that I've never, to my knowledge, met Don Martin.What was the note about?"
"We will talk of that later. In the meanwhile, I understand you havedecided not to let me have the money that we need?"
"Not without a written promise that the papers will be signed and handedto me in a fortnight. Unless you consent, I must start for Valverde atonce."
Altiera pondered for a few moments, knitting his brows.
"You are, no doubt, anxious to rejoin your daughter," he said slowly."Perhaps I had better tell you that she is not at Valverde."
"Not at Valverde!" Cliffe exclaimed. "Then where has she gone?"
"I cannot tell you."
Cliffe clenched his hand, but would not let his alarm master him. Hesuspected treachery and knew that he must be cool.
"Your secretary assured me that Miss Cliffe would be safe with the_alcalde's_ wife; I shall hold him responsible. Why did she leaveValverde?"
"It seems the senorita got tired of waiting, and set off to rejoin you.This is most likely, but it is said in the cafes that she ran away withthe senor Gomez."
Cliffe looked up with his face set and an ominous sparkle in his eyes.
"That is a lie!"
"Personally, I think so; but having some knowledge of the sex, I wouldnot care to predict what a romantic young woman might do."
"Get on with your tale!"
Altiera regarded Cliffe calmly.
"The senorita had my secretary's escort, but, finding the roaddangerous, he made for Rio Frio, where he put her in safe hands. Herliberty was not interfered with and one morning she left the house anddid not come back."
Cliffe got up and advanced a yard or two across the floor.
"You mean she ran away? Why did she do so?"
"Your pardon, senor!" Altiera spread out his hands with a mocking smile."There is no reason to believe she had any cause to run away; but, notknowing your daughter's character, I cannot tell you why she went."
"Very well," said Cliffe, restraining himself with an effort. "I mustask you for an armed escort to Rio Frio, where I will make inquiries. Iwant the men at once!"
"I am afraid that is impossible. We have news that there are rebels inthe mountains. If I gave you a guard, the peons might be incited toattack you, and the trouble would spread before we are ready to dealwith it. As President of this country, it is my business to think of itswelfare first."
"I understand," Cliffe said very dryly. "If I promised to let you havethe money you want, you might see your duty differently."
Altiera looked at him with thoughtful eyes. The American was shrewd, butdid not seem as eager as he had expected.
"Senor, the need of funds that would ensure the maintenance of order andfirm government justifies a risk one would not take without such areason. I will give you a guard and send soldiers to make a thoroughsearch for the senorita if we can agree about the loan."
"This means you really do not know where my daughter is. I was not sureof it until now."
Altiera saw he had blundered in admitting that the girl was no longerin his hands; but while he considered how his mistake could be coveredCliffe resumed:
"It was a cunning plot, but you put it through clumsily, and you'regoing to find that kidnapping an American woman is a dangerous game forthe President of a third-rate republic."
"One must make allowances for the excited imagination of an anxiousfather," Altiera answered with an indulgent smile. "I deny the plot.There is no need for one. We have a charming young lady left alone in aforeign town who finds waiting tedious and determines to join herrelative. This is a simple and satisfactory explanation, without theother that she forms a romantic attachment for an officer of rank. Weprovide an escort because the country is disturbed, and part of thejourney is accomplished. It is not safe for her to go farther, but sheis rash, and, disregarding our advice, ventures too far from the house.Then she loses her way and is perhaps seized by the rebels, with theobject of embarrassing the Government. We cannot be held responsible,but we are willing to attempt her rescue when we see an opportunity."
The explanation was plausible, and could not be disproved until Cliffeheard his daughter's account. But what he wanted was to find her.
"The opportunity is now, before the rebels begin to move," he said. "Yourefuse to seize it?"
"You understand why it is impossible. I cannot do anything that mightplunge my country into a conflict, unless you show me some reason thatwould justify the risk."
"I cannot give you such a reason."
Altiera shrugged.
"It is for you to decide! We come to a deadlock; our negotiations breakoff."
"Very well," said Cliffe. "I leave Villa Paz in an hour, and it wouldn'tbe wise of you to interfere with my movements. My business with you isknown to people who have some political influence in the United States,and if I don't turn up in good time, inquiries will be made."
He turned abruptly and went out. It seemed safer to move quickly, thoughhe imagined the hint he had given Altiera would prevent any attempt tostop him. The President had found a plausible excuse for Evelyn'sdisappearance, but he would hesitate about detaining an American citizenwhose friends could bring pressure to bear at Washington. Thissupposition was borne out when Cliffe found no trouble in hiring a guideand mules; but while he made the arrangements his brain was working.
He would willingly have met the demand for money, only that Altiera hadincautiously admitted that he did not know where Evelyn was. Cliff
e hadacted on impulse in refusing to submit to further exaction, but calmreflection justified the course. Having a deep distrust of the man, hethought he might take the money and then not undertake the search forthe girl. Cliffe determined to set about it himself and make a bid forthe help of the revolutionaries. This would involve him in a seriousloss, but that did not count. He must rescue his daughter, whatever itcost.
Then he remembered that the President had admitted having intercepted amessage to him from the rebel leader. He had meant to insist on learningwhat it was about, but had somehow omitted to do so, and it was now toolate to reopen the matter. There was, however, a ray of hope in thethought that Sarmiento had tried to communicate with him.
When his baggage had been strapped on a pack-mule, he mounted and rodeout of Villa Paz as if making for Valverde, but as soon as they had leftthe last of the houses behind he pulled up and quietly studied hisguide. He was a sturdy, brown-faced peon, dressed in ragged whitecotton, with raw-hide sandals and a colored blanket strapped round hisshoulders, but he looked trustworthy. Moreover, Cliffe thought hiswillingness to assist a foreigner who was leaving the President's housewithout an escort, which must have shown that he had lost the autocrat'sfavor, had some significance. It was unfortunate that he could not speakmuch Castilian, but he knew that money talks in a language that isgenerally understood.
"I have changed my mind; we will not go to the coast," he said,stumbling over the words and helping out his meaning by pointing to themountains.
The peon nodded.
"To me it is equal where the senor goes, so long as I am paid for thedays we spend upon the road."
"Very well," said Cliffe, taking out a handful of silver. "Do you knowDon Martin Sarmiento?"
The peon looked doubtful, and Cliffe saw that, as he had suspected, thefellow had some dealings with the President's enemies.
"Don Martin is known to many," he replied cautiously.
Cliffe jingled the silver and awkwardly explained that he was no longera friend of the President's and wished to see Sarmiento as soon as hecould.
For a time the muleteer did not speak; then he looked up with an air ofdecision.
"It may be difficult, senor, but we will try," he said, and jerking thepack-mule's bridle abruptly left the road.
They passed through a coffee plantation and a field of sugar-cane, andthen as they reached thick forest the muleteer stopped and indicated theroad that wound in loops down the hillside.
"It is well the President should think we have gone that way," heremarked with a smile. "He has, no doubt, been told how we left thetown."
Cliffe looked back across the wide sweep of sun-scorched country to theshining streak on the horizon. His path led into the mountains and helonged for the sea. Then he thought of Grahame and wondered where hewas. Cliffe felt sure the man would help him if he knew his need. He wasbeginning to suspect what business Grahame had on the coast. He askedhis guide about the _Enchantress_, but the fellow did not seem tounderstand, and it was obvious that he had not heard of Grahame. ThenCliffe urged his mule on and plunged into the steamy shade.
Two days later they rode into a deep gorge filled with giant,creeper-festooned trees, and the guide moved forward slowly, glancinginto the shadow that shut in the winding track. It appeared that hiscaution was justified, for presently a hoarse voice bade them halt, andas they pulled up two men with rifles stepped out into the sunlight.
For some time the muleteer disputed with them, using emphatic gesturesand pointing to Cliffe; and then he went on with one while the other satdown watching the American, with his rifle across his knees. It was veryhot, for the sun struck down through an opening in the branches, butalthough the perspiration dripped from him Cliffe did not think it wiseto move. Indeed, he was glad that his mule stood quiet, whisking off theflies.
At last some one called in the forest and Cliffe's guard told him toride on, though the man followed at a short distance, as if to preventhis escape. A few hundred yards farther on, the gorge widened into alevel hollow, and Cliffe saw that he was in a camp.
It was not marked by military order. Men of various shades of color layabout, smoking cigarettes. Some were barefooted, and most were poorlydressed, but all wore red sashes, and good rifles lay ready to theirhands. They looked more like brigands than soldiers, and it was hard toimagine they had been drilled, but while their attitudes were slacklynegligent, their faces were resolute. In the background, climbingforest, choked with fallen trees and trailing vines, rolled up the steephillside. It was very hot, and the hum of insects mingled with the soundof drowsy voices.
Two men, better dressed than the others, came forward, and Cliffedismounted and followed them to a seat in the shadow, where they gavehim some cigarettes.
"Now, senor, you will tell us why you came here," said one.
Cliffe had not expected to be addressed in good English, and he lookedat the man with surprise.
The Spaniard smiled.
"With us, the consequences of trying to serve one's country is that onefinds it safer to live somewhere else. But we will keep to the point."
"I am looking for Don Martin Sarmiento," Cliffe said. "I expect you knowwhere he is."
"That is so, but it would be difficult to reach him, and we leave thisplace to-night. In fact, it is hard to see what we ought to do with you,but it might help if you told us what your business is with Don Martin."
"I guess you're surprised I should want to see him," Cliffe remarkedwith some dryness.
"It is natural," said the other. "We know you are a friend of thePresident's, and we suspect that you have been financing him. The moneyyou gave him would be used to put us down."
Cliffe thought for a few moments. The man seemed a person of someconsequence, and apparently commanded the band of rebels. His permissionmust be obtained before Cliffe could proceed, and since he meant to askDon Martin's help there was, perhaps, no cause for reticence.
"Very well," he said. "I will tell you why I am going to your leader."
He related what had led to his quarrel with the President, and when hehad finished, the man translated the narrative to his comrade.
"It is fortunate, senor, you refused the loan, because you will neverget the concessions; Altiera's rule will be over in a day or two. Butyou believed him when he said he did not know where your daughter is?"
"Yes. He seemed to speak without thinking, and was sorry afterward."
"Then, as the senorita is not in his hands, she is probably in ours, butour forces are scattered, and at present we cannot make inquiries.However, I imagine you will find her quickest by remaining with us--andyou will excuse my saying that it would not suit us to let you go. Ifyou were seized by the President's soldiers, he might make some use ofyou. Have I your promise that you will not try to escape?"
Although the man was courteous, Cliffe thought an attempt to run awaywould lead to trouble, but this was not what decided him to stay. He hadbeen bred to business, but now deep-rooted impulses were stirring. ThePresident and Gomez had cheated him, and he felt very sore about it, butthey had, moreover, carried off and, no doubt, terrorized Evelyn. Thethought of this filled him with a fierce desire to get even with them.
"Senores," he said grimly, "you not only have my word not to attempt toescape but you have my pledge to help you in every way I can."
"We start for Rio Frio to-night," the rebel answered in a significanttone.
"Good!" Cliffe said, and glanced about at the little groups ofdetermined looking men. "I'll confess I'm curious to know how you gotsuch good rifles," he added.
The rebel studied him keenly for a moment; and seemed satisfied.
"A countryman of yours bought and landed them for us in smallquantities."
"Grahame!" Cliffe exclaimed, and laughed, for he found the situationironically humorous. He liked Grahame, and suspected that Evelyn wasinterested in him; and now it was obvious that the man had helped therevolutionaries to ruin his plans.
"I know him," he said. "A
s a matter of fact, he's an Englishman."
"At present he is Gomez's prisoner. That is one reason we strike thefirst blow at Rio Frio."
"Ah! Well, if you mean to rescue him, you can rely on my doing the bestI can."
The rebel changed the subject, but Cliffe imagined he had gained hisconfidence. He was invited to the officers' frugal four o'clock dinner,and afterward sat talking with them while the shadows filled the hollow.Although still anxious about Evelyn, he felt less disturbed, and wassensible of a strange but pleasant thrill. Feelings he thought he hadlong grown out of were reawakening; there would be no more trucking withthe rogues who had cheated him and carried off his daughter. When theynext met, he would demand satisfaction with a rifle in his hands. Cliffeadmitted that there was something rather absurd and barbarous in thepleasure the thought of the meeting afforded him, but, for all that, theadventure he was embarking on had a strong attraction.