Richard Harding Davis

“ If the men who had planned to assassinate Colonel Vega intended to punish him for his interference, they could not have selected a place or hour better suited to their purpose. In all the world, apparently, he was the only soul awake. On either side of him were high hedges of the Spanish bayonet, and back of them acres of orange groves. The homes of the planters lay far from the highway, and along the sides of the road there were no houses, no lodge gates, not even a peon’s thatched hut.
Roddy was approaching a sharp turn in the road, a turn to the left at almost right angles. ”

“ But the road lay empty, in the hedges of spiked cactus not a frond stirred; and the aged man who had led him to the rendezvous sat motionless, watchful but undisturbed.
Shifting the reins to his left hand, Roddy let the other 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 the hedges, he pushed his pony beside hers and spoke quickly.
“Pardon me,” he said, “but I think you had better ride on. Some men are coming here. They—they may be here now.” ”

“ Only a few men were kept on guard there, and only by day. They slept and messed at San Carlos. Each morning they were assembled in the guard-room, and from there marched 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 a fort. It’s in ruins now. Have you noticed,” she asked, “to the right of the town, a little hill that overlooks the harbor? It is just above the plain where the cattle are corralled until they are shipped to Cuba. ”

“ Roddy impatiently waited until a quarter of an hour had passed, then galloped to Willemstad. On the way he put up the pony at a livery-stable in the suburbs, and on foot made his way as quickly as possible to the bookstore. What he wanted, he explained, were guidebooks and histories of Venezuela. Among those the man showed him was 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. Peter was still asleep, and he could not wait to waken him. ”

“ He isn’t the sort of man to give up hope, either. Even if it were true, why should he tell your mother he is dying? And that epitaph!” cried Roddy excitedly. “That’s not like him, either! It is not modest.” With sudden eagerness he leaned toward her. “Did your father write history?” he demanded.
Unable to see the purpose of his question, the girl gazed at him in bewilderment. “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,” she said, “tells of the invasion by Sir Francis Drake.” ”

“ Now the girl moved toward her pony, but Roddy still stood looking out to 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 serious countenance, he came toward her.
“I shall tell the authorities at Porto Cabello,” he said, “that they ought to build a light-house on El Morro. At any rate, I will ask permission to make a survey. As they don’t intend to pay father for any of his light-houses, they are not likely to object. ”

“ Not understanding why she laughed, Roddy regarded her doubtfully.
Imitating the directness of his manner, Inez spoke quickly. “You can keep 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 take the road to Otrabanda and along the cliff. Be sure to pass our house before sunrise. Ride about a mile and turn down a bridle-path to your left. That will bring you to the beach. If I cannot go, Pedro will meet you. You will get the history my father wrote at Belancourts, in Willemstad.” ”

“ After observing that from the shadow the man still watched him, while at 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 a purpose. One who has the success of that purpose most at heart desires to help you. To-morrow, just before sunrise, walk out the same road over which you drove to-day. Beyond the Café Ducrot the bearer of this letter will wait for you with a led horse. Follow him. If you think he is leading you into danger, order him to ride in advance, and cover him with your revolver. ”

“ You live in Porto Cabello, within sight of the prison. Pino will be in the field. His revolution may last a month, it may last for years. During that time he would do nothing to help my father. When you risked being shot yesterday, it seemed to me you showed you had spirit, and also, you are from the States, and Pino is a Venezuelan, so——”
“You needn’t take up the time of the court,” said Roddy, “in persuading me that I am the man to help you. To save time I will concede that. What was the other message you received from your father?” ”

“ Well, the ruins of El Morro are on top of that hill. It is about a quarter of a mile from San Carlos, so we know that is the length of the tunnel. Pedro tells me, for a part of the way it runs under the water of the harbor. It was cut through the solid rock by the 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. And besides, to my people there is nothing unusual in such a tunnel. ”

“ He had entirely recovered his good humor, but his manner when he spoke was not conciliatory.
“The trouble is this,” he said, “your friends are so deep in plots that they have lost sight of the thing that counts. While they are ‘mistrusting,’ and suspecting, and spying on each other, a man is dying. ”

“ Under the circumstances, after the developments of the day, Roddy was not 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 well represented was but natural. ”

“ 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 in San Carlos were being killed by neglect. The French minister is a friend of our family, and he asked Alvarez to appoint a committee of doctors to make an investigation. Alvarez was afraid to refuse, and sent the doctors to examine my father and report on his health. One of them told him that Alvarez would permit him to send a message to my mother, and to tell her himself whether he was, or was not, ill. ”

“ They are afraid of you. They cannot understand why you offer to help us. And they mistrust you. That is why I had to see you here in this 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!” ”