The Key to Yesterday Part 14

The following morning, the Hon. Charles Pendleton, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of the United States of America, read Saxon's letters of introduction. The letters sufficiently established the standing of the artist to a.s.sure him his minister's interest.

Partridge was dispatched to the hotel to bring the traveler to the legation. Partridge came back within the hour, greatly perturbed.

Having found that Saxon had not returned during the night, and knowing the customs of the country, he had spent a half-hour in investigating by channels known to himself. He learned, at the end of much questioning and cross-questioning, that the senor, together with another gentleman evidently also an _Americano del Nordo_, had pa.s.sed the street-door late in the evening, with military escort.

Mr. Partridge hastened to his legation at a rate of speed subversive of all Puerto Frio traditions. In Puerto Frio, haste is held to be an affront to dignity, and dignity is esteemed.

The Hon. Charles Pendleton listened to his subordinate's report with rising choler.

His diplomacy was of the aggressive type, and his first duty was that of making the protecting pinions of the spread eagle stretch wide enough to reach every one of those ent.i.tled to its guardianship.

Saxon and Rodman had the night before entered the frowning walls of the Palace through a narrow door at the side. The American minister now pa.s.sed hastily between files of presented arms. Inside, he learned that his excellency, _el Presidente_, had not yet finished his breakfast, but earnestly desired his excellency, _el ministro_, to share with him an alligator pear and cup of coffee.

In the suave presence of the dictator, the minister's choler did not cease. Rather, it smoldered while he listened perfunctorily to flattering ba.n.a.lities. He had struck through intermediary stages; had pa.s.sed over the heads of departments and holders of portfolios, to issue his ultimatum to the chief executive. Yet, in approaching his subject, he matched the other's suavity with a pleasantness that the dictator distrusted. The dark face of the autocrat became grave until, when Mr. Pendleton reached the issue, it was deeply sympathetic, surprised and attentive.

"I am informed that some one--I can not yet say who--wearing your excellency's uniform, seized an American citizen of prominence on the streets of Puerto Frio last evening."

The President was shocked and incredulous.

"Impossible!" he exclaimed with deep distress; then, again: "Impossible!"

From the diplomat's eloquent sketching of the situation, it might have been gathered that the United States war department stood anxiously watching for such affronts, and that the United States war department would be very petulant when notification of the incident reached it.

Mr. Pendleton further a.s.sured his excellency, _el Presidente_, that it would be his immediate care to see that such notification had the right of way over the Panama cable.

"I have information," began the dictator slowly, "that two men suspected of connection with an insurgent _junta_ have been arrested.

As to their nationality, I have received no details. Certainly, no American citizen has been seized with my consent. The affair appears grave, and shall be investigated. Your excellency realizes the necessity of vigilance. The revolutionist forfeits his nationality."

He spread his hands in a vague gesture.

"Mr. Robert Saxon," retorted the minister, "should hardly be a suspect. The fact that he was not a guest at my legation, and for the time a member of my family, was due only to the accident of my absence from the city on his arrival yesterday."

With sudden bustle, the machinery of the Palace was set in motion. Of a surety, some one had blundered, and "some one" should be condignly punished!

It was a very irate gentleman, flushed from unwonted exertion in the tropics, who was ushered at last into Saxon's room. It was a very much puzzled and interested gentleman who stood contemplatively studying the direct eyes of the prisoner a half-hour later.

Saxon had told Mr. Pendleton the entire narrative of his quest of himself, and, as he told it, the older man listened without a question or interruption, standing with his eyes fixed on the teller, twisting an unlighted cigar in his fingers.

"Mr. Saxon, I am here to safeguard the interests of Americans. Our government does not, however, undertake to chaperon filibustering expeditions. It becomes necessary to question you."

There followed a brief catechism in which the replies seemed to satisfy the questioner. When he came to the incident of his meeting with Rodman, Saxon paused.

"As to Rodman," he said, "who was arrested with me, I have no knowledge that would be evidence. I know nothing except from the hearsay of his recital."

Mr. Pendleton raised his hand.

"I am only questioning you as to yourself. This other man, Rodman, will have to prove his innocence. I'm afraid I can't help him.

According to their own admissions, they know nothing against you beyond the fact that you were seen with him last night."

Saxon came to his feet, bewildered.

"But the previous matter--the embezzlement?" he demanded. "Of course, I had nothing to do with this affair. It was that other for which I was arrested."

The envoy laughed.

"You punched cows six years ago. You cartooned five years ago, and you have painted landscapes ever since. I presume, if it became necessary, you could prove an alibi for almost seven years?"

Saxon nodded. He fancied he saw the drift of the argument. It was to culminate in the same counsel that Steele had given. He would be advised to allow the time to reach the period when his other self should be legally dead.

Mr. Pendleton paced the floor for a s.p.a.ce, then came back and halted before the cot, on the edge of which the prisoner sat.

"I have been at this post only two years, but I am, of course, familiar with the facts of that case." He paused, then added with irrelevance: "It may be that you bear a somewhat striking resemblance to this particularly disreputable conspirator. Of course, that's possible, but--"

"But highly improbable," admitted Saxon.

"Oh, you are not that man! That can be mathematically demonstrated,"

a.s.serted Mr. Pendleton suddenly. "I was only reflecting on the fallibility of circ.u.mstantial evidence. I am a lawyer, and once, as district attorney, I convicted a man on such evidence. He's in the penitentiary now, and it set me wondering if--"

But Saxon stood dumfounded, vainly trying to speak. His face was white, and he had seized the envoy by the arm with a grip too emphatic for diplomatic etiquette.

"Do you know what you are saying?" he shouted. "I am not that man! How do you know that?"

"I know it," responded Mr. Pendleton calmly, "because the incident of the firing-squad occurred five years ago--and the embezzlement only four years back."

Saxon remained staring in wide-eyed amazement. He felt his knees grow suddenly weak, and the blood cascaded through the arteries of his temples. Then, he turned, and, dropping again to the edge of the cot, covered his face with his hands.

"You see," explained Mr. Pendleton, "there is only one ground upon which any charge against you can be reinstated--an impeachment of your evidence as to how you have put in the past five years. And," he smilingly summarized, "since the case comes before this court solely on your self-accusation, since you have journeyed some thousands of miles merely to prosecute yourself, I regard your evidence on that point as conclusive."

Later, the envoy, with his arm through that of the liberated prisoner, walked out past deferential sentries into the Plaza.

"And, now, the blockade being run," he amiably inquired, "what are your plans?"

"Plans!" exclaimed Saxon scornfully; "plans, sir, is plural. I have only one: to catch the next boat that's headed north. Why," he explained, "there is soon going to be an autumn in the Kentucky hills with all the woods a blaze of color."

The minister's eyes took on a touch of nostalgia.

"I guess there's nothing much the matter with the autumn in Indiana, either," he affirmed.

They walked on together at a slow gait, for the morning sun was already beginning to beat down as if it were focused through a burning-gla.s.s.

"And say," suggested Mr. Pendleton at last, "if you ever get to a certain town in Indiana called Vevay, which is on some of the more complete maps, walk around for me and look at the Davis building. You won't see much--only a hideous two-story brick, with a metal roof and dusty windows, but my shingle used to hang out there--and it's in G.o.d's country!"

Before they had reached the legation, Saxon remembered that his plans involved another detail, and with some secrecy he sought the cable office, and wrote a message to Duska. Its composition consumed a half-hour, yet he felt it was not quite the masterpiece the occasion demanded. It read:

"Arrived yesterday. Slept in jail. Out to-day. Am not he."

The operator, counting off the length with his pencil, glanced up thoughtfully.

"It costs a dollar a word, sir," he vouchsafed.

But Saxon nodded affluently, for he knew that the _City of Rio_ sailed north that afternoon, and he did not know that her sister ship, the _Amazon_, with Duska on board, was at this moment nosing its way south through the tepid water--only twenty-four hours away.