The Coast of Adventure Part 29

"Well," he said, "one's fort.i.tude has its limits. I suppose it depends upon the strength of the temptation."

He had answered in a light vein, and Evelyn followed his lead.

"It's a relief to know you mean to stay. My father will be pleased to see you; but he may not have finished his business when dinner is ready, and I rather shrink from going down alone."

They talked about matters of no importance for a time, and then went through the _patio_ to the dining-room. It was not full, and Evelyn imagined that Grahame was glad there were several unoccupied chairs between them and the rest of the company. She noticed, moreover, that when people came in he glanced up quietly, as if he did not want her to notice his action, and she had a guilty feeling that she had made him take a risk that was greater than he would own. Yet she was glad that he had taken it.

"Where are you going when you leave Havana?" he asked presently.

"To Valverde, and afterward perhaps to Rio Frio."

Grahame looked thoughtful, and Evelyn quietly studied him. Her training had made her quick at guessing what lay behind the reserve of people who were not quite frank with her, and she saw that he was disturbed.

"Why should I not go there?" she asked.

"I don't know any good reason if your father's willing to take you, but the country's in a rather unsettled state just now." Grahame paused for a moment and added earnestly: "Don't trust Gomez."

"Do you think we shall meet him?"

"Yes," he said with a dry smile; "I think it very likely."

"Then you must know something about my father's business, and what is going on in the country."

"I believe I know more about the country than your father does. In fact, I'd like to warn him against Gomez, only that I imagine he's a good judge of character and already knows his man."

Grahame wrote an address on a leaf of a small notebook and, tearing it out, put it on her plate.

"I'm going to ask a favor. If you should meet with any difficulty at Rio Frio, will you send me a message through the man whose name I've written down? I might, perhaps, be of some use."

"Do you expect us to get into any difficulty?"

"No; but one can't tell--trouble might arise."

"And, if it did, you could help us?"

"Well," he said gravely, "I'd do my best."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled.

"I know you could be trusted! But all this mystery gives the trip an extra interest. Then, you have made it obvious that the _Enchantress_ will be on the coast."

"May I hope that this adds to your satisfaction?" Grahame said, smiling.

"Now you're frivolous, and I was pleasantly excited! However, I'll promise that if anything very alarming seems to threaten us I'll send you word."

Grahame looked up. An elderly Cuban gentleman, three or four places off, had once or twice glanced at them carelessly and then resumed his conversation with a lady beside him, but Grahame noticed that he stopped when Evelyn spoke.

"Am I to tell my father what I have promised?" she asked.

"You must use your own judgment about that."

Evelyn understood him. He would not ask her to keep a secret from her father, and she liked his delicacy; but he looked thoughtful. She did not know that the Cuban gentleman engaged his attention.

"Well," she said, "I'll tell him if it seems necessary; that is, if there's any reason for sending you word. Otherwise, of course, there would be no need to mention it."

"No," he agreed with a smile that seemed to draw them closer because it hinted at mutual understanding.

"One doesn't feel forced to explain things to you," Evelyn said impulsively.

"That's an advantage. Explanations are a nuisance, and sometimes dangerous when they're important. I find them easiest when they don't matter."

Cliffe came in and greeted Grahame cordially; and Grahame, glancing down the table without turning his head, saw the Cuban studying them.

Something in the man's manner suggested that Cliffe's friendliness had surprised him. He made a few hasty pencil marks on the back of an old letter and then, looking up suddenly, caught Grahame watching him curiously. The Cuban pushed back his chair and left the room, although Grahame suspected that his dinner was not more than half finished.

Evelyn, surprising the alert look on Grahame's face, was now more disturbed than ever on his account. Evidently there was danger for him here.

Her fears would have been increased had she known the few words the spy wrote on his envelope.

CHAPTER XX

THE ARREST OF CASTILLO

On a hot evening not long after he left Havana, Cliffe sat in a room of the old Spanish _presidio_ at Valverde. The building was in harmony with the decayed town, for it had been begun in more prosperous times, and its lower courses were solidly laid with stone. Molded doors and windows spoke of vanished art, and the gallery round the central _patio_ was raised on finely carved pillars, but Valverde had fallen on evil days and the _presidio_ had been finished with adobe mud. It had served at different times as the seat of the government, the barracks, and the jail, and now, when part had fallen down, the rest had been rudely repaired, and Gomez was quartered there when he visited the port.

Outside, the ruinous building still retained a certain dignity, but this was not so within, where degenerate taste was shown in the tawdry decoration, and Gomez's sitting-room frankly offended Cliffe with its suggestion of effeminate luxury. Gaudy silk hangings hid the old adobe walls, a silver lamp with a smoked chimney hung from the ceiling by tarnished chains, and highly colored rugs were spread upon the dirty floor. There were inartistic but heavily gilded French clocks and mirrors; and over all a sickening scent of perfume.

Cliffe found it more pleasant to look out through the open window at the town, which lay beneath him, bathed in moonlight. The close-ma.s.sed, square-fronted houses glimmered white and pink and yellow, with narrow gaps between them where a few lights burned; a break, from which dusky foliage rose, marked the _alameda_. In front ran a curving beach where wet sand glistened below a bank of shingle and a fringe of surf broke with a drowsy roar. Though it was not late, there was no stir in the streets; an air of languorous depression brooded over the town. Gomez seemed to feel that it needed an explanation.

"Our trade," he said, "is prosperous, but we do not encourage the people to gather in the plaza, and the cafes are watched. They are the storm centers: it is there the busybodies talk. The man who stays at home and minds his business is seldom a danger to the State. He dislikes change, and has no time to waste on idealistic theories."

"I guess that's true, up to a point," Cliffe agreed. "The industrious citizen will stand for a good deal, but he's a man to reckon with when things get too bad. He doesn't talk, like the others; he's been trained to act, and there are developments when he makes up his mind about what he wants. However, this is not what we're here to discuss."

"No; but the state of the country has something to do with the matter.

We admit that there have been manifestations of discontent, and disturbances caused by mischievous persons who love disorder, and we must enforce quietness and respect for authority. This, you will understand, costs some money."

"I've subscribed a good deal," Cliffe reminded him. "I'm anxious to learn when I'm going to get it back."

"The wish is natural. May I point out that in generously offering help you threw in your lot with the Government and made our interests yours?"

"I see that pretty clearly," Cliffe replied with a touch of grimness, for he recognized the skill with which he had been led on until he could not draw back without a heavy loss. "Anyway, as you seem to have weathered the storm, I want my reward. In short, I've come to find out when your President means to sign the concessions."

"It will be as soon as possible; there is a small difficulty. We have an elective legislature; an enc.u.mbrance, senor, which hampers the administration, but in times of discontent it has some influence. Our people are jealous of foreigners, and there are interested persons ready to work upon their feelings. This is why the President hesitates about granting fresh concessions until he has found a way of silencing his enemies among the representatives. You perceive that I am frank with you."

"It's what I like; but you haven't told me yet what I want to know. Now, unless I can find out exactly when I may expect the papers signed, I'll feel compelled to shut off supplies. I'd rather cut my loss than go on enlarging it."