THE

 WHITE MICE

 BY

 RICHARD HARDING DAVIS

 ILLUSTRATED BY

 _GEORGE GIBBS_

 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS NEW YORK _1912_

 COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

[Illustration: "What does anything matter, when I know--that the endis near!"]

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "What does anything matter, when I know--that the end is near!" _Frontispiece_

 FACING PAGE

 "_O-i-i-ga_, you Moso! Get a move on! _Pronto!_ If you don't I'll do that myself" 20

 "I hear the call of the White Mice, " said Peter de Peyster 30

 Under the blow, the masked man staggered drunkenly 70

 Shifting the reins to his left hand, Roddy let the other fall upon his revolver 114

 "Now I know why I came to Venezuela!" 144

 On such a night, Leander swam the Hellespont 198

 Her fingers traced the sign of the cross 294

THE WHITE MICE

I

Once upon a time a lion dropped his paw upon a mouse. 

"Please let me live!" begged the mouse, "and some day I will do asmuch for you. "

"That is so funny, " roared the king of beasts, "that we will releaseyou. We had no idea mice had a sense of humor. "

And then, as you remember, the lion was caught in the net of thehunter, and struggled, and fought, and struck blindly, until hisspirit and strength were broken, and he lay helpless and dying. 

And the mouse, happening to pass that way, gnawed and nibbled at thenet, and gave the lion his life. 

The morals are: that an appreciation of humor is a precious thing;that God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform, and thatyou never can tell. 

In regard to this fable it is urged that, according to the doctrineof chances, it is extremely unlikely that at the very moment the lionlay bound and helpless the very same mouse should pass by. But theexplanation is very simple and bromidic. 

It is this--that this is a small world. 

People who are stay-at-home bodies come to believe the whole world isthe village in which they live. People who are rolling-stones claimthat if you travel far enough and long enough the whole world becomesas one village; that sooner or later you make friends with every onein it; that the only difference between the stay-at-homes and thegadabouts is that while the former answer local telephone calls, theothers receive picture postal-cards. There is a story that seems toillustrate how small this world is. In fact, this is the story. 

 * * * * *

General Don Miguel Rojas, who as a young man was called the Lion ofValencia, and who later had honorably served Venezuela as Minister ofForeign Affairs, as Secretary of War, as Minister to the Court of St. James and to the Republic of France, having reached the age of sixtyfound himself in a dungeon-cell underneath the fortress in the harborof Porto Cabello. He had been there two years. The dungeon was darkand very damp, and at high-tide the waters of the harbor oozed throughthe pores of the limestone walls. The air was the air of areceiving-vault, and held the odor of a fisherman's creel. 

General Rojas sat huddled upon a canvas cot, with a blanket about histhroat and a blanket about his knees, reading by the light of a candlethe story of Don Quixote. Sometimes a drop of water fell upon thecandle and it sputtered, and its light was nearly lost in thedarkness. Sometimes so many drops gathered upon the white head of theLion of Valencia that he sputtered, too, and coughed so violentlythat, in agony, he beat with feeble hands upon his breast. And _his_light, also, nearly escaped into the darkness. 

 * * * * *

On the other side of the world, four young Americans, with legscrossed and without their shoes, sat on the mats of the tea-house ofthe Hundred and One Steps. On their sun-tanned faces was the glare ofYokohama Bay, in their eyes the light of youth, of intelligentinterest, of adventure. In the hand of each was a tiny cup of acridtea. Three of them were under thirty, and each wore the suit of silkpongee that in eighteen hours C. Tom, or Little Ah Sing, the ChineseKing, fits to any figure, and which in the Far East is the badge ofthe tourist tribe. Of the three, one was Rodman Forrester. Hisfather, besides being pointed out as the parent of "Roddy" Forrester, the one-time celebrated Yale pitcher, was himself not unfavorablyknown to many governments as a constructor of sky-scrapers, breakwaters, bridges, wharves and light-houses, which latter heplanted on slippery rocks along inaccessible coast-lines. Among hisfellow Captains of Industry he was known as the Forrester ConstructionCompany, or, for short, the "F. C. C. " Under that alias Mr. Forresterwas now trying to sell to the Japanese three light-houses, toilluminate the Inner Sea between Kobe and Shimoneseki. To hasten thesale he had shipped "Roddy" straight from the machine-shops toYokohama. 

Three years before, when Roddy left Yale, his father ordered himabroad to improve his mind by travel, and to inspect certainlight-houses and breakwaters on both shores of the English Channel. While crossing from Dover to Calais on his way to Paris, Roddy made avery superficial survey of the light-houses and reported that, so faras he could see by daylight, they still were on the job. His father, who had his own breezy sense of humor, cancelled Roddy's letter ofcredit, cabled him home, and put him to work in the machine-shop. There the manager reported that, except that he had shown himself agood "mixer, " and had organized picnics for the benefit societies, anda base-ball team, he had not earned his fifteen dollars a week. 

When Roddy was called before him, his father said:

"It is wrong that your rare talents as a 'mixer' should be wasted infront of a turning-lathe. Callahan tells me you can talk your waythrough boiler-plate, so I am going to give you a chance to talk theJaps into giving us a contract. But, remember this, Roddy, " his fathercontinued sententiously, "the Japs are the Jews of the present. Bepolite, but don't appear _too_ anxious. If you do, they will beat youdown in the price. "

Perhaps this parting injunction explains why, from the time Roddyfirst burst upon the Land of the Rising Sun, he had devoted himselfentirely to the Yokohama tea-houses and the base-ball grounds of theAmerican Naval Hospital. He was trying, he said, not to appear tooanxious. He hoped father would be pleased. 

With Roddy to Japan, as a companion, friend and fellow-tourist, camePeter de Peyster, who hailed from the banks of the Hudson, and of whatRoddy called "one of our ancient poltroon families. " At Yale, althoughhe had been two classes in advance of Roddy, the two had beenroommates, and such firm friends that they contradicted each otherwithout ceasing. Having quarrelled through two years of college life, they were on terms of such perfect understanding as to be inseparable. 

The third youth was the "Orchid Hunter. " His father manufactured thebeer that, so Roddy said, had made his home town bilious. He was notreally an orchid hunter, but on his journeyings around the globe hehad become so ashamed of telling people he had no other business thanto spend his father's money that he had decided to say he wascollecting orchids. 

"It shows imagination, " he explained, "and I have spent enough moneyon orchids on Fifth Avenue to make good. "

The fourth youth in the group wore the uniform and insignia of aLieutenant of the United States Navy. His name was Perry, and, lookingdown from the toy balcony of the tea-house, clinging like abird's-nest to the face of the rock, they could see his battle-ship onthe berth. It was Perry who had convoyed them to O Kin San and herdelectable tea-house, and it was Perry who was talking shop. 

"But the most important member of the ship's company on a submarine, "said the sailor-man, "doesn't draw any pay at all, and he has norating. He is a mouse. "

"He's a _what_?" demanded the Orchid Hunter. He had been patrioticallycelebrating the arrival of the American Squadron. During tiffin, thesight of the white uniforms in the hotel dining-room had increased hispatriotism; and after tiffin the departure of the Pacific Mail, carrying to the Golden Gate so many "good fellows, " further arousedit. Until the night before, in the billiard-room, he had never met anyof the good fellows; but the thought that he might never see themagain now depressed him. And the tea he was drinking neither cheerednor inebriated. So when the Orchid Hunter spoke he showed a touch oftemper. 

"Don't talk sea slang to me, " he commanded; "when you say he is amouse, what do you mean by a mouse?"

"I mean a mouse, " said the Lieutenant, "a white mouse with pink eyes. He bunks in the engine-room, and when he smells sulphuric gas escapinganywhere he squeals; and the chief finds the leak, and the ship isn'tblown up. Sometimes, one little, white mouse will save the lives of adozen bluejackets. "

Roddy and Peter de Peyster nodded appreciatively. 

"Mos' extr'd'n'ry!" said the Orchid Hunter. "Mos' sad, too. I willnow drink to the mouse. The moral of the story is, " he pointed out, "that everybody, no matter how impecunious, can help; even you fellowscould help. So could I. "

His voice rose in sudden excitement. "I will now, " he cried, "organizethe Society of the Order of the White Mice. The object of the societyis to save everybody's life. Don't tell me, " he objected scornfully, "that you fellows will let a little white mice save twelve hundredbluejackets, an' you sit there an' grin. You mus' all be a White Mice. You mus' all save somebody's life. An'--then--then we give ourself adinner. "

"And medals!" suggested Peter de Peyster. 

The Orchid Hunter frowned. He regarded the amendment with suspicion. 

"Is't th' intention of the Hon'ble Member from N'York, " he asked, "that _each_ of us gets a medal, or just th' one that does th'saving?"

"Just one, " said Peter de Peyster. 

"No, we all get 'em, " protested Roddy. "Each time!"

"Th' 'men'ment to th' 'men'ment is carried, " announced the OrchidHunter. He untwisted his legs and clapped his hands. The paper wallsslid apart, the little Nezans, giggling, bowing, ironing out theirknees with open palms, came tripping and stumbling to obey. 

"Take away the tea!" shouted the Orchid Hunter. "It makes me nervous. Bring us fizzy-water, in larges' size, cold, expensive bottles. Andnow, you fellows, " proclaimed the Orchid Hunter, "I'm goin' intosecret session and initiate you into Yokohama Chapter, Secret Order ofWhite Mice. And--I will be Mos' Exalted Secret White Mouse. "

When he returned to the ship Perry told the wardroom about it andlaughed, and the wardroom laughed, and that night at the Grand Hotel, while the Japanese band played "Give My Regards to Broadway, " whichPeter de Peyster told them was the American national anthem, the WhiteMice gave their first annual dinner. For, as the Orchid Hunter pointedout, in order to save life, one must sustain it. 

And Louis Eppinger himself designed that dinner, and the Paymaster, and Perry's brother-officers, who were honored guests, still speak ofit with awe; and the next week's _Box of Curios_ said of iteditorially: "And while our little Yokohama police know much ofju-jitsu, they found that they had still something to learn of theshort jab to the jaw and the quick getaway. "

Indeed, throughout, it was a most successful dinner. 

And just to show how small this world is, and that "God moves in amysterious way, His wonders to perform, " at three o'clock thatmorning, when the dinner-party in rickshaws were rolling down theBund, singing "We're Little White Mice Who Have Gone Astray, " theirvoices carried across the Pacific, across the Cordilleras and theCaribbean Sea; and an old man in his cell, tossing and shivering withfever, smiled and sank to sleep; for in his dreams he had heard thescampering feet of the White Mice, and he had seen the gates of hisprison-cell roll open. 

 * * * * *

The Forrester Construction Company did not get the contract to buildthe three light-houses. The Japanese preferred a light-house made byan English firm. They said it was cheaper. It _was_ cheaper, becausethey bought the working plans from a draughtsman the English firm haddischarged for drunkenness, and, by causing the revolving light towink once instead of twice, dodged their own patent laws. 

Mr. Forrester agreed with the English firm that the Japanese were "awonderful little people, " and then looked about for some oneindividual he could blame. Finding no one else, he blamed Roddy. Theinterview took place on the twenty-seventh story of the ForresterBuilding, in a room that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge. 

"You didn't fall down on the job, " the fond parent was carefullyexplaining, "because you never were _on_ the job. You didn't even_start_. It was thoughtful of you to bring back kimonos to mother andthe girls. But the one you brought me does not entirely compensate mefor the ninety thousand dollars you didn't bring back. I would _like_my friends to see me in a kimono with silk storks and purple wistariasdown the front, but I feel I cannot afford to pay ninety thousanddollars for a bathrobe. 

"Nor do I find, " continued the irate parent coldly, "that the honoryou did the company by disguising yourself as a stoker and helping thebase-ball team of the _Louisiana_ to win the pennant of the AsiaticSquadron, altogether reconciles us to the loss of a governmentcontract. I have paid a good deal to have you taught mechanicalengineering, and I should like to know how soon you expect to give methe interest on my money. "

Roddy grinned sheepishly, and said he would begin at once, by takinghis father out to lunch. 

"Good!" said Forrester, Senior. "But before we go, Roddy, I want youto look over there to the Brooklyn side. Do you see pier numbereleven--just south of the bridge? Yes? Then do you see a white steamertaking on supplies?"

Roddy, delighted at the change of subject, nodded. 

"That ship, " continued his father, "is sailing to Venezuela, where wehave a concession from the government to build breakwaters and buoythe harbors and put up light-houses. We have been working there fortwo years and we've spent about two million dollars. And some day wehope to get our money. Sometimes, " continued Mr. Forrester, "it isnecessary to throw good money after bad. That is what we are doing inVenezuela. "

"I don't understand, " interrupted Roddy with polite interest. 

"You are not expected to, " said his father. "If you will kindlycondescend to hold down the jobs I give you, you can safely leave thehigh finance of the company to your father. "

"Quite so, " said Roddy hastily. "Where shall we go to lunch?"

As though he had not heard him, Forrester, Senior, continuedrelentlessly: "To-morrow, " he said, "you are sailing on that ship forPorto Cabello; we have just started a light-house at Porto Cabello, and are buoying the harbor. You are going for the F. C. C. You are aninspector. "

Roddy groaned and sank into a chair. 

"Go on, " he commanded, "break it to me quick! _What_ do I inspect?"

"You sit in the sun, " said Mr. Forrester, "with a pencil, and everytime our men empty a bag of cement into the ocean you make a mark. Atthe same time, if you are not an utter idiot and completely blind, youcan't help but see how a light-house is set up. The company is havingtrouble in Venezuela, trouble in collecting its money. You might aswell know that, because everybody in Venezuela will tell you so. Butthat's all you need to know. The other men working for the companydown there will think, because you are my son, that you know moreabout what I'm doing in Venezuela than they do. Now, understand, youdon't know anything, and I want you to say so. I want you to stick toyour own job, and not mix up in anything that doesn't concern you. There will be nothing to distract you. McKildrick writes me that inPorto Cabello there are no tea-houses, no roads for automobiles, and, except for the fire-flies, all the white lights go out at nineo'clock. 

"Now, Roddy, " concluded Mr. Forrester warningly, "this is your chance, and it is the last chance for dinner in the dining-car, for you. Ifyou fail the company, and by the company I mean myself, _this_ time, you can ask Fred Sterry for a job on the waiters' nine at Palm Beach. "

 * * * * *

Like all the other great captains, Mr. Forrester succeeded through thework of his lieutenants. For him, in every part of the world, moreespecially in those parts of it in which the white man was but justfeeling his way, they were at work. 

In Siberia, in British East Africa, in Upper Burmah, engineers of theForrester Construction Company had tamed, shackled and bridged greatrivers. In the Soudan they had thrown up ramparts against the Nile. Along the coasts of South America they had cast the rays of theForrester revolving light upon the face of the waters of both theSouth Atlantic and the Pacific. 

They were of all ages, from the boys who had never before lookedthrough a transit except across the college campus, to sun-tanned, fever-haunted veterans who, for many years, had fought Nature whereshe was most stubborn, petulant and cruel. They had seen a tidal-wavecrumple up a breakwater which had cost them a half-year of labor, andslide it into the ocean. They had seen swollen rivers, drunk with therains, trip bridges by the ankles and toss them on the banks, twistedand sprawling; they had seen a tropical hurricane overturn ahalf-finished light-house as gayly as a summer breeze upsets arocking-chair; they had fought with wild beasts, they had fought withwild men, with Soudanese of the Desert, with Federated Sons of Labor, with Yaqui Indians, and they had seen cholera, sleeping-sickness andthe white man's gin turn their compounds into pest-camps andcrematories. 

Of these things Mr. Forrester, in the twenty-seven-story Forrestersky-scraper, where gray-coated special policemen and elevator-starterstouched their caps to him, had seen nothing. He regarded thesemisadventures by flood and field only as obstacles to his carrying outin the time stipulated a business contract. He accepted them patientlyas he would a strike of the workmen on the apartment-house his firmwas building on Fifty-ninth Street. 

Sometimes, in order to better show the progress they were making, hisengineers sent him from strange lands photographs of their work. Atthese, for a moment, he would glance curiously, at the pictures ofnaked, dark-skinned coolies in turbans, of elephants dragging irongirders, _his_ iron girders; and perhaps he would wonder if the manin the muddy boots and the heavy sun hat was McKenzie. His interestwent no further than that; his imagination was not stirred. 

Sometimes McKenzie returned and, in evening dress, dined with him athis up-town club, or at a fashionable restaurant, where the senses ofthe engineer were stifled by the steam heat, the music and the scentof flowers; where, through a joyous mist of red candle-shades andgolden champagne, he once more looked upon women of his own color. Itwas not under such conditions that Mr. Forrester could expect to knowthe real McKenzie. This was not the McKenzie who, two months before, was fighting death on a diet of fruit salts, and who, against the sun, wore a bath-towel down his spinal column. On such occasions Mr. Forrester wanted to know if, with native labor costing but a few yardsof cotton and a bowl of rice, the new mechanical rivet-drivers werenot an extravagance. How, he would ask, did salt water and a sweatingtemperature of one hundred and five degrees act upon the new anti-rustpaint? That was what he wanted to know. 

Once one of his young lieutenants, inspired by a marvellous dinner, called to him across the table: "You remember, sir, that light-housewe put up in the Persian Gulf? The Consul at Aden told me, this lasttrip, that before that light was there the wrecks on the coastaveraged fifteen a year and the deaths from drowning over a hundred. You will be glad to hear that since your light went up, three yearsago, there have been only two wrecks and no deaths. "

Mr. Forrester nodded gravely. 

"I remember, " he said. "That was the time we made the mistake ofsending cement through the Canal instead of around the Cape, and thetolls cost us five thousand dollars. "

It was not that Mr. Forrester weighed the loss of the five thousanddollars against a credit of lives saved. It was rather that he was notin the life-saving business. Like all his brother captains, he was, in a magnificent way, mechanically charitable. For institutions thatdid make it a business to save life he wrote large checks. But henever mixed charity and business. In what he was doing in the world heeither was unable to see, or was not interested in seeing, what washuman, dramatic, picturesque. When he forced himself to rest from hislabor, his relaxation was the reading of novels of romance, ofadventure--novels that told of strange places and strange peoples. Between the after-dinner hour and bedtime, or while his yacht pickedher way up the Sound, these tales filled him with surprise. Often hewould exclaim admiringly: "I don't see how these fellows think up suchthings. "

He did not know that, in his own business, there were melodramas, romances which made those of the fiction-writers ridiculous. 

And so, when young Sam Caldwell, the third vice-president, told Mr. Forrester that if the company hoped to obtain the money it had sunkin Venezuela it must finance a revolution, Mr. Forrester, withoutquestion, consented to the expense, and put it down under "Political. "Had Sam Caldwell shown him that what was needed was a construction-raftor a half-dozen giant steam-shovels, he would have furnished the moneyas readily and with as little curiosity. 

Sam Caldwell, the third vice-president, was a very smart young man. Every one, even men much older than he, said as much, and no one wasmore sure of it than was Sam Caldwell himself. His vanity on thatpoint was, indeed, his most prepossessing human quality. 

He was very proud of his freedom from those weak scruples thatprevented rival business men from underbidding the F. C. C. Hecongratulated himself on the fact that at thirty-four he was much moreof a cynic than men of sixty. He held no illusions, and he rejoicedin a sense of superiority over those of his own class in college, who, in matters of business, were still hampered by old-time traditions. 

If in any foreign country the work of the F. C. C. Was halted bypoliticians, it was always Sam Caldwell who was sent across the sea toconfer with them. He could quote you the market-price on a Russiangrand-duke, or a Portuguese colonial governor, as accurately as hecould that of a Tammany sachem. His was the non-publicity department. People who did not like him called him Mr. Forrester's jackal. Whenthe lawyers of the company had studied how they could evade the law oncorporations, and had shown how the officers of the F. C. C. Could doa certain thing and still keep out of jail, Sam Caldwell was the manwho did that thing. 

He had been to Venezuela "to look over the ground, " and he hadreported that President Alvarez must go, and that some one who wouldbe friendly to the F. C. C. Must be put in his place. That was all Mr. Forrester knew, or cared to know. With the delay in Venezuela he wasimpatient. He wanted to close up that business and move his fleet oftenders, dredges and rafts to another coast. So, as was the officialroutine, he turned over the matter to Sam Caldwell, to settle it inSam Caldwell's own way. 

Two weeks after his talk with his father, Roddy, ignorant of Mr. Caldwell's intentions, was in Venezuela, sitting on the edge of aconstruction-raft, dangling his rubber boots in the ocean, andwatching a steel skeleton creep up from a coral reef into a blazing, burning sky. At intervals he would wake to remove his cigarette, andshout fiercely: "_O-i-i-ga_, you Moso! Get a move on! _Pronto!_ If youdon't I'll do that myself. "

Every ten minutes El Señor Roddy had made the same threat, and theworkmen, once hopeful that he would carry it into effect, had growndespondent. 

 * * * * *

In the mind of Peter de Peyster there was no doubt that, unlesssomething was done, and at once, the Order of the White Mice wouldcease to exist. The call of Gain, of Duty, of Pleasure had scatteredthe charter members to distant corners of the world. Their dues wereunpaid, the pages of the Golden Book of Record were blank. Without thenecessary quorum of two there could be no meetings, without meetingsthere could be no dinners, and, incidentally, over all the worldpeople continued to die, and the White Mice were doing nothing toprevent it. Peter de Peyster, mindful of his oath, of his duty as theMost Secret Secretary and High Historian of the Order, shot arrows inthe air in the form of irate postal-cards. He charged all White Miceto instantly report to the Historian the names of those persons whom, up to date, they had saved from death. 

[Illustration: "_O-i-i-ga_, you Moso! Get a move on! _Pronto!_ If youdon't I'll do that myself. "]

From the battle-ship _Louisiana_, Perry wrote briefly:

 "Beg to report during gale off Finisterre, went to rescue of man overboard. Man overboard proved to be Reagan, gunner's mate, first class, holding long-distance championship for swimming and two medals for saving life. After I sank the third time, Reagan got me by the hair and towed me to the ship. Who gets the assist?"

From Raffles' Hotel, Singapore, the Orchid Hunter cabled:

 "Have saved own valuable life by refusing any longer to drink Father's beer. Give everybody medal. "

From Porto Cabello, Venezuela, Roddy wrote:

 "I have saved lives of fifty Jamaica coolies daily by not carrying an axe. If you want to save my life from suicide, sunstroke and sleeping-sickness--which attacks me with special virulence immediately after lunch--come by next steamer. "

A week later, Peter de Peyster took the Red D boat south, and aftertouching at Porto Rico and at the Island of Curaçao, swept into PortoCabello and into the arms of his friend. 

On the wharf, after the shouts of welcome had died away, Roddyinquired anxiously: "As you made the harbor, Peter, did you noticeany red and black buoys? Those are _my_ buoys. _I_ put themthere--_myself_. And I laid out that entire channel you came inby, all by myself, too!"

Much time had passed since the two friends had been able to insulteach other face to face. 

"Roddy, " coldly declared Peter, "if I thought _you_ had charted thatchannel I'd go home on foot, by land. "

"Do you mean you think I can't plant deep-sea buoys?" demanded Roddy. 

"You can't plant potatoes!" said Peter. "If you had to set uplamp-posts, with the street names on them, along Broadway, you wouldput the ones marked Union Square in Columbus Circle. "

"I want you to know, " shouted Roddy, "that my buoys are the talk ofthis port. These people are just crazy about my buoys--especially thered buoys. If you didn't come to Venezuela to see my buoys, why didyou come? I will plant a buoy for you to-morrow!" challenged Roddy. "Iwill show you!"

"You will _have_ to show me, " said Peter. 

 * * * * *

Peter had been a week in Porto Cabello, and, in keeping Roddy at work, had immensely enjoyed himself. Each morning, in the company's gasolinelaunch, the two friends went put-put-putting outside the harbor, whereRoddy made soundings for his buoys, and Peter lolled in the stern andfished. His special pleasure was in trying to haul man-eating sharksinto the launch at the moment Roddy was leaning over the gunwale, taking a sounding. 

One evening at sunset, on their return trip, as they were under theshadow of the fortress, the engine of the launch broke down. While theblack man from Trinidad was diagnosing the trouble, Peter wasendeavoring to interest Roddy in the quaint little Dutch Island ofCuraçao that lay one hundred miles to the east of them. He chose totalk of Curaçao because the ship that carried him from the States hadtouched there, while the ship that brought Roddy south had not. Thisfact irritated Roddy, so Peter naturally selected the moment when thelaunch had broken down and Roddy was both hungry and peevish to talkof Curaçao. 

"Think of your never having seen Curaçao!" he sighed. "Some day youcertainly must visit it. With a sea as flat as this is to-night youcould make the run in the launch in twelve hours. It is a place youshould see. "

"That is so like you, " exclaimed Roddy indignantly. "I have been herefour months, and you have been here a week, and you try to tell _me_about Curaçao! It is the place where curaçao and revolutionists comefrom. All the exiles from Venezuela wait over there until there is arevolution over here, and then they come across. You can't tell _me_anything about Curaçao. _I_ don't have to _go_ to a place to knowabout it. "

"I'll bet, " challenged Peter, "you don't know about the mother and thetwo daughters who were exiled from Venezuela and live in Curaçao, andwho look over here every night at sunset?"

Roddy laughed scornfully. "Why, that is the first thing they tellyou, " he cried; "the purser points them out from the ship, and tellsyou----"

"Tells _you_, yes, " cried Peter triumphantly, "but I _saw_ them. As weleft the harbor they were standing on the cliff--three women inwhite--looking toward Venezuela. They told me the father of the twogirls is in prison here. He was----"

"_Told_ you, yes, " mimicked Roddy, "told you he was in prison. I have_seen_ him in prison. There is the prison. "

Roddy pointed at the flat, yellow fortress that rose above them. Behind the tiny promontory on which the fortress crouched was thetown, separated from it by a stretch of water so narrow that agolf-player, using the quay of the custom-house for a tee, could havedriven a ball against the prison wall. 

Daily, from the town, Peter had looked across the narrow harbor towardthe level stretch of limestone rock that led to the prison gates, andhad seen the petty criminals, in chains, splash through the pools leftby the falling tide, had watched each pick up a cask of fresh water, and, guarded by the barefooted, red-capped soldiers, drag his chainsback to the prison. Now, only the boat's-length from them, he saw thesheer face of the fortress, where it slipped to depths unknown intothe sea. It impressed him most unpleasantly. It had the look less of afortress than of a neglected tomb. Its front was broken by wind andwaves, its surface, blotched and mildewed, white with crusted salt, hideous with an eruption of dead barnacles. As each wave lifted andretreated, leaving the porous wall dripping like a sponge, itdisturbed countless crabs, rock scorpions and creeping, leech-likethings that ran blindly into the holes in the limestone; and, at thewater-line, the sea-weed, licking hungrily at the wall, rose and fell, the great arms twisting and coiling like the tentacles of manydevilfish. 

Distaste at what he saw, or the fever that at sunset drives wiseVenezuelans behind closed shutters, caused Peter to shiver slightly. 

For some moments, with grave faces and in silence, the two young mensat motionless, the mind of each trying to conceive what life must bebehind those rusted bars and moss-grown walls. 

"Somewhere, buried in there, " said Roddy, "is General Rojas, the Lionof Valencia, a man, " he added sententiously, "beloved by the people. He has held all the cabinet positions, and been ambassador in Europe, and Alvarez is more afraid of him than of any other man in Venezuela. And why? For the simple reason that he is good. When the people foundout what a blackguard Alvarez is they begged Rojas to run forPresident against him, and Rojas promised that if, at the nextelection, the people still desired it, he would do as they wished. That night Alvarez hauled him out of bed and put him in there. He hasbeen there two years. There _are_ healthy prisons, but Alvarez putRojas in this one, hoping it would kill him. He is afraid to murderhim openly, because the people love him. When I first came here I wentthrough the fortress with Vicenti, the prison doctor, on a sort ofSeeing-Porto-Cabello trip. He pointed out Rojas to me through thebars, same as you would point out a monument to a dead man. Rojas wassitting at a table, writing, wrapped in a shawl. The cell was lit by acandle, and I give you my word, although it was blazing hot outside, the place was as damp as a refrigerator. When we raised our lanternshe stood up, and I got a good look at him. He is a thin, frail littleman with white hair and big, sad eyes, with a terribly lonely look inthem. At least I thought so; and I felt so ashamed at staring at himthat I bowed and salaamed to him through the bars, and he gave me themost splendid bow, just as though he were still an ambassador and I avisiting prince. The doctor had studied medicine in New York, soprobably he talked to me a little more freely than he should. He sayshe warned the commandant of the fortress that unless Rojas is moved tothe upper tier of cells, above the water-line, he will die in sixmonths. And the commandant told him not to meddle in affairs of state, that his orders from the President were that Rojas 'must never againfeel the heat of the sun. '"

Peter de Peyster exclaimed profanely. "Are there no men in thiscountry?" he growled. "Why don't his friends get him out?"

"They'd have to get themselves out first, " explained Roddy. "Alvarezmade a clean sweep of it, even of his wife and his two daughters, thewomen you saw. He exiled them, and they went to Curaçao. They haveplenty of money, and they _could_ have lived in Paris or London. Hehas been minister in both places, and has many friends over there, buteven though they cannot see him or communicate with him, they settleddown in Curaçao so that they might be near him. 

"The night his wife was ordered out of the country she was allowed tosay good-by to him in the fortress, and there she arranged that everynight at sunset she and her daughters would look toward Port Cabello, and he would look toward Curaçao. The women bought a villa on thecliff, to the left of the harbor of Willemstad as you enter, and thepeople, the Dutch and the Spaniards and negroes, all know the story, and when they see the three women on the cliff at sunset it is likethe Angelus ringing, and, they say, the people pray that the women maysee him again. "

For a long time Peter de Peyster sat scowling at the prison, and Roddydid not speak, for it is not possible to room with another man throughtwo years of college life and not know something of his moods. 

Then Peter leaned toward Roddy and stared into his face. His voicecarried the suggestion of a challenge. 

"I hear something!" he whispered. 

Whether his friend spoke in metaphor or stated a fact, Roddy could notdetermine. He looked at him questioningly, and raised his head tolisten. Save for the whisper of the waves against the base of thefortress, there was no sound. 

"What?" asked Roddy. 

"I hear the call of the White Mice, " said Peter de Peyster. 

There was a long silence. Then Roddy laughed softly, his eyes halfclosed; the muscles around the lower jaw drew tight. 

Often before Peter had seen the look in his face, notably on amemorable afternoon when Roddy went to the bat, with three men onbase, two runs needed to win the championship and twenty thousandshrieking people trying to break his nerve. 

"I will go as far as you like, " said Roddy. 

 * * * * *

Porto Cabello is laid out within the four boundaries of a square. The boundary on the east and the boundary on the north of the squaremeet at a point that juts into the harbor. The wharves and thecustom-house, looking toward the promontory on which stands thefortress prison, form the eastern side of the square, and along thenorthern edge are the Aquatic Club, with its veranda over the water, the hotel, with its bath-rooms underneath the water, and farther alongthe harbor front houses set in gardens. As his work was in the harbor, Roddy had rented one of these houses. It was discreetly hidden bymango-trees and palmetto, and in the rear of the garden, steps cut inthe living rock led down into the water. In a semicircle beyond thesesteps was a fence of bamboo stout enough to protect a bather from theharbor sharks and to serve as a breakwater for the launch. 

[Illustration: "I hear the call of the White Mice, " said Peter dePeyster. ]

"When I rented this house, " said Roddy, "I thought I took it because Icould eat mangoes while I was in bathing and up to my ears in water, which is the only way you can eat a mango and keep your self-respect. But I see now that Providence sent me here because we can steal awayin the launch without any one knowing it. "

"If you can move that launch its own length without the whole townknowing it, " commented Peter, "you will have to chloroform it. Itbarks like a machine gun. "

"My idea was, " explained Roddy, "that we would row to the fortress. After we get the General on board, the more it sounds like a machinegun the better. "

Since their return in the launch, and during dinner, which had beenserved in the tiny _patio_ under the stars, the White Mice had beendiscussing ways and means. A hundred plans had been proposed, criticised, rejected; but by one in the morning, when the candles wereguttering in the harbor breeze and the Scotch whiskey had shrunkseveral inches, the conspirators found themselves agreed. They haddecided they could do nothing until they knew in which cell theGeneral was imprisoned, and especially the position of his window inthat cell that looked out upon the harbor; that, with the aid of thelaunch, the rescue must be made from the water, and that the rescuersmust work from the outside. To get at Rojas from the inside it wouldbe necessary to take into their confidence some one of the prisonofficials, and there was no one they dared to trust. Had it been aquestion of money, Roddy pointed out, the friends of Rojas wouldalready have set him free. That they had failed to do so proved, notthat the prison officials were incorruptible, but that their fear ofthe wrath of Alvarez was greater than their cupidity. 

"There are several reasons why we should not attempt to bribe anyone, " said Roddy, "and the best one is the same reason the man gavefor not playing poker. To-morrow I will introduce you to Vicenti, theprison doctor, and we'll ask him to take us over the prison, and countthe cells, and try to mark the one in which we see Rojas. Perhaps we'dbetter have the doctor in to dinner. He likes to tell you what a devilof a fellow he was in New York, and you must pretend to believe hewas. We might also have the captain of the port, and get him to giveus permission to take the launch out at night. This port is stillunder martial law, and after the sunset gun no boat may move about theharbor. Then we must have some harpoons made and get out thatheadlight, and spear eels. "

"You couldn't spear an eel, " objected Peter, "and if you could Iwouldn't eat it. "

"You don't have to eat it!" explained Roddy; "the eels are only anexcuse. We want to get the sentries used to seeing us flashing aroundthe harbor at night. If we went out there without some excuse, andwithout permission, exploding like a barrel of fire-crackers, they'dsink us. So we must say we are out spearing eels. "

The next morning Roddy showed a blacksmith how to hammer out tridentsfor spearing eels, and that night those people who lived along theharbor front were kept awake by quick-fire explosions, and the glarein their windows of a shifting search-light. But at the end of theweek the launch of the Gringos, as it darted noisily in and out of theharbor, and carelessly flashed its search-light on the walls of thefortress, came to be regarded less as a nuisance than a blessing. Forwith noble self-sacrifice the harbor eels lent themselves to thedeception. By hundreds they swarmed in front of the dazzlingheadlight; by dozens they impaled themselves upon the tines of thepitchforks. So expert did Roddy and Peter become in harpooning, thatsoon they were able each morning to send to the captain of the port, to the commandant, to the prison doctor, to every citizen who objectedto having his sleep punctuated, a basket of eels. It was noticed thatat intervals the engine of the launch would not act properly, and thegringos were seen propelling the boat with oars. Also, the lightoften went out, leaving them in darkness. They spoke freely of theseaccidents with bitter annoyance, and people sympathized with them. 

One night, when they were seated plotting in the _patio_, Roddy wasoverwhelmed with sudden misgivings. 

"Wouldn't it be awful, " he cried, "if, after we have cut the bars andshown him the rope ladder and the launch, he refuses to come with us!"

"Is that _all_ that's worrying you?" asked Peter. 

"How is he to know?" persisted Roddy, "that we are not paid byAlvarez, that we aren't leading him on to escape so that the sentriescan have an excuse to shoot him. That has been done before. It is anold trick, like killing a man in his cell and giving out that hecommitted suicide. The first thing Rojas will ask us is, who sends us, and where are our credentials. "

"I guess he will take his chance, " said Peter. "He'll see we are notVenezuelans. "

"That is the very thing that will make him refuse, " protested Roddy. "Why should he trust himself to strangers--to gringos? No, I tell you, we can't go on without credentials. " He lowered his voice and glancedsuspiciously into the dark corners of the _patio_. "And the onlypeople who can give them to us, " he added, tapping impressively uponthe table, "live in Curaçao. "

With sudden enthusiasm Peter de Peyster sat upright. 

"I am on in that scene, " he protested. 

"I thought of it first, " said Roddy. 

"We will toss, " compromised Peter. "The head of Bolivar, you go. Thearms of Venezuela, I go, and you stay here and catch eels. "

The silver peso rang upon the table, and Roddy exclaimed jubilantly:

"Heads! I go!" he cried. But the effort of Peter to show he was notdisappointed was so unconvincing that Roddy instantly relented. 

"We had better both go!" he amended. "Your headwork is better thanmine, so you come, too. And if you give me the right signals, I'll tryto put the ball where you can reach it. "

As though in his eagerness he would set forth on the instant, Roddysprang to his feet and stood smiling down at Peter, his face lit withpleasurable excitement. Then suddenly his expression grew thoughtful. 

"Peter, " he inquired, "how old do you think the daughters are?"

II

The next day Roddy and Peter sailed for Willemstad, the chief port andthe capital of the tiny island colony of Holland. In twelve hours theyhad made their land-fall and were entering the harbor mouth. The sunwas just rising, and as its rays touched the cliff from which, twelvehours later, Señora Rojas and her daughters would look toward PortoCabello, they felt a thrill of possible adventure. 

Roddy knew that, as a refuge for revolutionists exiled from Venezuela, Willemstad was policed with secret agents of Alvarez, and he knew thatwere these spies to learn that during his visit either he or Peter hadcalled upon the family of Rojas they would be reported to Caracas as"suspect, " and the chance of their saving the Lion of Valencia wouldbe at an end. So it became them to be careful. 

Before leaving Porto Cabello Roddy had told McKildrick, the foreman ofthe Construction Company's work there, that some boxes of newmachinery and supplies for his launch had gone astray and that hewished permission to cross to Curaçao to look them up. McKildrickbelieved the missing boxes were only an excuse for a holiday, but hewas not anxious to assert his authority over the son and heir of theF. C. C. , and so gave Roddy his leave of absence. And at the wharf atPorto Cabello, while waiting for the ship to weigh anchor, Roddy hadcomplained to the custom-house officials at having to cross toCuraçao. He gave them the same reason for the trip, and said it wasmost annoying. 

In order to be consistent, when, on landing at Willemstad, threesoiled individuals approached Roddy and introduced themselves asguides, he told them the same story. He was looking for boxes ofmachinery invoiced for Porto Cabello; he feared they had been carriedon to La Guayra or dropped at Willemstad. Could they direct him to theoffice of the steamship line and to the American Consul? One of thesoiled persons led him across the quay to the office of the agent, andwhile Roddy repeated his complaint, listened so eagerly that to bothPeter and Roddy it was quite evident the business of the guide was notto disclose Curaçao to strangers, but to learn what brought strangersto Curaçao. The agent was only too delighted to serve the son of onewho in money meant so much to the line. For an hour he searched hisbooks, his warehouse and the quays. But, naturally, the search wasunsuccessful, and with most genuine apologies Roddy left him, sayingthat at the office of the American Consul he would continue his searchfor the lost boxes. 

Meanwhile, Peter, in his character of tourist, engaged rooms for themat the Hotel Commercial, and started off alone to explore the town. 

At the Consulate, the soiled person listened to the beginning ofRoddy's speech, and then, apparently satisfied he had learned all thatwas necessary, retreated to the outer office. 

The Consul promptly rose and closed the door. 

The representative of the United States was an elderly man, of unusualheight, with searching, honest blue eyes under white eyebrows. Hishair was white, his beard, worn long, was white, and his clothes wereof white duck. 

His name was Sylvanus Cobb Codman, with the added title of captain, which he had earned when, as a younger man, he had been owner andmaster of one of the finest whalers that ever cleared the harbor ofNew Bedford. During his cruises he had found the life of the WestIndies much to his liking, and when, at the age of fifty, he ceased tofollow the sea, he had asked for an appointment as consul to PortoCabello. Since then, except when at home on leave at Fairhaven, he hadlived in the Spanish Americas, and at many ports had served the StateDepartment faithfully and well. In spite of his age, Captain Codmangave a pleasant impression of strength and nervous energy. Roddy feltthat the mind and body of the man were as clean as his clothes, andthat the Consul was one who could be trusted. 

As Captain Codman seated himself behind his desk he was frowning. 

"You must look out for that guide, " he said. "He is from Caracas. Heis an agent of Alvarez. It just shows, " he went on impatiently, "whatlittle sense these spies have, that he didn't recognize your name. TheForrester Construction Company is certainly well enough known. Thatthe son of your father should be spied on is ridiculous. "

"Then, again, " said Roddy mysteriously, "maybe it isn't. I haven't gotsuch a clean bill of health. That's why I came to you. " With an airwhich he considered was becoming in a conspirator, he lowered hisvoice. "May I ask, sir, " he said, "if you are acquainted with SeñoraRojas, who is in exile here?"

The blue eyes of the Consul opened slightly, but he answered withdirectness, "I am. I have that honor. "

"And with her daughters?" added Roddy anxiously. 

With dignity the Consul inclined his head. 

"I want very much to meet them--her, " corrected Roddy. "I am going toset her husband free!"

For a moment, as though considering whether he were not confronted bya madman, the Consul regarded Roddy with an expression of concern. Then, in the deprecatory tone of one who believes he has not heardaright, he asked, "You are going to do--_what_?"

"I am going to help General Rojas to escape, " Roddy went onbriskly--"myself and another fellow. But we are afraid he won't trusthimself to us, so I am over here to get credentials from his wife. But, you see, I have first got to get credentials to her. So I came toask you if you'd sort of vouch for me, tell her who I am--and allthat. "

The Consul was staring at him so strangely that Roddy believed he hadnot made himself fully understood. 

"You know what I mean, " he explained. "Credentials, something he willknow came from her--a ring or a piece of paper saying, 'These arefriends. Go with them. ' Or a lock of her hair, or--or--you know, "urged Roddy in embarrassment--"credentials. "

"Are you jesting?" asked the older man coldly. 

Roddy felt genuinely uncomfortable. He was conscious he was blushing. "Certainly not, " he protested. "It is serious enough, isn't it?"

The voice of the Consul dropped to a whisper. 

"Who sent you here?" he demanded. Without waiting for an answer hesuddenly rose. Moving with surprising lightness to the door, he jerkedit open. But if by this manoeuvre he expected to precipitate the spyinto the room, he was disappointed, for the outer office was empty. The Consul crossed it quickly to the window. He saw the spydisappearing into a neighboring wine-shop. 

When Captain Codman again entered the inner office he did not returnto his seat, but, after closing the door, as though to shut Roddy fromthe only means of escape, he stood with his back against it. He wasvery much excited. 

"Mr. Forrester, " he began angrily, "I don't know who is back of you, and, " he cried violently, "I don't _mean_ to know. I have beenAmerican Consul in these Central American countries for fifteen years, and I have never mixed myself up with what doesn't concern me. Irepresent the United States government. I don't represent anythingelse. I am not down here to assist any corporation, no matter howrich, any junta, any revolutionary party----"

"Here! Wait!" cried Roddy anxiously. "You don't understand! I am not arevolution. There is only me and Peter. "

"What is that?" snapped the Consul savagely. The exclamation was likethe crack of a flapping jib. 

"You see, it's this way, " began Roddy. He started to explainelaborately. "Peter and I belong to the Secret Order----"

"Stop!" thundered the Consul. "I tell you I won't listen to you!"

The rebuff was most embarrassing. Ignorant as to how he had offendedthe Consul, and uncertain as to whether the Consul had not offendedhim, Roddy helplessly rubbed his handkerchief over his perplexed andperspiring countenance. He wondered if, as a conspirator, he had notbeen lacking in finesse, if he had not been too communicative. 

In the corner of the room, in a tin cage, a great green parrot, withits head cocked on one side, had been regarding Roddy with mocking, malevolent eyes. Now, to further add to his discomfiture, it suddenlyemitted a chuckle, human and contemptuous. As though choking withhidden laughter, the bird gurgled feebly, "Polly, Polly. " And then, ina tone of stern disapproval, added briskly, "You talk too much!" Atthis flank attack Roddy flushed indignantly. He began to wish he hadbrought Peter with him, to give him the proper signals. 

With his hands clinched behind him, and tossing his white beard fromside to side, the Consul paced the room. 

"So that is it!" he muttered. "_That_ is why he left Paris. Thatexplains the _Restaurador_. Of course, " he added indignantly as hepassed Roddy, throwing the words at him over his shoulder, "_that_ iswhere the money came from!"

Roddy, now thoroughly exasperated, protested warmly: "Look here, " hecried, "if you aren't careful you'll tell me something you don't wantme to know. "

The Consul came to an instant pause. From his great height he stoodstaring at his visitor, the placid depths of his blue eyes gloweringwith doubt and excitement. 

"I give you my word, " continued Roddy sulkily, "I don't know what youare talking about. "

"Do you mean to tell me, " demanded the old man truculently, "that youare _not_ Mr. Forrester's son?"

"Certainly I am his son, " cried Roddy. 

"Then, " returned the Consul, "perhaps you will deny he is suingAlvarez for two million dollars gold, you will deny that he might getit if Alvarez were thrown out, you will deny that a--a certain personmight ratify the concession, and pay your father for the harborimprovements he has already made? You see!" exclaimed the Consultriumphantly. "And these missing boxes!" he cried as though followingup an advantage, "shall I tell you what is in them?" He lowered hisvoice. "Cartridges and rifles! Do you deny it?"

Roddy found that at last he was on firm ground. 

"Of course I deny it, " he answered, "because there are no boxes. They're only an invention of mine to get me to Curaçao. Now, you let_me_ talk. "

The Consul retreated behind his desk, and as Roddy spoke regarded himsternly and with open suspicion. In concluding his story Roddy said:"We have no other object in saving General Rojas than that he's an oldman, that he's dying, and that Peter and I can't sleep of nights forthinking of him lying in a damp cell, not three hundred yards from us, coughing himself to death. "

At the words the eyes of the Consul closed quickly; he pressed hisgreat, tanned, freckled fingers nervously against his lip. Butinstantly the stern look of the cross-examiner returned. "Go on, " hecommanded. 

"If we have cut in on some one's private wire, " continued Roddy, "it'san accident; and when you talk about father recovering two milliondollars you are telling me things I don't know. Father is not a chattyperson. He has often said to me that the only safe time to talk ofwhat you are doing, or are going to do, is when you have done it. So, if the Venezuelan government owes the Forrester Construction Companytwo millions and father's making a fight for it, I am probably thelast person in the world he would talk to about it. All I know is thathe pays me twenty dollars a week to plant buoys. But out of workinghours I can do as I please, and my friend and I please to get GeneralRojas out of prison. " Roddy rose, smiling pleasantly. "So, if youwon't introduce me to Señora Rojas, " he concluded, "I guess I willhave to introduce myself. "

With an angry gesture the Consul motioned him to be seated. From hismanner it was evident that Captain Codman was uncertain whether Roddywas or was not to be believed, that, in his perplexity, he wasfearful of saying too much or too little. 

"Either, " the old man exclaimed angrily, "you are a very clever youngman, or you are extremely ignorant. Either, " he went on withincreasing indignation, "they have sent you here to test me, or youknow nothing, and you are blundering in where other men are doingwork. If you know nothing you are going to upset the plans of thosemen. In any case I will have nothing further to do with you. I wash myhands of you. Good-morning. "

Then, as though excusing himself, he added sharply, "Besides, you talktoo much. "

Roddy, deeply hurt, answered with equal asperity:

"That is what your parrot thinks. Maybe you are both wrong. "

When Roddy had reached the top of the stairs leading to the street, and was on the point of disappearing, the Consul called sharply to himand followed into the hall. 

"Before you go, " the old man whispered earnestly, "I want you clearlyto understand my position toward the Rojas family. When I was Consulin Porto Cabello, General Rojas became the best friend I had. Since Ihave been stationed here it has been my privilege to be of service tohis wife. His daughters treat me as kindly as though I were their owngrandfather. No man on earth could wish General Rojas free as much asI wish it. " The voice of Captain Codman trembled. For an instant hisface, as though swept with sudden pain, twisted in strange lines. "Noone, " he protested, "could wish to serve him as I do, but I warn youif you go on with this you will land in prison yourself, and you willbring General Rojas to his death. Take my advice--and go back to PortoCabello, and keep out of politics. Or, what is better--go home. Youare too young to understand the Venezuelans, and, if you stay here, you are going to make trouble for many people. For your father, andfor--for many people. "

As though with the hope of finally dissuading Roddy, he addedominously, "And these Venezuelans have a nasty trick of sticking aknife----"

"Oh, you go to the devil!" retorted Roddy. 

As he ran down the dark stairs and out into the glaring street heheard faintly the voice of the parrot pursuing him, with mocking andtriumphant jeers. 

The Consul returned slowly to his office, and, sinking into his chair, buried his face in his great, knotty hands and bent his head upon thetable. A ray of sunshine, filtering through the heavy Venetianblinds, touched the white hair and turned it into silver. 

For a short space, save for the scratching of the parrot at the tinbars of his cage, and the steady drip, drip of the water-jar, therewas no sound; then the voice of the sea-captain, as many times beforeit had been raised in thanksgiving in the meeting-house in Fairhaven, and from the deck of his ship as she drifted under the Southern Cross, was lifted in entreaty. The blue eyes, as the old man raised them, were wet; his bronzed fists fiercely interlocked. 

"Oh, Thou, " he prayed, "who walked beside me on the waters, make clearto me what I am to do. I am old, but I pray Thee to let me live to seeThine enemies perish, to see those who love Thee reunited once more, happy, at home. If, in Thy wisdom, even as Thou sent forth Davidagainst Goliath, Thou hast sent this child against Thine enemies, makethat clear to me. His speech is foolish, but his heart seems filledwith pity. What he would do, I would do. But the way is very dark. IfI serve this boy, may I serve Thee? Teach me!"

Outside the Consulate, Roddy found his convoy, the guide, waiting forhim, and, to allay the suspicion of that person, gave him a cable toput on the wire for McKildrick. It read: "No trace of freight; it maycome next steamer; will wait. "

He returned to the agent of the line and told him he now believed thefreight had been left behind in New York and that he would remain inWillemstad until the arrival of the next steamer, which was due inthree days. 

At the hotel he found Peter anxiously awaiting him. Having lockedthemselves in the room the two conspirators sat down to talk thingsover. From what had escaped the Consul, Roddy pointed out certainfacts that seemed evident: Alvarez had not paid the ForresterConstruction Company, or, in a word, his father, for the work alreadycompleted in the last two years. His father, in order to obtain hismoney, was interested in some scheme to get rid of Alvarez and in hisplace put some one who would abide by the terms of the originalconcession. This some one might be Rojas, and then, again, might not. As Peter suggested, the Construction Company might prefer to back acandidate for president, who, while he might not be so welcome to theVenezuelans, would be more amenable to the wishes of the F. C. C. Italso would probably prefer to assist a man younger than Rojas, onemore easily controlled, perhaps one less scrupulously honest. It alsoseemed likely that if, by revolution, the men of the ConstructionCompany intended to put in the field a candidate of their own, theywould choose one with whom they could consult daily, not one who, while he might once have been a popular idol, had for the last twoyears been buried from the sight of man, and with whom it now wasimpossible to communicate. 

The longer they discussed the matter the more sure they became thatRojas could not be the man for whom the Construction Company wasplotting. 

"If Rojas isn't the choice of the F. C. C. , " argued Roddy, "his beingfree, or in prison, does not interest them in the least. While, on theother hand, if Rojas _is_ the candidate father is backing, the soonerhe is out of prison the better for everybody. 

"Anyway, " added Roddy, with the airy fatalism of one who nails hisbanner to the mast, "if my father is going to lose two millionsbecause you and I set an old man free, then father is going to losetwo millions. "

Having arrived at this dutiful conclusion Roddy proposed that, covertly, in the guise of innocent sight-seers, they should explorethe town, and from a distance reconnoitre the home of Señora Rojas. They accordingly hired one of the public landaus of Willemstad andtold the driver to show them the places of interest. 

But in Willemstad there are no particular places of interest. It isthe place itself that is of interest. It is not like any other port inthe world. 

"It used to be, " Roddy pointed out, "that every comic opera had oneact on a tropical island. Then some fellow discovered Holland, and nowall comic operas run to blonde girls in patched breeches and woodenshoes, and the back drops are 'Rotterdam, Amsterdam, any damn place atall. ' But this town combines both the ancient and modern schools. Itsscene is from Miss Hook of Holland, and the girls are out of BandannaLand. "

Willemstad is compact and tiny, with a miniature governor and palace. It is painted with all the primary colors, and, though rain seldomfalls on Curaçao Island, it is as clean as though the minute before ithad been washed by a spring shower and put out in the sun to dry. Saint Ann Bay, which is the harbor of Willemstad, is less of a baythan a canal. On entering it a captain from his bridge can almost seewhat the people in the houses on either bank are eating for breakfast. These houses are modeled like those that border the canals of TheHague. They have the same peaked roofs, the front running in steps toa point, the flat façades, the many stories. But they are painted inthe colors of tropical Spanish-America, in pink, yellow, cobalt blue, and behind the peaked points are scarlet tiles. Under the southern sunthey are so brilliant, so theatrical, so unreal, that they look likethe houses of a Noah's Ark fresh from the toy shop. There are twotowns: Willemstad, and, joined to it by bridges, Otrabanda. It is onthe Willemstad side that the ships tie up, and where, from the deck tothe steamer, one can converse quite easily with the Monsanto brothersin their drawing-room, or with the political exiles on the balconiesof the Hotel Commercial. The streets are narrow and, like the streetsof Holland, paved with round cobblestones as clean as a pan of rollsjust ready for the oven. Willemstad is the cleanest port in the WestIndies. It is the Spotless Town of the tropics. Beyond the town arethe orange plantations, and the favorite drive is from Willemstadthrough these orange trees around the inner harbor, or the Schottegat, to Otrabanda, and so back across the drawbridge of Good Queen Emmainto Willemstad. It is a drive of little over two hours, and Roddy andPeter found it altogether charming. 

About three miles outside of Willemstad they came upon the formerhome of a rich Spanish planter, which had been turned into arestaurant, and which, once the Groot du Crot, was now the CaféDucrot. There is little shade on the Island of Curaçao and the youngmen dived into the shadows of the Ducrot garden as into a cool bath. Through orange trees and spreading palmettos, flowering bushes and atangle of vines, they followed paths of pebbles, and wandered in amaze in which they lost themselves. 

"It is the enchanted garden of the sleeping princess, " said Peter. "And there are her sleeping attendants, " he added, pointing at twowaiters who were slumbering peacefully, their arms stretched out uponthe marble-top tables. 

It seemed heartless to awaken them, and the young men explored furtheruntil they found a stately, rambling mansion where a theatricallandlord with much rubbing of his hands brought them glasses andwonderful Holland gin. 

"We must remember the Café Ducrot, " said Roddy, as they drove on. "Itis so quiet and peaceful. "

Afterward they recalled his having said this, and the fact caused themmuch amusement. 

From the Café Ducrot the road ran between high bushes and stuntedtrees that shaded it in on either side; but could not shade itcompletely. Then it turned toward Otrabanda along the cliff thatoverlooks the sea. 

On the land side was a wall of dusky mesquite bushes, boundtogether by tangled vines, with here and there bending above them awind-tortured cocoanut palm. On the east side of the road, at greatdistances apart, were villas surrounded by groves of such hardy treesand plants as could survive the sweep of the sea winds. "If we ask thedriver, " whispered Roddy, "who lives in each house, he won't suspectwe are looking for any one house in particular. " Accordingly, as theydrew up even with a villa they rivaled each other in exclaiming overits beauty. And the driver, his local pride becoming more and moregratified, gave them the name of the owner of the house and hishistory. 

As he approached a villa all of white stucco, with high, white pillarsrising to the flat roof of the tropics, he needed no prompting, but, with the air of one sure of his effect, pulled his horses to a haltand pointed with his whip. 

"That house, gentle-mans, " he said, "belongs to Señora Rojas. " Thoughthe house was one hundred yards from the road, as though fearful ofbeing overheard, the negro spoke in an impressive whisper. "She isthe lady of General Rojas. He is a great General, gentle-mans, and nowhe be put in prison. President Alvarez, he put that General Rojas inprison, down in the water, an' he chain him to the rock, an' he putthat lady in exile. President Alvarez he be very bad man. 

"Every day at six o'clock that lady and the young ladies they stand onthat cliff and pray for that General Rojas. You like me to drive you, gentle-mans, out here at six o'clock, " he inquired insinuatingly, "an'see those ladies pray?"

"Certainly not!" exclaimed Roddy indignantly. 

But Peter, more discreet, yawned and stirred impatiently. "I am justdying for something to eat!" he protested. "Let her out, driver. "

For appearance's sake they drove nearly to the outskirts of Otrabanda, and then, as though perversely, Roddy declared he wanted to drive backthe way they had come and breakfast at the Café Ducrot. 

"Why should we eat in a hot, smelly dining-room, " he demanded in tonesintended to reach the driver, "when we can eat under orange trees?"

Peter, with apparent reluctance, assented. 

"Oh, have it your own way, " he said. "Personally, I could eat underany tree--under a gallows-tree. "

For the second time they passed the Casa Blanca, and, while apparentlyintent on planning an extensive breakfast, their eyes photographed itsevery feature. Now, as the driver was not observing them, they wereable to note the position of the entrances, of the windows, risingbehind iron bars, from a terrace of white and black marble. They notedthe wing, used as a stable for horses and carriages, and, what was ofgreater interest, that a hand-rail disappeared over the edge of thecliff and suggested a landing-pier below. 

But of those who lived in the white palace there was no sign. It hurtRoddy to think that if, from the house, the inmates noted the twoyoung men in a public carriage, peering at their home, they wouldregard the strangers only as impertinent sighters. They could not knowthat the eyes of the tourists were filled with pity, that, at thesight of the villa on the cliff the heart of each had quickened withkindly emotions, with excitement, with the hope of possible adventure. 

Roddy clutched Peter by the wrist; with the other hand he pointedquickly. Through a narrow opening in a thicket that stood a few rodsfrom the house Peter descried the formal lines of a tennis court. Roddy raised his eyebrows significantly. His smile was radiant, triumphant. 

"Which seems to prove, " he remarked enigmatically, "that certainparties of the first part are neither aged nor infirm. "

His deduction gave him such satisfaction that when they drew up at theCafé Ducrot he was still smiling. 

Within the short hour that had elapsed since they had last seen theDucrot garden a surprising transformation had taken place. No longerthe orange grove lay slumbering in silence. No longer the waitersdozed beside the marble-topped tables. Drawn up outside the iron fencethat protected the garden from the road a half-dozen fiery Venezuelanponies under heavy saddles, and as many more fastened to landaus anddog-carts, were neighing, squealing, jangling their silver harness, and stamping holes in the highway. On the inside, through the heavyfoliage of the orange trees, came the voice of the maître d'hôtel, from the kitchen the fat chef bellowed commands. The pebbles on thewalks grated harshly beneath the flying feet of the waiters. 

Seated at breakfast around a long table in the far end of the gardenwere over twenty men, and that it was in their service the restauranthad roused itself was fairly evident. The gentlemen who made up thebreakfast-party were not the broadly-built, blonde Dutchmen of theisland, but Venezuelans. And a young and handsome Venezuelan, seatedat the head of the table, and facing the entrance to the garden, wasapparently the person in whose honor they were assembled. So muchyounger, at least in looks, than the others, was the chief guest, thatPeter, who was displeased by this invasion of their sleeping palace, suggested it was a coming-of-age party. 

It was some time before the signals of the Americans were regarded. Although they had established themselves at a table surrounded byflowering shrubs, and yet strategically situated not too far distantfrom the kitchen or the café, no one found time to wait upon them, andthey finally obtained the services of one of the waiters only by theexpedient of holding tightly to his flying apron. Roddy commanded himto bring whatever was being served at the large table. 

"That cook, " Roddy pointed out, "is too excited to bother with ourorder; but, if there's enough for twenty, there will be enough for twomore. "

Although they were scorned by the waiters, the young men weresurprised to find that to the gentlemen of the birthday-party theircoming was of the utmost interest, and, though the tables were muchtoo far apart for Roddy to hear what was said, he could see that manyglances were cast in his direction, that the others were talking ofhim, and that, for some reason, his presence was most disconcerting. 

Finally, under pretence of giving an order to his coachman, one of thebirthday-party, both in going and returning from the gate, walkedclose to their table and observed them narrowly. As he all but pausedin the gravel walk opposite them, Roddy said with conviction:

"No! Walter Pater never gave the Stoic philosophy a justinterpretation, while to Euphuism----"

"On the contrary, " interrupted Peter warmly, "Oscar Hammerstein is theONLY impressario who can keep the pennant flying over grand opera anda roof garden. Believe me----"

With a bewildered countenance the Venezuelan hastily passed on. Placidly the two young men continued with their breakfast. 

"Even if he _does_ understand English, " continued Roddy, "that shouldkeep him guessing for a while. "

As they, themselves, had no interest in the birthday-party, and asthey had eaten nothing since early coffee on the steamer, the youngmen were soon deep in the joy of feasting. But they were not long toremain in peace. 

From the bushes behind them there emerged suddenly and quietly a youngnegro. He was intelligent looking and of good appearance. His whiteduck was freshly ironed, his straw hat sported a gay ribbon. Withoutfor an instant hesitating between the two men, he laid a letter infront of Roddy. "For Mr. Forrester, " he said, and turning, parted thebushes and, as quickly as he had come, departed. 

Roddy stared at the hedge through which the messenger had vanished, and his wandering eyes turned toward the birthday-party. He found thatevery one at that table was regarding him intently. It was evident allhad witnessed the incident. Roddy wondered if it were possible thatthe letter came from them. Looking further he observed that the manwho was serving Peter and himself also was regarding him with greaterinterest than seemed natural, and that he was not the man who firsthad waited upon them. 

"You, " began Roddy doubtfully, "you are not the waiter who----"

The man shrugged his shoulders. 

"That fellow he can't speakety English, " he explained. "I speaketyEnglish very good. "

The man smiled knowingly, so it seemed to Roddy, impertinently. Roddyfelt uncomfortably convinced that some jest was going on behind hisback, and he resented the thought. 

"Yes, " he began hotly, "and I will bet you _understand_ it, too. "

Under the table Peter kicked violently at his ankles. 

"Read your letter, " he said. 

The envelope bore only the name Rodman Forrester. The letter beganabruptly and was not signed. It read:

 "Willemstad is a small place. Every one in it knows every one else. Therefore, the most conspicuous person in it is the last person to arrive. You are the last person to arrive, and, accordingly, everything you do is noted. That this morning you twice passed the Casa Blanca has been already reported both by those who guard it and by those who spy upon it. If you would bring disaster to those you say you wish to serve, keep on as idiotically as you have begun. "

The rebuke, although anonymous, turned Roddy's cheeks a rosy red, buthe had sufficient self-control to toss the letter to his companion, and to say carelessly: "He wants us to dine with him. "

The waiter, who had been openly listening, moved off in the directionof the kitchen. A moment later Roddy saw him bear a dish to theVenezuelan at the head of the long table, and as he proffered it, thetwo men whispered eagerly. 

When Peter had read the warning he threw it, face down, upon thetable, and with a disturbed countenance pretended to devote hisattention to the salad dressing. Roddy was now grinning with pleasure, and made no effort to conceal that fact. 

"I wouldn't have missed this, " he whispered, "for a week in God'scountry. Apparently everybody's business is everybody else's business, and every one spies on every one. It's like the island where they weretoo proud to do their own washing, so everybody took in somebodyelse's washing. "

"Who is it from, " interrupted Peter irritably, "the Consul?"

Roddy nodded and laughed. 

"You may laugh, " protested Peter, "but you don't know. You've been inVenezuela only four months, and Captain Codman's been here eighteenyears. These people don't look at things the way we do. We think it'sall comic opera, but----"

"They're children, " declared Roddy tolerantly, "children trying tofrighten you with a mask on. And old man Codman--he's caught it, too. The fact that he's been down here eighteen years is the only thingagainst him. He's lost his sense of humor. The idea, " he exclaimed, "of spying on us and sending us anonymous warnings. Why doesn't hecome to the hotel and say what he has to say? Where does he think heis--in Siberia?"

Roddy chuckled and clapped his hands loudly for the waiter. He waspleasantly at ease. The breakfast was to his liking, the orange treesshielded him from the sun, and the wind from the sea stirred theflowering shrubs and filled the air with spicy, pungent odors. 

"Perhaps the Consul understands them better than you do, " persistedPeter. "These revolutionists----"

"They're a pack of cards, " declared Roddy. "As Alice said to the Kingand Queen, 'You're only a pack of cards. '"

As he was speaking Mr. Von Amberg, the agent of the steamship line, with whom that morning he had been in consultation, and one of theother commission merchants of Willemstad, came up the gravel walk andhalted at their table. 

Both Von Amberg and his companion had but lately arrived from Holland. They were big men, of generous girth, beaming with good health andgood humor. They looked like Kris Kringles in white duck. Incontinental fashion they raised their Panama hats and bowed profusely. They congratulated the young men on so soon having found their way tothe Café Ducrot, and that Mr. De Peyster, whose name appealed to them, had pronounced the cooking excellent, afforded them personalsatisfaction. 

Von Amberg told the young men he had just left cards for the club attheir hotel, and hoped they would make use of it. His launch, carriageand he, himself, were at their disposition. 

When Roddy invited the two merchants to join them Von Amberg thankedhim politely and explained that his table was already laid forbreakfast. With another exchange of bows the two gentlemen continuedup the twisting path and disappeared among the bushes. 

"_That's_ what I mean!" exclaimed Roddy approvingly. "Now they are_our_ people. They have better manners, perhaps, than we have, butthey're sensible, straight-from-the-shoulder men of business. _They_aren't spying on anybody, or sending black-hand letters, or buryingold men alive in prisons. If they saw a revolution coming theywouldn't know what----"

He was interrupted by the sudden reappearance of the men of whom hespoke. They were moving rapidly in the direction of the gate, and thecountenance of each wore an expression of surprise and alarm. Whilehis companion passed them quickly, Mr. Von Amberg reluctantlyhesitated, and, in evident perplexity and with some suspicion, lookedfrom one to the other. The waiter had placed the coffee and bottles ofcognac and of curaçao upon the table; and Roddy hospitably moved achair forward. 

"Won't you change your mind, " he said, "and try some of the stuff thatmade this island famous?"

In spite of his evident desire to escape, Von Amberg's good mannersdid not forsake him. He bowed and raised his hat in protest. 

"I--I should be very pleased--some other time, " he stammered, "but nowI must return to town. I find to-day it is not possible to breakfasthere. There is a large party--" he paused, and his voice roseinterrogatively. 

"Yes, " Roddy replied with indifference. "We found them here. They tookall the waiters away from us. "

The nature of the answer seemed greatly to surprise Von Amberg. 

"You--you are not acquainted with those gentlemen?" he inquired. 

In the fashion of his country, Roddy answered by another question. 

"Who are they?" he asked. "Who is the one whose health they are allthe time drinking?"

For an instant Von Amberg continued to show complete bewilderment. Then he smiled broadly. For him, apparently, the situation nowpossessed an aspect as amusing as it had been disturbing. He made asly face and winked jovially. 

"Oh! You Americans!" he exclaimed. "You make good politicians. Do notfear, " he added hurriedly. "I have seen nothing, and I say nothing. Ido not mix myself in politics. " He started toward the gate, thenhalted, and with one eye closed whispered hoarsely, "It is all right. I will say nothing!" Nodding mysteriously, he hurried down the path. 

Peter leaned back in his chair and chuckled delightedly. 

"There go your sensible business men, " he jeered, "running away! Nowwhat have you to say?"

Roddy was staring blankly down the path and shook his head. 

"You can subpoena me, " he sighed. "Why should they be afraid of abirthday-party? Why!" he exclaimed, "they were even afraid of _me_! Hedidn't believe that we don't know those Venezuelans. He said, " Roddyrecapitulated, "he didn't mix in politics. That means, of course, thatthose fellows are politicians, and, probably this is their fashion ofholding a primary. It must be the local method of floating arevolution. But why should Von Amberg think we're in the plot, too?Because my name's Forrester?"

Peter nodded. "That must be it, " he said. "Your father is in deep withthese Venezuelans, and everybody knows that, and makes the mistake ofthinking you are also. I wish, " he exclaimed patiently, "your fatherwas more confiding. It is all very well for him--plotting plots fromthe top of the Forrester Building--but it makes it difficult for anyone down here inside the firing-line. If your father isn't morecareful, " he protested warmly, "Alvarez will stand us blindfoldedagainst a wall, and we'll play blind man's buff with a firing-squad. "

Peter's forebodings afforded Roddy much amusement. He laughed at hisfriend, and mocked him, urging him to keep a better hold upon hissense of humor. 

"You have been down here too long yourself, " he said. "You'll behaving tropic choler next. I tell you, you must think of them aschildren: they're a pack of cards. "

"Maybe they are, " sighed Peter "but as long as we don't know thegame----"

From where Peter sat, with his back in their direction, he could notsee the Venezuelans; but Roddy, who was facing them, now observed thatthey had finished their breakfast. Talking, gesticulating, laughing, they were crowding down the path. He touched Peter, and Peter turnedin his chair to look at them. 

At the same moment a man stepped from the bushes, and halting at oneside of Roddy, stood with his eyes fixed upon the men of thebirthday-party, waiting for them to approach. He wore the silk cap ofa chauffeur, a pair of automobile goggles, and a long automobile coat. The attitude of the chauffeur suggested that he had come forward tolearn if his employer was among those now making their departure; andRoddy wondered that he had heard no automobile arrive, and that he hadseen none in Willemstad. Except for that thought, so interested wasRoddy in the men who had shown so keen an interest in him, that to thewaiting figure he gave no further consideration. 

The Venezuelans had found they were too many to walk abreast. Some hadscattered down other paths. Others had spread out over the grass. Butthe chief guest still kept to the gravel walk which led to the gate. And now Roddy saw him plainly. 

Owing to a charming quality of youth, it was impossible to guess theman's age. He might be under thirty. He might be forty. He was tall, graceful, and yet soldierly-looking, with crisp, black hair clingingclose to a small, aristocratic head. Like many Venezuelans, he had thebrown skin, ruddy cheeks, and pointed mustache of a Neapolitan. Hiseyes were radiant, liquid, brilliant. He was walking between two ofhis friends, with a hand resting affectionately on the shoulder ofeach; and though both of the men were older than himself, his noticeobviously flattered them. They were laughing, and nodding delightedapproval at what he said, and he was talking eagerly and smiling. Roddy thought he had seldom seen a smile so winning, one that carriedwith it so strong a personal appeal. Roddy altogether approved of theyoung man. He found him gay, buoyant, in appearance entirely theconquering hero, the Prince Charming. And even though of his charm theyoung man seemed to be well aware, he appeared none the less agraceful, gallant, triumphant figure. 

As Roddy, mildly curious, watched him, the young man turned his headgayly from the friend on his one side to address the one on theother. It was but a movement of an instant, but in the short circuitof the glance Roddy saw the eyes of the young man halt. As thoughsuddenly hypnotized, his lips slowly closed, his white teethdisappeared, the charming smile grew rigid. He was regarding somethingto the left of Roddy and above him. 

Roddy turned and saw the waiting figure of the chauffeur. He hadstepped clear of the bushes, and, behind the mask-like goggles, hiseyes were fixed upon the young Venezuelan. He took a short stepforward, and his right hand reached up under his left cuff. 

Roddy had seen Englishmen in searching for a handkerchief make asimilar movement, but now the gesture was swift and sinister. In theattitude of the masked figure itself there was something prehensibleand menacing. The hand of the man came free, and Roddy saw that itheld a weapon. 

As the quickest way to get his legs from under the table, Roddy shovedthe table and everything on it into the lap of Peter. With one springRoddy was beside the man, and as he struck him on the chin, with hisother hand he beat at the weapon. There were two reports and a sharphigh cry. 

[Illustration: Under the blow, the masked man staggered drunkenly. ]

Under the blow the masked man staggered drunkenly, his revolverswaying in front of Roddy's eyes. Roddy clutched at it and there was astruggle--another report--and then the man broke from him, and withthe swift, gliding movement of a snake, slipped through the bushes. 

III

Roddy stood staring blankly, unconsciously sucking at a raw spot onhis finger where the powder had burned it. At his feet the bottle ofcuraçao, from which he had just been drinking, was rolling upon thegravel path, its life-blood bubbling out upon the pebbles. He stoopedand lifted it. Later he remembered wondering how it had come there, and, at the time, that so much good liquor had been wasted had seemeda most irritating circumstance. 

He moved to replace the bottle upon the table and found the tableoverturned, with Peter, his clothes dripping and his eyes aflame, emerging from beneath it. 

Further up the path the young Venezuelan was struggling in the arms ofhis friends. Fearful that he might still be in danger they wererestraining him, and he, eager to pursue the man who had fired on him, was crying aloud his protests. Others of his friends were racing downthe different paths, breaking through the bushes, and often, in theirexcitement, seizing upon one another. Huddled together in a group, the waiters and coachmen explained, gesticulated, shrieked. 

But above the clamor of all, the voice of Peter was the mostinsistent. Leaping from a wreck of plates and glasses, his clothingsplashed with claret, with coffee, with salad dressing, with thetablecloth wound like a kilt about his legs, he jumped at Roddy andRoddy retreated before him. Raging, and in the name of profane places, Peter demanded what Roddy "meant" by it. 

"Look at me!" he commanded. "Look what you did! Look at me!"

Roddy did not look. If he looked he knew he would laugh. And he knewPeter was hoping he would laugh so that, at that crowning insult, hemight fall upon him. 

In tones of humble, acute regret Roddy protested. 

"I did it, Peter, " he stammered hastily. "I did it--to save you. I wasafraid he would hit you. I had to act quickly----"

"Afraid _he'd_ hit me!" roared Peter. "_You_ hit me! Hit me with atable! Look at my new white flannel suit! And look at this!" With hisfingers he gingerly parted his wet, disheveled hair. "Look at the bumpon the back of my head. Is _that_ your idea of saving me? I wish, " heexploded savagely, "I wish he'd shot you full of holes!"

The violent onslaught of Peter was interrupted by one hardly lessviolent from the young Venezuelan. He had freed himself from hisfriends, and, as it now was evident the man who had attempted his lifehad escaped, and that to search further was useless, he ran to thankthe stranger who had served him. Extravagantly, but with real feeling, he wrung both of Roddy's hands. In the native fashion he embraced him, shook him by the shoulders, patted him affectionately on the back. Eloquently but incoherently in Spanish, French and English he pouredforth his thanks. He hailed Roddy as his preserver, his _bon amigo_, his _brav camarad_. In expressing their gratitude his friends wereequally voluble and generous. They praised, they applauded, theyadmired; in swift, graceful gestures they reënacted for each other theblow upon the chin, the struggle for the revolver, the escape of thewould-be assassin. 

Even Peter, as the only one who had suffered, became a heroic figure. 

It was many minutes before the Americans could depart, and then onlyafter every one had drunk to them in warm, sweet champagne. 

When the glasses were filled the young Venezuelan turned to thosestanding about him on the grass and commanded silence. He now spoke inexcellent English, but Roddy noted that those of the older men whocould not understand regarded him with uneasiness. 

"I ask you, my friends, " cried the Venezuelan, "to drink to the nameof Forrester. How much, " he exclaimed, "does not that name mean to myunhappy country. I--myself--that _my_ life should be taken--it isnothing; but that it should be saved for my country by one of thatname is for us an omen--a lucky omen. It means, " he cried, the soft, liquid eyes flashing, "it means success. It means--" As thoughsuddenly conscious of the warning frowns of his friends, he pausedabruptly, and with a graceful bow, and waving his glass toward Roddy, said quietly, "Let us drink to the son of a good friend ofVenezuela--to Mr. Forrester. "

Not until the landau was well on its way to Willemstad did Roddy deemit wise to make a certain inquiry. 

"What, " he asked of the driver, "is the name of the gentleman that theother gentleman tried to shoot?"

The driver turned completely in his seat. His eyes were opened wide inamazement. 

"You don't know that gentleman!" he exclaimed. "I think everybody know_that_ gentleman. He be very brave Venezuela gentleman; he be ColonelVega. "

As though sure of the effect of that name, the driver pauseddramatically, but, except that the two Americans looked inquiringly ateach other, they made no sign. 

"Mebbe I better call that gentleman--Pino?" the driver suggested. "Everybody call him Pino, just like he be everybody's brother. " Theman showed his teeth broadly, in a delighted grin. "The market womens, the sailor mens, the police mens, the black peoples, and the whitegentlemens, everybodys--call him Pino. Pino he be exiled. If he go tohis country that President Alvarez he say he shoot him. So Pino goover that way, " with his whip he pointed to the east. "They say he golive in Paris. But yesterday he come in that steamer, and all thepeoples be waiting at that wharf. Everybody be glad to see Pino. "

"Everybody but that man with that gun, " suggested Roddy. 

The driver rolled his eyes darkly and pursed his lips. "That be badman, " he said. 

"Did President Alvarez, " inquired Roddy pleasantly, "send that bad manover here to shoot the too popular Pino?"

Peter uttered a sudden growl of indignation. 

"Look where you are driving!" he ordered. 

When the negro had turned to his horses Peter stared at Roddy long andsteadily. 

"What that parrot said of you, " he declared grimly, "was true. "

Those Venezuelans who at once had set forth on their ponies toovertake the would-be assassin already had brought word of the attemptupon Colonel Vega to Willemstad, and the repose of the peaceful burghwas greatly ruffled. The arrival of the young men increased theexcitement, and, though they fled to their rooms, from their balconyoverlooking the wharf they could hear their driver, enthroned upon hisbox seat, describing the event to an intent and eager audience. 

As Peter was changing into dry clothes he held his watch so that Roddycould note the hour. 

"How long would you have said we have been living on this island?" heasked. 

"Oh, at least a week!" exclaimed Roddy. "I have had more excitementthan I could get in New York in a year, and we haven't been heretwelve hours!"

"But it is all over now, " Peter announced. "We can't stay here. We'regetting too chummy with this Venezuelan crowd, thanks to you. "

"What have I done now?" complained Roddy. 

"You can't help being who you are, " admitted Peter, "but you can seethat this town is a red-hot incubator for revolutions. Every one in itthinks of nothing else, and every one thinks you are in deep with yourfather against Alvarez, and if we linger here Alvarez will think so, too. We've got to get back to Porto Cabello where we have a clean billof health. "

Roddy had stretched himself upon his cot, in preparation for hisafternoon siesta, but he sat upright, his face filled with dismay. 

"And not see the Rojas family?" he cried. 

Peter growled indignantly. 

"See them! How can you see them?" he demanded. "We only drove pasttheir house, along a public road, and already everybody in town has aflashlight picture of us doing it. "

"But, " objected Roddy, "we haven't got our credentials. "

"We'll have to do without them, " declared Peter. "I tell you, if youget mixed up with Brother Pino when you get back to Porto Cabelloyou'll go to jail. And what chance will we have then of saving GeneralRojas? He will stay in prison and die there. As White Mice, " announcedPeter firmly, "we have our work to do, and we must not be turned asideby anybody's revolution, your father's, or Pino Vega's, or anybody's. We're White Mice, first, last and all the time. Our duty isn't to takelife but to save it. " As though suddenly surprised by a new idea Peterhalted abruptly. 

"I suppose, " he demanded scornfully, "you think you prevented a murderthis morning, and you will be claiming the White Mice medal for savinglife?"

"I certainly will, " declared Roddy cheerfully, "and you will have tocertify I earned it, because you saw me earn it. "

"But I didn't, " declared Peter. "I was under the table. "

Roddy closed his eyes and again fell back upon the cot. For so long atime was he silent that Peter, who had gone out upon the balcony, supposed him asleep, when Roddy suddenly raised himself on his elbow. 

"Anyway, " he began abruptly, "we can't leave here until the boat takesus away, three days from now. I'll bet in three days I'll get all thecredentials we want. "

Roddy had been awake since sunrise, the heat was soporific, the eventsof the morning exhausting, and in two minutes, unmindful ofrevolutions, indifferent to spies, to plots and counter-plots, he wassleeping happily. But as he slumbered, in two lands, at greatdistances apart, he and his affairs were being earnestly considered. On the twenty-seventh floor of the Forrester Building his father, withperplexed and frowning brows, studied a cablegram; in the Casa Blanca, Señora Rojas and her daughters listened in amazement to a marveloustale. Had it not been their faithful friend and jealous guardian, theAmerican Consul, who was speaking, they could not have credited it. 

At the Forrester Building the cablegram had been just translated fromthe secret code of the company and placed upon the desk of Mr. Forrester. It was signed by Von Amberg, and read: "To-day at meetingyour party, unknown man fired three shots Vega; Young Forresteroverpowered man; Vega unhurt; man escaped. Understand young Forresternot in our confidence. Please instruct. "

Three times Mr. Forrester read the cablegram, and then, laying it uponhis knee, sat staring out of the open window. 

Before his physical eyes were deep cañons of office buildings like hisown, towering crag above crag, white curling columns of smoke frombusy tugboats, and the great loom of the Brooklyn Bridge with itsshuttles of clattering cable-cars. But what he saw was his son, alonein a strange land, struggling with an unknown man, a man intent onmurder. With a hand that moved unsteadily the Light-house King liftedthe desk telephone and summoned the third vice-president, and when Mr. Sam Caldwell had entered, silently gave him the cablegram. 

Sam Caldwell read it and exclaimed with annoyance:

"Looks to me, " he commented briskly, "as though they know why Pinocame back. Looks as though they had sent this fellow to do him up, before we can----"

In a strange, thin voice, Mr. Forrester stopped him sharply. 

"If the boy'd been hurt--they'd have said so, wouldn't they?" hedemanded. 

Sam Caldwell recognized his error. Carefully he reread the cablegram. 

"Why, of course, " he assented heartily. "It says here he overpoweredthe other fellow: says 'Vega unhurt. '"

In the same unfamiliar, strained tone Mr. Forrester interrupted. "Itdoesn't say Roddy is unhurt, " he objected. 

The young man laughed reassuringly. 

"But the very fact they don't say so shows--why, they'd know that'swhat you most want to hear. I wouldn't worry about Roddy. Not for aminute. "

Embarrassed by his own feeling, annoyed that Sam Caldwell should havediscovered it, Mr. Forrester answered, "_You_ wouldn't. He isn't_your_ son. "

He reached for a cable form, and wrote rapidly:

"Von Amberg. Willemstad, Curaçao, W. I. Forrester most certainly notin our confidence. Return him Cabello. Is he"--the pen hesitated andthen again moved swiftly--"unhurt?"

He drew another blank toward him and addressing it to McKildrick, wrote: "Why is Forrester in Curaçao? Cable him return. Keep him onjob, or lose yours. "

For a moment Mr. Forrester sat studying the two messages, then heraised his eyes. 

"I have half a mind, " he said, "to order him home. I would, if heweren't doing so well down there. " With an effort to eliminate fromhis voice any accent of fatherly pride, Mr. Forrester asked coldly:"McKildrick reports that he is doing well, doesn't he?"

The third vice-president nodded affirmatively. 

"If he comes back here, " argued Mr. Forrester, "he'll do nothing butrace his car, and he'll learn nothing of the business. And then, again, " he added doubtfully, "while he's down there I don't want himto learn too much of the business, not this Pino Vega end of it, or hemight want to take a hand, and that might embarrass us. Perhaps I hadbetter cable him, too. "

He looked inquiringly at the third vice-president, but that gentlemanrefused to be drawn. 

"He isn't _my_ son, " he remarked. 

"I am not speaking of him as my son, " snapped Mr. Forrester warmly. "Speaking of him, not as my son, but as an employee of the company, what would _you_ do with him?"

"I'd cable him to mind his own business, " answered Sam Caldwell. 

For the fraction of a second, under levelled eyebrows, Mr. Forresterstared at young Mr. Caldwell, and then, as a sign that the interviewwas at an end, swung in his swivel chair and picked up his letters. Over his shoulder he said, "Cable him that. "

 * * * * *

While Roddy in Willemstad was slumbering under his mosquito-net, andSam Caldwell in New York was concocting a cablegram, which, hecalculated, would put Roddy in his proper place, but which, instead, put him in a very bad temper, Captain Codman, at Casa Blanca, hadjust finished relating his marvelous tale. 

It was the story of how young Forrester, without letters ofintroduction, without credentials, had that morning walked into theconsulate and announced that, without asking advice, he intended toliberate the Lion of Valencia. 

Upon the members of the Rojas household the marvelous tale had awidely different effect. 

To understand why this should be so it is necessary to know somethingof the three women who formed the Rojas household. 

Señora Rojas was an American. When she was very young her father, aprofessor at one of the smaller universities in New England, in orderto study the archives of the Spanish rulers of Venezuela, had visitedthat country, and taken his daughter with him. She was spirited, clever, and possessed of the particular type of beauty the Spaniardadmires. Young Rojas saw her, and at once fell in love with her, and, after the death of her father, which occurred in the North, followedher there and married her. She then was very young and he an attachéin the diplomatic service. Since their marriage, unlike many of hiscountrymen, Rojas had not looked with interest upon any other woman, and, with each year of their life together, their affection had grownstronger, their dependence upon each other had increased. 

In wisdom, in experience, in honors, Rojas had grown rich. Incountries where his own was only a spot upon the map, Rojas himself, the statesman, the diplomat, the man who spoke and read in manylanguages, the charming host with the brilliant wife, was admired, sought after. There were three children: the two girls, and a son, alieutenant of artillery, whose death during the revolution of Andredahad brought to the family its first knowledge of grief. 

Of the two sisters, Lolita, the elder, was like her father--grave, gracious, speaking but seldom and, in spite of the years spent inforeign capitals, still a Spanish-American. Her interests were in herchurch, her music and the duties of the household. 

Of all the names given at her christening to the younger sister, theone that survived was Inez. Inez was a cosmopolitan. She had beenpermitted to see too much of the world to make it possible for herever again to sit down tamely behind the iron bars of the PortoCabello drawing-room. She was too much like her American mother; notas her mother was now, after thirty years in a Venezuelan's household, but as her mother had been when she left the New England collegetown. Unlike her sister, she could not be satisfied with thecloister-like life of the young girls of Spanish-America. During thetime her father had served as minister to Paris she had been at schoolin the convent at Neuilly, but at the time he was transferred toLondon she was of an age to make her bow at court, and old enough tomove about with a freedom which, had it been permitted her at home, would have created public scandal. She had been free to ride in theRow, to play tennis, to walk abroad, even through public streets andparks, even when it rained, even unattended. She had met men, notalways as prospective suitors, but as friends and companions. 

And there had been a wonderful visit to her mother's country and hermother's people, when for a summer she had rejoiced in the friendly, inconsequent, out-of-door life of a Massachusetts' seaside colony. Once on the North Shore, and later on Cape Cod, she had learned toswim, to steer a knockabout, to dance the "Boston, " even inrubber-soled shoes, to "sit out" on the Casino balcony and hear youngmen, with desperate anxiety, ask if there were any more in SouthAmerica like her. To this question she always replied that there werenot; and that, in consequence, if the young man had any thoughts onthe subject, she was the person to whom they should be addressed. 

Then, following the calm, uneventful life of the convent, of Londonand its gayeties, of the Massachusetts coast with its gray fogs andopen, drift-wood fires, came the return to her own country. There, with her father, she rode over his plantations among the wild cattle, or with her mother and sister sat in the _patio_ and read novels inthree languages, or sleepily watched the shadow of the tropical suncreep across the yellow wall. 

And then, suddenly, all of these different, happy lives were turnedinto memories, shadows, happenings of a previous and unrealexistence. There came a night, which for months later in terrifieddreams returned to haunt her, a night when she woke to find herbed surrounded by soldiers, to hear in the court-yard the sobsof her mother and the shrieks of the serving-women, to see herfather--concerned only for his wife and daughters--in a circle ofthe secret police, to see him, before she could speak with him, hurried to a closed carriage and driven away. 

Then had begun the two years of exile in Willemstad, the two years ofmourning, not of quiet grief for one at rest, but anxious, unendingdistress for one alive, one dearly loved, one tortured in mind, enduring petty indignities, bodily torments, degradations that killedthe soul and broke the brave spirit. 

To the three women Rojas had been more than husband or father. He hadbeen their knight, their idol, their reason for happiness. They aloneknew how brave he was, how patient, how, beyond imagination, considerate. That they should be free to eat and sleep, to work andplay, while he was punished like a felon, buried alive, unable tocarry on the work in the world God had given him to do, caused themintolerable misery. While he suffered there was no taste in life, andthe three shut themselves from the world. They admitted only theConsul, who had been his friend, and those who, like themselves, wereexiles, and in whose hatred of Alvarez lay their only hope of againseeing the one they loved. Time after time a plan of rescue hadfailed. A plot that promised release had been disclosed and theconspirators punished. Hope had left them, and, on the part of theirfriends, had been followed by lethargy. 

But within the last three months a new hope had arisen, and with it, for the younger daughter, a new distress. 

It was whispered that a revolution, backed by great wealth andsanctified by the prayers of the people, was to be started nearValencia. Its leader in the field was to be young Pino Vega, inseveral campaigns the personal aide-de-camp of General Rojas, a youngman indebted to his chief for many favors, devoted to him by reason ofmutual confidence and esteem. If successful, this revolt againstAlvarez was to put Vega in command of the army, to free Rojas and toplace him as president at Miraflores. To the women the thought thatRojas might become president was intolerable. It was because he hadconsented to be president that he had suffered. The mere thought ofthe office, and of the cruelties that had been practised by the manwho held it, made it, to the women, terrifying. 

For Rojas they wanted neither position nor power. They wanted Rojasfree. They wanted to hold him close, to touch him, to look into hiseyes, to see the gentle, understanding smile. 

Each felt that there was nothing she could not do, no sacrifice shewould not make, if once more she could sit beside him, holding hishand, waiting in silence for the joy of hearing him speak. And of theyounger girl the sacrifice has been required. At least a way in whichshe could assist the cause that would lead to the freedom of herfather had been presented to her. From Paris, Pino Vega had writtenher mother, requesting permission to ask Inez to be his wife. 

To the girl, of all the men she knew in Venezuela, Pino was the mostattractive. They both had lived for years outside of their own countryand, in consequence, had much in common. He was thirty-seven, olderthan she by fourteen years, but, as has already been pointed out, inappearance, in manner, in spirits, he seemed much younger than hisyears. To his detriment nothing could be said that could not have beensaid of the other young men of his class in his country. But the girlwas not in love with the young man of that class, nor with hercountry. 

Her brother had been sacrificed in what to her had seemed but asqualid struggle for place between two greedy politicians; her father, for the very reason that he had served his country loyally, faithfully, and was, in consequence, beloved by the people, had beencaged like a wild animal. She had no love for her native land. Shedistrusted and feared it. 

Night after night, as she paced the walk along the cliff where thewaves broke at her feet, she shuddered to think of returning to thatland, only sixty miles from her, that had robbed her of so much thathad made life beautiful; of all, up to the present, that had made ithappy. She wished never to see it again. Could her father have beenreturned to her she would have rejoiced that they were exiles. And, asshe distrusted the country, she distrusted the men of the country, atleast those of the class to which Vega belonged. She knew them well, the born orators, born fighters, born conspirators. To scheme, toplot, to organize against the authority of the moment was in theirblood. 

If she thought of a possible husband, and, in a country where a girlmarries at fifteen, and where her first, if not her only duty in life, is to marry, it would have been surprising if she had not, the man sheconsidered as a husband was not a Venezuelan. For their deference towomen, for their courtesy to each other, for their courage as shown intheir campaigns, for their appreciation of art, of letters, of music, she greatly admired her countrymen; but that they themselves creatednothing, that they scorned labor and all those who labored, made them, to Inez, intolerable. 

That she was half an American of the North was to her a source ofsecret pride. With satisfaction she remembered young men she had knownduring the summers on the North Shore and Cape Cod, the young men who, during the first of the week, toiled and sweltered in their offices, and who, when the week-end came, took their pleasures strenuously, inexercise and sport. She liked to remember that her American andEnglish devotees had treated her as a comrade, as an intelligent, thinking creature. They had not talked to her exclusively of thebeauty of her eyes, her teeth and hair. 

She preferred their breathless, "Well played, partner!" to theelaborate, "I saw the Señorita at mass this morning. As she raised hereyes to Heaven--the angels grew jealous. "

When the mother told Inez that Colonel Vega had written, proposing onhis return to pay his addresses to her, the girl was in genuinedistress. She protested earnestly. 

In thirty years Señora Rojas unconsciously had assimilated thethoughts, the habits, the attitude of mind of the women of her adoptedcountry, and, when Inez had finished her protest, her mother, seeingthe consequence from her own point of view, was greatly disturbed. "Itis most unfortunate, " she said. "Pino is selfish; when he learns youwill not listen to him he will be very angry and he will be less eagerto help your father. He will think only of himself. If you only couldhave cared----"

"Pino could not be so cruel, " said the girl. But she spoke as thoughshe were arguing against her own conviction. "He cannot be so vain--sospoiled, " she protested, "that because one woman fails to fall on herknees to him, he must punish her. "

The talk between the mother and daughter had taken place a week beforeColonel Vega's arrival from Paris. On the day his steamer was due, Señora Rojas again spoke to Inez. 

"After mass this morning, " she said, "I consulted Father Paul aboutPino. He hopes it will be possible for you not to give him a directanswer. He says Pino will be leaving us almost at once. He is to landnorth of Porto Cabello, and our people are to join him there. FatherPaul thinks, " the Señora hesitated, and then went on hastily, "youmight let him go in ignorance. You might ask for time to consider. Youmight even tell him----"

The girl's cheeks flushed crimson and the tears came to her eyes. Themother looked away. After an instant's silence she exclaimed bitterly:"It is only a lie to a man who has lied to many women! I think ofnothing, " she declared, "but that it would keep him true to yourfather. What else matters!" she broke forth, "I would lie, cheat, steal, " she cried, "if I could save your father one moment'ssuffering. "

The girl took the hand of the elder woman and pressed it to her cheek. "I know, " she whispered, "I know. "

There was a moment's silence. "If it were anything else!" protestedthe girl. "If I could change places with father I would run to doit--you know that--but this"--with a gesture of repugnance the girlthrew out her hands--"to pretend--to care! It is degrading, it makesme feel unclean. "

"You will make an enemy, " asked the mother coldly, "of the only personwho can bring your father back to us? Sooner than let Pino think youcare for him, you would let him turn against us? You and Pino, " shepleaded, "are old friends. Your father is his friend. What morenatural!" She broke forth hysterically. "I beg of you, " she cried, "Icommand you not to make an enemy of Pino. Tell him to wait, tell himthat now you can think of nothing but your father, but that when yourfather is free, that if he will only set him free--" The mother heldthe girl toward her, searching her eyes. "Promise me, " she begged. 

Inez regarded her mother unhappily, and turned away. 

This, then, on the afternoon of Colonel Vega's arrival at Curaçao wasthe position toward him and toward each other of the three women ofthe Rojas household, and explains, perhaps, why, when that sameafternoon Captain Codman told them the marvelous tale of Roddy'sproposition, Señora Rojas and her daughter received the news each in adifferent manner. 

Before she had fully understood, Señora Rojas exclaimed withgratitude:

"It is the hand of God. It is His hand working through this greatcompany. "

"Not at all, " snapped Captain Codman. "The company has nothing todo with it. As far as I can see it is only the wild plan of aharum-scarum young man. He has no authority. He's doing it forexcitement, for an adventure. He doesn't seem to know anything of--ofwhat is going on--and, personally, I think he's mad. He and his friendare the two men who twice drove past your house this morning. What hisfriend is like I don't know; but Forrester seems quite capable offorcing his way in here. He wants what he calls 'credentials. ' Infact, when I refused to help him, he as much as threatened to comehere and get them for himself. "

The voice of Señora Rojas was shaken with alarm. "He is coming here!"she cried. "But if he is seen _here_ they will know at once atCaracas, and my husband will suffer. It may mean the end ofeverything. " Her voice rose, trembling with indignation. "How dare he!How dare he, for the sake of an adventure, risk the life of myhusband? How can he expect to succeed where our friends have failed, and now, when Pino has returned and there is hope. "

"I told him that, " said the Consul. 

"You warned him, " insisted the Señora; "you told him he must not comenear us?"

Inez, who, with her sister, stood eagerly intent behind the chair inwhich their mother was seated, laid her hand soothingly upon theSeñora's shoulder. 

"Is it best, " she asked, "to turn the young man away without learningwhat he wishes to do? Living in Porto Cabello, he may know somethingwe could not know. Did you find out, " she asked the Consul, "in whatway Mr. Forrester wishes to help us?"

"No, " confessed Captain Codman, "I did not. I was so taken aback, " heexplained; "he was so ignorant, so cocksure, that he made me mad. AndI just ordered him out, and I told him, told him for his own good, ofcourse, " the Consul added hastily, "that he talked too much. "

With critical eyes Inez regarded her old friend doubtfully, and shookher head at him. 

"And how did he take that?" she asked. 

"He told me, " answered the Consul, painfully truthful, "that my parrothad said the same thing, and that we might both be wrong. "

There was an instant's silence, and then Inez laughed. In shockedtones her mother exclaimed reprovingly. 

"But he comes here, " protested the girl, "to do us a service, thegreatest service, and he is ordered away. Why should we refuse to lethim help us, to let any one help us. We should make the most of everychance that offers. "

Señora Rojas turned in her chair and looked steadily at her daughter. 

"Your advice is good, Inez, " she said, "but it comes strangely fromyou. "

At the same moment, as though conjured by her thought, a servantannounced Colonel Vega, and that gentleman, with several of those whohad lunched with him at the Café Ducrot, entered the room. In alarmCaptain Codman waited only to shake hands with the visitors and thenprecipitately departed. But in the meeting of the exiles there wasnothing that would have compromised him. The reception of Colonel Vegaby the three women was without outward significance. They greetedhim, not as a leader of their conspiracy, but as they might havereceived any friend who, after an absence, had returned to them. Whenhe bent over the hand of Inez he raised his liquid eyes to hers, butthe girl welcomed him simply, without confusion. 

He decided that her mother could not as yet have told her of hiswishes. Had she done so he felt sure, in view of the honor he wouldpay her, her embarrassment at meeting him would have been apparent toall. 

Vega himself elected to tell the ladies of the attack made upon him atthe Café Ducrot. He made little of it. He let the ladies understandthat his life, like that of all public men, was always at the mercy ofassassins. To Roddy he gave full credit. 

"Imagine this man reaching for his weapon, " he related dramatically, "myself too far from him to fall upon him, and my arms resting uponthe shoulders of my two good friends. Their safety, also, is in mymind. But I am helpless. I saw the villain smile confidently. Hepoints the weapon. Then the young man springs upon him and the bulletspass us harmlessly. Believe me, but for Mr. Forrester all three of us, General Pulido, Colonel Ramon and myself, might now be dead. "

The two gentlemen designated dismissed the thought with a negligentwave of the hand. It suggested that, to soldiers like themselves, being dead was an annoyance to which they had grown accustomed. 

"Mr. Forrester!" exclaimed Inez, catching at the name. 

"Mr. Forrester!" repeated her mother. "But I thought--I was told onlyjust now that he knew nothing of our plans. "

"That is quite true, " Colonel Vega assured her. "He was not with us. He was there by accident. "

"Let us rather say, " corrected Señora Rojas piously, "he was placedthere by a special Providence to save you. "

That the Almighty should be especially concerned in his well-being didnot appear to Vega as at all unlikely. 

He nodded his head gravely. 

"It may be so, " he admitted. 

Through force of habit Señora Rojas glanced about her; but the openwindows showed the empty garden, and around her, seated in two rows ofrocking-chairs, the ladies facing the door, the men facing the ladies, she saw only friends. 

"But why, " she asked, "is young Mr. Forrester _not_ in the confidenceof his father? Can he not trust his own son?"

As though sure of her answer she cast a triumphant glance at thedaughter who had dared, against Captain Codman and herself, tochampion Mr. Forrester's son. Pino frowned mysteriously. He did notlike to say that with any action of the great Mr. Forrester he was notacquainted. So he scowled darkly and shook his head. 

"It is a puzzle, " he said; "the young man is a fine fellow. To him Iowe my life. " He appealed to his friends, who, in time to the sedaterocking of the chairs, nodded gravely. "But his father is verydecided. He cables us to send him at once to Porto Cabello. Heinstructs us not to let him know what we plan to do. I learned that inPorto Cabello he is only a workman, or, a little better, the foremanof the Jamaica coolies. I do not say so, " Pino pointed out, as thoughif he wished he might say a great deal, "but it looks as though hewere here for some punishment--as though he had displeased his father. Or, " he demanded, "why should his father, who is so wealthy, give hisson the wages of a foreman?"

During the visit of the conspirators the traditions of Spanishetiquette gave Colonel Vega no opportunity to separate Inez from theothers; and soon, without having spoken to her alone, he and hisfollowers departed. 

When they had gone, Inez, as was her custom when she wished to be byherself, ordered her pony and rode out on the cliff road toward theorange groves. Riding unattended was a breach of Spanish-Americanconvention. But her mother permitted it, and, in the eyes of thepeople of Willemstad, her long residence abroad, and the fact that shewas half American of the North, partially excused it. Every morning atsunrise, before the heat of the day, and just before the sun set, Inezmade these excursions. They were the bright moments of her presentlife. If she did not wish to think, they prevented her from thinking;if she did wish to think, they protected her from intrusion, and gaveher strength and health to bear the grinding anxiety of the otherhours. They brought back to her, also, memories of rides of formerdays, before her father had been taken from her, when they had trottedpolitely over the tan bark of Rotten Row, or when, with her soldierbrother, she had chased the wild cattle on the plantation. 

Now, with her head bent, with the hand that held the reins lyingloosely on her knee, she rode at a walk, her body relaxed, her eyesseeing nothing. Her mind was intent upon her problem, one in whichher answer to Pino Vega was but a part. To carry out the plan she hadin mind she needed a man to help her, and there were two men to whomshe might appeal. But only one, not both of them, could help her. Shewas determined not to return from her ride until she had decided whichone it should be. 

After an hour, as though she had reached her decision and was fearfullest she might reconsider it, she lifted the pony into a gallop andraced to Casa Blanca. On arriving there she went directly to her room, wrote a note, and returned with it to the stable where the groom wasjust removing the saddle from her pony. 

He was an old man, trusted by Inez. As a body servant he had firstserved her brother, then her father, and after the imprisonment ofGeneral Rojas, had volunteered to follow the women of the family intoexile. For a moment the girl regarded him earnestly. 

"Pedro, " she asked, "what would you do to save the master?"

When the man was assured he had understood her he lowered the saddleto the ground, and standing erect threw out his arms with his openpalms toward her. In pantomime he seemed to signify that for thepurpose she named, his body, his life was at her disposition. 

Inez showed him the note. 

"You will take this, " she said, "to an American, Mr. Forrester. He isat one of the hotels. No one must know you are seeking him, no onemust see you give him this note. Not even my mother must suspect thatany message has been sent from this house to that gentleman. When hehas read the note he will say 'yes' or 'no. ' If he asks questions youwill shake your head. As soon as you get your answer come directly tome. "

She gave him the note and after an impressive delay continued: "Thereis a new plan to save my father. If you deliver this note safely youwill have taken the first step to set him free. If you blunder, if itis found out that Mr. Forrester and one of the Rojas family areconspiring together, it will mean greater cruelties for my father; itmay mean his death. "

The girl had spoken in the way she knew would best appeal to the manbefore her. And she was not disappointed. His eyes shone withexcitement. That he was conspiring, that he was a factor in a plot, that the plot had in view the end he so much desired, filled him withpleasure and pride. Crossing himself he promised to carry out herorders. 

As Inez returned to the main portion of the house the sun was justsinking into the sea; and, to keep their daily tryst, her mother andsister were moving toward the cliff. While the crimson disk descended, the three women stood silent and immovable, the face of each turnedtoward the rim of the horizon. As though her eyes could pierce thesixty miles that lay between her and her father Inez leaned forward, her fingers interlaced, her lips slightly apart. That, at that moment, he was thinking of her, that he was looking to where he knew she wason guard, and thinking of him, moved her as greatly as though thedaily ceremony was for the first time being carried forward. Awandering breeze, not born of the sea, but of the soil, of tropicalplants and forests, and warm with sunshine, caressed her face. It camefrom the land toward which her eyes were turned. It was comforting, sheltering, breathing of peace. As it touched her she smiled slightly. She accepted it as a good omen, as a message sent from across the sea, to tell her that in the step she had taken she had done well. 

IV

After their dinner at the hotel, Roddy and Peter strolled down thequay and over the tiny drawbridge that binds Otrabanda to Willemstad. There, for some time, half-way between the two towns, they loiteredagainst the railing of the bridge, smoking and enjoying the cool nightbreeze from the sea. After his long nap Roddy was wakeful. He had beentold that Willemstad boasted of a _café chantant_, and he was forfinding it. But Peter, who had been awake since the ship's steward hadaroused him before sunrise, doubted that there was a _café chantant_, and that if it did exist it could keep him from sleep, and announcedhis determination to seek his bed. 

Left to himself, Roddy strolled slowly around the narrow limits of thetown. A few of the shops and two of the cafés were still open, throwing bright spaces of light across the narrow sidewalks, but thegreater number of houses were tightly barred; the streets slumbered indarkness. For a quarter of an hour Roddy sauntered idly, and thenawoke to the fact that he was not alone. Behind him in the shadow, aman with his face hidden in a shawl, the sound of his footstepsmuffled by his rope sandals, was following his wanderings. 

Under the circumstances, after the developments of the day, Roddy wasnot surprised, nor was he greatly interested. Even in Porto Cabello, at one time or another, every one was beset by spies. And that here, in the central office of the revolutionists, Alvarez should be wellrepresented was but natural. 

Twice, softly and quickly, the man who followed had approached himfrom the rear, and each time, lest he should have some more seriouspurpose than to simply spy upon him, Roddy had stepped into thestreet. But when for the third time the man drew near, his approachwas so swift that Roddy had no time to move away. The man brushedagainst him, and when he had passed Roddy found a letter had beenpressed into his hand. 

The hour was late, Roddy looked like a tourist, the note had beendelivered covertly. Roddy concluded it contained an invitation to somedisreputable adventure, and after calling the man the name associatedwith what Roddy believed to be his ancient and dishonorableprofession, he tossed the note into the street. 

With a cry of dismay the man ran toward it, but Roddy was before him. As the note had left his hand his fingers had touched upon heavy, waxen seals. 

In an instant he had retrieved the note, and, followed eagerly by theman, carried it to the light of a gas lamp. The envelope was notilluminating, the sealing-wax was stamped with no crest or initials, the handwriting was obviously disguised. 

After observing that from the shadow the man still watched him, whileat the same time he kept an anxious lookout up and down the street, Roddy opened the note. It read: "You have come to Curaçao for apurpose. One who has the success of that purpose most at heart desiresto help you. To-morrow, just before sunrise, walk out the same roadover which you drove to-day. Beyond the Café Ducrot the bearer of thisletter will wait for you with a led horse. Follow him. If you think heis leading you into danger, order him to ride in advance, and coverhim with your revolver. If you will come, say to the bearer, '_Vengo_, ' if not, '_No Vengo_. ' He has orders not to reply to anyquestion of yours. If you speak of this to others, or if the bearer ofthis suspects you have arranged for others to follow you, he will onlylead you back to your hotel, and your chance to right a great wrongwill have passed. "

There was no signature. But as though it were an afterthought, at thebottom of the page was written, "Adventures are for the adventurous. "

Standing well in the light of the street lamp, with his back to thehouses, with his face toward the waiting messenger, Roddy read theletter three times. But after the first reading his eyes neglected thebody of the note and raced to the postscript. That was the line thatbeckoned and appealed; to him it seemed that whoever wrote the letterdoubted he would come to the rendezvous, and was by that line enticinghim, mocking him, daring him to refuse. It held forth both a promiseand a challenge. 

As to who the writer of the note might be, there were in Roddy's mindthree explanations. He considered them hastily. Peter was the authorof the note, and it was a poor joke intended to test him. It was agenuine offer from some one who had guessed the object of his visit toCuraçao and honestly wished to be of service. It came from the man inthe mask and his associates, who, resenting his interference of themorning, had pleasant thoughts of luring him down a lonely road andleaving him lying there. Which of the three suppositions might becorrect it was impossible to know, but the postscript decided him. Hebeckoned to the messenger, and the man ran eagerly forward. "I willcome, " said Roddy. The man smiled with pleasure, bowed to him, anddived into the darkness. As he ran down the street Roddy stoodlistening until the soft patter of the sandals had ceased, and thenslowly returned to the hotel. 

For an hour, still speculating as to who his anonymous friend mightbe, he stood, smoking, upon the balcony. On the quay below him a negropoliceman dozed against a hawser-post. A group of cargadores, stretched at length upon stacks of hides, chattered in drowsyundertones. In the moonlight the lamps on the fishing-boats and on thebridge, now locked against the outside world, burned mistily, and thedeck of the steamer moored directly below him was as deserted andbare, as uncanny and ghostlike, as the deck of the ship of the AncientMariner. Except for the chiming of ships' bells, the whisper of therunning tide, and the sleepy murmur of the longshoremen, the town ofWillemstad was steeped in sleep and silence. Roddy, finding he couldarrive at no satisfactory explanation of the note, woke the nightporter, and telling that official he was off before daybreak to shootwild pigeons, and wanted his coffee at that hour, betook himself tohis cot. It seemed as though he had not twice tossed on the pillowbefore the night-watchman stood yawning at his side. 

Roddy and Peter occupied adjoining rooms, and the door between the twowas unlocked. When Roddy had bathed, dressed, and, with a feeling ofsome importance, stuck his revolver into his pocket, he opened thedoor, and, still suspicious that his faithful friend was sending himon a wild-goose chase, for a few moments stood beside his bed. ButPeter, deep in the sleep of innocence, was breathing evenly, stentoriously. Not without envying him the hours of rest still beforehim, Roddy helped himself to Peter's revolver, left him a line sayingit was he who had borrowed it, and went out into the dark and emptystreets. 

Half awake and with his hunger only partially satisfied, Roddy nowregarded his expedition with little favor. He reverted strongly to thetheory that some one was making a fool of him. He reminded himselfthat if in New York he had received such a note, he either would haveat once dismissed it as a hoax or turned it over to the precinctstation-house. But as the darkness changed to gray, and the black bulkof the Café Ducrot came into view, his interest quickened. Heencouraged himself with the thought that while in New York thewording of the note would be improbable, hysterical, melodramatic, inhot, turbulent Venezuela it was in keeping with the country and withthe people. 

Since setting forth from the hotel a half hour had passed, and as heleft the Café Ducrot behind him the night faded into the gray-bluemist of dawn. Out of the mist, riding slowly toward him, mounted onone pony and leading another, Roddy saw the man who on the nightbefore had brought him the letter. He was leaning forward, peeringthrough the uncertain light. When he recognized Roddy he galloped tohim, and with evident pleasure but without speaking, handed him thereins of the led pony. Then motioning to Roddy to wait, he roderapidly down the road over which the American had just come. Roddysettled himself in the saddle, and with a smile of satisfaction beamedupon the ghostlike world around him. So far, at least, the adventurepromised to be genuine. Certainly, he argued, Peter could not haveprepared a joke so elaborate. 

Apparently satisfied that Roddy had brought no one with him, themessenger now rejoined him, and with a gesture of apology took thelead, and at a smart trot started in the same direction in which Roddyhad been walking. 

Roddy gave his guide a start of fifty feet, and followed. With theidea of a possible ambush still in his mind, he held the pony well inhand, and in front of him, in his belt, stuck one of the revolvers. Henow was fully awake. No longer in the darkness was he stumbling onfoot over the stones and ruts of the road. Instead, the day wasbreaking and he had under him a good horse, on which, if necessary, hecould run away. The thought was comforting, and the sense of possibledanger excited him delightfully. When he remembered Peter, sleepingstolidly and missing what was to come, he felt a touch of remorse. Buthe had been warned to bring no one with him, and of the letter tospeak to no one. He would tell Peter later. But, he considered, whatif there should be nothing to tell, or, if there were, what if heshould not be alive to tell it? If the men who had planned toassassinate Colonel Vega intended to punish him for his interference, they could not have selected a place or hour better suited to theirpurpose. In all the world, apparently, he was the only soul awake. Oneither side of him were high hedges of the Spanish bayonet, and backof them acres of orange groves. The homes of the planters lay far fromthe highway, and along the sides of the road there were no houses, nolodge gates, not even a peon's thatched hut. 

Roddy was approaching a sharp turn in the road, a turn to the left atalmost right angles. It was marked by an impenetrable hedge. Up tonow, although the hedges would have concealed a regiment, the whiteroad itself had stretched before him, straight and open. But now theturn shut it from his sight. The guide had reached the corner. Insteadof taking it, he turned in his saddle and pulled his pony to a walk. 

To Roddy the act seemed significant. It was apparent that they hadarrived at their rendezvous. Sharply, Roddy also brought his pony toa walk, and with a heavy pull on the reins moved slowly forward. The guide drew to the right and halted. To Roddy's excited imaginationthis manoeuvre could have but one explanation. The man waswithdrawing himself from a possible line of fire. Shifting the reinsto his left hand, Roddy let the other fall upon his revolver. Holdingin the pony and bending forward, Roddy peered cautiously around thecorner. 

What he saw was so astonishing, so unlike what he expected, so utterlyout of place, that, still leaning forward, still with his hand on hisrevolver, he stared stupidly. 

For half a mile the road lay empty, but directly in front of him, blocking the way, was a restless, pirouetting pony, and seated uponthe pony, unmoved either by his gyrations or by the appearance of astranger in her path, was a young girl. 

As Roddy had cautiously made his approach he had in his mind a pictureof skulking Venezuelans with pointed carbines; his ears were preparedfor a command to throw up his hands, for the slap of a bullet. He hadconvinced himself that around the angle of the impenetrable hedge thiswas the welcome that awaited him. And when he was confronted by a girlwho apparently was no more a daughter of Venezuela than she was amasked highwayman, his first thought was that this must be someinnocent foreigner stumbling in upon the ambush. In alarm for hersafety his eyes searched the road beyond her, the hedges on eitherside. If she remained for an instant longer he feared she might be thewitness to a shocking tragedy, that she herself might even become avictim. But the road lay empty, in the hedges of spiked cactus not afrond stirred; and the aged man who had led him to the rendezvous satmotionless, watchful but undisturbed. 

[Illustration: Shifting the reins to his left hand, Roddy let theother fall upon his revolver. ]

Roddy again turned to the girl and found her closely observing him. He sank back in his saddle and took off his hat. Still scanning thehedges, he pushed his pony beside hers and spoke quickly. 

"Pardon me, " he said, "but I think you had better ride on. Some menare coming here. They--they may be here now. "

That his anxiety was entirely on her account was obvious. The girlcolored slightly, and smiled. As she smiled, Roddy for the first timewas looking directly at her, and as he looked his interest inassassins and his anxiety as to what they might do passed entirelyfrom him. For months he had not seen a girl of his own people, andthat this girl was one of his own people he did not question. Had hefirst seen her on her way to mass, with a lace shawl across hershoulders, with a high comb and mantilla, he would have declared herto be Spanish, and of the highest type of Spanish beauty. Now, in herlinen riding-skirt and mannish coat and stock, with her hair drawnback under a broad-brimmed hat of black straw, she reminded him onlyof certain girls with whom he had cantered along the Ocean Drive atNewport or under the pines of Aiken. How a young woman so habited hadcome to lose herself in a lonely road in Curaçao was incomprehensible. Still, it was not for him to object. That the gods had found fit tosend her there was, to Roddy, sufficient in itself, and he wasextremely grateful. But that fact was too apparent. Though he wasunconscious of it, the pleasure in his eyes was evident. He still wastoo startled to conceal his admiration. 

The girl frowned, her slight, boyish figure grew more erect. 

"My name is Rojas, " she said. "My father is General Rojas. I was toldyou wished to help him, and last night I sent you a note asking you tomeet me here. "

She spoke in even, matter-of-fact tones. As she spoke she regardedRoddy steadily. When, the night before, Inez had sent the note, shehad been able only to guess as to what manner of man it might be withwhom she was making a rendezvous at daybreak, in a lonely road. Andshe had been more than anxious. Now that she saw him she recognizedthe type and was reassured. But that he was worthy of the secret shewished to confide in him she had yet to determine. As she waited forhim to disclose himself she was to all outward appearances tranquillystudying him. But inwardly her heart was trembling, and it was withreal relief that, when she told him her name, she saw his look ofadmiration disappear, and in his eyes come pity and genuine feeling. 

"Oh!" gasped Roddy unhappily, his voice filled with concern. "Oh, I amsorry!"

The girl slightly inclined her head. 

"I came to ask you, " she began, speaking with abrupt directness, "whatyou propose to do?"

It was a most disconcerting question. Not knowing what he proposed todo, Roddy, to gain time, slipped to the ground and, hat in hand, movedclose to the pommel of her saddle. As he did not answer, the girlspoke again, this time in a tone more kindly. "And to ask why you wishto help us?"

As though carefully considering his reply, Roddy scowled, but made noanswer. In a flash it had at last come to him that what to Peter andto himself had seemed a most fascinating game was to others astruggle, grim and momentous. He recognized that until now GeneralRojas had never been to him a flesh-and-blood person, that he had notappreciated that his rescue meant actual life and happiness. He hadconsidered him rather as one of the pieces in a game of chess, whichPeter and himself were secretly playing against the Commandant of theSan Carlos prison. And now, here, confronting him, was a human being, living, breathing, suffering, the daughter of this chessman, bone ofhis bone, flesh of his flesh, demanding of the stranger by what righthe made himself her father's champion, by what right he pushed himselfinto the tragedy of the Rojas family. In his embarrassment Roddydecided desperately to begin at the very beginning, to tell the exacttruth, to omit nothing, and then to throw himself upon the mercy ofthe court. 

The gray mist of the morning had lifted. Under the first warm rays ofthe sun, like objects developing on a photographer's plate, the cactuspoints stood out sharp and clear, the branches of the orange treesseparated, assuming form and outline, the clusters of fruit took on afaint touch of yellow. From the palace yard in distant Willemstadthere drifted toward them the boom of the morning gun. 

With his reins over his arm, his sombrero crumpled in his hands, hisface lifted to the face of the girl, Roddy stood in the road atattention, like a trooper reporting to his superior officer. 

"We were in the tea-house of the Hundred and One Steps, " said Roddy. "We called ourselves the White Mice. "

Speaking quickly he brought his story down to the present moment. Whenhe had finished, Inez, who had been bending toward him, straightenedherself in the saddle and sat rigidly erect. Her lips and brows weredrawn into two level lines, her voice came to him from animmeasurable distance. 

"Then it was a joke?" she said. 

"A joke!" cried Roddy hotly. "That's most unfair. If you will onlygive us permission we'll prove to you that it is no joke. Perhaps, asI told it, it sounded heartless. I told it badly. What could Isay--that I am sorry? Could I, a stranger, offer sympathy to you? Butwe _are_ sorry. Ever since Peter proposed it, ever since I saw yourfather----"

The girl threw herself forward, trembling. Her eyes opened wide. 

"You saw my father!" she exclaimed. "Tell me, " she begged, "did helook well? Did he speak to you? When did you--" she stopped suddenly, and turning her face from him, held her arm across her eyes. 

"It was four months ago, " said Roddy. "I was not allowed to speak tohim. We bowed to each other. That was all. "

"I must tell them, " cried the girl, "they must know that I have seensome one who has seen him. But if they know I have seen you----"

She paused; as though asking advice she looked questioningly at Roddy. He shook his head. 

"I don't understand, " he said. 

"My mother and sister don't know that I am here, " Inez told him. "Ifthey did they would be very angry. No one, " she added warningly, "mustknow. They are afraid of you. They cannot understand why you offer tohelp us. And they mistrust you. That is why I had to see you here inthis way. " With a shrug of distaste the girl glanced about her. "Fortunately, " she added, "you understand. "

"Why, yes, " Roddy assented doubtfully. "I understand your doing what_you_ did, but I don't understand the others. Who is it, " he asked, "who mistrusts me? Who, " he added smiling, "besides yourself?"

"My mother, " answered Inez directly, "your consul, Captain Codman, Colonel Vega, and----"

In surprise, Roddy laughed and raised his eyebrows. 

"Vega!" he exclaimed. "Why should Vega mistrust me?" Knowing what wasin his mind, the girl made him a formal little bow. 

"It is not, " she answered, "because you saved his life. " In obviousembarrassment she added: "It is because you are not in the confidenceof your father. You can see that that must make it difficult forColonel Vega. "

Bewildered, Roddy stared at her and again laughed. 

"And what possible interest, " he demanded, "can _my_ father have inColonel Vega?"

For a moment, with distrust written clearly in her eyes, the girlregarded him reproachfully. Then she asked coldly:

"Do you seriously wish me to think that you do _not_ know that?"

While they had been speaking, even when Inez had made it most evidentto Roddy that to herself and to her friends he was a discreditedperson, he had smiled patiently. His good humor had appearedunassailable. But now his eyes snapped indignantly. He pressed hislips together and made Inez an abrupt bow. 

"I assure you, I know nothing, " he said quickly. 

He threw the reins over the neck of the pony, and with a slap on itsflank drove it across the road within reach of the waiting Pedro. Thenlifting his hat, and with another bow, he started in the direction ofWillemstad. Inez, too surprised to speak, sat staring after him. Butbefore he had taken a dozen steps, as though she had called him backand asked him to explain, he halted and returned. He had entirelyrecovered his good humor, but his manner when he spoke was notconciliatory. 

"The trouble is this, " he said, "your friends are so deep in plotsthat they have lost sight of the thing that counts. While they are'mistrusting, ' and suspecting, and spying on each other, a man isdying. I know that much, anyway. That is all I care to know. " Asthough it were an extenuating fact, he added: "It is a question ofcharacter. It is a Venezuelan way of doing things. But it is not ourway. It was very kind of you to give me this chance to explain ourinterfering. But I see now--everybody, " he added dryly, "has takenpains to make it very plain--that we are a nuisance. " He paused, andto assure her it was not she he was upbraiding, smiled cheerfully. Inhis most confidential manner he continued lightly: "For myself, I havealways thought there was something to say for the fools who rush inwhere angels fear to tread. I remember once seeing a fool rush into aburning building and rescue a child, while I and some other angelsshouted for ladders. " He nodded, and again lifted his hat. "Good-by, "he said, "and thank you. " Leaving her seated silent in the saddle, hewalked away. 

This time he had turned the bend in the road and had proceeded alongit some hundred yards, when from behind him he heard approaching at areckless pace the hoof-beats of a pony. Looking back, he saw awhirlwind of fluttering skirts and scattered sparks and pebbles. Inez, followed by Pedro, drew up even with him; and as she dragged her ponyto a halt, threw herself free of the pommel and dropped at his feet tothe road. Had he not caught her by the shoulders she would havestumbled into his arms. A strand of hair had fallen across her face, her eyes were eager, flashing. She raised her gloved handsimpulsively, and clasped them before him. 

"Please!" she begged. "You must not go. It is true--what you say aboutus, but you must help us. I did not know. I had forgotten. It is threeyears since I talked to any one--any one from your country. I hadforgotten. It is true; we are suspicious, we are _not_ straightforwardlike you, like the people in the States. But you must not punish usfor that. Not _me_!"

At all times the face raised to his was beautiful. Now, the delicatelips, like those of a child before it breaks into sobs, weretrembling, the eyes, lifted appealingly, were eloquent with tears. 

"You must advise me, " said the girl. "You must help me. "

She raised her clasped hands higher. She regarded him wistfully, "Won't you?" she begged. 

Her attack had been swift, masterly; every feminine weapon had beenbrought into effective action; and the surrender of Roddy was sudden, and complete. In abject submission he proceeded incoherently:

"My dear young lady!" he cried. "But, my dear young _lady_!"

He was rewarded with a brilliant, blinding smile. 

"Then you _will_ help me?" Inez asked. 

Roddy recovered himself quickly. 

"My Spanish is very bad, " he answered, "but what it sounds like inEnglish is, 'I am at your feet. '"

The sun now was shining brightly, and in the open road they were asconspicuous as though they had stood in a shop window on Broadway. Across the road, in the hedge opposite, a gate barred a path that ledinto one of the plantations. Roddy opened the gate, and together, followed by Pedro with the ponies, they found a spot where they werehidden by the hedge from any one passing on the highway. Inez haltedin the shade of one of the orange trees. Speaking rapidly, shesketched for Roddy a brief history of the various efforts that hadbeen made to rescue her father. She explained why these efforts hadfailed. She told him of the revolution led by Pino Vega, and the goodit was expected to accomplish. 

At first the girl spoke in some embarrassment. She knew that to bewhere she was, at that hour, alone with a stranger, was, in the eyesof her friends and family, an unpardonable offense. And though sheresented their point of view, the fact that it existed disquieted her. But the man at her side did not seem to consider talking to a girl inthe open sunshine either as a novel experience or one especiallydisgraceful. Politely, with lowered eyes, he gave to what she said theclosest attention. The circumstance that they were alone, even thefact that she was young and attractive, did not once appear to occurto him. Seeing this, Inez with each succeeding moment gainedconfidence in Roddy and in herself and spoke freely. 

"That is what we have tried to do, " she said. "Now I am going to tellyou why I asked you to meet me here this morning, and how I believeyou can help me. Three days ago I received a message from my father. "

Roddy exclaimed with interest, but motioned eagerly for her tocontinue. 

"It is in cipher, " she continued, "but it is his handwriting. It isunmistakable. It was given to me when I was at church. I was kneelingin the chapel of St. Agnes, which is in the darkest corner of thebuilding. At first I was alone, and then a woman came and knelt closebeside me. She was a negress, poorly dressed, and her face was hiddenby her shawl. For a moment I thought she was murmuring her prayers, and then I found she was repeating certain words and that she wastalking at me. 'I have a letter, a letter from your father, ' shewhispered. I crowded closer, and she dropped a piece of paper in frontof me and then got to her feet and hurried away. I followed, but therewere many people at mass, and when I had reached the street she haddisappeared. The message she brought me is this: 'Page 54, paragraph4. ' That is all. It is the second message we have had from my fatherin two years. The first one was by word of mouth, and came a monthago. The meaning of that was only too plain. But what this one means Icannot imagine, nor, " proceeded Inez with distress, "can I see why, ifhe had the chance to write to us, he did not write more openly. "

She looked appealingly at Roddy, and paused for him to speak. 

"He was afraid the message would be intercepted, " said Roddy. "What heprobably means to do is to send it to you in two parts. The secondmessage will be the key that explains this one. He knew if he wroteplainly, and it fell into the wrong hands--" Roddy interruptedhimself, and for a moment remained silent. "'Page 54, paragraph 4, '"he repeated. "Has he sent you a book?" he asked. "Has any book come toyou anonymously?"

The girl shook her head. "No, I thought of that, " she said, "but nobooks have come to us that we haven't ordered ourselves. "

"What do the others think?" asked Roddy. 

The girl colored slightly and shook her head. 

"I have not told them. I knew my mother would ask Pino to help her, and, " she explained, "though I like Pino, for certain reasons I do notwish to be indebted to him for the life of my father. Before appealingto him I have been trying for two days to find out the meaning of thecipher, but I could not do it, and I was just about to show it to mymother when Captain Codman told us of your offer. That made mehesitate. And then, as between you and Pino, I decided you were betterable to help us. You live in Porto Cabello, within sight of theprison. Pino will be in the field. His revolution may last a month, itmay last for years. During that time he would do nothing to help myfather. When you risked being shot yesterday, it seemed to me youshowed you had spirit, and also, _you_ are from the States, and Pinois a Venezuelan, so----"

"You needn't take up the time of the court, " said Roddy, "inpersuading me that I am the man to help you. To save time I willconcede that. What was the other message you received from yourfather?"

The eyes of the girl grew troubled and her voice lost its eagerness. 

"It was charged in a French paper, " she said, "that the prisoners inSan Carlos were being killed by neglect. The French minister is afriend of our family, and he asked Alvarez to appoint a committee ofdoctors to make an investigation. Alvarez was afraid to refuse, andsent the doctors to examine my father and report on his health. One ofthem told him that Alvarez would permit him to send a message to mymother, and to tell her himself whether he was, or was not, ill. Thisis the message that they gave us as coming from my father. 

"'I don't know what you gentlemen may decide as to my health, ' hesaid, 'but _I_ know that I am dying. Tell my wife that I wish to beburied in my native country, and to place upon my tombstone my nameand this epitaph: "He wrote history, and made history. "'" The voice ofthe girl had dropped to a whisper. She recovered herself andcontinued sadly: "Until three days ago that is the only word we havereceived from my father in two years. "

The expression on Roddy's face was one of polite incredulity. Seeingthis, Inez, as though answering his thought, said proudly: "My fathermade history when he arranged the boundary line between British Guianaand Venezuela. "

Roddy shook his head impatiently. 

"I wasn't thinking of that, " he said. "I was thinking of the message. It doesn't sound a bit like your father, " he exclaimed. "Not like what_I've_ heard of him. "

The eyes of the girl grew anxious with disappointment. 

"Do you mean, " she asked, "that you think he did _not_ send thatmessage?"

"It doesn't sound to me, " said Roddy, "like the sort of message hewould send, knowing the pain it would cause. He isn't the sort of manto give up hope, either. Even if it were true, why should he tell yourmother he is dying? And that epitaph!" cried Roddy excitedly. "_That's_ not like him, either! It is not modest. " With suddeneagerness he leaned toward her. "_Did_ your father write history?" hedemanded. 

Unable to see the purpose of his question, the girl gazed at him inbewilderment. "Why, of course, " she answered. 

"And does any part of it refer to Porto Cabello?"

After a moment of consideration Inez nodded. "The third chapter, " shesaid, "tells of the invasion by Sir Francis Drake. "

"'Chapter three, page fifty-four, paragraph four!'" shouted Roddy. "I'll bet my head on it! Don't you see what he has done?" he cried. "He sent you the key before he sent you the cipher. The verbal messageis the key to the written one. They gave him a chance to send word toyour mother, and he took it. He told her he was dying only that hemight give her a direction, apparently about an epitaph, a boastfulepitaph. He never boasted while he was alive--why should he boast onhis tombstone? His real message is this: 'Look in the history I wroteof Venezuela, on page fifty-four, paragraph four, ' and when we havefound it, " cried Roddy, "we'll have found the way to get him out ofprison!"

Inez was not convinced, but his enthusiasm was most inspiriting. 

"We have the history at the house, " she cried, "and I know you canfind it in the Spanish bookstore in Willemstad. I must go at once. "

She moved forward, greatly excited, her eyes lit with the happiness ofthis new hope. Roddy ran to bring her pony, and making a bridge of hishands lifted her to the saddle. "If I am right about this, " he said, "I must see you again to-day. Where can I meet you?"

In spite of her eagerness, the girl hesitated. One by one thetraditions of a lifetime were smashing about her. 

"I _must_ tell my mother, " she pleaded. "And I know she will not allowme----"

"And she'll tell Pino, " interrupted Roddy. To detain her, he laid hishand upon the reins and shook them sharply. 

"Are you helping Pino to win a revolution, " he demanded, "or are youhelping me to get your father out of prison?"

Inez gazed at him in dismay. In her brief twenty-two years no man hadspoken to her in such a manner. Among her friends she knew of noVenezuelan who, no matter what the provocation, would have addressedhis wife, his sister, his daughter in a tone so discourteous. And yetthis stranger was treating her, who, as she had been frequently andreliably informed, was the loveliest and most lovable of her sex, ashe might a mutinous younger brother. In spite of the new and seriousthought that now occupied her mind, this one was also sufficientlynovel to compel her attention. It both amused and fascinated her. Herewas at last one man who was working to help her father, and not onlyin order to find favor in her bright eyes. He needed her wits and hercourage; he wanted her help, but he wanted it as from a comrade, as hewould have asked it of another man. Unconsciously he was paying herthe compliment that best pleased her. When she nodded in assent shelaughed delightedly, partly at him for bullying, partly at herselfthat she should for a moment have resented it. 

"I am helping _you_!" she said. 

Not understanding why she laughed, Roddy regarded her doubtfully. 

Imitating the directness of his manner, Inez spoke quickly. "You cankeep the pony. It is new to our stable and not known to belong to us. To-morrow morning, before sunrise, ride out again, but this time takethe road to Otrabanda and along the cliff. Be sure to pass our housebefore sunrise. Ride about a mile and turn down a bridle-path to yourleft. That will bring you to the beach. If I cannot go, Pedro willmeet you. You will get the history my father wrote at Belancourts, inWillemstad. " For a moment she regarded him with friendly eyes. "Ifyou should be right, " she exclaimed, "how can I ever thank you?"

Roddy smiled back at her and shook his head. 

"I don't know that we were exactly looking for gratitude, " he said. "Now, go!" he ordered, "for I can't leave until you are well out ofsight. "

With another delightful laugh, that to Roddy was again inexplicable, the girl accepted her dismissal. It was her first rendezvous, but, inspite of her inexperience, she knew that had it been made with aVenezuelan the man would not have been the one first to bring it to anend. 

Roddy impatiently waited until a quarter of an hour had passed, thengalloped to Willemstad. On the way he put up the pony at alivery-stable in the suburbs, and on foot made his way as quickly aspossible to the bookstore. What he wanted, he explained, wereguidebooks and histories of Venezuela. Among those the man showed himwas one in three volumes, in Spanish, by Señor Don Miguel Rojas. Roddy's fingers itched to open it, but he restrained himself and, after buying half a dozen other books, returned to his hotel. Peterwas still asleep, and he could not wait to waken him. Locking himselfin, he threw the books he did not want upon the floor, and, withfingers that were all thumbs, fumbled at the first volume of thehistory until he had found page fifty-four. His eyes ran down it tothe fourth paragraph. His knowledge of Spanish was slight, but it wassufficient. Page fifty-four was the description of an attack from thesea by Drake, upon the Fortress of San Carlos. Translated by Roddy, paragraph four read as follows: "Seeing that it was no longer possibleto hold the fortress, the defenders were assembled in the guard-room, and from there conducted to the mainland, through the tunnel thatconnects San Carlos with the Fortress of El Morro. "

Like a man in a trance, Roddy walked to the adjoining room and shookthe sleeping Peter by the shoulder. Peter opened his eyes, and thelook in Roddy's face startled him into instant wakefulness. 

"What's wrong?" he demanded. 

"Nothing!" said Roddy. Forgetting that to Peter it was unintelligible, he pointed with a triumphant finger at paragraph four. 

"I have found an underground passage into the cell of General Rojas, "he said. "We must go back and dig him out. "

In order to avoid the heat, those planters who lived some distancefrom Willemstad were in the habit of rising by candlelight, and whenthe sun rose it found them well advanced upon their journey. So whenon the following morning Roddy again set forth to meet Inez Rojas, the few servants who knew of his early departure accepted it, and theexcuse he gave of wild-pigeon shooting, as a matter of course. 

Without difficulty Roddy found the bridle-path leading down from thecliff road to the sea, and after riding for a short distance along thebeach came upon Inez, guarded by the faithful Pedro. The cliff, hollowed at its base by the sea, hung over them, hiding them from anyone on the cliff road, and the waves, breaking into spray on an outerbarrier of rock, shut them from the sight of those at sea. 

As Inez rose from the rock on which she had been seated and cameeagerly to meet him, her face was radiant with happiness. Over nightshe appeared to have gained in health and strength, to have grownyounger, and, were it possible, more beautiful. The satisfaction inthe eyes of Roddy assured her that he, also, had solved the riddle. 

"You have seen the book, " she called; "you understand?"

"I think so, " replied Roddy. "Anyway, I've got a sort of blueprintidea of it. Enough, " he added, "to work on. "

"I didn't tell my mother, " Inez announced. "Nor, " she continued, asthough defying her own misgivings, "do I mean to tell her. Until youcan get back word to me, until you say that _this_ time you believe wemay hope, it seems to me it would be kinder to keep her in ignorance. But I told Pedro, " she added. She flashed a grateful smile at the oldman, and he bowed and smiled eagerly in return. "And he has been ableto help me greatly. He tells me, " she went on, "that his father, whowas in the artillery, was often stationed at Morro before it wasabandoned. That was fifty years ago. The tunnel was then used dailyand every one knew of it. But when the troops were withdrawn fromMorro the passage was walled up and each end blocked with stone. InSan Carlos it opened into the guard-room. El Morro was hardly afortress. It was more of a signal-station. Originally, in the days ofthe pirates, it was used as a lookout. Only a few men were kept onguard there, and only by day. They slept and messed at San Carlos. Each morning they were assembled in the guard-room, and from theremarched through the tunnel to El Morro, returning again at sunset. "

"I don't know El Morro, " said Roddy. 

"You have probably seen it, " Inez explained, "without knowing it was afort. It's in ruins now. Have you noticed, " she asked, "to the rightof the town, a little hill that overlooks the harbor? It is justabove the plain where the cattle are corralled until they are shippedto Cuba. Well, the ruins of El Morro are on top of that hill. It isabout a quarter of a mile from San Carlos, so we know that is thelength of the tunnel. Pedro tells me, for a part of the way it runsunder the water of the harbor. It was cut through the solid rock bythe prisoners at San Carlos. "

"There must be a lot of people, " objected Roddy, "who know of it. "

"Fifty years ago they knew of it, " returned Inez eagerly, "but, remember, for half a century it has virtually ceased to exist. Andbesides, to my people there is nothing unusual in such a tunnel. Youwill find them connected with every fort the Spaniards built alongthis coast, and in Cuba, and on the Isthmus of Panama. All along theSpanish Main, wherever there is more than one fort, you will find themlinked together by tunnels. They were intended to protect the soldiersfrom the fire of the enemy while they were passing from one positionto another. "

The young people had been standing ankle-deep in the soft, moist sand. Now the girl moved toward her pony, but Roddy still stood looking outto sea. He appeared to have entirely forgotten that Inez was present, and to be intently regarding the waves that surged against the rocks, and burst into glittering walls of foam. At last, with a seriouscountenance, he came toward her. 

"I shall tell the authorities at Porto Cabello, " he said, "that theyought to build a light-house on El Morro. At any rate, I will askpermission to make a survey. As they don't intend to pay father forany of his light-houses, they are not likely to object. And as I don'tintend to build one, father can't object. He will attribute my offerto mistaken zeal on behalf of the company. And he will consider itanother evidence of the fact that I don't understand his business. Assoon as I find out anything definite I will let you know. And, by theway, " he asked, "_how_ am I to let you know?"

Inez gave him the address of a fellow-exile from Venezuela, living inWillemstad, who was in secret communication with Pedro. Through thisman letters would reach her safely. 

She turned to him in farewell, and held out her hand. 

"You must be very careful, " she said. 

"Trust me!" answered Roddy heartily. "I promise you I'll be asmysterious a double-dealer as any Venezuelan that ever plotted a plot. I admit, " he went on, "that when I came down here I was the frank, wide-eyed child, but, I assure you, I've reformed. Your people havemade me a real Metternich, a genuine Machiavelli. Compared to me now, a Japanese business man is as honest and truth-loving as Mrs. Wiggs ofthe Cabbage Patch. "

With a grin, Roddy invited the girl to sympathize with his effort toconceal the seriousness of their undertaking, but she regarded himdoubtfully, and frowned. In his heart Roddy felt sorry for her. Ithurt him to think that any one so charming could not accept histheory, that the only way to treat a serious matter was withflippancy. But the girl undeceived him. 

"You don't understand me, " she said quietly. "I didn't mean to becareful to protect our interests. I meant you to be careful ofyourself. If anything were to happen to you through this--" Shehesitated and looked away from him toward the sea. "Do you imagine, "she demanded, "that it is easy for me to ask what I am asking of you?_I_ know I have no right to do it. I know the only possible excuse forme is that I am not asking it for myself, but for my father--although, of course, that _is_ asking it for myself. "

"Beauty in distress, " began Roddy briskly, "is the one thing----"

"That's what I mean, " interrupted the girl gratefully, "the way youtake it, the way you make it easier for me. Every other man I knowdown here would tell me he was doing it only for me, and he would hopeI would believe him. But when _you_ say you are helping beauty indistress, you are secretly frightened lest I may not have a sense ofhumor--and believe you. I know you are doing this because you feeldeeply for my father. If I didn't know that, if I didn't feel thatthat were true, all this I have asked of you would be impossible. Butit is possible, because I know you first tried to save my father ofyour own accord. Because I know now that it is your nature to wish tohelp others. Because you are brave, and you are generous. "

But Roddy refused to be ennobled. 

"It's because I'm a White Mice, " he said. "My oath compels me! Howwould you like, " he demanded, frowning, "if we turned you into anHonorary White Mouse?"

For an instant, with perplexed eyes and levelled brows, the girlregarded him fixedly. Then she smiled upon him. It was the sameflashing, blinding smile which the morning before had betrayed himinto her hands, bound and captive. It was a smile that passed swiftly, like a flash of sunshine over a garden of gay flowers. It brought outunsuspected, ambushed dimples. It did fascinating and whollyindefensible things to her lips. It filled her eyes with gracious, beautiful meanings. Inez raised her head challengingly. 

"You think, " she declared, "that I cannot be foolish, too. But I can. Let's sit down here on this rock and be quite foolish. "

V

"I can be quite as foolish as you, " Inez repeated as Roddy continuedto regard her. "Some day, when this is over, when you have made it allcome right, we will sit out here and pretend that we have escaped fromVenezuela, that we are up North in my mother's country--in yourcountry. We will play these are the rocks at York Harbor, and we'll bequite young and quite happy. Have you ever sat on the rocks at YorkHarbor, " she demanded eagerly, "when the spray splashed you, and thewaves tried to catch your feet?"

Roddy was regarding her in open suspicion. He retreated warily. 

"York Harbor!" he murmured. "I discovered it! It is named after me. But you! I never imagined you'd been there, and I never imagined youcould be anything but serious, either. It makes you quite dangerous. "

"Dangerous?" murmured the girl. 

"One is dangerous, " said Roddy, "when one is completely charming. "

The girl frowned, and her shoulders moved slightly. "You speak, " shesaid, "like a Venezuelan. "

But Roddy was in no mood to accept reproof. 

"I told you, " he said, "I admire the fools who rush in where angelsfear to tread. There is another man I admire equally, 'the man whoruns away. ' It takes great courage to run away. I must do it now. "

He retreated from her. His eyes were filled with a sudden, deepdelight in her, and a growing wonder. The girl regarded him steadily. 

"Come here, " she commanded, "and say 'Good-by' to me. "

Roddy took the slim, gauntleted hand stretched out to him, and for aninstant the girl held his hand firmly, and then nodded. The smile thistime was very near to tears. 

"What you are going to do, " she said, "is the dangerous thing. Youdon't know how dangerous. If I should not see you again----"

Roddy looked down into her eyes, and laughed from utter happiness. 

"You will see _me_ again, " he said. 

His tone gave to the words a meaning which the girl entirelydisregarded. 

"You will remember, " she went on, as though he had not spoken, "thatwe--that I am grateful. "

Roddy turned and smiled out at the sunlit sea. 

"You have given me, " he answered, "other things to remember. "

He pulled off his sombrero and took the gauntleted hand in both ofhis. He bowed over it and brushed it with his lips. The girl stillregarded him steadily, questioningly. 

"Good-by, " faltered Roddy. 

His eyes sought hers wistfully, appealingly, with all that he feltshowing in them. But her own told him nothing. Roddy released her handwith an effort, as though it were bound to his with manacles. 

"Now I know, " he said gently, "why I came to Venezuela. "

The girl made no answer, and silently Roddy mounted and rode away. When he had reached the place where the rocks would hide her fromsight he glanced back. He saw Inez standing beside her pony, leaningwith her arms across the saddle, looking after him. Then, as he wavedhis hand, she raised hers with a gesture that seemed to Roddy partly afarewell, partly a benediction. 

The stable at which Roddy had told Pedro he would leave the pony wasfar in the suburbs, and by the time he had walked to Willemstad themorning was well advanced. 

[Illustration: "Now I know why I came to Venezuela!"]

As he approached the quay he recognized that in his absence some eventof unusual interest had claimed the attention of the people. Everywhere men were gathered in little groups, gesticulating, laughing, frowning importantly, and at the hotel Roddy was surprisedto see, on the balcony leading from his room, Peter and the AmericanConsul. The sight of him apparently afforded them great satisfaction, and they waved and beckoned to him frantically. Ignoring their lastmeeting, the Consul greeted Roddy as though he were an old friend. 

"Have you heard the news?" he demanded. "It is of great localinterest, and it should interest you. Last night, " he explained, "President Alvarez declared an amnesty for his political opponentsliving in foreign countries. All exiles may now return to theirhomes. "

He pointed at the small passenger steamer lying at the quay directlybelow the window. The _Blue Peter_ was at the fore, and her deck wascrowded with excited, jubilant Venezuelans. 

"You see, " explained Captain Codman, "they have lost no time. "

In a tone that precluded the possibility of discussion, Peter brisklyadded: "And _we_ are going with them. I have packed your bag and paidthe bill. We sail in an hour. "

The news of the amnesty bewildered Roddy. The wonderful possibilitiesit so suddenly presented thrilled him. They were so important thatwith difficulty he made his voice appear only politely interested. 

"And Señora Rojas?" he asked. 

"I regret to say, " answered Captain Codman, "she decides to takeadvantage of the amnesty. As soon as she can arrange her affairs hereshe will return to Miramar, her home in Porto Cabello. "

To Miramar! Roddy turned suddenly to the window, and with unseeingeyes stared at the busy harbor. By sight he knew the former home ofthe Rojas family. In his walks he had often passed before itsyellow-pillared front and windows barred with intricate screens ofwrought iron. Through the great gates that had hung before Miramarsince it had been the palace of the Spanish Governor-General, andthrough which four horses could pass abreast, he had peered at thebeautiful gardens. He had wondered at the moss-covered statues, at theorchids on the flamboyant trees, with their flowers of scarlet, at therare plants, now neglected and trailing riotously across the paths, choked with unkempt weeds. Not an hour before, when he had parted fromInez, he had determined to make sentimental journeys to that samehouse. For she had walked in those gardens, it was through those gatesshe had swept in her carriage to take the air in the Plaza; at night, when she slept, some high-ceilinged, iron-barred room of that househad sheltered her. He had pictured himself prowling outside the emptymansion and uncared-for garden, thinking of the exile, keeping vigilin the shadow of her home, freshly resolving to win back her father tohealth and freedom. 

And now, by a scratch of the pen, the best that could happen had cometo him. The house would waken to life. Instead of only the fragranceclinging to the vase, the rose itself would bloom again. Again Inezwould walk under the arch of royal palms, would drive in the Alameda, would kneel at Mass in the cool, dark church, while, hidden in theshadows, he could stand and watch her. And though, if he hoped to saveher father, stealth and subterfuge would still be necessary, he couldsee her, perhaps, speak to her; at least by the faithful Pedro hecould send her written words, flowers, foolish gifts, that were worthonly the meaning they carried with them. 

Feeling very much of a hypocrite, Roddy exclaimed fervently:

"How wonderful for Señora Rojas! To be near him again! Is she happy?Does it make it easier for her?"

With a disturbed countenance the Consul nodded gravely. 

"Yes, " he answered, "she welcomed the change. She believes it meansfor her husband better conditions. She hopes even for his pardon;but--" The Consul shook his head impatiently, and with pitying eyeslooked down upon the excited men on the steamer below them. 

"But what?" demanded Roddy. 

"I suspect every act of Alvarez, " the Consul explained. "This _looks_like the act of a generous opponent. But I cannot believe it is that. I believe he knows all that is being plotted against him. I believethis act of amnesty is only a device to put the plotters where he canget his hand on them. He is the spider inviting the flies into hisparlor. "

As the little steamer passed the harbor mouth and pushed her nosetoward Porto Cabello, Roddy, with Peter at his side, leaned upon thestarboard rail. Roddy had assured Inez that Peter must be given theirfull confidence, and he now only waited a fitting moment to tell himof what had occurred that morning, in so far, at least, as it referredto the tunnel. 

The eyes of both were turned toward Casa Blanca, now rapidlyretreating from them. And, as they watched it, the mind of eachoccupied with thoughts of its inmates, they saw a white figure leavethe house, and, moving slowly, halt at the edge of the cliff. 

Roddy, his eyes straining toward the coast-line, took off his hat andstood with it clasped in his hands. Peter saw the movement, and tohide a smile of sympathy, looked down at the white foam rushing belowthem. 

"Roddy, " he asked, "what sort of a girl is Inez Rojas?"

His eyes still seeking the figure on the rocks, and without turninghis head, Roddy answered with startling directness:

"What sort of a girl?" he growled. "The sort of a girl _I_ am going tomarry!"

More moved than he knew, and thinking himself secure in the excitedbabel about him and in the fact that the others spoke in Spanish, Roddy had raised his voice. He was not conscious he had done so until, as he spoke, he saw a man leaning on the rail with his back towardhim, give an involuntary start. Furious with himself, Roddy bit hislip, and with impatience waited for the man to disclose himself. For amoment the stranger remained motionless, and then, obviously to findout who had spoken, slowly turned his head. Roddy found himselflooking into the glowing, angry eyes of Pino Vega. Of the two men, Roddy was the first to recover. With eagerness he greeted theVenezuelan; with enthusiasm he expressed his pleasure at finding himamong his fellow-passengers, he rejoiced that Colonel Vega no longerwas an exile. The Venezuelan, who had approached trembling withresentment, sulkily murmured his thanks. With a hope that sounded morelike a threat that they would soon meet again, he begged to be allowedto rejoin his friends. 

"Now you've done it!" whispered Peter cheerily. "And he won't let itrest there, either. "

"Don't you suppose I know that better than you do, " returned Roddymiserably. He beat the rail with his fist. "It should not havehappened in a thousand years, " he wailed. "He must not know I haveever even seen her. "

"He _does_ know, " objected Peter, coming briskly to the point. "Whatare you going to do?"

"Lie to him, " said Roddy. "He is an old friend of the family. She toldme so herself. She thought even of appealing to him before sheappealed to us. If he finds out I have met her alone at daybreak, Ihave either got to tell him why we met and what we are trying to do, or he'll believe, in his nasty, suspicious, Spanish-American way, thatI am in love with her, and that she came there to let me tell her so. "

Roddy turned on Peter savagely. 

"_Why_ didn't you stop me?" he cried. 

"Stop _you_--talking too much?" gasped Peter. "Is that my position? Ifit is, I resign. "

The moon that night threw black shadows of shrouds, and ratlinesacross a deck that was washed by its radiance as white as abread-board. In the social hall, the happy exiles were rejoicingnoisily, but Roddy stood apart, far forward, looking over the ship'sside and considering bitterly the mistake of the morning. Hismelancholy self-upbraidings were interrupted by a light, alert step, and Pino Vega, now at ease, gracious and on guard, stood bowing beforehim. 

"I do not intrude?" he asked. 

Roddy, at once equally on guard, bade him welcome. 

"I have sought you out, " said the Venezuelan pleasantly, "because Iwould desire a little talk with you. I believe we have friends incommon. "

"It is possible, " said Roddy. "I have been in Porto Cabello about fourmonths now. "

"It was not of Porto Cabello that I spoke, " continued Vega, "but ofCuraçao. " He looked into Roddy's eyes suddenly and warily, as aswordsman holds the eyes of his opponent. "I did not understand, " hesaid, "that you knew the Rojas family?"

"I do not know them, " answered Roddy. 

Vega turned his back to the moon, so that his face was in shadow. Withan impatient gesture he flicked his cigarette into the sea. As thoughhe found Roddy's answer unsatisfactory, he paused. He appeared to wishthat Roddy should have a chance to reconsider it. As the Americanremained silent, Vega continued, but his tone now was openly hostile. 

"I have been Chief of Staff to General Rojas for years, " he said. "Ihave the honor to know his family well. Señora Rojas treats me as shedid her son, who was my dearest friend. I tell you this to explain whyI speak of a matter which you may think does not concern me. Thismorning, entirely against my will, I overheard you speaking to yourfriend. He asked you of a certain lady. You answered boldly youintended to marry her. " Vega's voice shook slightly, and he paused tocontrol it. "Now, you inform me that you are not acquainted with theRojas family. What am I to believe?"

"I am glad you spoke of that, " said Roddy heartily. "I saw that youoverheard us, and I was afraid you'd misunderstand me----"

The Venezuelan interrupted sharply. 

"I am well acquainted with your language!"

"You speak it perfectly, " Roddy returned, "but you did not understandit as I spoke it. The young lady is well known in Willemstad. OurConsul, as you are aware, is her friend. He admires her greatly. Hetold me that she is half American. She has been educated like anAmerican girl, she rides, she plays tennis. What my friend said to mewas, 'What sort of a girl is Señorita Rojas?' and I answered, 'She isthe sort of girl I am going to marry, ' meaning she is like the girlsin my own country, one of our own people, like one of the women I someday hope to marry. "

Roddy smiled and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Now do you understand?" he asked. 

The Venezuelan gave no answering smile. His eyes shone with suspicion. Roddy recognized that between his desire to believe and some fact thatkept him from believing, the man was acutely suffering. 

"Tell me, in a word, " demanded Vega sharply, "give me your word you donot know her. "

"I don't see, " said Roddy, "that this is any of your damned business!"

The face of Vega checked him. At his refusal to answer, Roddy saw thelook of jealousy that came into the man's eyes and the torment itbrought with it. He felt a sudden pity for him, a certain respect asfor a fellow-sufferer. He himself had met Inez Rojas but twice, but, as he had told her, he knew now why he had come to Venezuela. Thisolder man had known Inez for years, and to Roddy, arguing from his ownstate of mind regarding her, the fact was evidence enough that Vegamust love her also. He began again, but now quietly, as he would arguewith a child. 

"I see no reason for making any mystery of it, " he said. "I did meetMiss Rojas. But I can't say I know her. I met her when she was outriding with her groom. I thought she was an American. She needed somehelp, which I was able to give her. That is all. "

Vega approached Roddy, leaning forward as though he were about tospring on him. His eyes were close to Roddy's face. 

"And what was the nature of this help?" he demanded. 

"You are impertinent, " said Roddy. 

"Answer me!" cried the Venezuelan. "I have the right. No one has abetter right. "

He flung up his right arm dramatically, and held it tense andtrembling, as though it were poised to hurl a weapon. 

"You were watched!" he cried hysterically. "I _know_ that you met. Andyou tried to deceive me. Both of you. She will try, also----"

The moonlight disappeared before the eyes of Colonel Vega, and whenagain he opened them he was looking dizzily up at the swaying mastsand yards. Roddy, with his hand at Vega's throat, was forcing hisshoulders back against the rail. His free hand, rigid and heavy as ahammer, swung above the Venezuelan's face. 

"Yesterday, " panted Roddy, "I saved your life. If you insult that girlwith your dirty, Latin mind, so help me--I will _take_ it!"

He flung the man from him, but Vega, choking with pain andmortification, staggered forward. 

"It is _you_ who insult her, " he shrieked. "It is I who protect her. Do you know _why_? Do you know what she is to me? She is my promisedwife!"

For a moment the two men stood, swaying with the gentle roll of theship, staring into each other's eyes. Above the sound of the wind inthe cordage and the whisper of the water against the ship's side, Roddy could hear himself breathing in slow, heavy respirations. Notfor an instant did he doubt that the man told the truth. Vega hadspoken with a conviction that was only too genuine, and his statement, while it could not justify, seemed to explain his recent, suddenhostility. With a sharp effort, Roddy recovered himself. He saw thatno matter how deeply the announcement might affect him, Vega mustbelieve that to the American it was a matter of no possibleconsequence. 

"You should have told me this at first, " he said quietly. "I thoughtyour questions were merely impertinent. "

Roddy hesitated. The interview had become poignantly distasteful tohim. He wished to get away; to be alone. He was conscious that apossibility had passed out of his life, the thought of which had beenvery dear to him. He wanted to think, to plan against this newcondition. In discussing Inez with this man, in this way, he felt hewas degrading her and his regard for her. But he felt also that forher immediate protection he must find out what Vega knew and what hesuspected. With the purpose of goading him into making somedisclosure, Roddy continued insolently:

"And I still think they are impertinent. "

Roddy's indignation rose and got the upper hand. He cast cautionaside. 

"With us, " he continued, "when a woman promises to marry a man--hedoes not spy on her. "

"We spied on _you_, " protested Vega. "We did not think it would leadus to----"

Roddy cut him off with a sharp cry of warning. 

"Be careful!" he challenged. 

"You met in the road----"

"So I told you, " returned Roddy. 

"You dismounted and talked with her. "

Roddy laughed, and with a gesture of impatience motioned Vega to besilent. 

"Is that all?" he demanded. 

The Venezuelan saw the figure he presented. Back of him were hundredsof years of Spanish traditions, in his veins was the blood ofgenerations of ancestors by nature suspicious, doubting, jealous. Fromtheir viewpoint he was within his rights; they applauded, they gavehim countenance; but by the frank contempt of the young man before himhis self-respect was being rudely handled. Not even to himself couldhe justify his attitude. 

"In my country, " he protested, "according to our customs, it wasenough. "

The answer satisfied and relieved Roddy. It told him all he wished toknow. It was now evident that Vega's agent had seen only the firstmeeting, that he was not aware that Inez followed after Roddy, orthat the next morning by the seashore they had again met. The Americanbrought the interview to an abrupt finish. 

"I refuse, " said Roddy loftily, "to discuss this matter with youfurther. If the mother of Señorita Rojas wishes it, I shall be happyto answer any questions she may ask. I have done nothing that requiresexplanation or apology. I am responsible to no one. Good-night. "

"Wait!" commanded Vega. "You will find that here you cannot so easilyavoid responsibilities. You have struck me. Well, we have othercustoms, which gentlemen----"

"I am entirely at your service, " said Roddy. He made as magnificent abow as though he himself had descended from a line of Spanishgrandees. Vega's eyes lit with pleasure. He was now playing a part inwhich he felt assured he appeared to advantage. He almost was gratefulto Roddy for permitting him to reëstablish himself in his own esteem. 

"My friends shall wait upon you, " he said. 

"Whenever you like, " Roddy answered. He started up the deck andreturned again to Vega. "Understand me, " he whispered, "as long as I'menjoying the hospitality of your country I accept the customs of yourcountry. If you'd made such a proposition to me in New York I'd havelaughed at you. " Roddy came close to Vega and emphasized his wordswith a pointed finger. "And understand _this_! We have quarrelled overpolitics. You made an offensive remark about Alvarez; I defended himand struck you. You now demand satisfaction. That is what happened. And if you drag the name of any woman into this I won't give yousatisfaction. I will give you a thrashing until you can't stand orsee. "

Roddy found Peter in the smoking-room, and beckoning him on deck, toldhim what he had done. 

"You're a nice White Mouse!" cried Peter indignantly. "You're notsupposed to go about killing people; you're supposed to save lives. "

"No one is ever killed in a duel, " said Roddy; "I'll fire in the air, and he will probably miss me. I certainly hope so. But there will beone good result. It will show Alvarez that I'm not a friend of Vega's, nor helping him in his revolution. "

"You don't have to shoot a man to show you're not a friend of his, "protested Peter. 

They were interrupted by the hasty approach of Vega's chief advisersand nearest friends, General Pulido and Colonel Ramon. 

"Pino seems in a hurry, " said Roddy. "I had no idea he was sobloodthirsty. "

"Colonel Vega, " began Pulido abruptly, "has just informed us of theunfortunate incident. We have come to tell you that no duel can takeplace. It is monstrous. The life of Colonel Vega does not belong tohim, it belongs to the Cause. We will not permit him to risk itneedlessly. You, of all people, should see that. You must apologize. "

The demand, and the peremptory tone in which it was delivered, causedthe fighting blood of Roddy's Irish grandfathers to bubble in hisveins. 

"'Must' and 'apologize!'" protested Roddy, in icy tones; "Those aredifficult words, gentlemen. "

"Consider, " cried Pulido, "what great events hang upon the life ofColonel Vega. "

"My own life is extremely interesting to me, " said Roddy. "But I havedone nothing which needs apology. "

Colonel Ramon now interrupted anxiously. 

"You risked your life for Pino. Why now do you wish to take it? Thinkof his importance to Venezuela, of the happiness he will bring hiscountry, and think what his loss would mean to your own father. "

"My father!" exclaimed Roddy. "What has my father to do with this?"

The two Venezuelans looked at each other in bewilderment, and thenback at Roddy sternly and suspiciously. 

"Are you jesting?" demanded General Pulido. 

"Never been more serious in my life, " said Roddy. 

The two officers searched his face eagerly. 

"It is as Pino says, " exclaimed Pulido, with sudden enlightenment. "Heis telling the truth!"

"Of course I'm telling the truth!" cried Roddy fiercely. "Are youlooking for a duel, too?"

"Tell him!" cried Pulido. 

"But Mr. Forrester's orders!" protested Colonel Ramon. 

"He is more dangerous, " declared Pulido, "knowing nothing, than hewould be if he understood. "

He cast a rapid glance about him. With a scowl, his eyes finallyrested upon Peter. 

"I'll be within knockout distance if you want me, " said that young manto Roddy, and moved to the rail opposite. 

When he had gone, Pulido bent eagerly forward. 

"Do you not know, " he demanded, "what it is your father is doing inour country?"

Roddy burst forth impatiently, "No!" he protested. "And I seem to bethe only man in the country who doesn't. "

The two officers crowded close to him. In sepulchral tones, Pulidoexclaimed dramatically. He spoke as though he were initiating Roddyinto a secret order. 

"Then understand, " he whispered, "that your father supports Pino Vegawith five million bolivars; that Vega, whose life you are seeking, isthe man your father means to make President of Venezuela. Now do youunderstand?"

For a long time Roddy remained silent. Then he exclaimed in tones ofextreme exasperation:

"I understand, " he said, "that, if my father had given me histelephone number, he would have saved me a lot of trouble. No wondereverybody suspects me. "

"And now, " declared Pulido anxiously, "you are one of _us_!"

"I am nothing of the sort, " snapped Roddy. "If my father does not wishto tell me his plans I can't take advantage of what I learn of themfrom strangers. I shall go on, " he continued with suspicious meekness, "with the work Father has sent me here to do. Who am I, that I shouldpush myself into the politics of your great country?"

"And the duel?" demanded Pulido. 

"I am sure, " hastily interjected Colonel Ramon, "if Colonel Vegawithdraws his offensive remark about President Alvarez, Mr. Forresterwill withdraw his blow. "

Roddy failed to see how a blow that had left a raw spot on the chin ofPino Vega could by mutual agreement be made to vanish. But if to theminds of the Spanish-Americans such a miracle were possible, it seemedungracious not to consent to it. 

"If I understand you, " asked Roddy, "Colonel Vega withdraws hisoffensive remark?"

The seconds of Pino Vega nodded vigorously. 

"Then, " continued Roddy, "as there was no offensive remark, therecould have been no blow, and there can be no duel. "

Roddy's summing up delighted the Venezuelans, and declaring that thehonor of all was satisfied, they bowed themselves away. 

Next morning at daybreak the fortress of San Carlos rose upon thehorizon, and by ten o'clock Roddy was again at work, threatening agang of Jamaica coolies. But no longer he swore at them with hisformer wholeheartedness. His mind was occupied with other things. Now, between him and his work, came thoughts of the tunnel that for half acentury had lain hidden from the sight of man; and of Inez, elusive, beautiful, distracting, now galloping recklessly toward him down asunlit road, now a motionless statue standing on a white cliff, withthe waves of the Caribbean bending and bowing before her. 

With the return of the exiles to Porto Cabello, that picturesqueseaport became a place of gay reunions, of banquets, of welcome andrejoicing. The cafés again sprang to life. The Alameda was crowdedwith loitering figures and smart carriages, whilst the vigilance andactivity of the government secret police increased. Roddy foundhimself an object of universal interest. As the son of his father, andas one who had prevented the assassination of Pino Vega, the membersof the government party suspected him. While the fact that in defenseof Alvarez he had quarrelled with Vega puzzled them greatly. 

"If I can't persuade them I am with the government, " said Roddy, "Ican at least keep them guessing. "

A week passed before Peter and Roddy were able, without arousingsuspicion, and without being followed, to visit El Morro. Theyapproached it apparently by accident, at the end of a long walkthrough the suburbs, and so timed their progress that, just as the sunset, they reached the base of the hill on which the fortress stood. They found that on one side the hill sloped gently toward the city, and on the other toward the sea. The face toward the city, except forsome venturesome goats grazing on its scant herbage, was bare anddeserted. The side that sloped to the sea was closely overgrown withhardy mesquite bushes and wild laurel, which would effectually concealany one approaching from that direction. What had been the fortresswas now only a broken wall, a few feet in height. It was covered withmoss, and hidden by naked bushes with bristling thorns. Inside thecircumference of the wall was a broken pavement of flat stones. Between these, trailing vines had forced their way, their rootscreeping like snakes over the stones and through their interstices, while giant, ill-smelling weeds had turned the once open court-yardinto a maze. These weeds were sufficiently high to conceal any one whodid not walk upright, and while Peter kept watch outside the walledring, Roddy, on his hands and knees, forced his way painfully fromstone to stone. After a quarter of an hour of this slow progress hecame upon what once had been the mouth of the tunnel. It was anopening in the pavement corresponding to a trap in a roof, or to ahatch in the deck of a ship. The combings were of stone, and werestill intact, as were also the upper stones of a flight of steps thatled down to the tunnel. But below the level of the upper steps, blocking further descent, were two great slabs of stone. They wereburied deep in a bed of cement, and riveted together and to the wallsof the tunnel by bands of iron. Roddy signalled for Peter to join him, and in dismay they gazed at the formidable mass of rusty iron, cementand stone. 

"We might as well try to break into the Rock of Gibraltar!" gaspedPeter. 

"Don't think of the difficulties, " begged Roddy. "Think that on theother side of that barrier an old man is slowly dying. I admit it'sgoing to be a tough job. It will take months. But whatever a man hasput together, a man can pull to pieces. "

"I also try to see the bright side of life, " returned Peter coldly, "but I can't resist pointing out that the other end of your tunnelopens into a prison. Breaking into a bank I can understand, butbreaking into a prison seems almost like looking for trouble. "

The dinner that followed under the stars in their own court-yard didmuch to dispel Peter's misgivings, and by midnight, so assured was heof their final success, that he declared it now was time that GeneralRojas should share in their confidence. 

"To a man placed as he is, " he argued, "hope is everything; hope ishealth, life. He must know that his message has reached the outside. He must feel that some one is working toward him. He is the entombedminer, and, to keep heart in him, we must let him hear the picks ofthe rescuing party. "

"Fine!" cried Roddy, "I am for that, too. I'll get my friend Vicenti, the prison doctor, to show you over the fortress to-morrow. And we'lltry to think of some way to give Rojas warning. "

They at once departed for the café of the _Dos Hermanos_, where thegay youth of Porto Cabello were wont to congregate, and where theyfound the doctor. During the evening he had been lucky at baccarat, and had been investing his winnings in sweet champagne. He was in agenial mood. He would be delighted to escort the friend of Señor Roddyover the fortress, or to any other of the historical places ofinterest for which Porto Cabello was celebrated. 

"Where Alvarez punishes traitors, " exclaimed Roddy in a loud tone, "iswhat we most desire to see. And, " he added, scowling darkly throughthe smoke-laden café, "if we could see others who are still at libertyin the same place we would be better pleased. "

The remark, although directed at no one in particular, caused asensation, and led several of those who had been for two years inexile to hurriedly finish their chocolate ices and seek their homes. 

After making an appointment for the morrow with Doctor Vicenti, andwhen they were safe in their own _patio_, Peter protested mildly. 

"Your devotion to Alvarez, " he said, "is too sudden. You overdo it. Besides, it's making an expert liar of you. Don't get the habit. "

"As the son of the man who is trying to destroy Alvarez, " declaredRoddy, "my position is extremely delicate. And next week it will bemore so. McKildrick got a cable to-day saying that Sam Caldwell isarriving here by the next boat. His starting for Porto Cabello thevery moment Vega arrives here means trouble for Alvarez, and that thetrouble is coming soon. For, wherever you find Sam Caldwell, there youwill find plotting, bribery, and all uncleanliness. And if I'm to helpRojas out of prison I must have nothing to do with Sam. Alvarezrecognizes no neutrals. The man who is not with him is against him. SoI must be the friend of Alvarez and of his creatures. For publicoccasions, my hand must be against the F. C. C. , against Vega, andespecially against Sam Caldwell, because everybody knows he is thepersonal agent of my father. Vega's friends know that my father treatsme as though he could not trust me. The Alvarez crowd must know that, too. Even as it is, they think my being down here is a sort ofpunishment. None of them has ever worked in his life, and the idea ofa rich man's son sweating at a donkey-engine with a gang of Conchniggers, means to them only that my father and I have quarrelled. Itwill be my object hereafter to persuade them that that is so. If Ihave to act a bit, or lie a bit, what are a few lies against thefreedom of such a man as Rojas? So, to-morrow, if you should be solucky as to see Rojas, don't be a bit surprised if I should insultthat unhappy gentleman grossly. If I do, within an hour the fact willbe all over the cafés and the plazas, and with Alvarez it would becounted to me for righteousness. Much that I may have to do of thesame sort will make the gentlemen of Vega's party consider me anungrateful son, and very much of a blackguard. They may, in theirturn, insult me, and want to fight more duels. But it's all in thegame. To save that old man is my only object for living, my onlyinterest. I don't care how many revolutions I tread on. I wouldsacrifice everybody and everything--for him. "

After his long speech, Roddy drew a deep breath and glared at Peter asthough inviting contradiction. But, instead of contradicting him, Peter smiled skeptically and moved to his bedroom, which opened uponthe court-yard. At the door he turned. 

"'And the woman, '" he quoted, "'was very fair. '"

The next morning the two Americans met Doctor Vicenti in theguard-room of the fortress, and under his escort began a leisurelyinspection of the prison. They themselves saw to it that it wasleisurely, and by every device prolonged it. That their interest inthe one prisoner they had come to see might not be suspected, theypretended a great curiosity in the doctor's patients and in all theother prisoners. After each visit to a cell they would invite Vicentito give them the history of its inmate. They assured him these littlebiographies, as he related them, were of surpassing brilliancy andpathos. In consequence, Vicenti was so greatly flattered that, beforethey reached the cell of General Rojas, each succeeding narrative hadsteadily increased in length, and the young doctor had becomecommunicative and loquacious. 

When at last they had descended to the lowest tier of cells, Vicentipaused and pointed toward an iron-barred double door. 

"In there, " he whispered to Peter, "is our most distinguishedpolitical prisoner, General Rojas. There is no one Alvarez would sowillingly see dead. And, if he keeps him here a month longer, Alvarezwill have his wish. "

"But they say the man is a traitor, " protested Roddy. 

The doctor shrugged his shoulders. 

"In my country, " he answered, "every man who is not for the governmentis a traitor. "

He directed the turnkey who accompanied them to unlock the gate of thecell, and with a gesture invited the Americans to enter. As they didso, each dropped his right hand into his outside coat pocket. When itcame forth again, concealed under each little finger was a tiny rollof rice-paper torn from a book of cigarette-wrappers. On each, inpencil, was written, "54-4" and the word "Hope. " The night previousPeter and Roddy had prepared the papers, on the chance that while oneof them occupied the attention of the guide, the other could slip hismessage to Rojas. Roddy had insisted upon the use of rice-paper, because it could be swallowed without indigestion, and instead of theword "Hope, " had preferred a freehand drawing of an anchor, arguingthat the anchor was the emblem of hope, and was more picturesque thanthe written word. To this Peter had objected that while they knew ananchor signified hope, Rojas might not, and as they were risking theirlives to get a message to him, it was important he should understandit. They compromised on the numerals, which would show Rojas his owncipher messages had been received and understood, and the word "Hope"was added to put heart into him and strengthen his desire to cling tolife. 

But on entering the cell they saw at once that there would be nochance to deliver their message. General Rojas was seated at a tablesome ten feet from them, and the turnkey, who had submitted with illgrace to the Americans entering any of the cells, and who seemedespecially to resent their presence in this one, at once placedhimself aggressively on guard. 

As he did so he commanded sharply: "The visitors will not speak to theprisoner. "

"That is understood, " Vicenti answered. 

The Americans saw a room some forty by twenty feet in size, withwalls, arched ceiling and floor entirely of stone. There were nowindows, but it was well lighted by candles, and the lanterns carriedby Vicenti and the turnkey threw a full light into each corner. Theysaw a cot, a table, a chair, a number of shelves loaded to the bendingpoint with books and, at one end of the cell, an immense archway. Thisarchway had been blocked with stone, roughly hewn and held together bycement. At the first glance, it was obvious that this was the otherentrance to the tunnel. As he beheld its solid front, the heart ofeach of the young men sank in dismay. 

General Rojas had risen, and stood shading his eyes from theunaccustomed light of the lanterns. 

"I have taken the liberty of intruding upon you, " Vicenti was saying, "because these two gentlemen are interested in the history of thefortress. "

General Rojas bowed gravely, and with a deprecatory gesture, glancedat the turnkey, as though to explain why he did not address them. 

"This part of the fortress, " Vicenti began hurriedly, "is very old. Itwas built in the sixteenth century, and was, I think, originally themessroom. It is now used only for the most important politicalprisoners. "

For an instant there was an awkward silence, and then Roddy broke itwith a laugh, short and contemptuous. 

"You mean traitors, " he sneered. 

General Rojas straightened as suddenly as though Roddy had struck athim. The young doctor was no less moved. He turned on the Americanwith an exclamation of indignation. 

"You forget yourself, sir!" he said. 

Though Peter had been warned that Roddy might try by insulting Rojasto make capital for himself, his insolence to a helpless old man wasunpardonable. He felt his cheeks burn with mortification. The turnkeyalone showed his pleasure, and grinned appreciatively. Roddy himselfwas entirely unashamed. 

"I have no sympathy for such men!" he continued defiantly. "A murderertakes only human life; a traitor would take the life of his country. In the States, " he cried hotly, "we make short work with traitors. Wehang them!"

He wheeled furiously on Peter, as though Peter had contradicted him. 

"I say we do, " he exclaimed. "It's in the Constitution. It's the law. You've read it yourself. It's page fifty-four, paragraph four, of theConstitution of the United States. 'Punishment for Traitors. ' Pagefifty-four, paragraph four. "

Apparently with sudden remorse at his impetuosity, he turned to thedoctor. 

"I beg your pardon, " he exclaimed. "I _did_ forget myself. But to me, men like that are intolerable. "

Vicenti was not to be mollified. 

"Then you had better avoid their presence, " he said angrily. 

With an impatient gesture he motioned the two Americans into thecorridor, and in distress approached the prisoner. 

"I apologize, sir, " he said, "for having subjected you to such anincident. "

But General Rojas made no answer. To his surprise, Vicenti found thatthe old man was suffering from the scene even more keenly than he hadfeared. Like one suddenly bereft of strength, General Rojas had sunkinto his chair. His bloodless, delicate hands trembled upon the table. Great tears crept down his white, wrinkled face. In the two yearsthrough which the young doctor had watched his patient he had neverbefore seen in his eyes the strange, mad light that now shone there. To the medical man, it meant only that the end was nearer than he hadsupposed. Shocked and grieved, the doctor made a movement to withdraw. 

"I am deeply sorry, " he murmured. 

General Rojas raised his head. With an effort he drew over his faceits customary, deathlike mask. 

"It is nothing!" he exclaimed. "What is one more insult, what is onemore degradation, when I know that my end is near!" He raised hisvoice; it was strangely vigorous, youthful, jubilant; it carriedthrough the open bars to the far end of the corridor. "What doesanything matter, " he cried, "when I know--that the end is near!" Hishead sunk upon the table. To hide his tears, the General buried hisface in his hands. 

Outside, in the darkness, Peter clutched Roddy by the hand, and for aninstant crushed it in his own. 

"Do you hear?" he whispered. "He is answering you. "

"Yes, " stammered Roddy. The excitement or the dampness of the prisonhad set him shivering, and with the back of his hand he wiped the coldmoisture from his forehead. He laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, " heanswered, "he understood me. And now, we've _got_ to make good!"

That afternoon when the carriages of the aristocracy of Porto Cabellowere solemnly circling the Plaza, Roddy came upon McKildrick, seatedon one of the stone benches, observing the parade of local wealth andfashion with eyes that missed nothing and told nothing. McKildrick wasa fine type of the self-taught American. He possessed a thoroughknowledge of his profession, executive skill, the gift of handlingmen, and the added glory of having "worked his way up. " He was tall, lean, thin-lipped, between thirty and forty years of age. Duringbusiness hours he spoke only to give an order or to put a question. Out of working hours, in his manner to his assistants and workmen, hewas genially democratic. He had, apparently, a dread of being alone, and was seldom seen without one of the younger engineers at his elbow. With them he was considered a cynic, the reason given for his cynicismbeing that "the Chief" had tried to "take a fall out of matrimony, "and had come out of it a woman-hater. Officially he was Roddy'ssuperior, but it never was possible for any one in the pay of the F. C. C. To forget that Roddy was the son of his father. Even McKildrick, in certain ways, acknowledged it. One way was, in their leisuremoments, not to seek out Roddy, but to wait for the younger manto make advances. On this occasion, after for a brief momentcontemplating McKildrick severely, Roddy, with an impatientexclamation, as though dismissing doubts and misgivings, sat downbeside him. 

"McKildrick, " he began impetuously, "I want to ask you an impertinentquestion. It concerns your moral character. "

McKildrick grinned appreciatively. 

"We court investigation, " he said. 

"Under what pressure to the square inch, " demanded Roddy, "would asecret confided to you be liable to burst its boiler?"

"I've never, " returned the engineer, "had an accident of that kind. "

"Good!" exclaimed Roddy. "Then suppose I said to you, 'McKildrick, Iknow where there's buried treasure, but I don't know how to get itout. ' You _would_ know. Now, if I led you to the buried treasure, would you, as an expert engineer, tell me how to dig it out, and thencould you forget you'd given that advice and that you'd ever heard ofthe treasure?"

For a moment McKildrick considered this hypothetical case. Then heasked: "Which bank are you thinking of opening?"

Roddy rose abruptly. 

"I'll show you, " he exclaimed. 

That Roddy was acting, in spite of secret misgivings, was so evident, that McKildrick good-naturedly demurred. 

"Better not tell me anything, " he protested, "that you'll be sorry forwhen you're sober. "

Roddy shook his head, and, not until they had left the suburbs and thelast fisherman's hut behind them and were on the open coast, did heagain refer to the subject of their walk. Then he exclaimed suddenly;"And I forgot to mention that if Father finds out you advised me youwill probably lose your job. "

McKildrick halted in his tracks. 

"It's a pity, " he agreed, "that you forgot to mention that. As a rule, when I give expert advice I get a fat check for it. "

"And what's more, " continued Roddy, "if Alvarez finds it out you'll goto jail. "

"Your piquant narrative interests me strangely, " said McKildrick. "What else happens to me?"

"But, of course, " explained Roddy reassuringly, "you'll tell them youdidn't know what you were doing. "

"How about _your_ telling me what we are doing?" suggested theengineer. 

"From this point, " was Roddy's only reply, "you crawl on your handsand knees, or some one may see you. "

The engineer bent his tall figure and, following in Roddy's trail, disappeared into the laurel bushes. 

"Why shouldn't they see me?" he called. 

"One looks so silly on his hands and knees, " Roddy suggested. 

For ten minutes, except for the rustle of the bushes, they pushedtheir way in silence, and then Roddy scrambled over the fallen wall ofthe fort, and pointed down at the entrance to the tunnel. 

"The problem is, " he said, "to remove these slabs from thatstaircase, and leave it in such shape that no one who is foolishenough to climb up here could see that they had been disturbed. "

"Do you really think, " demanded McKildrick, smiling sceptically, "thatthere _is_ buried treasure under these stones?"

"Yes, " answered Roddy anxiously, "a _kind_ of buried treasure. "

Cautiously McKildrick raised his head, and, as though to establish hisbearings, surveyed the landscape. To the north he saw the city; to theeast, a quarter of a mile away, the fortress, separated from themainland by a stretch of water; and to the south, the wild mesquitebushes and laurel through which they had just come, stretching to thecoast. 

"Is this a serious proposition?" he asked. 

"It's a matter of life and death, " Roddy answered. 

McKildrick seated himself on the flight of stone steps, and for sometime, in silence, studied them critically. He drove the heel of hisboot against the cement, and, with his eyes, tested the resistance ofthe rusty bars of iron. 

"With a couple of men and crowbars, and a pinch of dynamite thatwouldn't make a noise, " he said at last, "I could open that in anhour. "

"Could you put it back again?" asked Roddy. 

There was a long pause. 

"I guess, " said McKildrick, "you'll have to let me in on the groundfloor. "

The sun had set and the air had turned cold and damp. Roddy seatedhimself beside his chief and pointed at the great slabs at their feet. His voice dropped to a whisper. 

"It's like this, " he began. 

When, two hours later, they separated at the outskirts of the city, McKildrick had been initiated into the Brotherhood of the White Mice. 

They had separated, agreeing that in the future the less they wereseen together the better. But, in wishing to be alone, Roddy hadanother and more sentimental reason. 

Each evening since his return from Curaçao he had made a pilgrimage tothe deserted home of the Rojas family, and, as the garden of Miramarran down to meet the shore of the harbor, as did the garden of his ownhouse, he was able to make the nocturnal visits by rowboat, andwithout being observed. Sometimes he was satisfied simply to lie onhis oars opposite the empty mansion, and think of the young girl who, so soon, was to waken it to life; and again he tied his boat to apublic wharf a hundred yards down the shore, and with the aid of thehanging vines pulled himself to the top of the seawall, and droppedinto the garden. To a young man very much interested in a young woman, of whom he knew so little that it was possible to endow her with everygrace of mind and character, and whose personal charm was never to beforgotten, these melancholy visits afforded much satisfaction. Even topass the house was a pleasing exercise; and, separating fromMcKildrick, he turned his steps to the Alameda, the broad avenueshaded by a double line of trees that followed the curve of theharbor, and upon which the gates of Miramar opened. As he approachedthe house he saw, with surprise and pleasure, that in the future hismidnight prowlings were at an end. Miramar was occupied. Every windowblazed with light. In this light servants were moving hurriedly, andin front of the gates the Alameda was blocked with carts loaded withtrunks and boxes. 

Excited by the sight, Roddy hid himself in the shadows of the trees, and, unobserved, stood impatiently waiting for a chance to learn ifthe exiles had indeed returned to their own. He had not long to wait. In a little figure bustling among the carts, and giving many orders, he recognized his friend and ally, Pedro. Roddy instantly stepped intothe glare of the electric globes until he was sure Pedro had seenhim, and then again retreated into the shadow. In a moment the oldservant was at his side. 

"Is she here?" demanded Roddy. 

Appreciating that in the world there could be only one "she, " thelittle man nodded violently. 

"Tell her, " whispered Roddy, "I have seen her father, that he knowswhat we are trying to do. I must talk with the _señorita_ at once. Askher if she will come to the steps leading from the gardens to thewharf at any hour this evening. From my own house I can row therewithout being seen. "

Again Pedro nodded happily. 

"I will ask the _señorita_ to be there at nine o'clock, " he answered, "or, I will come myself. "

The alternative did not strongly appeal to Roddy, but the mere factthat Inez was now in the same city with him, that even at that momentshe was not a hundred yards from him, was in itself a reward. 

He continued on down the Alameda, his head in the air, his feettreading on springs. 

"Three hours!" his mind protested. "How can I wait three hours?"

In some fashion the hours passed, and at nine, just as over all thecity the bugles were recalling the soldiers to the barracks, Roddy waswaiting on the narrow stretch of beach that ran between the harbor andthe gardens of Miramar. 

VI

At the last moment Roddy had decided against taking the water route, and, leaving his rowboat at his own wharf, had, on foot, skirted theedge of the harbor. It was high tide, and the narrow strip of shorefront on which he now stood, and which ran between the garden and theRojas' private wharf, was only a few feet in width. Overhead the moonwas shining brilliantly, but a procession of black clouds caused thestone steps and the tiny summer-house at the end of the wharf toappear and disappear like slides in a magic lantern. 

In one of the moments of light the figures of a man and a woman loomedsuddenly in the gateway of the garden. Pedro came anxiously forward, and Roddy leaped past him up the steps. He recognized Inez withdifficulty. In the fashion of the peasant women she had drawn aroundher head and face a fringed, silk shawl, which left only her eyesvisible, and which hung from her shoulders in lines that hid herfigure. Roddy eagerly stretched out his hand, but the girl raised herown in warning and, motioning him to follow, passed quickly from thesteps to the wharf. At its farther end was a shelter of thatched palmleaves. The sides were open, and half of the wharf was filled withmoonlight, but over the other half the roof cast a black shadow, andinto this Inez passed quickly. Roddy as quickly followed. His heartwas leaping in a delightful tumult. His love of adventure, of thepicturesque, was deeply gratified. As he saw it, the scene was set forromance; he was once more in the presence of the girl who, though hehad but twice met her, and, in spite of the fact that she had promisedherself to another man, attracted him more strongly than had any womanhe had ever known. And the tiny wharf, the lapping of the wavesagainst the stone sides, the moonlight, the purpose of their meeting, all seemed combined for sentiment, for a display of the more tenderemotions. 

But he was quickly disillusionized. The voice that issued from theshadows was brisk and incisive. 

"You know, " Inez began abruptly, in sharp disapprobation, "this won'tdo at all!"

Had she pushed him into the cold waters of the harbor and left him tothe colder charity of the harbor sharks, Roddy could not have beenmore completely surprised. He stared at the cloaked figure blankly. 

"I _beg_ your pardon!" he stammered. 

"You must not expect me to meet you like this, " protested the girl;"it is impossible. You risk everything. "

Bewildered by the nature and the unexpectedness of the attack, Roddymurmured incoherently:

"I'm _so_ sorry, " he stammered. "I thought you would wish to know. "

"What else is there I could so much wish!" protested the girl withspirit. "But not in this way. "

Roddy hung his head humbly. 

"I see, " he murmured. "I forgot etiquette. I should have consideredyou. "

"I was not thinking of myself!" exclaimed the girl. "A week ago I_was_ frightened. Tradition, training, was strong with me, and I _did_think too much of how my meeting you would appear to others. But now Isee it as you see it. I'll risk their displeasure, gossip, scandal, all of that, if I can only help my father. But _this_ will not helphim. This will lead to discovery. You must not come near me, nor visitthis house. My mother"--the girl hesitated--"it is hard to say, " shewent on quickly, "but my mother more than dislikes you--she regardsyou as our evil genius. She thinks you are doing all in your power tospoil the plans of your own father and of Vega. She--we have all heardof your striking Vega in defense of Alvarez. Vega is the one man shethinks can save my father. She believes you are his enemy. Therefore, you are her enemy. And she has been told, also, of the words you usedto my father when your friend was permitted to visit him. " With aneffort the girl tried to eliminate from her voice the note of obviousimpatience. "Of course, " she added quickly, "the story came to usdistorted. I could not see your object, but I was sure you had amotive. I was sure it was well meant!"

"Well meant!" exclaimed Roddy, but interrupted himself quickly. "Allright, " he said, "go on. "

The girl recognized the restraint in his tone. 

"You think I am unjust, ungrateful, " she protested earnestly, "but, believe me, I am not. I want only to impress upon you to be carefuland to show you where you stand. "

"With whom?" asked Roddy. 

"With my mother and Vega and with their party. "

"I am more interested, " said Roddy, "in knowing how I stand with you. "

The girl answered quietly: "Oh, we are friends. And you know that I amdeeply grateful to you because _I_ know what you are trying to do, theothers do not. "

"Suppose we tell them?" said Roddy. 

The girl gave a quick exclamation of protest, and Roddy could hearrather than see her move from him. They were now quite alone. Lest anyone coming from the house should discover Roddy, Pedro had been onguard at the gate. But he had seen, both above and below the wharf, mysterious, moonlit figures loitering at the edge of the water, and inorder to investigate them he left his post. There was a moment ofsilence. On three sides the moonlight turned the tiny waves intothousands of silver mirrors, and from farther up the curvingcoast-line the fires in the wickerwork huts of the fishermen burnedred. At their feet the water was thick with the phosphorescence, shining more brilliantly than the moonlight. And, as schools ofminnows fled, darting and doubling on their course before some largerfish that leaped and splashed in pursuit, the black depths of theharbor were lit with vivid streaks, and the drops of water cast intothe air flashed like sparks from an anvil. 

A harbor shark, nosing up stealthily to the wharf, thought himselfinvisible, but the phosphorescence showed his great length and cruelhead as clearly as though he wore a suit of flame. 

"Suppose you tell them?" repeated Roddy. 

The girl spoke with evident reluctance. 

"I cannot, " she said, "and the reason why I cannot is quite foolish, absurd. But their minds are full of it. In some way Vega learned ofour meeting. He believes it was by accident, but, nevertheless, healso believes--why I can't imagine--that you are interested in me. "

As though fearful Roddy would speak, she continued quickly. She spokein impersonal, matter-of-fact tones that suggested that in the subjectat hand she herself was in no way involved. 

"My mother was already prejudiced against you because she thoughtthat, for the sake of adventure, you were risking the life of myfather. And this last suggestion of Vega's has added to herprejudice. "

As though waiting for Roddy to make some comment or ask some question, the girl hesitated. 

"I see, " said Roddy. 

"No, I am afraid you cannot see, " said Inez, "unless you know thefacts. I am sorry to weary you with family secrets, but, if you knowthem, my mother's prejudice is more easy to understand. Colonel Vegawishes to marry me. My mother also desires it. That is why they arehostile to you. "

The young girl gave an exclamation of impatience. 

"It is ridiculous, " she protested, "that such an absurd complicationshould be brought into a matter of life and death. But there it is. And for that reason it would be folly to tell them of your purpose. They would accept nothing from your hands. You must continue to workalone, and you must not come near me nor try to speak to me. If it isabsolutely necessary to communicate with me, write what you have totell me; or, better still, give a verbal message to Pedro. " She madean abrupt movement. "I must go!" she exclaimed. "I told them I wouldwalk in the garden, and they may follow. "

At the thought she gave a little gasp of alarm. 

"Surely it is not as serious as that?" Roddy objected. 

"Quite, " returned the girl. "To them, what I am doing now isunpardonable. But I was afraid to write you. A letter may sound soharsh, it can be so easily misread. I did not wish to offend you, so Irisked seeing you this way--for the last time. "

"For the last time, " repeated Roddy. 

Inez made a movement to go. 

"Wait!" he commanded. "Do you come often to this place?"

"Yes, " said the girl, and then, answering the possible thought back ofthe question, she added: "My mother and sister come here with me everyevening--for the sake of the harbor breeze--at least we used to do so. Why?" she demanded. 

In her voice was a note of warning. 

"I was thinking, " said Roddy, "I could row past here in my boat, farout, where no one could see me. But I could see you. "

Inez gave a quick sigh of exasperation. 

"You will _not_ understand!" she exclaimed. "Why, " she demanded, "after all I have told you, after my taking this risk to make it plainto you that you must _not_ see me, do you still persist?"

"As you wish, " answered Roddy quietly, but his tone showed that hispurpose to see her was unchanged. Inez heard him laugh happily. Hemoved suddenly toward her. "Why do I persist?" he asked. His voice, sunken to a whisper, was eager, mocking. In it she discerned a newnote. It vibrated with feeling. "Why do I persist?" he whispered. "Because you are the most wonderful person I have ever met. Because ifI did not persist I'd despise myself. Since I last saw you I havethought of nothing but _you_, I have been miserable for the sight of_you_. You can forbid me seeing you, but you can't take away from mewhat you have given me--the things you never knew you gave me. "

The girl interrupted him sharply. 

"Mr. Forrester!" she cried. 

Roddy went on, as though she had not spoken. 

"I had to tell you, " he exclaimed. "Until I told you I couldn't sleep. It has been in my head, in my heart, every moment since I saw you. You_had_ to know. And this night!" he exclaimed. As though calling uponthem to justify him he flung out his arms toward the magic moonlight, the flashing waves, the great fronds of the palms rising above thewall of the garden. "You have given me, " he cried, "the most beautifulthing that has come into my life, and on a night like this I _had_ tospeak. I had to thank you. On such a night as this, " Roddy criedbreathlessly, "Jessica stole from Shylock's house to meet her lover. On such a night as this Leander swam the Hellespont. And on this nightI had to tell you that to me you are the most wonderful and beautifulwoman in the world. "

How Inez Rojas, bewildered, indignant, silent only throughastonishment, would have met this attack, Roddy never knew, for Pedro, leaping suddenly from the shore, gave her no time to answer. Trembling with excitement, the Venezuelan spoke rapidly. 

"You must go!" he commanded. He seized Roddy by the arm and tried todrag him toward the garden. "The police! They surround the house. "

With his free hand he pointed at two figures, each carrying a lantern, who approached rapidly along the shore from either direction. 

"They are spying upon all who enter. If they find _you_!" In an agonyof alarm the old man tossed up his hands. 

Under his breath Roddy cursed himself impotently for a fool. He sawthat again he would compromise the girl he had just told he held inhigh regard, that he would put in jeopardy the cause for which he hadboasted to her he would give his life. Furious, and considering onlyin what way he could protect Inez, he stood for a moment at a loss. From either side the swinging lanterns drew nearer. In his rear hisretreat was cut off by the harbor. Only the dark shadows of Miramaroffered a refuge. 

"Quick!" commanded Inez. "You must hide in the garden. " Her voice wascold with displeasure. "When they have gone Pedro will tell you andyou will leave. And, " she added, "you will see that you do notreturn. "

The words sobered Roddy. They left him smarting, and they left himquite cool. After her speech he could not accept the hospitality ofthe garden. And his hiding there might even further compromise her. Hesaw only one way out; to rush the nearest policeman and in theuncertain light, hope, unrecognized, to escape. But even that chanceleft the police free to explain, in their own way, why the SeñoritaRojas was in the company of a man who fled before them. 

"Do you hear?" whispered Inez. "Hide yourself!"

With a cry of dismay Pedro forced Roddy into the shadow. 

"It is too late!" he exclaimed. 

Standing in the gateway of the garden, clearly illuminated by themoonlight, stood Señora Rojas, with her arm in that of Pino Vega. 

In spite of himself, Roddy emitted an excited chuckle. In the presenceof such odds his self-reproaches fell from him. He felt only apleasing thrill of danger. This was no time for regrets orupbraidings. The situation demanded of him only quick action and thathe should keep his head. As Roddy now saw it, he was again thebase-runner, beset in front and rear. He missed only the shouts andcheers of thousands of partisans. The players of the other side wereclosing in and shortening the distance in which he could turn and run. They had him in a trap, and, in another instant, the ball would touchhim. It was quite time, Roddy decided, to "slide!" Still hidden by theshadow of the thatched roof, he dropped at the feet of Inez, and, before she could understand his purpose, had turned quickly on hisface and lowered himself into the harbor. There was a faint splash anda shower of phosphorescence. Roddy's fingers still clung to the edgeof the wharf, and Inez, sinking to her knees, brought her face closeto his. 

"Come back!" she commanded. "Come back! You will drown!" She gave asudden gasp of horror. "The sharks!" she whispered. "You could notlive a moment. " With both hands she dragged at his sleeve. 

Roddy cast a quick glance at the moon. A friendly cloud was hasteningto his aid. He saw that if, for a moment longer, he could remainconcealed, he would under cover of the brief eclipse, be able to swimto safety. He drew free of Inez, and, treading water, fearful even tobreathe, watched the lanterns of the police halt at the wharf. 

The voice of Señora Rojas rose in anxious inquiry. 

"Is that you, Inez?" she called. 

There was no reply. Concerned as to what struggle of conscience mightnot be going on in the mind of the girl, Roddy threw his arm acrossthe edge of the wharf and drew his shoulders clear of the water. Inthe shadow Inez was still kneeling, her face was still close to his. 

"Answer her!" commanded Roddy. "I'm all right. " He laughed softly, mockingly. He raised his head nearer. "'On such a night, '" hewhispered, "'Leander swam the Hellespont. ' Why? Because he loved her!"

With an exclamation, partly of exasperation, partly of relief atfinding the man did not consider himself in danger, Inez rose to herfeet and stepped into the moonlight. 

"Yes, I am here, " she called. "I am with Pedro. "

At the same moment the black cloud swept across the moon, and, withthe stealth and silence of a water rat, Roddy slipped from the wharfand struck out toward the open harbor. 

At the gate the two policemen raised their lanterns and swung them inthe face of Señora Rojas. 

Vega turned upon them fiercely. 

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Do you wish to know who I am?Well, I am Colonel Vega. Report that to your chief. Go!"

With a gesture he waved the men to one side, and, saluting sulkily, they moved away. 

When they had gone Señora Rojas sighed with relief, but the hand thatrested upon the arm of Vega trembled. 

"My dear lady!" he protested. "When I am here no harm can come. "

Vega hoped that Inez had heard him. He trusted, also, that she hadobserved the manner in which he had addressed the police, and how, awed by his authority, they had slunk away. But Inez had not observedhim. 

With her hands pressed against her breast, her eyes filled with fear, she was watching in fascinated horror a thin ripple of phosphorescencethat moved leisurely and steadily out to sea. 

[Illustration: On such a night, Leander swam the Hellespont. ]

 * * * * *

In the _patio_ of Roddy's house Peter was reclining in asteamer-chair. At his elbow was a long drink, and between his fingersa long cigar. Opposite him, in another chair, was stretched youngVicenti. At midnight, on his way home from visiting a patient, thedoctor, seeing a light in the court-yard of Roddy's house, hadclamored for admittance. To Peter the visit was most ill-timed. Roddyhad now been absent for four hours, and the imagination of his friendwas greatly disturbed. He knew for what purpose Roddy had set forth, and he pictured him pierced with a bullet as he climbed the gardenwall, or a prisoner behind the bars of the _cartel_. He was in no moodto entertain visitors, but the servants were in bed, and when Vicentiknocked, Peter himself had opened the door. On any other night thedoctor would have been most welcome. He was an observing young man, and his residence in the States enabled him to take the point of viewof Peter and Roddy, and his comments upon their country and his ownwere amusing. For his attack upon General Rojas he had been greatlyoffended with Roddy, but the American had written him an apology, andby this late and informal visit Vicenti intended to show that theywere again friends. 

But, for Peter, it was a severe test of self-control. Each moment hisfears for Roddy's safety increased, and of his uneasiness, in thepresence of the visitor, he dared give no sign. It was with a feelingof genuine delight that he heard from the garden a mysterious whistle. 

"Who's there?" he challenged. 

"Is anybody with you?" The voice was strangely feeble, but it was thevoice of Roddy. 

"Our friend Vicenti, " Peter cried, warningly. 

At the same moment, Roddy, clad simply in his stockings, and drippingwith water, stood swaying in the doorway. 

"For Heaven's sake!" protested Peter. 

Roddy grinned foolishly, and unclasping his hands from the sides ofthe door, made an unsteady start toward the table on which stood thebottles and glasses. 

"I want a drink, " he murmured. 

"You want quinine!" cried Vicenti indignantly. "How dared you goswimming at night! It was madness! If the fever----"

He flew into the hall where he had left his medicine-case, and Peterran for a bathrobe. As they returned with them there was a crash ofbroken glass, and when they reached the _patio_ they found Roddystretched at length upon the stones. 

At the same moment a little, old man sprang from the garden and kneltbeside him. It was Pedro. 

"He is dead!" he cried, "he is dead!"

His grief was so real that neither Peter nor Vicenti could suppose hewas other than a friend, and without concerning himself as to how hehad been so suddenly precipitated into the scene, Vicenti, as hepoured brandy between Roddy's teeth, commanded Pedro to rub and beathis body. Coughing and choking, Roddy signalized his return toconsciousness by kicking the little man in the stomach. 

"Ah, he lives!" cried Pedro. He again dropped upon his knees and, crossing himself, prayed his thanks. 

Roddy fell into the bathrobe and into the steamer chair. Sighingluxuriously, he closed his eyes. 

"Such a fool, to faint, " he murmured. "So ashamed. Made a bet--withharbor sharks. Bet them, could not get me. I win. " He opened his eyesand stared dully at Pedro. "Hello!" he said, "there's good old Pedro. What you doing here, Pedro?"

The old man, now recovered from his fear on Roddy's account, was infresh alarm as to his own, and, glancing at Vicenti, made a movementto escape into the garden. 

Roddy waved Vicenti and Peter into the hall. 

"Go away, " he commanded. "He wants to talk to me. "

"But I must not leave you, " protested the doctor. "Now I am here asyour physician, not as your guest. "

"A moment, " begged Roddy, "a moment. " His eyes closed and his headfell back. Pedro bent over him. 

"She sent me, " he whispered eagerly. "She could not sleep. She mustknow to-night if you live. I hid myself in your garden, and I wait andI wait. But you do not come, and I despair. And then, " cried the oldman joyfully, "the miracle! Now my mistress can sleep in peace. "

Roddy lay so still that had it not been for his sharp breathing Pedrowould have thought he had again fainted. With a sudden, sharp cryRoddy opened his eyes. His clenched fists beat feebly on the arms ofthe chair. 

"It's a lie!" he shouted fiercely, "it's a lie!" His eyes were wideand staring. Vicenti, returning hastily, looked into them and, with anexclamation, drew back. 

"The fever!" he said. 

Roddy was shouting wildly. 

"It's a lie!" he cried. "She did _not_ send you. She does not carewhether I drown or live. She loves Pino Vega. She will marry----"

Peter, with his arm around Roddy's neck, choked him, and held his handover his mouth. 

"Be still, " he entreated, "for God's sake, be still!" He lookedfearfully at Vicenti, but the young doctor, though his eyes were widewith astonishment, made an impatient gesture. 

"Help me get him to bed, " Vicenti commanded briskly. "Take his otherarm. "

With the strength the fever lent him, Roddy hurled the two men fromhim. 

"She and Vega--they stood on the wharf, " he shouted, "you understand?They laughed at me. And then the sharks smelt me out and followed; andI couldn't hide because the harbor was on fire. I struck at them andscreamed, but I couldn't shake them off; they dived and turned; theycrept up on me stealthily, in great circles. They were waiting for meto drown. Whichever way I swam I saw them, under me, on every side!They lit the water with great streaks of flame. And she and Vegapointed me out and laughed. "

"Stop him!" shrieked Peter. "You _must not_ listen! Give him morphine!Dope him! Stop him!"

Roddy wrenched his wrists free and ran to Pedro, clutching him by theshoulders. 

"But _we'll_ save him!" he cried. "_We'll_ set him free! Because he isan old man. Because he is a great man. Because he is her father. We'llmake him President!" His voice soared exultantly. "To hell with Vega!"he shouted. "To hell with Alvarez!" He flung up his arms into theair. "Viva Rojas!" he cried. 

Peter turned on Vicenti and shook his fist savagely in his face. 

"What you've heard, " he threatened, "you've heard under the seal ofyour profession. "

But the eyes that looked into his were as wild as those of the mandriven with fever. The face of the Venezuelan was jubilant, exalted, like that of a worshipping fanatic. 

"The truth!" he whispered breathlessly, "the truth!"

"The boy is raving mad, " protested Peter. "He doesn't mean it. Youhave heard nothing!"

From the servants' quarters there came the sound of hurryingfootsteps. 

In alarm, Vicenti glanced in that direction, and then came close toPeter, seizing him by the arm. 

"If he's mad, " he whispered fiercely, "then _I_ am mad, and I know tenthousand more as mad as he. "

When the sun rose dripping out of the harbor, Vicenti and Peter walkedinto the garden. 

"I can leave him now, " said the doctor. He looked at Peter's whiteface and the black rings around his eyes, and laughed. "When hewakes, " he said, "he will be in much better health than you or I. "

"He certainly gave us a jolly night, " sighed Peter, "and I shall neverthank you enough for staying by me and Pedro. When a man I've roomedwith for two years can't make up his mind whether I am I or a shark, it gets on my nerves. "

A few hours later, in another garden half a mile distant, Pedro wastelling his young mistress of the night just past. The tears stood inhis eyes and his hands trembled in eloquent pantomime. 

"He is so like my young master, your brother, " he pleaded, "so brave, so strong, so young, and, like him, loves so deeply. "

"I am very grateful, " said the girl gently. "For my father and for mehe risked his life. I am grateful to him--and to God, who spared him. "

Pedro lowered his eyes as he repeated: "And he loves so deeply. "

The girl regarded him steadily. 

"What is it you wish to say?" she demanded. 

"All through the night I sat beside him, " answered the old maneagerly, "and in his fever he spoke only one name. "

The girl turned from him and for a moment stood looking out into theharbor. 

"Then the others heard?" she said. 

Pedro, with a deprecatory gesture, bowed. With sudden vehemence, witha gesture of relief, the girl flung out her arms. 

"I'm glad, " she cried. "I am _tired_ of secrets, tired of deceit. I amglad they know. It makes me proud! It makes me happy!"

During the long night, while Roddy had tossed and muttered, Vicentitalked to Peter frankly and freely. He held back nothing. Hisappointment as prison doctor he had received from Alvarez, but it wasimpossible for any one to be long in close contact with General Rojasand not learn to admire and love him. And for the past year Vicentihad done all in his power to keep life in the older man and to workfor his release. But General Rojas, embittered by past experience, didnot confide in him, did not trust him. In spite of this, the doctorhad continued working in his interests. He assured Peter that theadherents of Rojas were many, that they were well organized, that theywaited only for the proper moment to revolt against Alvarez, releaseRojas, and place him in power. On their programme Vega had no place. They suspected his loyalty to his former patron and chief, they fearedhis ambition; and they believed, were he to succeed in making himselfPresident, he would be the servant of Forrester, and of the otherforeigners who desired concessions, rather than of the people ofVenezuela. The amnesty, Vicenti believed, had been declared only thatAlvarez might entice Vega to Venezuela, where, when he wished, hecould lay his hands on him. When he had obtained evidence that Vegawas plotting against him he would submit this evidence to the peopleand throw Vega into prison. 

"Vega knows his danger, " added Vicenti, "and, knowing it, he must meanto strike soon--to-day--to-morrow. We of the Rojas faction are asignorant of his plans as we hope he is of ours. But in every campthere are traitors. No one can tell at what hour all our secrets maynot be made known. Of only one thing you can be certain: matterscannot continue as they are. Within a week you will see this countrytorn by civil war, or those who oppose Alvarez, either of our party orof Vega's, will be in prison. "

When Roddy, rested and refreshed and with normal pulse and mind, cameto luncheon, Peter confided to him all that Vicenti had told him. 

"If all that is going to happen, " was Roddy's comment, "the sooner weget Rojas free the better. We will begin work on the tunnel to-night. "

The attacking party consisted of McKildrick, Roddy, and Peter. Whenthe day's task on the light-house was finished and the other workmenhad returned to the city, these three men remained behind and, placing crowbars, picks, and sticks of dynamite in Roddy's launch, proceeded to a little inlet a half-mile below El Morro. By seveno'clock they had made their way through the laurel to the fortress, and while Roddy and Peter acted as lookouts McKildrick attacked theentrance to the tunnel. He did not, as he had boasted, open it in anhour, but by ten o'clock the iron bars that held the slabs togetherhad been cut and the cement loosened. Fearful of the consequences ifthey returned to the city at too late an hour, the tools and dynamitewere hidden, rubbish and vines were so scattered as to conceal theevidence of their work, and the launch landed the conspirators atRoddy's wharf. 

"We shall say, " explained Roddy, "that we have been out spearing eels, and I suggest that we now go to the _Dos Hermanos_ and say it. "

They found the café, as usual, crowded. Men of all political opinions, officers of the army and the custom-house, from the tiny warship inthe harbor, Vegaistas, and those who secretly were adherents of Rojas, were all gathered amicably together. The Americans, salutingimpartially their acquaintances, made their way to a table thatremained empty in the middle of the room. They had hardly seatedthemselves when from a distant corner an alert young man, waving hishand in greeting, pushed his way toward them. They recognized thethird vice-president of the Forrester Construction Company, Mr. SamCaldwell. 

Mr. Caldwell had arrived that afternoon. He was delighted at beingfree of the ship. At the house of Colonel Vega he had dined well, andat sight of familiar faces he was inclined to unbend. He approachedthe employees of the company as one conferring a favor and assured ofa welcome. He appreciated that since his arrival he was the man of themoment. In the crowded restaurant every one knew him as therepresentative of that great corporation that had dared to lock hornswith the government. As he passed the tables the officers of thatgovernment followed him with a scowl or a sneer; those of theVegaistas, who looked upon him as the man who dealt out money, ammunition and offices, with awe. How the secret supporters of Rojasconsidered him was soon to appear. 

"This, " Roddy whispered in a quick aside, "is where I renounce the F. C. C. And all its works. "

"Don't be an ass!" entreated Peter. 

Roddy rose and, with his hands sunk in his pockets, awaited theapproach of the third vice-president. 

"Well, boys, here I am!" called that young man heartily. He seemed tofeel that his own surprise at finding himself outside the limits ofGreater New York must be shared by all. But, as though to see to whomthis greeting was extended, Roddy turned and glanced at hiscompanions. 

McKildrick rose and stood uncomfortably. 

"Well, Roddy, " exclaimed Sam Caldwell genially, "how's business?"

Roddy's eyebrows rose. 

"'Roddy?'" he repeated, as though he had not heard aright. "Are youspeaking to me?"

Sam Caldwell was conscious that over all the room there had come asudden hush. A waiter, hurrying with a tray of jingling glasses, bysome unseen hand was jerked by the apron and brought to abruptsilence. In the sudden quiet Roddy's voice seemed to Caldwell to havecome through a megaphone. The pink, smooth-shaven cheeks of thenewcomer, that were in such contrast to the dark and sun-tanned facesaround him, turned slowly red. 

"What's the idea?" he asked. 

"You sent me a cable to Curaçao, " Roddy replied, "telling me to mindmy own business. "

It had never been said of Sam Caldwell that he was an unwilling orunworthy antagonist. He accepted Roddy's challenge promptly. Hislittle, piglike eyes regarded Roddy contemptuously. 

"I did, " he retaliated, "at your father's dictation. "

"Well, my business hours, " continued Roddy undisturbed, "are betweeneight and five. If you come out to the light-house to-morrow you willsee me minding my own business and bossing a gang of niggers, attwenty dollars a week. Outside of business hours I choose my owncompany. "

Caldwell came closer to him and dropped his voice. 

"Are you sober?" he demanded. 

"Perfectly, " said Roddy. 

Caldwell surveyed him grimly. 

"You are more out of hand than we thought, " he commented. "I haveheard some pretty strange tales about you this afternoon. Are theytrue?"

"You have your own methods of finding out, " returned Roddy. He wavedhis hand toward the table. "If you wish to join these gentlemen I amdelighted to withdraw. "

Caldwell retreated a few steps and then turned back angrily. 

"I'll have a talk with you to-morrow, " he said, "and to-night I'llcable your father what you are doing here. "

Roddy bowed and slightly raised his voice, so that it reached to everypart of the room. 

"If you can interest my father, " he said, "in anything that concernshis son I shall be grateful. "

As Caldwell made his way to the door, and Roddy, frowning gravely, sank back into his chair, the long silence was broken by a babble ofwhispered questions and rapid answers. Even to those who understoodno English the pantomime had been sufficiently enlightening. Unobtrusively the secret agents of Alvarez rose from the tables andstole into the night. A half-hour later it was known in Caracas thatthe son of Mr. Forrester had publicly insulted the representative ofhis father, the arch-enemy of the government, and had apparentlyranged himself on the side of Alvarez. Hitherto the _Dos Hermanos_ hadbeen free from politics, but as Roddy made his exit from the café, theofficers of the army chose the moment for a demonstration. Revolutionwas in the air, and they desired to declare their loyalty. Rising totheir feet and raising their glasses to Roddy they cried, "Bravo, bravo! Viva Alvarez!"

Bowing and nodding to them and wishing them good-night, Roddy hurriedto the street. 

Under the lamps of the Alameda McKildrick regarded him quizzically. 

"And what do you gain by that?" he asked. 

"Well, I force Sam into the open, " declared Roddy, "and I'm no longeron the suspect list. Look at my record! I've insulted everybody. Ihave insulted Rojas, insulted Vega, insulted Caldwell, all enemies ofAlvarez. So now the Alvarez crowd will love me. Now they trust me! Ifthey caught me digging the tunnel and I told them I was building alight-house, they'd believe me. If I insult a few more people they'llgive me the Order of Bolivar. "

The next morning Roddy attended Mass. But he was not entirelyengrossed in his devotions. Starting from the front entrance of thechurch he moved slowly nearer and nearer to the altar, and, slippingfrom the shelter of one pillar to another, anxiously scanned the rowsof kneeling women. He found the mantilla a baffling disguise, and aseach woman present in the church wore one, and as the hair of each wasblack, and as the back of the head of one woman is very much like thatof another, it was not until the worshippers had turned to leave thathe discovered the Señorita Inez Rojas. In her black satin dress, withher face wreathed by the black lace mantilla, Roddy thought he hadnever seen her look more beautiful. 

After her explicit commands that he should not attempt to see heragain he was most anxious she should not learn how soon he haddisobeyed her; and that she was walking with her sister and mothermade it still more necessary that he should remain unnoticed. 

But in his eagerness and delight in the sight of her he leaned farforward. Inez, at that instant raising her eyes, saw him. Of the twoRoddy was the more concerned. The girl made no sign of recognition, but the next moment, with an exclamation, she suddenly unclasped herhands, and, as though to show they were empty, held them toward hermother and sister. Leaving them, she returned hurriedly toward thealtar. Señora Rojas and the sister continued on their way toward thedoor, exchanging greetings with the women of their acquaintance, whom, after an absence of two years, they now met for the first time. Seeingthem thus engaged Inez paused and, turning, looked directly at Roddy. Her glance was not forbidding, and Roddy, who needed but littleencouragement, hastened to follow. The church was very dark. Thesunlight came only through the lifted curtains at the farthestentrance, and the acolytes were already extinguishing the candlesthat had illuminated the altar. As Inez, in the centre of the church, picked her way among the scattered praying-chairs, Roddy, in the sideaisle and hidden by the pillars, kept pace with her. 

Directly in front of the altar Inez stooped, and, after picking up afan and a prayer-book, stood irresolutely looking about her. Roddycautiously emerged from the side aisle and from behind the last of thelong row of pillars. Inez came quickly toward him. The last of theacolytes to leave the altar, in their haste to depart, stumbled andtripped past them, leaving them quite alone. Concealed by the greatpillar from all of those in the far front of the church, Inez gaveRoddy her hand. The eyes that looked into his were serious, penitent. 

"I am so sorry, " she begged; "can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you!" whispered Roddy. His voice was filled with such delightthat it was apparently a sufficient answer. Inez, smiling slightly, withdrew her hand, and taking from inside her glove a folded piece ofpaper, thrust it toward him. 

"I brought this for you, " she said. 

Roddy seized it greedily. 

"For me!" he exclaimed in surprise. As though in apology for thequestion he raised his eyes appealingly. "How did you know, " hebegged, "that I would be here?"

For an instant, with a frown, the girl regarded him steadily. Then hercheeks flushed slightly and her eyes grew radiant. She flashed uponhim the same mocking, dazzling smile that twice before had left him incomplete subjection. 

"How did you know, " she returned, "_I_ would be here?"

She moved instantly from him, but Roddy started recklessly in pursuit. 

"Wait!" he demanded. "Just what does that mean?"

With an imperative gesture the girl motioned him back, and then, asthough to soften the harshness of the gesture, reassured him in avoice full of consideration. 

"The note will tell you, " she whispered, and, turning her back on him, hurried to the door. 

Roddy allowed her sufficient time in which to leave the neighborhoodof the church, and while he waited, as the most obvious method ofexpressing his feelings, stuffed all the coins in his pockets into thepoor-box. From the church he hastened to an empty bench in theAlameda, and opened the note. He was surprised to find that it camefrom Mrs. Broughton, the wife of the English Consul at Porto Cabello. She was an American girl who, against the advice of her family, hadmarried an Englishman, and one much older than herself. Since theirmarriage he had indulged and spoiled her as recklessly as any Americanmight have done, and at the same time, in his choice of a wife, hadcontinued to consider himself a most fortunate individual. Since hisarrival at Porto Cabello Roddy had been a friend of each. For hours hewould play in the garden with their children, without considering itnecessary to inform either the father or mother that he was on thepremises; and on many evenings the Broughtons and himself sat in his_patio_ reading the American periodicals, without a word being spokenby any one of them until they said good-night. But since his returnfrom Curaçao, Roddy had been too occupied with coming events toremember old friends. 

The note read:

 "DEAR MR. FORRESTER: My husband and I have not seen you for ages, and the children cry for 'Uncle Roddy. ' Will you and Mr. De Peyster take tea with us day after to-morrow? The only other friend who is coming _will give you this note_. "

The Broughtons had been stationed at Porto Cabello for five years, and, as Roddy now saw, it was most natural that in the limited sociallife of Porto Cabello the two American girls should be friends. Thathe had not already thought of the possibility of this filled him withrage, and, at the same time, the promise held forth by the notethrilled him with pleasure. He leaped to his feet and dancedjubilantly upon the gravel walk. Tearing the note into scraps hehurled them into the air. 

"Mary Broughton!" he exclaimed ecstatically, "you're a brick!"

Such was his feeling of gratitude to the lady, that he at once soughtout a confectioner's and sent her many pounds of the candied fruitsthat have made Venezuela famous, and that, on this occasion, forseveral days made the Broughton children extremely ill. 

That night the attack on the barricade to the tunnel was made with avigor no cement nor rusty iron could resist. Inspired by the thoughtthat on the morrow he would see Inez, and that she herself wished tosee him, and anxious to give her a good report of the work of rescue, Roddy toiled like a coal-passer. His energy moved McKildrick and Peterto endeavors equally strenuous, and by nine o'clock the great stoneslabs were wedged apart, and on the warm-scented night air and uponthe sweating bodies of the men there struck a cold, foul breath thattold them one end of the tunnel lay open. 

VII

Roddy was for at once dashing down the stone steps and exploring thetunnel, but McKildrick held him back. 

"You couldn't live for a moment, " he protested, "and it may be daysbefore we can enter. " In proof of what he said, he lit one wax matchafter another, and as he passed each over the mouth of the tunnelRoddy saw the flame sicken and die. 

"That has been a tomb for half a century, " McKildrick reminded him. "Even if a strong, young idiot like you could breathe that air, Rojascouldn't. "

"All the same, I am going down, " said Roddy. 

"And I tell you, you are not!" returned McKildrick. 

Roddy, jubilant and grandly excited, laughed mockingly. 

"'Am _I_ the Governor of these Isles, or is it an Emilio Aguinaldo?'"he demanded. "This is _my_ expedition, and I speak to lead the forlornhope. "

Exclaiming with impatience, McKildrick brought a rope and, making anoose, slipped it under Roddy's arms. 

"All we ask, " he said grimly, "is that when you faint you'll fall withyour head toward us. Otherwise we will bump it into a jelly. "

Roddy switched on the light in his electric torch and, like a diverdescending a sea-ladder, moved cautiously down the stone steps. Holding the rope taut, Peter leaned over the opening. 

"When the snakes and bats and vampires get you, " he warned, "you'llwish you were back among the sharks!"

But Roddy did not hear him. As though warding off a blow he threw hishands across his face and dropped heavily. 

"Heave!" cried Peter. 

The two men sank their heels in the broken rubbish and dragged on therope until they could lay violent hands on Roddy's shoulders. Withunnecessary roughness they pulled him out of the opening and let himfall. 

When Roddy came to he rose sheepishly. 

"We'll have to postpone that expedition, " he said, "until we can counton better ventilation. Meanwhile, if any gentleman wants to say 'Itold you so, ' I'll listen to him. "

They replaced the slabs over the mouth of the tunnel, but left wideopenings through which the air and sunlight could circulate, and, after concealing these openings with vines, returned to Roddy's house. There they found Vicenti awaiting them. He was the bearer of importantnews. The adherents of Colonel Vega, he told them, were assembling inforce near Porto Cabello, and it was well understood by the governmentthat at any moment Vega might join them and proclaim his revolution. That he was not already under arrest was due to the fact that thegovernment wished to seize not only the leader, but all of those whowere planning to leave the city with him. The home of Vega wassurrounded, and he himself, in his walks abroad, closely guarded. Thathe would be able to escape seemed all but impossible. 

"At the same time, " continued Vicenti, "our own party is in readiness. If Vega reaches his followers and starts on his march to the capitalwe will start an uprising here in favor of Rojas. If we could freeRojas and show him to the people, nothing could save Alvarez. Alvarezknows that as well as ourselves. But without artillery it isimpossible to subdue the fortress of San Carlos. We can take thiscity; we can seize the barracks, the custom-house, but not San Carlos. There also is this danger; that Alvarez, knowing without Rojas ourparty would fall to pieces, may at the first outbreak order him to beshot. "

Roddy asked Vicenti, as the physician of Rojas, if he thought Rojaswere strong enough to lead a campaign. 

"He is not, " declared Vicenti, "but we would not ask it of him. Lethim only show himself and there will be no campaign. Even thegovernment troops would desert to him. But, " he added with a sigh, "why talk of the impossible! The troops that hold San Carlos are boundto Alvarez. He has placed there only those from his own plantation; hehas paid them royally. And they have other reasons for fighting to thedeath. Since they have been stationed at Porto Cabello their conducthas been unspeakable. And the men of this town hate them as much asthe women fear them. Their cruelty to the political prisoners is wellknown, and they understand that if an uprising started here whereRojas has lived, where he is dearly loved, they need expect no mercy. They will fight, not to protect San Carlos, but for their lives. "

Vicenti spoke with such genuine feeling that had Roddy felt free to doso he would have told him of the plan to rescue Rojas. But both Peterand McKildrick had warned him that until the last moment no one, savethemselves, must learn the secret of the tunnel. 

So, while they thanked Vicenti for his confidences, they separated forthe night without having made him any return in kind. 

The next morning, Sam Caldwell, under the guidance of McKildrick, paidan official visit to the light-house on which the men of the F. C. C. Were then at work. When his tour of inspection was finished hereturned to the wheel-house of the tug that had brought him across theharbor, and sent for Roddy. Roddy appeared before him in hisworking-clothes. They consisted of very few garments, and those wereentirely concealed by the harbor mud. Caldwell, in cool, clean duckand a flamboyant Panama hat, signified with a grin that he enjoyed thecontrast. He did not like Roddy, and Roddy treated him with openinsolence. They were nearly of the same age and for years had knowneach other, but they had always been at war. As son of the presidentof the company, every chance had been given Roddy to advance his owninterests. And it was not so much that he had failed to be of serviceto the company, as that he had failed to push himself forward, thatcaused Caldwell to regard him with easy contempt. 

On his side, Roddy considered Caldwell the bribe-giver and keeper ofthe corruption fund for the company, and, as such, beneath his royalnotice. It therefore followed that in his present position of briefauthority over Roddy, Caldwell found a certain enjoyment. This heconcealed beneath the busy air of a man of affairs. 

"I have a cable here from your father, Roddy, " he began briskly. "Translated, the part that refers to you reads, 'Tell Forrester takeorders from you or leave service company. If refuses, furnish returnpassage, month's wages. '"

After a pause, Roddy said: "I take it that is in answer to a cablefrom you. "

"Exactly, " assented Caldwell. "I informed your father you wereinsubordinate to my authority, and that I had been reliably informedyou were hostile to our interests. What you do as an individualdoesn't count for much, but as the son of your father, apparently downhere at least, it does. Why you made that play at me last night Idon't know, and I haven't time to find out. I am not here to teach youmanners. But when you butt in and interfere with the business of thecompany I must take notice. You've either got to stop working againstus, or go home. Which do you want to do? And before you answer, "Caldwell added, "you ought to know that, as it is, you don't standvery high at headquarters. When your father got word you'd beenfighting Vega, our friend, in defense of Alvarez, the man that'srobbing us, that's giving us all this trouble, he was naturally prettyhot. He said to me: 'Roddy isn't down there to mix up in politics, butif he does, he must mix up on our side. I can't take money from thecompany to support my son, or any one else, who is against it. ' That'swhat your father said to me. Now, as I understand it, although it isnone of my business, you are dependent on him, and I advise----"

"As you say, " interrupted Roddy, "it's none of your business. Theother proposition, " he went on, "that I can't take money from thecompany and work _against_ it, is fair enough. What you call my workagainst it was begun before I knew it was in any way opposed to thecompany's interests. Now that I do know, I quite agree that either Imust give up my outside job or quit working for you. " Roddy reached tothe shoulder of his flannel shirt, and meditatively began to unrollhis damp and mud-soaked sleeve. "I guess I'll quit now!" he said. 

The answer was not the one Caldwell expected or desired. As anemployee of the company Roddy was not important, but what he was doingas an individual, which had so greatly excited Vega, was apparentlyof much importance. And what it might be Sam Caldwell was anxious todiscover. He had enjoyed his moment of triumph and now adopted a tonemore conciliatory. 

"There's no use getting hot about it, " he urged. "Better think itover. "

Roddy nodded, and started to leave the wheel-house. 

"Have thought it over, " he said. 

As Caldwell saw it, Roddy was acting from pique and in the belief thathis father would continue to supply him with funds. This Caldwell knewwas not the intention of Mr. Forrester. He had directed Caldwell toinform Roddy that if he deliberately opposed him he must not only seekwork elsewhere, but that he did not think he should continue to askhis father for support. Caldwell proceeded to make this quite plain toRoddy, but, except that the color in his face deepened and that hisjaw set more firmly, Roddy made no sign. 

"Very well, then, " concluded Caldwell, "you leave me no other coursethan to carry out your father's direction. I'll give you a month'swages and pay your passage-money home. "

"I'm not going home, " returned Roddy, "and I don't want any money Ihaven't worked for. The company isn't discharging me, " he added witha grin, "as it would a cook. I am discharging the company. "

"I warn you your father won't stand for it, " protested Caldwell. 

Roddy turned back, and in a serious tone, and emphasizing his wordswith a pointed forefinger, spoke earnestly. 

"Sam, " he said, "I give you my word, father is in wrong. _You_ are inwrong. You're both backing the wrong stable. When this row starts yourman Vega won't run one, two, three. "

"You mean Rojas?" said Caldwell. 

"I mean Rojas, " replied Roddy. "And if you and father had trusted me Icould have told you so three months ago. It would have saved you a lotof money. It isn't too late even now. You'd better listen to me. "

Caldwell laughed comfortably. 

"Rojas is a back number, " he said. "He's an old man, and a dead one. And besides--" He hesitated and glanced away. 

"Well?" demanded Roddy. 

"And, besides, " continued Caldwell slowly, picking his words, "Vega isgoing to marry his daughter, and so we win both ways. And Vega isamenable to reason. _He_ will help us. " As though in a sudden burstof confidence he added ingratiatingly, "And you could help yourfather, too, if you liked. If you'll tell me what the Rojas party meanto do I'll set you right with your father. What do you say?"

"What do I say, you poor, little--thing!" Roddy roared. Then helaughed shortly and shrugged his shoulders. "I'll say this much, " headded. "If I were sure you couldn't swim I'd throw you into theharbor. "

"So you could pull me out, " laughed Caldwell. "Why don't you? You knowyou were always a grand-stand actor, Roddy. Think how heroic it wouldbe, " he taunted, "to rescue the hated enemy, to save my life!"

Roddy, unmoved, regarded him thoughtfully. 

"It would be an awful thing to have on one's conscience, " he said, andleft the wheel-house. 

When, at five o'clock that same afternoon, Roddy found himself sittingopposite Inez Rojas in a properly appointed drawing-room, guarded by aproperly appointed chaperon and with a cup of tea on his knee, thesituation struck him not only as delightful, but comic. With inwardamusement he thought of their other meetings: those before sunrise, and the one by moonlight when Inez had told him he was seeing her forthe last time, and when policemen threatened his advance and sharkscut off his retreat. From a smile in the eyes of the girl herselfRoddy guessed that she also found the meeting not without its humorousside. Roddy soon discovered he could not adjust his feelings to theexigencies of an afternoon call. After doing his duty as an adopteduncle to the Broughton children and to his hostess and her tea and toPeter, in permitting him ten minutes' talk with Inez, he brought thatinterview to an abrupt end. 

"Miss Rojas, " he exclaimed, "you haven't seen Mrs. Broughton's gardenin two years, have you? Such a lot of things grow up in two years. Letme introduce them to you. "

Giving her no chance to demur, Roddy strode out of the French windowsinto the garden, and, as Inez with an apologetic bow to the othersfollowed, Peter moved to a chair beside Mrs. Broughton and held outhis empty cup. 

"There's a certain subtlety about Roddy's methods, " he remarked, "thatwould easily deceive the deaf, dumb and blind. "

The garden was full of rare trees, plants and flowers brought fromevery island of the Caribbean Sea, but Roddy did not pause to observethem. He led the way to a bench under a cluster of young bamboo treesand motioned to the girl to sit down. When she had done so he seatedhimself sideways on the bench and gazed at her. His eyes were filledwith happiness. 

"It's quite too wonderful to be true, " he said contentedly. 

Inez Rojas turned to the tropical splendor of the garden. 

"Yes, " she answered. "Everything grows so fast here. The change isquite wonderful. "

Roddy shook his head at her disappointedly. 

"You mustn't do that, " he reproved her gravely; "when you know what Imean you mustn't pretend to think I mean something else. It's nothonest. And time is too short. To me--these moments are tootremendously valuable. Every other time I have seen you I've had tokeep looking over my shoulder for spies. Even now, " he exclaimed inalarm, "those infernal Broughton children may find me and want to playride-a-cock-horse! So you see, " he went on eagerly, "you must notwaste time misunderstanding me. "

"Will you tell me about the tunnel?" asked the girl. 

"The tunnel!" repeated Roddy blankly. 

But he saw that her mind was occupied only with thoughts of herfather, and at once, briskly and clearly, he explained to her all thathad been accomplished, and all the plots and counter-plots that werein the air. 

"And how soon, " asked the girl, "do you think it will be safe to enterthe tunnel?"

Roddy answered that McKildrick thought in two or three days it wouldbe clean of poisonous gases, but that that night they would againattempt to explore it. 

"If I could only help!" exclaimed Inez. "It is not fair that strangersto my father should be taking a risk that should fall to one of hischildren. It would mean so much, it would make me so happy, if I couldfeel I had done any little thing for him. You cannot know how gratefulI am to you all, to your friends, and to you!" Her eyes opened wide insympathy. "And you were so ill, " she exclaimed, "and the fever is solikely to return. I do not see how it is possible for you to work atnight at El Morro and by day on the light-house and not break down. Wehave no right to permit it. "

"My health, " explained Roddy dryly, "is in no danger from overwork. Iam not employed by the company any longer. If I like I can sleep allday. I've discharged myself. I've lost my job. "

"You have quarrelled with your father, " said the girl quickly, "onaccount of my father? You must not!" she exclaimed. "Indeed, wecannot accept such a sacrifice. "

"The misunderstanding with my father, " Roddy assured her, "is one oflong standing. I've never made a success of what he's given me to do, and this is only the last of a series of failures. You mustn't try tomake me out an unselfish person. I am sacrificing nothing. Rather, ina way, I have gained my independence. At least, if I get a positionnow, people can't say I obtained it through my father's influence. Ofcourse, it's awkward to be poor, " added Roddy dispassionately, "because I had meant to ask you to marry me. "

With an exclamation the girl partly rose and then sank back, retreating to the farthest limit of the bench. 

"Mr. Forrester!" she began with spirit. 

"I know what you're going to say, " interrupted Roddy confidently. "ButI ought to tell you that that doesn't weigh with me at all. I nevercould see, " he exclaimed impatiently, "why, if you love a girl, thefact that she is engaged should make any difference--do _you_? It is, of course, an obstacle, but if you are the right man, and the otherman is not, it certainly is best for everybody that you should makethat plain to her before she marries the wrong man. In your case itcertainly has made no difference to me, and I mean to fight for youuntil you turn back from the altar. Of course, when Vega told me youwere engaged to him it was a shock; but you must admit I didn't let itworry me much. I told you as soon as I saw you that I loved you----"

The girl was looking at him so strangely that Roddy was forced topause. 

"I beg your pardon!" he said. 

The eyes of Inez were searching his closely. When she spoke her voicewas cold and even. 

"Then it was Colonel Vega, " she said, "who told you I was engaged tohim. "

"Of course, " said Roddy. "He told me the night we crossed fromCuraçao. "

Deep back in the serious, searching eyes Roddy thought that for aninstant he detected a smile, mischievous and mocking; but as he leanedforward the eyes again grew grave and critical. With her head slightlyon one side and with her hands clasped on her knee, Inez regarded himwith curiosity. 

"And that made no difference to you?" she asked. 

"Why should it?" demanded Roddy. "A cat can look at a king; why maynot I look at the most wonderful and lovely----"

In the same even tones of one asking an abstract question the girlinterrupted him. 

"But you must have known, " she said, "that I would not engage myselfto any man unless I loved him. Or do you think that, like the womenhere, I would marry as I was told?"

Roddy, not at all certain into what difficulties her questions wereleading him, answered with caution. 

"No, " he replied doubtfully, "I didn't exactly think that, either. "

"Then, " declared the girl, "you must have thought, no matter how muchI loved the man to whom I was engaged, that you could make me turnfrom him. "

Roddy held out his hands appealingly. 

"Don't put it that way!" he begged. "I've never thought I was betterthan any other man. I certainly never thought I was good enough foryou. All I'm sure of is that no man on earth can care for you more. It's the best thing, the only big thing, that ever came into my life. And now it's the only thing left. Yesterday I thought I was rich, andI was glad because I had so much to offer you. But now that I've nomoney at all, now that I'm the Disinherited One, it doesn't seem tomake any difference. At least, it would not to me. Because if I couldmake you care as I care for you, it wouldn't make any difference toyou, either. No one on earth could love you more, " pleaded Roddy. "Iknow it. I feel it. There is nothing else so true! Other men may bringother gifts, but 'Mine is the heart at your feet! He that hath more, '"he challenged, "'let him give!' All I know, " he whispered fiercely, "is, that I _love_ you, I _love_ you, I _love_ you!"

He was so moved, he felt what he said so truly, it was for him suchhappiness to speak, that his voice shook and, unknown to him, thetears stood in his eyes. In answer, he saw the eyes of the girlsoften, her lips drew into a distracting and lovely line. Swiftly, with an ineffable and gracious gesture, she stooped, and catching upone of his hands held it for an instant against her cheek, and then, springing to her feet, ran from him up the garden path to the house. 

Astounded, jubilant, in utter disbelief of his own senses, Roddy satmotionless. In dumb gratitude he gazed about him at the beautifulsunlit garden, drinking in deep draughts of happiness. 

So sure was he that in his present state of mind he could not again, before the others, face Inez, that, like one in a dream, he stumbledthrough the garden to the gate that opened on the street and soreturned home. 

 * * * * *

That night McKildrick gave him permission to enter the tunnel. Thegases had evaporated, and into the entrance the salt air of the seaand the tropical sun had fought their way. The party consisted ofMcKildrick, Peter and Roddy and, as the personal representative ofInez, Pedro, who arrived on foot from the direction of the town. 

"She, herself, " he confided secretly to Roddy, "wished to come. "

"She did!" exclaimed Roddy joyfully. "Why didn't she?"

"I told her your mind would be filled with more important matters, "returned Pedro, seeking approval. "Was I not right?"

Roddy, whose mind was filled only with Inez and who still felt thetouch of her hand upon his, assented without enthusiasm. 

McKildrick was for deciding by lot who should explore the undergroundpassage, but Roddy protested that that duty belonged to him alone. With a rope around his waist, upon which he was to pull if he neededaid, an electric torch and a revolver he entered the tunnel. It leddown and straight before him. The air was damp and chilly, but inbreathing he now found no difficulty. Nor, at first, was his path inany way impeded. His torch showed him solid walls, white anddiscolored, and in places dripping with water. But of the bats, ghostsand vampires, for which Peter had cheerfully prepared him, there wasno sign. Instead, the only sounds that greeted his ears were thereverberating echoes of his own footsteps. He could not tell how farhe had come, but the rope he dragged behind him was each momentgrowing more irksome, and from this he judged he must be far advanced. 

The tunnel now began to twist and turn sharply, and at one place hefound a shaft for light and ventilation that had once opened to thesky. This had been closed with a gridiron of bars, upon which restedloose stones roughly held together by cement. Some of these had fallenthrough the bars and blocked his progress, and to advance it wasnecessary to remove them. He stuck his torch in a crevice and untiedthe rope. When he had cleared his way he left the rope where he haddropped it. Freed of this impediment he was able to proceed morequickly, and he soon found himself in that part of the tunnel that hadbeen cut through the solid rock and which he knew lay under the watersof the harbor. The air here was less pure. His eyes began to smartand his ears to suffer from the pressure. He knew he should turn back, but until he had found the other end of the tunnel he was loth to doso. Against his better judgment he hastened his footsteps; stumbling, slipping, at times splashing in pools of water, he now ran forward. Heknew that he was losing strength, and that to regain the mouth of thetunnel he would need all that was left to him. But he still pushedforward. The air had now turned foul; his head and chest ached, aswhen he had been long under water, and his legs were like lead. He wasjust upon the point of abandoning his purpose when there rose beforehim a solid wall. He staggered to it, and, leaning against it, joyfully beat upon it with his fists. He knew that at last only a fewfeet separated him from the man he had set out to save. So great washis delight and so anxious was he that Rojas should share in it, thatwithout considering that no slight sound could penetrate the barrier, he struck three times upon it with the butt of his revolver, and then, choking and gasping like a drowning man, staggered back toward theopening. Half-way he was met by McKildrick and Peter, who, finding nopressure on the end of the rope, had drawn it to them and, fearing forRoddy's safety, had come to his rescue. They gave him an arm each, and the fresh air soon revived him. He told McKildrick what he hadseen, and from his description of the second wall the engineerdescribed how it should be opened. 

"But without a confederate on the other side, " he said, "we can donothing. "

"Then, " declared Roddy, "the time has come to enroll Vicenti in theHonorable Order of the White Mice. "

On their return to Roddy's house they sent for Vicenti, and Roddy, having first forced him to subscribe to terrifying oaths, told thesecret of the tunnel. 

Tears of genuine happiness came to the eyes of the amazed anddelighted Venezuelan. In his excitement he embraced Roddy andprotested that with such companions and in such a cause he wouldgladly give his life. McKildrick assured him that when he learned ofthe part he was to play in the rescue he would see that they hadalready taken the liberty of accepting that sacrifice. It wasnecessary, he explained, that the wall between the tunnel and the cellshould fall at the first blow. An attempt to slowly undermine it, orto pick it to pieces, would be overheard and lead to discovery. Hetherefore intended to rend the barrier apart by a single shock ofdynamite. But in this also there was danger; not to those in thetunnel, who, knowing at what moment the mine was timed to explode, could retreat to a safe distance, but to the man they wished to setfree. The problem, as McKildrick pointed it out, was to make thecharges of dynamite sufficiently strong to force a breach in the wallthrough which Rojas could escape into the tunnel, and yet not sostrong as to throw the wall upon Rojas and any one who might be withhim. 

"And I, " cried Vicenti, "will be the one who will be with him!"

"Good!" said Roddy. "That's what we hoped. It will be your part, then, to prepare General Rojas, to keep him away from the wall when we blowit open, and to pass him through the breach to us. Everything willhave to be arranged beforehand. We can't signal through the wall orthey would hear it. We can only agree in advance as to the exactmoment it is to fall, and then trust that nothing will hang fire, either on your side of the barrier or on ours. "

"And after we get him into the tunnel!" warned Vicenti, as excited asthough the fact were already accomplished, "we must still fight forhis life. The explosion will bring every soldier in the fortress tothe cell, and they will follow us. "

"There's several sharp turns in the tunnel, " said McKildrick "andbehind one of them a man with a revolver could hold back the lot!"

"I speak to do that!" cried Roddy jealously. "I speak to be Horatius!"

"'And I will stand on thy right hand, '" declared Peter; "'and hold thebridge with thee. ' But you know, Roddy, " he added earnestly, "you'rean awful bad shot. If you go shooting up that subway in the darkyou'll kill both of us. You'd better take a base-ball bat and swatthem as they come round the turn. "

"And then, " cried Roddy, springing to his feet, "we'll rush Rojas downto the launch! And in twelve hours we'll land him safe in Curaçao. Heavens!" he exclaimed, "what a reception they'll give him!"

The cold and acid tones of McKildrick cast a sudden chill upon theenthusiasm. 

"Before we design the triumphal arches, " he said, "suppose we firstget him out of prison. "

When at last the conference came to an end and Vicenti rose to go, Roddy declared himself too excited to sleep and volunteered toaccompany the doctor to his door. But the cause of his insomnia wasnot General Rojas but the daughter of General Rojas, and what calledhim forth into the moonlit Alameda was his need to think undisturbedof Inez, and, before he slept, to wish "good-night" to the house thatsheltered her. In this vigil Roddy found a deep and melancholysatisfaction. From where he sat on a stone bench in the black shadowsof the trees that arched the Alameda, Miramar, on the opposite side ofthe street, rose before him. Its yellow walls now were white andghostlike. In the moonlight it glistened like a palace of frostedsilver. The palace was asleep, and in the garden not a leaf stirred. The harbor breeze had died, and the great fronds of the palms, likerigid and glittering sword-blades, were clear-cut against the stars. The boulevard in which he sat stretched its great length, empty andsilent. And Miramar seemed a dream palace set in a dream world, aworld filled with strange, intangible people, intent on strange, fantastic plots. To Roddy the father, who the day before had cast himoff, seemed unreal; the old man buried in a living sepulchre, and forwhom in a few hours he might lose his life, was unreal; as unreal asthe idea that he might lose his life. In all the little world abouthim there was nothing real, nothing that counted, nothing living andactual, save the girl asleep in the palace of frosted silver and hislove for her. 

His love for her made the fact that he was without money, and with noprofession, talent or bread-and-butter knowledge that would serve tokeep even himself alive, a matter of no consequence. It made thethought that Inez was promised to another man equally unimportant. Theonly fact was his love for her, and of that he could not doubt theoutcome. He could not believe God had brought into his life suchhappiness only to take it from him. 

When he woke the next morning the necessity of seeing Inez again andat once was imperative. Since she had left him the afternoon before, in the garden of Mrs. Broughton, she had entirely occupied histhoughts. Until he saw her he could enjoy no peace. Against thecircumstances that kept them apart he chafed and rebelled. Heconsidered it would be some comfort, at least, to revisit the spotwhere he last had spoken with her, and where from pity or a desire tospare him she had let him tell her he loved her. 

The unusual moment at which he made his call did not seem to surpriseMrs. Broughton. It was almost as though she were expecting him. 

"My reason for coming at this absurd hour, " began Roddy in someembarrassment, "is to apologize for running away yesterday withoutwishing you 'good-by. ' I suddenly remembered----"

The young matron stopped him with a frown. 

"I am disappointed, Roddy, " she interrupted, "and hurt. If youdistrust me, if you won't confide in an old friend no matter how muchshe may wish to help you, she can only----"

"Oh!" cried Roddy abjectly, casting aside all subterfuge, "_will_ youhelp me? Please, Mrs. Broughton!" he begged. "_Dear_ Mrs. Broughton!Fix it so I can see her. I am _so_ miserable, " he pleaded, "and I amso happy. "

With the joyful light of the match-maker who sees her plans proceedingto success Mrs. Broughton beamed upon him. 

"By a strange coincidence, " she began, in tones tantalizingly slow, "ausually proud and haughty young person condescended to come to me thismorning for advice. _She_ doesn't distrust me. She believes----"

"And what did you advise?" begged Roddy. 

"I advised her to wait in the garden until I sent a note tellingyou----"

Already Roddy was at the door. 

"What part of the garden?" he shouted. "Never mind!" he cried inalarm, lest Mrs. Broughton should volunteer to guide him. "Don'tbother to show me; I can find her. "

Mrs. Broughton went into the Consulate and complained to her husband. 

"It makes Roddy so selfish, " she protested. 

"What did you think he'd do?" demanded Broughton--"ask you to go withhim? You forget Roddy comes from your own happy country where nochaperon is expected to do her duty. "

Inez was standing by the bench at which they had parted. Above her andaround her the feathery leaves of the bamboo trees whispered andshivered, shading her in a canopy of delicate sun-streaked green. 

Like a man who gains the solid earth after a strenuous struggle in thewaves, Roddy gave a deep sigh of content. 

"It has been so hard, " he said simply. "It's been so long! I have beenparched, starved for a sight of you!"

At other times when they had been together the eyes of the girl alwayslooked into his steadily or curiously. Now they were elusive, shy, glowing with a new radiance. They avoided him and smiled upon thebeautiful sun-steeped garden as though sharing some hidden and happysecret. 

"I sent for you, " she began, "to tell you----"

Roddy shook his head emphatically. 

"You didn't send for me, " he said. "I came of my own accord. Lastnight you didn't send for me either, but all through the night I satoutside your house. This morning I am here because this is where Ilast saw you. And I find _you_. It's a sign! I thought my heart led mehere, but I think now it was the gods! They are on my side. They fightfor me. Why do you try to fight against the gods?"

His voice was very low, very tender. He bent forward, and the girl, still avoiding his eyes, sank back upon the bench, and Roddy, seatinghimself, leaned over her. 

"Remember!" he whispered, "though the mills of the gods grind slow, they grind exceeding fine. The day is coming when you will never haveto send for me again. You cannot escape it, or me. I am sorry--but Ihave come into your life--to stay!"

The girl breathed quickly, and, as though casting off the spell of hisvoice and the feeling it carried with it, suddenly threw out her handsand, turning quickly, faced him. 

"I must tell you what makes it so hard, " she said, "why I must notlisten to you. It is this. I must not think of myself. I must notthink of you, except--" She paused, and then added, slowly anddefiantly--"as the one person who can save my father! Do youunderstand? Do I make it plain? I am _making use_ of you. I have ledyou on. I have kept you near me, for his sake. I am sacrificingyou--for him!" Her voice was trembling, miserable. With her clenchedfist she beat upon her knee. "I had to tell you, " she murmured, "I hadto tell you! I had to remember, " she protested fiercely, "that I amnothing, that I have no life of my own. Until he is free I do notexist. I am not a girl to love, or to listen to love. I can be onlythe daughter of the dear, great soul who, without you, may die. Andall you can be to me is the man who can save him!" She raised hereyes, unhappily, appealingly. "Even if you despised me, " shewhispered, "I had to tell you. "

Roddy's eyes were as miserable as her own. He reached out his arms toher, as though he would shelter her from herself and from the wholeworld. 

"But, my dear one, my wonderful one, " he cried, "can't you see that'sonly morbid, only wicked? _You_ led _me_ on?" he cried. He laughedjubilantly, happily. "Did I _need_ leading? Didn't I love you from thefirst moment you rode toward me out of the sunrise, bringing the daywith you? How could I help but love you? You've done nothing to makeme love you; you've only been the most glorious, the most beautifulwoman----"

At a sign from the girl he stopped obediently. 

"Can't I love you, " he demanded, "and work for your father the more, because I love you?"

The girl sat suddenly erect and clasped her hands. Her shoulders movedslightly, as though with sudden cold. 

"It frightens me!" she whispered. "Before you came I thought of himalways, and nothing else, only of him. I dreamed of him; terrible, haunting dreams. Each day I prayed and worked for him. And then--" shepaused, and, as though seeking help to continue, looked appealinglyinto Roddy's eyes. Her own were uncertain, troubled, filled withdistress. "And then you came, " she said. "And now I find I think ofyou. It is disloyal, wicked! I forget how much he suffers. I forgeteven how much I love him. I want only to listen to you. All thesorrow, all the misery of these last two years seems to slip from me. I find it doesn't matter, that nothing matters. I am only happy, foolishly, without reason, happy!"

In his gratitude, in his own happiness, Roddy reached out his hand. But Inez drew her own away, and with her chin resting upon it, andwith her elbow on her knee, sat staring ahead of her. 

"And I find this!" she whispered guiltily, like one at confession. "Ifind I hate to spare you for this work. Three weeks ago, when you leftCuraçao, I thought a man could not risk his life in a nobler causethan the one for which you were risking yours. It seemed to me aduty--a splendid duty. But now, I am afraid--for you. I knew it firstthe night you swam from me across the harbor, and I followed you withmy eyes, watching and waiting for you to sink and die. And I prayedfor you then; and suddenly, as I prayed, I found it was not you forwhom I was praying, but for myself, for my own happiness. That Iwanted you to live--for me!"

The girl sprang to her feet, and Roddy rose with her, and they stoodfacing each other. 

"Now you know, " she whispered. "I had to tell you. I had to confess toyou that I tried to make you care for me, hoping you would do what Iwished. I did not mean to tell you that, instead, I learned to carefor you. If you despise me I will understand; if you can still loveme----"

"_If_ I love you?" cried Roddy. "I love you _so_----"

For an instant, as though to shut out the look in his face, the eyesof the girl closed. She threw out her hands quickly to stop him. 

"Then, " she begged, "help me not to think of you. Not to think ofmyself. We are young. We are children. He is old: every moment countsfor him. If this is the big thing in our lives we hope it is, it willlast always! But with him each moment may mean the end; a horribleend, alone, among enemies, in a prison. You must give me yourword--you must promise me not to tempt me to think of you. You arevery generous, very strong. Help me to do this. Promise me until he isfree you will not tell me you care for me, never again, until he isfree. Or else"--her tone was firm, though her voice had sunk to awhisper. She drew back, and regarded him unhappily, shaking herhead--"or else, I must not see you again. "

There was a moment's silence, and then Roddy gave an exclamation ofimpatience, of protest. 

"If you ask it!" he said, "I promise. How _soon_ am I to see youagain?"

Inez moved from him toward the house. At a little distance she stoppedand regarded him in silence. Her eyes were wistful, reproachful. 

"It was so hard to ask, " she murmured, "and you've promised soeasily!"

"How dare you!" cried Roddy. "How dare you! Easy!" He rushed onwildly, "When I want to cry out to the whole world that I love you, when I feel that every stranger sees it, when my heart beats, 'Inez, Inez, Inez, ' so that I know the people in the street can hear it too. If I hadn't promised you to keep silent, " he cried indignantly, "because you asked it, I'd tell you now that no other woman in all theworld is loved as I love you! Easy to be silent!" he demanded, "whenevery drop of blood calls to you, when I breathe only when youbreathe----"

"Stop!" cried the girl. For an instant she covered her face with herhands. When she lowered them her eyes were shining, radiant, laughingwith happiness. 

"I am so sorry!" she whispered penitently. "It was wicked. But, " shepleaded, "I did so want to hear you say it just once more!"

She was very near to him. Her eyes were looking into his. What she sawin them caused her to close her own quickly. Feeling blindly withoutstretched hands, she let herself sway toward him, and in an instantshe was wrapped in his arms with his breathless kisses covering herlips and cheeks. 

For Roddy the earth ceased revolving, he was lifted above it and heardthe music of the stars. He was crowned, exalted, deified. Then thegirl who had done this tore herself away and ran from him through thegarden. 

Neither Inez nor Roddy was in a mood to exchange polite phrases in thepresence of Mrs. Broughton, and they at once separated, each in adifferent direction, Roddy returning to his home. There he found SamCaldwell. He was in no better frame of mind to receive him, butCaldwell had been two hours waiting and was angry and insistent. 

"At last!" he exclaimed. "I have been here since eleven. Don't tellme, " he snapped, "that you've been spearing eels, because I won'tbelieve it. "

"What can I tell you, " asked Roddy pleasantly, "that you willbelieve?"

That Caldwell had sought him out and had thought it worth his while towait two hours for an interview seemed to Roddy to show that in thecamp of his enemies matters were not moving smoothly, and that, intheir opinion, he was of more interest than they cared to admit. 

Caldwell began with an uneasy assumption of good-fellowship. 

"I have come under a flag of truce, " he said grinning. "We want tohave a talk and see if we can't get together. "

"Who are 'we'?" asked Roddy. 

"Vega, myself, and Señora Rojas. "

"Señora Rojas!" exclaimed Roddy gravely. "Are you not mistaken?"

"She sent me here, " replied Caldwell. "These are my credentials. " Witha flourish and a bow of marked ceremony, he handed Roddy a letter. 

It came from Miramar, and briefly requested that Mr. Forrester woulddo the Señora Rojas the honor to immediately call upon her. 

Roddy caught up his hat. The prospect of a visit to the home of Inezenchanted him, and he was as greatly puzzled as to what such a visitmight bring forth. 

"We will go at once!" he said. 

But Caldwell hung back. 

"I'd rather explain it first, " he said. 

Already Roddy resented the fact that Caldwell was serving as theambassador of Madame Rojas, and there was, besides, in his mannersomething which showed that in that service he was neither zealous norloyal. 

"Possibly Señora Rojas can do that herself, " said Roddy. 

"No, she can't!" returned Caldwell sharply, "because she doesn't know, and we don't mean to tell her. But I am going to tell _you_. "

"Better not!" warned Roddy. 

"I'll take the chance, " said Caldwell. His manner was conciliating, propitiatory. "I'll take the chance, " he protested, "that when youlearn the truth you won't round on your own father. It isn't natural, it isn't human!"

"Caldwell on the Human Emotions!" exclaimed Roddy, grinning. 

But Caldwell was too truly in earnest to be interrupted. 

"Your father's spending two millions to make Vega President, " he wenton rapidly. "We've got to have him. We need him in our business. _You_think Rojas would make a better President. Maybe he would. But not forus. He's too old-fashioned. He's----"

"Too honest?" suggested Roddy. 

"Too honest, " assented Caldwell promptly. "And there's another slightobjection to him. He's in jail. And you, " Caldwell cried, raising hisfinger and shaking it in Roddy's face, "can't get him out. We can'ttake San Carlos, and neither can you. They have guns there that intwenty minutes could smash this town into a dust-heap. So you see, what you hope to do is impossible, absurd! Now, " he urged eagerly, "why don't you give up butting your head into a stone wall, and helpyour father and me?"

He stopped, and in evident anxiety waited for the other to speak, butRoddy only regarded him steadily. After a pause Roddy said: "_I'm_ nottalking. You're the one that's talking. And, " he added, "you'retalking too much, too!"

"I'll risk it!" cried Caldwell stoutly. "I've never gone after a manof sense yet that I couldn't make him see things my way. Now, SeñoraRojas, " he went on, "only wants one thing. She wants to get herhusband out of prison. She thinks Vega can do that, that he means todo it, that I mean to do it. Well--we _don't_. "

Roddy's eyes half closed, the lines around his mouth grew taut, andwhen he spoke his voice was harsh and had sunk to a whisper. 

"I tell you, " he said, "you're talking too much!"

But neither in Roddy's face nor voice did Caldwell read the dangersignals. 

"It doesn't suit our book, " he swept on, "to get him out. Until Vegais President he must stay where he is. But his wife must not knowthat. She believes in _us_. She thinks the Rojas crowd only interfereswith us, and she is sending for you to ask you to urge the Rojasfaction to give us a free hand. "

"I see, " said Roddy; "and while Vega is trying to be President, Rojasmay die. Have you thought of that?"

"Can we help it?" protested Caldwell. "Did _we_ put him in prison?We'll have trouble enough keeping ourselves out of San Carlos. Well, "he demanded, "what are you going to do?"

"At present, " said Roddy, "I'm going to call on Madame Rojas. "

On their walk to Miramar, Caldwell found it impossible to break downRoddy's barrier of good nature. He threatened, he bullied, he heldforth open bribes; but Roddy either remained silent or laughed. Caldwell began to fear that in trying to come to terms with the enemyhe had made a mistake. But still he hoped that in his obstinacy Roddywas merely stupid; he believed that in treating him as a factor inaffairs they had made him vainglorious, arrogant. He was sure that ifhe could convince him of the utter impossibility of taking San Carlosby assault he would abandon the Rojas crowd and come over to Vega. Sohe enlarged upon the difficulty of that enterprise, using it as hisargument in chief. Roddy, in his turn, pretended he believed SanCarlos would fall at the first shot, and, as he intended, persuadedCaldwell that an attack upon the prison was the fixed purpose of theRojas faction. 

Roddy, who as a sentimental burglar had so often forced his way intothe grounds of Miramar, found a certain satisfaction in at lastentering it by the front door, and by invitation. His coming wasobviously expected, and his arrival threw the many servants into astate of considerable excitement. Escorted by the major-domo, he wasled to the drawing-room where Madame Rojas was waiting to receive him. As he entered, Inez and her sister, with Vega and General Pulido andColonel Ramon, came in from the terrace, and Caldwell followed fromthe hall. 

With the manner of one who considered himself already a member of thehousehold, Vega welcomed Roddy, but without cordiality, and withcondescension. To Inez, although the sight of her caused him greatembarrassment, Roddy made a formal bow, to which she replied with oneas formal. Señora Rojas, having ordered the servants to close thedoors and the windows to the terrace, asked Roddy to be seated, andthen placed herself in a chair that faced his. The others groupedthemselves behind her. Roddy felt as though the odds were hardly fair. With the exception of Inez, who understood that any sign she mightmake in his favor would do him harm, all those present were opposed tohim. This fact caused Roddy to gaze about him in pleasurableexcitement and smile expectantly. He failed to see how the interviewcould lead to any definite result. Already he had learned fromCaldwell more than he had suspected, and all that he needed to know, and, as he was determined on account of her blind faith in Vega toconfide nothing to Señora Rojas, he saw no outcome to the visit asimportant as that it had so soon brought him again into the presenceof Inez. 

"Mr. Forrester, " began Señora Rojas, "I have asked you to call on meto-day at the suggestion of these gentlemen. They believe that wherethey might fail, an appeal from me would be effective. I am going tospeak to you quite frankly and openly; but when you remember I ampleading for the life of my husband you will not take offense. With nodoubt the best of motives, you have allied yourself with what is knownas the Rojas faction. Its object is to overthrow the President and toplace my husband at Miraflores. To me, the wife of General Rojas, suchan undertaking is intolerable. All I desire, all I am sure he desires, is his freedom. There are those, powerful and well equipped, who cansecure it. They do not belong to the so-called Rojas faction. You, weunderstand, have much influence in its counsels. We know that to carryout its plans you have quarrelled with your father, resigned from hiscompany. If I venture to refer to your private affairs, it is onlybecause I understand you yourself have spoken of them publicly, andbecause they show me that in your allegiance, in your mistakenallegiance to my husband, you are in earnest. But, in spite of yourwish to serve him, I have asked you here to-day to beg you and yourfriends to relinquish your purpose. His wife and his children feelthat the safety of General Rojas is in other hands, in the hands ofthose who have his fullest confidence and mine. " In her distress, Señora Rojas leaned forward. "I beg of you, " she exclaimed, "do as Iask. Leave my husband to me and to his friends. What you would do canonly interfere with them. And it may lead directly to his death. "

She paused, and, with her eyes fixed eagerly on Roddy's face, waitedfor his answer. The men standing in a group behind her noddedapprovingly. Then they also turned to Roddy and regarded him sternly, as though challenging him to resist such an appeal. Roddy found hisposition one of extreme embarrassment. He now saw why Señora Rojas hadreceived him in the presence of so large an audience. It was to rendera refusal to grant her request the more difficult. In the group drawnup before him he saw that each represented a certain interest, eachheld a distinctive value. The two daughters were intended to remindhim that it was against a united family he was acting; Caldwell was torecall to him that he was opposing the wishes of his father, and Vegaand the two officers naturally suggested to whom Señora Rojas referredwhen she said her interests were in the hands of powerful andwell-equipped friends. Should he tell the truth and say that of theplans of the Rojas faction he knew little or nothing, Roddy was surehe would not be believed. He was equally certain that if, in private, he confided his own plan to Señora Rojas and told her that within thenext forty-eight hours she might hope to see her husband, she would atonce acquaint Vega and Caldwell with that fact. And, after theconfidence made him by Caldwell, what he and Vega might not do to keepRojas off the boards, he did not care to think. He certainly did notdeem it safe to test their loyalty. He, therefore, determined that asit was impossible to tell his opponents the truth, he had better letthem continue to believe he was a leader in the Rojas party, and that, with it, his only purpose was an open attack upon the fortress. 

"I need not say, " protested Roddy gravely, "that I am greatlyflattered by your confidence. It makes me very sorry that I cannot beequally frank. But I am only a very unimportant member of the greatorganization that has for its leader General Rojas----"

"And I, " interrupted Señora Rojas, "am the wife of that leader. Are mywishes of no weight?"

"I fear, madame, " begged Roddy, in deprecatory tones, "that tomillions of Venezuelans General Rojas is considered less as thehusband than as the only man who can free this country from the handsof a tyrant. "

At this further sign of what seemed fatuous obstinacy, Señora Rojaslost patience. 

"A tyrant!" she exclaimed quickly. "I must protest, Mr. Forrester, that the word comes strangely from one who has denounced my husband asa traitor. "

The attack confused Roddy, and to add to his discomfort it was greetedby the men in the rear of Señora Rojas with a chorus of approvingexclamations. Roddy raised his eyes and regarded them gravely. In atone of stern rebuke Señora Rojas continued:

"We have been frank and honest, " she said, "but when we cannot tellwhether the one with whom we treat runs with the hare or the hounds, it is difficult. "

Again from the men came the murmur of approval, and Roddy, stillregarding them, to prevent himself from speaking pressed his lipstightly together. 

Knowing how near Señora Rojas might be to attaining the one thing shemost desired, his regret at her distress was genuine, and that, in herignorance, she should find him a most objectionable young man he couldwell understand. The fact aroused in him no resentment. But to hissecret amusement he found that the thought uppermost in his mind wasone of congratulation that Inez Rojas was more the child of herVenezuelan father than of her American mother. Even while he deeplysympathized with Señora Rojas, viewed as a future mother-in-law, shefilled him with trepidation. But from any point he could see no healthin continuing the scene, and he rose and bowed. 

"I am sorry, " he said, "but I cannot find that any good can come ofthis. I assure you, you are mistaken in thinking I am of anyimportance, or that I carry any weight with the Rojas party. Believeme, I do not. I am doing nothing, " he protested gently, "that canbring harm to your husband. No one outside of your own family can wishmore sincerely for his safety. "

The chorus of men interrupted him with an incredulous laugh andmurmurs of disbelief. 

Roddy turned upon them sharply. 

"We can dispense with the claque, " he said. "My interview is withMadame Rojas. If you gentlemen have anything to discuss with me lateryou will come out of it much better if that lady is not present. Ifyou don't know what I mean, " he added significantly, "Caldwell cantell you. "

Señora Rojas had no interest in any annoyance Roddy might feel towardher guests. She recognized only that he was leaving her. She made afinal appeal. Rising to her feet, she exclaimed indignantly:

"I refuse to believe that against the wishes of myself and my familyyou will persist in this. It is incredible! I can no longer be contentonly to ask you not to interfere--I forbid it. "

She advanced toward him, her eyes flashing with angry tears. Roddy, inhis sympathy with her distress, would have been glad, with a word, toend it, but he felt he could not trust to her discretion. Her nextspeech showed him that his instinct was correct. Accepting his silenceas a refusal, she turned with an exclamation to Pino Vega. 

"If you will not listen to a woman, " she protested, "you may listento a man. " With a gesture she signified Vega. He stepped eagerlyforward. 

"I am at your service, " he said. 

"Speak to him, " Señora Rojas commanded. "Tell him! Forbid him tocontinue. "

Roddy received the introduction of Vega into the scene with mixedfeelings. To the best of his ability he was trying to avoid a quarrel, and in his fuller knowledge of the situation he knew that for SeñoraRojas it would be best if she had followed his wishes, and had broughtthe interview to an end. That Vega, who was planning treachery toRojas, should confront him as the champion of Rojas, stirred all thecombativeness in Roddy that he was endeavoring to subdue. When Vegaturned to him he welcomed that gentleman with a frown. 

"As the son of this house, " Vega began dramatically, "as therepresentative, in his absence, of General Rojas, I forbid you tomeddle further in this affair. "

The demand was unfortunately worded. A smile came to Roddy's eyes, andthe color in his cheeks deepened. He turned inquiringly to SeñoraRojas. 

"The son of this house, " he repeated. "The gentleman expresses himselfawkwardly. What does he mean?"

Since Inez had entered the room Roddy had not once permitted himselfto look toward her. Now he heard from where she stood a quick movementand an exclamation. 

For an instant, a chill of doubt held him silent. Within the veryhour, she had told him that to keep him loyal to her father she hadtraded on his interest in her. Had she, for the same purpose and inthe same way, encouraged Vega? To Roddy, she had confessed what shehad done, and that she loved him. With that he was grandly content. But was she still hoping by her promise of marriage to Vega to holdhim in allegiance, not to herself, but to her father? Was herexclamation one of warning? Had he, by his question, precipitated someexplanation that Inez wished to avoid? He cast toward her a glance ofanxious inquiry. To his relief, Inez reassured him with a nod, and asmile of trust and understanding. 

The exchange of glances was lost neither upon Vega nor upon SeñoraRojas. In turn, they looked at each other, their eyes filled withangry suspicion. 

What she had witnessed caused Señora Rojas to speak with addedasperity. 

"Colonel Vega has my authority for what he says, " she exclaimed. "He_is_ the son of this house. He is the future husband of my daughterInez. "

The exclamation that now came from Inez was one of such surprise andprotest that every one turned toward her. 

The girl pushed from her the chair on which she had been leaning andwalked toward her mother. Her eyes were flashing, but her manner wascourteous and contained. 

"Why do you say that?" she asked quietly. "Has Colonel Vega told youthat, as he has told others? Because it is not true!"

Señora Rojas, amazed and indignant, stared at her daughter as thoughshe doubted she had heard her. 

"Inez!" she exclaimed. 

"It must be set right, " said the girl. "Colonel Vega presumes too faron the services he has shown my father. I am not going to marry him. Ihave told him so repeatedly. He is deceiving you in this, as he isdeceiving you in matters more important. He is neither the son of thishouse nor the friend of this house. And it is time that he understoodthat we know it!"

In her distress, Señora Rojas turned instinctively to Vega. 

"Pino!" she exclaimed. "You _told_ me! You told me it was her secret, that she wished to keep it even from her mother, but that you thoughtit your duty to tell me. Why?" she demanded. "Why?"

Vega, his eyes flaming, in a rage of mortification and wounded vanitythrew out his arms. 

"My dear lady!" he cried, "it was because I hoped! I still hope, " heprotested. "Inez has been poisoned by this man!" He pointed with ashaking finger at Roddy. "He has filled her mind with tales againstme. " He turned to Inez. "Is it not true?" he challenged. 

Inez regarded him coldly, disdainfully. 

"No, it is not true, " she said. "It is the last thing he would do. Because, until this moment, Mr. Forrester thought that what you toldhim was a fact. " She raised her voice. "And he is incapable ofspeaking ill of a man--" she hesitated, and then, smiling slightly asthough in enjoyment of the mischief she were making, added, "he knewwas his unsuccessful rival. "

Furious, with a triumphant exclamation, Vega turned to Señora Rojas. 

"You hear!" he cried. "My rival!"

Inez moved quickly toward Roddy. Placing herself at his side, shefaced the others. 

Her eyes were wide with excitement, with fear at what she was aboutto do. As though begging permission, she raised them to Roddy and, timidly stretching out her hand, touched his arm. "Mother, " she said, "I am going to marry Mr. Forrester!"

VIII

The silence that greeted the announcement of Inez, was broken in astartling fashion. Before her mother could recover from her amazementone of the windows to the garden was thrown open, and a man burstthrough it and sprang toward Vega. He was disheveled, breathless; froma wound in his forehead a line of blood ran down his cheek. Hisappearance was so alarming that all of those who, the instant before, had been staring in astonishment at Inez now turned to the intruder. They recognized him as the personal servant of Vega. Withoutconsidering the presence of the others, the valet spoke as he crossedthe room. 

"The police are in your house, " he panted. "They have searched it;taken the papers. They tried to stop me. " He drew his hand across hisface and showed it streaked with blood. "But I escaped by the harbor. The boat is at the wharf. You have not a moment!" His eyes wanderedtoward Pulido and Ramon, and he exclaimed delightedly, "You also!" hecried; "there is still time!"

General Pulido ran to the window. 

"There is still time!" he echoed. "By the boat we can reach QuintaTortola at the appointed hour. Colonel Ramon, " he commanded, "remainwith Señor Caldwell. You, Pino, come with me!"

But Vega strode furiously toward Roddy. 

"No!" he shouted. "This man first! My honor first!"

At this crisis of his fortunes, Sam Caldwell, much to the surprise ofRoddy, showed himself capable of abrupt action. He threw his armaround the waist of Vega, and ran him to the window. 

"Damn your honor!" he shrieked. "You take your orders from _me_! Go tothe meeting-place!"

Struggling, not only in the arms of Caldwell but in those of Pulidoand the valet, Vega was borne to the terrace. As he was pushed fromthe window he stretched out his arm toward Roddy. 

"When we meet again, " he cried, "I kill you!"

Roddy looked after him with regret. More alarming to him than theprospect of a duel was the prospect of facing Señora Rojas. For themoment Vega and his personal danger had averted the wrath that Roddyknew was still to come, but with the departure of Vega he saw it couldno longer be postponed. He turned humbly to Señora Rojas. The scenethrough which that lady had just passed had left her trembling; butthe sight of Roddy confronting her seemed at once to restore herself-possession. Anxiously, but in a tone of deep respect, Roddyaddressed her:

"I have the great honor, " he said, "to inform----"

After one indignant glance Señora Rojas turned from him to herdaughter. Her words sounded like the dripping of icicles. 

"You will leave the room, " she said. She again glanced at Roddy. "Youwill leave the house. "

Not since when, as a child, he had been sent to stand in a corner hadRoddy felt so guilty. And to his horror he found he was torn with ahysterical desire to laugh. 

"But, Madame Rojas, " he protested hastily, "it is impossible for me toleave until I make clear to you----"

In the fashion of the country, Señora Rojas clapped her hands. 

"Surely, " she exclaimed, "you will not subject me to a scene beforethe servants. "

In answer to her summons the doors flew open, and the frightenedservants, who had heard of the blood-stained messenger, pushed intothe room. With the air of a great lady dismissing an honored guestSeñora Rojas bowed to Roddy, and Roddy, accepting the inevitable, bowed deeply in return. 

As he walked to the door he cast toward Inez an unhappy look ofapology and appeal. But the smile with which she answered seemed toshow that, to her, their discomfiture was in no way tragic. Roddy atonce took heart and beamed with gratitude. In the look he gave her heendeavored to convey his assurance of the devotion of a lifetime. 

"Good-by, " said Inez pleasantly. 

"Good-by, " said Roddy. 

 * * * * *

On coming to Porto Cabello Sam Caldwell had made his headquarters atthe home of the United States Consul, who owed his appointment to theinfluence of Mr. Forrester, and who, in behalf of that gentleman, wasvery justly suspected by Alvarez of "pernicious activity. " On takinghis leave of Señora Rojas, which he did as soon as Roddy had beenshown the door, Caldwell hastened to the Consulate, and, as theremight be domiciliary visits to the houses of all the Vegaistas, Colonel Ramon, seeking protection as a political refugee, accompaniedhim. 

The police had precipitated the departure of Vega from the city byonly a few hours. He had planned to leave it and to join his adherentsin the mountains that same afternoon, and it was only to learn theresult of the final appeal to Roddy that he had waited. As theyhastened through the back streets to the Consulate, Ramon said:

"It was not worth waiting for. Young Forrester told nothing. And why?Because he knows nothing!"

"To me, " growled Caldwell, "he makes a noise like a joker in the pack. I don't mind telling you he's got me listening. He wouldn't havethrown up his job and quarrelled with his father and Señora Rojas ifhe wasn't pretty sure he was in right. Vega tells me, three weeks agoRoddy went to Curaçao to ask Madame Rojas to help him get her husbandout of prison. Instead, she turned him down _hard_. But did that phasehim? No! I believe he's still working--working at this moment on someplan of his own to get Rojas free. Every night he goes out in hislaunch with young De Peyster. Where do they go? They _say_ they gofishing. Well, maybe! We can't follow them, for they douse the lightsand their motor is too fast for us. But, to me, it looks like arescue, for the only way they could rescue Rojas would be from theharbor. If they have slipped him tools and he is cutting his way tothe water, some dark night they'll carry him off in that damnedlaunch. And then, " he exclaimed angrily, "where would I be? That oldRip Van Winkle has only got to show his face, and it would be all overbut the shouting. He'd lose us what we've staked on Vega, and he'dmake us carry out some of the terms of our concession that would costus a million more. "

Ramon exclaimed with contempt. 

"Forrester!" he cried. "He is only a boy!"

"Any boy, " snapped Caldwell impatiently "who is clever enough to gethimself engaged to the richest girl in Venezuela, under the guns ofher mother and Pino Vega, is old enough to vote. I take my hat off tohim. "

The Venezuelan turned his head and looked meaningly at Caldwell; hiseyes were hard and cruel. 

"I regret, " he said, "but he must be stopped. "

"No, you don't!" growled Caldwell; "that's not the answer. We won'tstop _him_. We'll let _him_ go! It's the other man we'll stop--Rojas!"

"Yes, yes!" returned Ramon eagerly. "That is the only way left. Rojasmust die!"

"Die!" laughed Caldwell comfortably. "Not a bit like it! I'm ratherplanning to improve his health. " He stopped and glanced up and downthe narrow street. It was empty. He laid his hand impressively on thearm of the Venezuelan. 

"To-day, " he whispered, "some one will send a letter--an anonymousletter--to San Carlos, telling the Commandante why General Rojas wouldbe more comfortable in another cell. "

 * * * * *

From Miramar, Roddy returned directly to his house. On the way hefound the city in a ferment; all shops had closed, the plazas andcafés were crowded, and the Alameda was lined with soldiers. Wherevera few men gathered together the police ordered them to separate; andin the driveways, troopers of Alvarez, alert and watchful, each withhis carbine on his hip, rode slowly at a walk, glancing from left toright. At his house, Roddy found gathered there all of the White Mice:Peter, McKildrick, Vicenti and Pedro. They had assembled, he supposed, to learn the result of his visit to Miramar, but they were concernedwith news more important. Vicenti had called them together to tellthem that, at any moment, the Rojas faction might rise and attempt toseize the city and San Carlos. The escape of Vega, and the fact, whichwas now made public, that he had proclaimed himself in revolt, hadgiven the Rojas faction the opportunity for which it had been waiting. The city was denuded of Government troops. For hours they had beenpouring out of it in pursuit of Vega and his little band ofrevolutionists; and until reënforcements should arrive from Caracas, which might not be in twenty-four hours, the city was defenseless. Themoment for the Rojas party had come. 

But Vicenti feared that the assault on San Carlos would result, notonly in the death of many of those who attacked it, but also would bethe signal on the inside for the instant assassination of Rojas. Ittherefore was imperative, before the attack was made, to get Rojas outof prison. He dared not inform even the leaders of the Rojas party ofthe proposed rescue. It must be attempted only by those who could beabsolutely trusted, those already in the secret. And it was for thatpurpose he had called the White Mice together. When Roddy arrived theyhad, subject to his approval, arranged their plan. From what Vicentihad learned, the assault on the fortress would be made at midnight. Itwas accordingly agreed that at nine o'clock, when it would be quitedark, they would blow open the wall. Roddy, McKildrick and Peter woulddine together at Roddy's house, and at eight, in the launch, wouldleave his wharf. Pedro, whose presence would assure General Rojas ofthe good intentions of the others, was directed to so arrange hisdeparture from Miramar as to arrive by the shore route at the wharf intime to accompany them. And Vicenti, who had set his watch withMcKildrick's, was at once to inform General Rojas of what was expectedto happen, and at nine o'clock, when the wall fell, to rush with himthrough the breach. 

In the _patio_ the men, standing and in silence, drank to the successof their undertaking, and then, after each had shaken hands with theothers, separated. By Roddy's orders Pedro was to inform Inez of theirplan and to tell her that, if the Rojas party, in its attack upon thecity, was successful, her father might that night sleep at Miramar. If, after his release, the issue were still in doubt, the launch wouldcarry him to Curaçao. 

Vicenti left for San Carlos. In case it should be necessary to makethe dash to Willemstad, Peter remained at the house to collect for thevoyage provisions, medicine, stimulants, casks of water, andMcKildrick and Roddy departed in the launch to lay the mine which wasto destroy the barrier. On their way they stopped at the light-house, where McKildrick collected what he wanted for that purpose. It was nowfour o'clock in the afternoon, and by five they had entered the tunneland reached the wall. McKildrick dug a hole in the cement a few feetabove the base, and in this shoved a stick of dynamite of sixty percent. Nitro, and attached a number six cap and a fuse a foot long. This would burn for one minute and allow whoever lighted it thatlength of time to get under cover. In case of a miss-fire, he hadbrought with him extra sticks, fuses and caps. These, with drills anda sledge-hammer, they hid in a corner of the wall. 

In the damp darkness of the tunnel it was difficult to believe thatoutside the sun was still shining. 

"If it were only night!" said Roddy. "I hate to leave it. I'd onlyhave to touch a match to that, and he'd be free. "

"Free of the cell, " assented McKildrick, "but we could never get himaway. The noise will bring the whole garrison. It will be like heavinga brick into a hornets' nest. We must wait for darkness. This is nomatinée performance. "

On the return trip to the city they sat in silence, the mind of eachoccupied by his own thoughts. How serious these thoughts were neithercared to confess in words, but as they passed under the guns of thefortress they glanced at each other and smiled. 

"You mustn't think, Mac, " said Roddy gratefully, "I don't appreciatewhat you're doing. You stand to lose a lot!"

"I can always get another job, " returned McKildrick. 

"You can't if one of these fellows puts a bullet in you, " said Roddy. "You know you are making a big sacrifice, and I thank you for it. "

McKildrick looked at him in some embarrassment. 

"You stand to lose more than any of us, " he said. "I'm told you are tobe congratulated. " His eyes were so full of sympathy and good feelingthat Roddy held out his hand. 

"You're the first one to do it, " he said happily; "and it's good tohear. Mac!" he exclaimed, in awe-struck tones, "I'm the happiest, luckiest, and the least deserving beggar in all the world!"

McKildrick smiled dryly. 

"I seem to have heard something like that before, " he said. 

"Never!" cried Roddy stoutly. "Other poor devils may have thought so, but I _know_. It never happened to any one but me!"

McKildrick turned his eyes seaward and frowned, "I even used the same lines myself once, " he said; "but I found I'dgot hold of some other fellow's part. So if anything _should_ come myway to-night it wouldn't make such a lot of difference. "

Roddy took one hand from the wheel and, leaning forward, touchedMcKildrick on the knee. 

"I'm sorry, " he said; "I didn't know. "

McKildrick nodded, and as though glad of an interruption, held up hishand. 

"Listen!" he cried. "Stop the engine!"

Roddy let the launch slip forward on her own headway. In the silencethat followed they heard from the city the confused murmur of a moband the sharp bark of pistols. They looked at each othersignificantly. 

"The surface indications seem to show, " said McKildrick, "that thingsare loosening up. I guess it's going to be one of those nights!"

As they rounded the point and the whole of the harbor front came intoview, they saw that the doors of the bonded warehouses had been brokenopen, and that the boxes and bales they contained had been tumbled outupon the wharf and piled into barricades. From behind these, and fromthe windows of the custom-house, men not in uniform, and evidently ofthe Rojas faction, were firing upon the tiny gun-boat in the harbor, and from it their rifle-fire was being answered by an automatic gun. With full speed ahead, Roddy ran the gauntlet of this cross-fire, andin safety tied up to his own wharf. 

"Go inside, " he commanded, "and find out what has happened. And tellPeter we'll take his cargo on board now. Until we're ready to startI'll stay by the launch and see no one tries to borrow her. "

Peter and McKildrick returned at once, and with gasoline, tins ofbiscuit and meat, and a cask of drinking water, stocked the boat forher possible run to Curaçao. The Rojas party, so Peter informed them, had taken the barracks in the suburbs and, preliminary to an attack onthe fortress, had seized the custom-house which faced it; but theartillery barracks, which were inside the city, were still in thehands of the government troops. Until they were taken, with the gunsin them, the Rojas faction were without artillery, and against thefortress could do nothing. It was already dusk, and, in half an hour, would be night. It was for this the Rojas crowd were waiting. As yet, of Vega and his followers no news had reached the city. But thegovernment troops were pursuing him closely, and it was probable thatan engagement had already taken place. 

"By this time, " said Roddy, "Vicenti has told Rojas, and in an hourPedro will arrive, and then we start. Go get something to eat, andsend my dinner out here. I've some tinkering to do on the engine. "

Before separating, McKildrick suggested that Peter and Roddy shouldset their watches by his, which was already set to agree withVicenti's. 

"For, should anything happen to me, " he explained, "you boys must blowup the wall, and you must know just when you are to do it. Roddy knows_how_ to do it, and, " he added to Peter, "I'll explain it to you whilewe're at dinner. "

They left Roddy on his knees, busily plying his oil-can, and crossedthe garden. In the _patio_ they found the table ready for dinner, andtwo lamps casting a cheerful light upon the white cloth and flashingfrom the bottle of red Rioja. 

As they seated themselves, one of the stray bullets that were singingabove the housetops dislodged a tile, and the pieces of red clay fellclattering into the court-yard. Peter reached for the claret and, withostentatious slowness, filled McKildrick's glass. 

"Dynasties may come, " he said, "and dynasties may go; but I find onealways dines. "

"Why not?" replied McKildrick. "Napoleon said an army is a collectionof stomachs. Why should you and I pretend to be better soldiers thanNapoleon's?"

As a signal to the kitchen he clapped his hands; but the servant whoanswered came not from the kitchen, but from the street. His yellowskin was pale with fright. He gasped and pointed into the shadow at asoldier who followed him. The man wore the uniform of a hospitalsteward and on his arm the badge of the Red Cross. He stepped forwardand, glancing with concern from Peter to McKildrick, salutedmechanically. 

"Doctor Vicenti!" he exclaimed; "he wishes to see you. He is outsideon a stretcher. We are taking him to the hospital, but he made usbring him here first. " The man shook his head sharply. "He is dying!"he said. 

In this sudden threat of disaster to their plan the thought of boththe conspirators was first for Rojas. 

"My God!" cried Peter, and stared helplessly at the older man. 

"Dying?" protested McKildrick. "I saw him an hour ago; he was----"

"He was caring for the wounded in the streets. He was shot, " answeredthe man gravely, laying his finger on his heart, "here!"

"Caring for the wounded!" cried McKildrick. "Why in hell wasn'the----"

"Be quiet!" warned Peter. 

McKildrick checked himself and, followed by Peter, ran to the street. In the light from the open door he saw an army stretcher, and on it afigure of a man covered with a blanket. An officer and the soldierswho had borne the stretcher stood in the shadow. With an exclamationof remorse and sympathy, McKildrick advanced quickly and leanedforward. But the man on the stretcher was not Vicenti. To make sure, McKildrick bent lower, and in an instant the stranger threw out hisarms and, clasping him around the neck, dragged him down. At the samemoment the stretcher bearers fell upon him from the rear, and, wrenching back his arms, held them together until the officer claspedhis wrists with handcuffs. From Peter he heard a muffled roar and, twisting his head, saw him rolling on the sidewalk. On top of him werea half-dozen soldiers; when they lifted him to his feet his wristsalso were in manacles. 

McKildrick's outbursts were silenced by the officer. 

"You need not tell me you are Americans, " he said, "and if you goquietly no harm will come. We wish only to keep you out of mischief. "

"Go?" demanded Peter. "Go where?"

"To the _cartel_, " said the officer, smiling. "You will be saferthere. "

He stepped into the light and waved his sword, and from across thestreet came running many more soldiers. A squad of these the officerdetailed to surround his prisoners. To the others he said: "Search thehouse. Find the third one, Señor Forrester. Do not harm him, but, " headded meaningly, "bring him with you!"

At the word, Peter swung his arms free from the man who held them. With a yell of warning, which he hoped would reach Roddy, and pullingimpotently at his handcuffs, he dashed into the house, the soldiersracing at his heels. 

Roddy had finished his inspection of his engine, but was stillguarding the launch, waiting with impatience for some one to bring himhis dinner. He was relieved to note that from the direction of Miramarthere was no sound of fighting. In the lower part of the city he couldhear a brisk fusillade, but, except from the custom-house, the firinghad more the sound of street fighting than of an organized attack. From this, he judged the assault on the artillery barracks had not yetbegun. He flashed his electric torch on his watch, and it showed halfpast seven. There was still a half-hour to wait. He rose and, for thehundredth time, spun the wheel of his engine, examined his revolver, and yawned nervously. It was now quite dark. Through the trees andshrubs in the garden he could see the lights on the dinner-table andthe spectacle made him the more hungry. To remind the others that hewas starving, he gave a long whistle. It was at once cautiouslyanswered, to his surprise, not from the house but from a spot ahundred feet from him, on the shore of the harbor. He decided, as itwas in the direction one would take in walking from Miramar, thatPedro had arrived, and he sighed with relief. He was about to repeathis signal of distress when, from the _patio_, there arose a suddentumult. In an instant, with a crash of broken glass and china, thelights were extinguished, and he heard the voice of Peter shriekinghis name. He sprang from the launch and started toward the garden. Atthat moment a heavy body crashed upon the gravel walk, and there wasthe rush of many feet. 

"Roddy!" shrieked the voice of Peter, "they're taking us to jail. They're coming after _you_. Run! Run like hell!"

In the darkness Roddy could see nothing. He heard what sounded like anarmy of men trampling and beating the bushes. His first thought wasthat he must attempt a rescue. He jerked out his gun and raced downthe wharf. Under his flying feet the boards rattled and Peter heardhim coming. 

"Go back!" he shrieked furiously. "You can't help us! You've got workto do! Do it!"

The profanity with which these orders were issued convinced Roddy thatPeter was very much in earnest and in no personal danger. 

The next moment he was left no time for further hesitation. His flyingfootsteps had been heard by the soldiers as well as by Peter, and fromthe garden they rushed shouting to the beach. Against such odds Roddysaw that to rescue Peter was impossible, while at the same time, evenalone, he still might hope to rescue Rojas. 

He cast loose the painter of the launch, and with all his strengthshoved it clear. He had apparently acted not a moment too soon, for afigure clad in white leaped upon the wharf and raced toward him. Roddysprang to the wheel and the launch moved slowly in a circle. At thefirst sound of the revolving screw there came from the white figure acry of dismay. It was strangely weak, strangely familiar, strangelyfeminine. 

"Roddy!" cried the voice. "It is I, Inez!"

With a shout of amazement, joy, and consternation, Roddy swung theboat back toward the shore, and by the breadth of an oar-blade clearedthe wharf. There was a cry of relief, of delight, a flutter of skirts, and Inez sprang into it. In an agony of fear for her safety, Roddypushed her to the bottom of the launch. 

"Get down!" he commanded. "They can see your dress. They'll fire onyou. "

From the shore an excited voice cried in Spanish "Do I shoot, sergeant?"

"No!" answered another. "Remember your orders!"

"But he escapes!" returned the first voice, and on the word there wasa flash, a report, and a bullet whined above them. Another and othersfollowed, but the busy chug-chug of the engine continued undismayedand, as the noise of its progress died away, the firing ceased. Roddyleft the wheel, and, stooping, took Inez in his arms. Behind them thecity was a blaze of light, and the sky above it was painted crimson. From the fortress, rockets, hissing and roaring, signalled to thebarracks; from the gun-boat, the quick-firing guns were stabbing thedarkness with swift, vindictive flashes. In different parts of thecity incendiary fires had started and were burning sullenly, sendingup into the still night air great, twisting columns of sparks. Therattle of musketry was incessant. 

With his arm about her and her face pressed to his, Inez watched thespectacle unseeingly. For the moment it possessed no significance. And for Roddy, as he held her close, it seemed that she must feel hisheart beating with happiness. He had never dared to hope that such atime would come, when they would be alone together, when it would behis right to protect and guard her, when, again and again, he mighttry to tell her how he loved her. Like one coming from a dream, Inezstirred and drew away. 

"Where are we going?" she whispered. 

"We're going to the tunnel to save your father, " answered Roddy. 

The girl gave a little sigh of content and again sank back into theshelter of his arm. 

They passed the fortress, giving it a wide berth, and turned in towardthe shore. The city now lay far to the right, and the clamor of theconflict came to them but faintly. 

"Tell me, " said Roddy, "why did you come to the wharf?" He seemed tobe speaking of something that had happened far back in the past, of amatter which he remembered as having once been of vivid importance, but which now was of consequence only in that it concerned her. 

Reluctantly Inez broke the silence that had enveloped them. 

"They came to the house and arrested Pedro, " she said. To her alsothe subject seemed to be of but little interest. She spoke as thoughit were only with an effort she could recall the details. "I knew youneeded him to convince father you were friends. So, as he could notcome, I came. Did I do right?"

"Whatever you do is right, " answered Roddy. "We might as well startlife with that proposition as a fixed fact. "

"And do you want me with you now?" whispered the girl. 

"Do I want you with me!" Roddy exclaimed, in mock exasperation. "Don'tprovoke me!" he cried. "I am trying, " he protested, "to do my duty, while what I would like to do is to point this boat the other way, andelope with you to Curaçao. So, if you love your father, don't makeyourself any more distractingly attractive than you are at thismoment. If you don't help me to be strong I will run away with you. "

Inez laughed, softly and happily, and, leaning toward him, kissed him. 

"That's not helping me!" protested Roddy. 

"It is for the last time, " said Inez, "until my father is free. "

"That may not be for months!" cried Roddy. 

"It is for the last time, " repeated Inez. 

Roddy concealed the launch in the cove below El Morro and, taking fromthe locker a flask of brandy and an extra torch, led the way up thehill. When they drew near to the fortress, fearing a possible ambush, he left Inez and proceeded alone to reconnoitre. But El Morro wasundisturbed, and as he and McKildrick had left it. He returned forInez, and at the mouth of the tunnel halted and pointed to a placewell suited for concealment. 

"You will wait there, " he commanded. 

"No, " returned the girl quietly, "I will go with you. You forget I amyour sponsor, and, " she added gently, "I am more than that. Afterthis, where you go, I go. "

As she spoke there came from the wharf of the custom-house, lying amile below them, a flash of flame. It was followed by others, andinstantly, like an echo, the guns of the fort replied. 

"Shrapnel!" cried Roddy. "They've captured the artillery barracks, andwe haven't a moment to lose!"

He threw himself on the levers that moved the slabs of stone andforced them apart. Giving Inez his hand, he ran with her down thesteps of the tunnel. 

"But why, " cried Inez, "is there more need for haste now than before?"

Roddy could not tell her the assault of the Rojas party on thefortress might lead to a reprisal in the assassination of her father. 

"The sound of the cannon, " he answered evasively, "will drown out whatwe do. "

Roddy was now more familiar with the various windings of the tunnel, and they advanced quickly. Following the circles of light cast bytheir torches, they moved so rapidly that when they reached the wallboth were panting. Roddy held his watch in front of the light andcried out with impatience. 

"Ten minutes!" he exclaimed, "and every minute--" He checked himselfand turned to the wall. The dynamite, with the cap and fuse attached, was as McKildrick had placed it. For a tamp he scooped up from thesurface of the tunnel a handful of clay, and this he packed tightlyover the cap, leaving the fuse free. He led Inez back to a safedistance from the wall, and there, with eyes fastened on Roddy'swatch, they waited. The seconds dragged interminably. Neither spoke, and the silence of the tunnel weighed upon them like the silence of agrave. But even buried as they were many feet beneath the ramparts, they could hear above them the reverberations of the cannon. 

"They are firing in half-minute intervals, " whispered Roddy. "I willtry to set off the dynamite when they fire, so that in the casements, at least, no one will hear me. When the explosion comes, " he directed, "wait until I call you, and if I shout to you to run, for God's sake, "he entreated, "don't delay an instant, but make for the mouth of thetunnel. "

Inez answered him in a tone of deep reproach. "You are speaking, " shesaid, "to a daughter of General Rojas. " Her voice trembled, but, asRoddy knew, it trembled from excitement. "You must not think of _me_, "commanded the girl. "I am here to help, not to be a burden. And, " sheadded gently, her love speaking to him in her voice, "we leave thisplace together, or not at all. "

Her presence had already shaken Roddy, and now her words made thenecessity of leaving her seem a sacrifice too great to be required ofhim. Almost brusquely, he started from her. 

"I must go, " he whispered. "Wish me good luck for your father. "

"May God preserve you both!" answered the girl. 

As he walked away Roddy turned and shifted his light for what he knewmight be his last look at her. He saw her, standing erect as a lance, her eyes flashing. Her lips were moving and upon her breast herfingers traced the sign of the cross. 

[Illustration: Her fingers traced the sign of the cross. ]

Roddy waited until his watch showed a minute to nine o'clock. To meetthe report of the next gun, he delayed a half-minute longer, and thenlit the fuse, and, running back, flattened himself against the side ofthe tunnel. There was at last a dull, rumbling roar and a great crashof falling rock. Roddy raced to the sound and saw in the wall agaping, black hole. Through it, from the other side, lights showeddimly. In the tunnel he was choked with a cloud of powdered cement. Heleaped through this and, stumbling over a mass of broken stone, foundhimself in the cell. Except for the breach in the wall the explosionhad in no way disturbed it. The furniture was in place, a book layuntouched upon the table; in the draft from the tunnel the candlesflickered drunkenly. But of the man for whom he sought, for whom hewas risking his life, there was no sign. With a cry of amazement andalarm Roddy ran to the iron door of the cell. It was locked andbolted. Now that the wall no longer deadened the sound his ears wereassailed by all the fierce clamor of the battle. Rolling toward himdown the stone corridor came the splitting roar of the siege guns, therattle of rifle fire, the shouts of men. Against these sounds, herecognized that the noise of the explosion had carried no farther thanthe limits of the cell, or had been confused with the tumultoverhead. He knew, therefore, that from that source he need not feardiscovery. But in the light of the greater fact that his attempt atrescue had failed, his own immediate safety became of littleconsequence. He turned and peered more closely into each corner of thecell. The clouds of cement thrown up by the dynamite had settled; and, hidden by the table, Roddy now saw, huddled on the stone floor, withhis back against the wall, the figure of a man. With a cry of reliefand concern, Roddy ran toward him and flashed his torch. It wasVicenti. The face of the young doctor was bloodless, his eyes wild andstaring. He raised them imploringly. 

"Go!" he whispered. His voice was weak and racked with pain. "Some onehas betrayed us. They know everything!"

Roddy exclaimed furiously, and, for an instant, his mind was torn withdoubts. 

"And you!" he demanded. "Why are you here?"

Vicenti, reading the suspicion in his eyes, raised his hands; thepantomime was sufficiently eloquent. In deep circles around his wristswere new, raw wounds. 

"They tried to make me tell, " he whispered. "They think you're comingin the launch. You, with the others. When I wouldn't answer, they putme here. It was their jest. You were to find me instead of the other. They are waiting now on the ramparts above us, waiting for you to comein the launch. They know nothing of the tunnel. "

Roddy's eyes were fixed in horror on the bleeding wrists. 

"They tortured you!" he cried. 

"I fainted. When I came to, " whispered the doctor, "I found myselflocked in here. For God's sake, " he pleaded, "save yourself!"

"And Rojas?" demanded Roddy. 

"That is impossible!" returned Vicenti, answering Roddy's thought. "Heis in another cell, far removed, the last one, in this corridor. "

"In _this_ corridor!" demanded Roddy. 

Vicenti feebly reached out his hand and seized Roddy's arm. 

"It is impossible!" he pleaded. "You can't get out of this cell. "

"I will get out of it the same way I got in, " answered Roddy. "Can youwalk?"

With his eyes, Vicenti measured the distance to the breach in thewall. 

"Help me!" he begged. 

Roddy lifted him to his feet and, with his arm around him, supportedhim into the tunnel. From his flask he gave him brandy, and Vicentinodded gratefully. 

"Further on, " directed Roddy, "you will find Señorita Rojas. Tell hershe must go at once. Don't let her know that I am going after herfather. "

"It is madness!" cried Vicenti. "The turnkey is in the corridor, andat any moment they may come to assassinate Rojas. "

"Then I've no time to waste, " exclaimed Roddy. "Get the Señorita andyourself out of the tunnel, and get out _quick_!"

"But you?" pleaded Vicenti. "You can do nothing. "

"If I must, " answered Roddy, "I can blow the whole damn fort topieces!"

He ran to the spot where McKildrick had placed the extra explosives. With these and the hand-drill, the sledge, and carrying his hat filledwith clay, he again climbed through the breach into the cell. Thefierceness of the attack upon the fort had redoubled, and to repulseit the entire strength of the garrison had been summoned to theramparts, leaving, so far as Roddy could see through the bars, thecorridor unguarded. The door of the cell hung on three trunnions, andaround the lowest hinge the weight of the iron door had loosened thelead and cement in which, many years before, it had been imbedded. With his drill, Roddy increased the opening to one large enough toreceive the fingers of his hand and into it welded a stick ofdynamite. To this he affixed a cap and fuse, and clapping on his tampof clay, lit the fuse, and ran into the tunnel. He had cut the fuse tohalf-length, and he had not long to wait. With a roar that shook thecell and echoed down the corridor, that portion of the wall on whichthe bars hung was torn apart, and the cell door, like a giantgridiron, fell sprawling across the corridor. Roddy could not restraina lonely cheer. So long as the battle drowned out the noise of theexplosions and called from that part of the prison all those who mightoppose him, the rescue of Rojas again seemed feasible. With anothercharge of dynamite the last cell in the corridor could be blown open, and Rojas would be free. But Roddy was no longer allowed, undisturbed, to blast his way to success. Almost before the iron door had struckthe floor of the corridor there leaped into the opening the burlyfigure of the turnkey. In one hand he held a revolver, in the other alantern. Lifting the lantern above his head, he stood balancinghimself upon the fallen grating. Hanging to his belt, Roddy saw abunch of keys. The sight of the keys went to his head like swiftpoison. For them he suddenly felt himself capable of murder. The dusthung in a cloud between the two men, and before the turnkey couldprepare for the attack Roddy had flung himself on him and, twistingthe bones of his wrist, had taken the revolver. With one hand on thethroat of the turnkey he shoved the revolver up under his chin untilthe circle of steel sank into the flesh. 

"Don't cry out!" whispered Roddy. "Do as I tell you, or I'll blow yourhead off. Take me to the cell of General Rojas!"

Brave as the man had been the moment before, the kiss of thecold muzzle turned his purpose to ice. The desire to live wasall-compelling. Choking, gasping, his eyes rolling appealingly, henodded assent. With the revolver at his back he ran down the corridor, and, as he ran, without further direction, fumbled frantically at hiskeys. At the end of the corridor he separated one from the others, andwith a trembling hand unlocked and pushed open a cell door. 

The cell was steeped in darkness. Roddy threw the turnkey sprawlinginto it, and with his free hand closed his fingers over the key in thelock. 

"General Rojas!" he called. "Come out! You are free!"

A shadowy figure suddenly confronted him; out of the darkness a voice, fearless and unshaken, answered. 

"What do you wish with me?" demanded the voice steadily. "Is thisassassination? Are you my executioner?"

"Good God, no!" cried Roddy. "Fifty-four, four! I'm the man that gaveyou the warning. The tunnel!" he cried. "The tunnel is open. " Heshoved the butt of the revolver toward the shadow. "Take this!" hecommanded; "if I've lied to you, shoot me. But come!"

General Rojas stepped from the cell, and with a cry of relief Roddyswung to the iron door upon the turnkey and locked it. The act seemedto reassure the older man, and as the glare of the lanterns in thecorridor fell upon Roddy's face the eyes of the General lit with hopeand excitement. With a cry of remorse he held out the revolver. 

"I was waiting to die, " he said. "Can you forgive me?"

"Can you run?" was Roddy's answer. 

With the joyful laugh of a boy, the General turned and, refusingRoddy's arm, ran with him down the corridor. When he saw the fallengrating he gave a cry of pleasure, and at the sight of the breach inthe wall he exclaimed in delight. 

"It is good!" he cried. "It is well done. "

Roddy had picked up the turnkey's lantern and had given it to GeneralRojas. Lowering it before him, the old soldier nimbly scaled the massof fallen masonry, and with an excited, breathless sigh plunged intothe tunnel. 

As he did so, in his eyes there flashed a circle of light; in his earsthere sounded a cry, in its joy savage, exultant, ringing high abovethe tumult of the battle. The light that had blinded him fellclattering to the stones; in the darkness he felt himself heldhelpless, in strong, young arms. 

"Father!" sobbed the voice of a girl. "Father!"

Like a coach on the side-lines, like a slave-driver plying his whip, Roddy, with words of scorn, of entreaty, of encouragement, lashed themon toward the mouth of the tunnel and, through the laurel, to thelaunch. Acting as rear-guard, with a gun in his hand he ran back tosee they were not pursued, or to forestall an ambush skirmished inadvance. Sometimes he gave an arm to Vicenti, sometimes to theGeneral; at all times he turned upon them an incessant torrent ofabuse and appeal. 

"Only a minute longer, " he begged, "only a few yards further. Don'tlet them catch us in the last inning! Don't let them take it from youin the stretch! Only a few strokes more, boys, " he cried frantically, "and I'll let you break training. Now then, all of you! Run! Run!"

Not until they were safely seated in the launch, and her head waspointed to the open sea, did he relax his vigilance, or share in theirrejoicing. 

But when the boat sped forward and the shore sank into darkness heheaved a happy, grateful sigh. 

"If you've left anything in that flask, Vicenti, " he said, "I wouldlike to drink to the family of Rojas. "

The duel between the city and the fort had ceased. On the man-of-warand on the ramparts of the fortress the guns were silent. From thecity came a confusion of shouts and cheers. In his excitement, Roddystood upright. 

"It sounds as though you had won, sir!" he cried. 

"Or that they have exhausted their ammunition!" answered the General. The answer was not long in coming. 

From the deck of the gun-boat there sprang into the darkness thepointing finger of a search-light. It swept the wharves, showing themblack with people; it moved between the custom-house and the fort, anddisclosed the waters of the harbor alive with boats, loaded to thegunwale with armed men. Along the ramparts of the fort the shaft oflight crept slowly, feeling its way, until it reached the flag-staff. There it remained, stationary, pointing. From the halyards theredrooped a long, white cloth. 

With a cheer, Roddy spun the wheel, and swung the bow of the launchtoward Miramar. 

"You needn't go to Curaçao to-night, General!" he cried. "This cityvotes solid for Rojas!"

From the wharves to the farthest limits of the town the cheers ofvictory swept in a tidal wave of sound. With one accord the people, leaping, shouting, dancing, and cheering, raced into the Alameda. 

"To Miramar, " they shrieked, "to Miramar! _Viva Rojas!_"

To those in the launch the cheers of triumph carried clearly. Theintoxication of the multitude was contagious. 

"What do you wish?" demanded Roddy breathlessly--"to show yourself tothe people, or----"

"No!" cried the General, "to my home, to my home!"

When San Carlos surrendered, those in charge of the _cartel_, making avirtue of what they knew would soon be a necessity, threw open thecells of the political prisoners, and Peter, McKildrick, and Pedrofound themselves in the street, once more free men. There they learnedthat Vega and his band had been routed, and that Vega, driven back tothe harbor, had taken refuge on a sailing boat, and was on his way toCuraçao. 

From Caracas the news was of more momentous interest. The rising ofthe Rojas party in Porto Cabello had led the same faction at thecapital to proclaim itself in revolt. They found themselves unopposed. By regiments the government troops had deserted to the standard ofRojas, and Alvarez, in open flight, had reached his yacht, at LaGuayra, and was steaming toward Trinidad. Already a deputation hadstarted for Porto Cabello to conduct Rojas to the capital. But as towhether in freeing Rojas Roddy had succeeded or failed, or whetherRojas had been assassinated, or had been set at liberty by hisvictorious followers, they could learn nothing. 

Only at the home of Señora Rojas could they hear the truth. Accordingly, with the rest of the city, they ran to Miramar. The housewas ablaze with lights, and the Alameda in front of it, the gardens, even the long portico were packed with a mad mob of people. Climbingto the railings and to the steps of the house itself, men prominent inthe life of the city called for "_Vivas_" for the new President, forSeñora Rojas, for the Rojas revolution. Below them, those who had beenwounded in the fight just over were lifted high on the shoulders ofthe mob, and in it, struggling for a foothold, were many women, theircheeks wet with tears, their cries of rejoicing more frantic even thanthose of the men. 

For a mad quarter of an hour the crowd increased in numbers, theshouting in vehemence; and then, suddenly, there fell a shocked anduneasy silence. Men whispered together fearfully. In the eyes of allwere looks of doubt and dismay. From man to man swept the awful rumorthat at San Carlos, Rojas had not been found. 

It was whispered that, from the fortress, messengers had brought theevil tidings. The worst had come to pass. At the last moment thedefenders of San Carlos had cheated them of their victory. Rojas hadbeen assassinated, and his body thrown to the harbor sharks. 

From the mob rose a great, moaning cry, to be instantly drowned inyells of rage and execration. A leader of the Rojas party leaped tothe steps of the portico. "Their lives for his!" he shrieked. "Deathto his murderers! To the fortress!"

Calling for vengeance, those in the garden surged toward the gates;but an uncertain yell from the mob in the street halted them. Theyturned and saw upon the balcony above the portico the figure of SeñoraRojas. With one arm raised, she commanded silence; with the other, shepointed to the long window through which she had just appeared. Advancing toward the edge of the balcony, the mob saw two young girlsleading between them, erect and soldierly, a little, gray-haired man. 

Amazed, almost in terror, as though it looked on one returning fromthe grave, for an instant there was silence. And then men shrieked andsobbed, and the night was rent with their exultant yell of welcome. 

With their backs pressed against the railings of the garden, Peter andMcKildrick looked up at the figures on the balcony with eyes that sawbut dimly. 

"So Roddy got away with it, " said Peter. "Pino Vega, please write!_Viva_ the White Mice!"

With a voice that shook suspiciously, McKildrick protested. 

"Let's get out of this, " he said, "or I shall start singing thedoxology. "

An hour later, alone on the flat roof of Miramar, leaning on theparapet, were two young people. Above them were the blue-black sky andwhite stars of the tropics; from below rose the happy cheers of themob and the jubilant strains of a triumphant march. 

"To-morrow, " said Roddy, "I am going to ask your father a favor. I amgoing to ask him for the use for two hours of the cell he lastoccupied. "

"And why?" protested Inez. 

"I want it for a friend, " said Roddy. "Pedro tells me my friend is theman who sent word to San Carlos to have the White Mice locked up andyour father moved into another cell. I want the new Commandante tolock my friend in that cell, and to tell him he is to remain there therest of his natural life. Two hours later, the White Mice will visithim, and will smile on him through the bars. Then I'll unlock thedoor, and give him his 'passage-money home and a month's wages. ' Hisname is Caldwell. "

"I had no idea you were so vindictive, " said Inez. 

"It is rather, " said Roddy, "a sense of humor. It makes the punishmentfit the crime. "

He turned, and drawing closer, looked at her wistfully, appealingly. 

"Your father, " he whispered, "is free. "

The girl drew a long breath of happiness. 

"Yes, " she sighed. 

"I repeat, " whispered Roddy, "your father is free. "

"I don't understand, " answered the girl softly. 

"Have you forgotten!" cried Roddy, "You forbade me to tell you that Iloved you until he was free. "

Inez looked up at him, and the light of the stars fell in her eyes. 

"What will you tell me?" she whispered. 

"I will tell you, " said Roddy, "the name of a girl who is going to bekissed in one second. "

 THE END

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Minor changes have been made to correct obvious typesetters' errors;otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author'swords and intent.