Chapter IV: Part 4

"I understand the treachery," he said. "Have no fear. I will meet you at Seguro when you arrive. Be surprised at nothing--and take care of Rusty, if he needs it. I intend winning that five thousand dollars even if the Duke's note goes to protest! Good-by!"

She felt his warm, strong hand clasping hers. A great dread came over her--an unusual sensation it was. Yet she said nothing, for some strange reason inexplicable to herself.

She passed a sleepless night.

Next morning the news spread over the ship like wildfire that a first cabin passenger was missing!

All his belongings were in order; his clothes hung up carefully in the wardrobe, just as he had undressed, assisted by his faithful valet.

And that poor unfortunate--how he sobbed and beat his portly bosom over the grief which was racking the loyal African heart. The Duke of Alva went to the captain to inquire about the terrible affair.

"Yes, sir. He is gone. A pleasant, courteous fellow, too. Always minded his own business, never complained. It's too bad. Too bad. And that letter he left--it nearly broke my heart--and I'm a gruff old sea-dog, and have seen many a tragedy in my years as a master!"

The captain wiped his eye with the back of his hand.

The Duke fingered his cane nervously.

"But the note, sir. What did that say? As the cousin of her exalted Highness, Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon, I insist on knowing about this strange person. He was in my cousin's employ. She is entitled to know what sort of a person he was."

The captain glared angrily at the Duke.

"I am the commander of this vessel, sir. On the high sea, I am in supreme control, and know how to run the _Mauretania_ without advice from a bloody Spanish popinjay! I will turn that letter over to the authorities when we land." The captain spluttered indignantly.

"They will meet the boat as the pilot comes on board. I sent them a wireless!" cried the Duke.

"How dare you go over my head, in any matter of discipline on this vessel?" cried the raging commander. "What do you mean by such a thing? I am the one to warn."

The Duke was embarrassed, for he felt the helplessness of his position before this legalized tyrant of the deep.

"I've a mind to think all was not well with this unfortunate young man, from the tone of his letter before he jumped overboard. Not a thing was missing from his wardrobe, but the pajamas he wore--when he ran out on the deck. At least, we find no clothes missing! I'll have something to say to Scotland Yard myself!"

"But the man threatened to shoot me if I spoke to you or any of the officers about him. Now that he is dead I don't fear him."

"Huh!" snorted the captain. "You look about the type of man who wouldn't fear the dead. But what about ghosts, young man! What about _ghosts_? Did you stop to think of ghosts after people are dead?"

This perfectly innocent question of the seafaring, superstitious mind had a curious effect upon the nobleman.

"_Carramba!_" he muttered between his teeth, and turned away with a white face. "I wonder what could have been in that letter?"

And the captain glowered at him as he walked nervously down the companionway to his lonely stateroom, to brood in a state of miserable apprehension.

Toward dinner-time the pilot boat was sighted. Several men clambered on board, as well as that official. They sought the captain, and then visited the Princess. Carlos took good care to be in her suite when they came.

Rusty, weeping as though his heart were broken, detailed the sad conversation which he had held the preceding night with his unfortunate employer.

"Poh Marse Warren! Ah'll nebber see 'im again--until de time for de ghost!"

At this speech Maria Theresa observed a nervous twitching about the mouth of her noble kinsman.

Then Rusty became so incoherent in his sorrow that they could get no satisfaction out of him. They studied the circumstances of the case and made their notes, with frequent whispered conferences. Next to Rusty, the Duke was the most unhappy person present, although the Princess showed the strain of her uneasiness.

After the men completed the first quizzing, they repaired once more to Warren's stateroom to seek for other papers.

When they had been gone a minute or so, Carlos waved Nita out of the room. That young person could look otherwise than melting with her black eyes when occasion demanded. This glance was of the sparkling kind which would kill!

"Tell me, my dear Maria Theresa," began Carlos, after some stammering, "did you inform the detectives about the money-belt which he gave to you?"

"Naturally not. That was his affair, and the property passed out of his possession when I became stakeholder, according to the laws of wagers, did it not?"

"Ah, yes. You are a brilliant girl. And a logical one, too. Well, give it to me, then, as the affair is settled. I have several debts which I would like to pay as we pass through London."

The Princess' eyes blazed but her voice was smooth.

"So, my cousin, you claim your wager thus promptly. Are you aware that it would look bad for you if the detectives knew you had bet this enormous sum--and now were the gainer because of his disappearance? Tell me, Carlos, do you know any more than the rest of us about the Ghost Breaker?"

The man rose to his feet, his knees wavering, and then with a supreme effort he steadied himself against the back of the chair. His eyes were distended and the handsome mouth sagging.

"_Madre de Dios!_" he cried appealingly--all nonchalance and scorn now missing from his mien, "You don't mean to say that _you_--my blood relative--the woman I adore, could _believe such a thing_?"

The girl looked away. He could not see the ironical smile on the scarlet lips.

"Carlos, I have said no such thing. But wouldn't it be better to wait until we reach Seguro--as a matter of sportsmanship? Our family has had the reputation of being honorable, even in games and wagers. I am nervous, Carlos. This has upset me more than you can believe. I will never mention the wager again, until you bring up the subject."

And she retired to her stateroom, where Nita dressed the soft dark hair with her accustomed skill--and a smile concealed with difficulty.

The search was ended. The Scotland Yard men scoured all the cabins, from steerage up; they even quizzed the engineers, the stokers, the cooks, the multitude of men and passengers. No clew could alter the sad deduction which they had drawn.

"Well, Captain," said the detective in charge of the case, "it's a sad affair. But he's better off. We'll take this letter to headquarters, sir, with your written report of the circumstances. What will be done about the negro servant?"

The captain shook his head.

"Poor fellow, he is heartbroken. The Princess has very kindly offered to take him into her service. The letter asked that all the baggage, clothes, and personal property in the stateroom be given as a farewell gift to the faithful fellow. If you have no objection I will let him take the luggage along, when he leaves the ship with the party of her Highness."

And that is how it was, that evening, that out through the dismal drizzle of an interminably long day Rusty Snow marched down the dock, carrying Warren Jarvis' luggage and two satchels of the Princess of Aragon--another loyal retainer in her service.

It was a curious ending to an unusual voyage.

And Carlos, Duke of Alva, breathed a sigh of relief as he passed the last dock policeman, to assist his cousin into a waiting taxicab. They were to take the night train for London.

XII

WELCOME TO SEGURO!

The Princess and her party were delayed in Liverpool by the queries of the authorities just long enough to make them miss connections with the boat train at London. The trip had been carefully planned; this one provoking delay cost them another close connection at the station in Paris.

"Confound it," declared the Duke of Alva; "after all this long trip it seems to take us longer still to get back to Seguro. Maledictions on that miserable American pig. He brought bad luck from start to finish."

His cousin's face had not its usual color, but now a rosy tint flushed up for a moment as she answered sharply.

"I will not permit you to speak so of the man who at least volunteered to risk his life for me and for my brother. He proved himself more the gentleman, Carlos, than you--with all the boasted advantage which we believe accompanies a title."

The Duke was silent, morose and uncertain himself, for the remainder of the tiresome ride.

Rusty was humble as ever, but there was an expectant look in his rotund face. He inquired many times as to the exact time for the arrival of the train at San Fernandez, the nearest railroad station to Seguro.

From here the party would travel by motor to the old estate of the Princess and her family. It was a twenty-five-mile ride. The country through which the train was passing grew rougher with every mile.

After irritating delays and interminable waits at stations--for train service in Spain is the worst in Europe--San Fernandez was reached. Here they were compelled to wait in the semi-modern hotel until an automobile could be obtained. The long ride was begun, over rough roads, no roads at all, and through mud-holes which seemed relics of the Flood.

"This makes me think of de Arkansaw Traveler," muttered Rusty, but his reminiscence was unappreciated by his tired companions.

A blow-out, delay with the mending of the tire, and the fall of darkness wore out what spirits were left among the four voyagers. At last the little town was reached, and the machine was compelled to stop on the outskirts of the village, by the old post-road house, where a sleepy soldier was guarding the road for some government purposes.

As the lights of the car threw their garish glare upon the portico of the dilapidated structure, a man in English clothes, carrying a small satchel, stepped out and ran down toward the machine.

"Hoopey!" howled Rusty Snow, with such sudden gusto as to frighten his companions. The Duke stood up, trembling: he could not believe his eyes. Even Nita drew back with a scream of horror, which turned into dumfounded happiness as the unmistakable features of Warren Jarvis appeared in the bright glow.

"The Ghost Breaker!" exclaimed the Duke.

The Princess merely held out her hands, with a happy warmth which Jarvis could feel through her gloves.

"How did you spring out of the earth, just here?" she cried.

"Well, I got to the town a bit late. The old carry-all that brought me broke down three miles back and I stumbled along, knowing this was the only road which could bring you. I stopped here for something to eat--and the place is so old that not even the townspeople come there any more.... The food was older than the town."

He tossed his grip to Rusty, and turned toward the Duke.

"It strikes me that I won my bet, your Excellency!"

"Where did you come from? We thought you were drowned at sea."

"I _was_ nearly drowned when I slid down a rope, outside the ship and flopped into the harbor as she lay at the dock. After hiding under the cover of a lifeboat for twelve hours, I was so stiff that my quarter-mile swim was the hardest job I ever did. On shore I bought new clothes, and took the first train. Q.E.D."

"How did you get here ahead of us?" asked the Princess, still misbelieving her senses. "I knew you would make it--but how so fast?"

"I had a good day's start of you--even without this automobile. But let's get on up to that castle of yours, for I want to finish up my job and get back to America."

The Duke had been watching the expression of the American, trying in vain to fathom the mystery.

"This has been a wretched hoax--you have all been in league to trick me!" he began.

But Jarvis interrupted menacingly.

"Now, listen. No whining. I stood for a good deal--I knew about that wireless, and I guess tricks can be played both ways. May I ride with your chauffeur, your Highness?"

She nodded, and, the obstruction in the road removed, they journeyed on, slowly but more or less surely, toward the distant castle.

"We will stop at old Pedro's inn to-night, for I am frantic to hear of my brother," she said as they advanced. Carlos was too deep in thought to speak again.

And up at that same inn the usual nightly round of mediaeval revelry was going on. This ancient structure, indeterminate in age and style of architecture, was built upon uneven ground. To save expense and trouble, in the distant days of its inception, it had been built upon two levels, without the excavating for foundations. Time and the weather had warped and twisted the old wooden floors and beams so that by this date it had numerous levels. Yet the remaining furniture was of substantial oak, and here and there could be seen evidence of the expenditure, in days long past, of good Spanish gold.

Asleep, with his head on the square table by the fireplace, was Pedro, the old proprietor. Two villagers sat at another table in the side of the big room playing cards, with wordy arguments about their winnings and losses.

A young woman of perhaps twenty-three, dark-skinned, dark-eyed and dark-tressed, crossed the floor from an adjoining room, to answer a knock at the door.

From the room she had left came the sound of singing and mandolines.

"Hello, Vardos--any more news?" she asked of the peasant who entered the portal bearing a basket of food.

"Still no word or sign of the Prince," he said apologetically, avoiding her scornful look. "Here's yesterday's basket untouched as usual."

"And you left to-day's basket at the castle gate?" she asked sharply.

"Yes, this is the fifteenth night," he replied, looking back at the door.

"You haven't given up hope yet?"

The man shook his head sadly.

"I gave up hope when he went in. I waited to-night until dark before I came away from the moat."

"Once to-night I thought I saw a light in the tower, Vardos."

"If you did, Senorita Dolores, it was an unblessed flame." He sank into a chair weakly. "Once when I called to-night a wail came back to me. It sounded like a sigh of the damned. It may have been only the wind through the grated window. But it chilled my heart."

"You are a silly coward," retorted Dolores. "But what then, Vardos?"

"When I called the second time something moved in the turret of the keep, and my soul was joyful. Then, with a harsh cry, a black ugly bird flew from the turret, straight toward where the sun had set.... On my left, mind you, the sinister side,--the left--the left!"

The castanets and music in the other room grew louder.

"Oh, if the good Princess were only here!" moaned the girl. "She could help. She could do something."

"She's on her way," he told her hopelessly, "but what can she do--what can anyone do, with the imps of darkness all about her?"

"She would go straight into that castle after her brother. Ah, she is a great lady, with a great heart. Then will the villagers have it said that they let their own Princess go in alone, as they did their Prince?"

"God forbid that it should come to that!" muttered the Prince's retainer, as he handed her the basket. "Good-night, senorita."

As he started for the door the girl called after him.

"Will you go again to-morrow, Vardos?"

"Yes, senorita. I will go forever, until I know for sure that it is useless. Good-night."

His words as he passed through the old portal were drowned by the cheering and applause which followed some especial favorite who had ended a song.

Dolores looked sadly at the basket, the tears streaming down her face. She lifted the napkin, showing the simple but nourishing food which had been untouched by the missing Prince. She crossed herself, with a whispered prayer for his safety, crossing the room to the ancient pantry.

The dreams of Pedro were rudely interrupted. The big door suddenly opened to admit a character very different from the weaklings who made his tavern their rendezvous. He was dark-skinned as the rest of the crew, red-faced as old Pedro (from the same faithful indulgence in vintages), not younger than forty, yet aggressive, vibrating with physical power, elasticity, and an overweening insolence. His manner of approach--and he entered this tavern with the same studied grace with which he swaggered into half a hundred others--seemed to indicate that he delighted in disorganizing and terrorizing whatever he might find established and orderly--wherever he might find it!

Beholding the somnolent proprietor, he advanced quietly to the middle of the big room. Then, with malicious enjoyment of the effect, he banged his riding-crop violently upon the table, close to the tavern keeper's ear.

"Hey, you Pedro!" he roared. "Wake up, you blockhead--wake up, I say!"

There was only a response of snores.

"You, Pedro, attention! What's the matter here? Where are you? Wake up and stop your dreaming!"

At this the startled landlord leaped to his feet, bowing through force of habit.

"Ah, Senor Robledo! One thousand pardons!" he gasped timorously. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"You're a wretch of a tavern keeper," and the newcomer advanced upon the unhappy Pedro as though about to slay him for his drowsiness.

"Yes, senor! You are always right." The man humbly endeavored to collect his wits. "How may I serve your lordship?"

The bully swaggered, puffed his cheeks, and feeling that his host was finally awake to the seriousness of the situation, he cried out once more: "My horse stands outside by the post. He has been hard ridden, for I have come on an important mission. Varlet, go out and wash his mouth, dry him down, and don't give him water until he has cooled off. Are you finally awake, you idiotic Pedro?"

The tavern keeper gulped fearsomely, and bowed his most fetching bow, without result.

"My horse is almost dead on his legs. Be kind to him. I've had a hard ride over these miserable province roads. As for me--I want a flask of ... well ... of something decent. I know that's not in your line. Step lively now; and mind you, draw it from your private cask. My temper is no better than it should be, to-night."

The old man bowed and started to leave the big room.

The blustering guest howled at him once more, punctuating his remarks with the butt of the whip.

"Where's your daughter?"

The old man trembled and bowed once more.

"I'll call her," Pedro said apologetically. "She'll be right here, sir."

He went to the door at the right, and shouted quaveringly: "Dolores! Dolores! Dolores!... There, senor, she will come at once."

"And, Pedro--if that rat-infested larder of yours is empty, get it filled before the Duke arrives," added Robledo. "Yes ... the Duke. He is coming to-night. Don't stand and stare, but hurry up and see to my horse."

"Yes, senor!... Yes, yes!"

And he tottered away on his errands.

Dolores had entered in response to the call. At first she did not observe the newcomer, whose back was toward her.

"Yes, father," she began. "Why do you wish me?"

"Dolores," Robledo turned toward her impatiently. "Did you not know I had come?"

"Oh, it's you?" and there was a scornful sniff from the girl.

"Well, well, can't you say you're glad to see me?"

The jade was hard to impress, where others showed abjection before the terrorist.

"I can, but I won't. Where's my father?"

"Never mind your father--I want to talk to you."

"Is it so, Senor Robledo? Well, you won't in that tone."

He intercepted her in the center of the room, catching her wrist and turning her about to face him.

"What do you want to say to me?"

"You little devil!... Come here, don't try to get away." The girl was tugging to release herself. "What's come over you these days? You are about as fond and sweet-tempered as a tigress. Anyone would think that you didn't care for me at all. What have I done, Dolores?"

"It is what you have not done. For fifteen days your Prince has been in need of you, and you have not had the courage to go to him. Let go my wrist."

Don Robledo laughed, yet with a quaver in his voice, for there was a depth of passion here, intensified by the spirited resistance of the girl.

"Who's the little spitfire trying to tear to pieces now?"

"You!" she snapped back. "Don Robledo--sword-fighter--toreador--fire-eater --hero of a hundred duels!... You--Don Robledo--_coward_!"

He clumsily chuckled her under the chin.

"I asked you to-day," she continued, as she threw his hand away from her face, "I begged you to go into the castle and rescue your Prince. I ask you now to answer the signal that I just saw in the tower window, where he can see our lights. Perhaps he has burned something, a scrap of paper, in the hope that some of you, his retainers, would notice it and come to his assistance. But--he doesn't know what a pack of cowards you all are, or he would have saved his matches. So, it's Don Robledo--_coward_!"

The big man snarled.

"Coward--never a coward in a fair fight in the open, and I'll meet the best man that walks the earth." Here he faced the inquisitive and thoroughly awed villagers. "Any two or three!"

He banged the table with his riding-crop to punctuate the emphasis.

"I don't ask you to kill one or two or three of these poor whimpering sheep of Seguro. I ask you to dare something, at risk to yourself. To go to the aid of your Prince.... There isn't a man among you--who _dares_! _Dios!_ How I could love _such a man_!"

They had not heard the thrum of the motors on the roadway outside. The door opened, and the first of the party to enter was the Duke. He walked quietly into the room, overhearing the words of Dolores.

"A pretty little speech!" he observed sarcastically.

"Your Excellency!" cried Robledo, taking off his hat. "Welcome back to Seguro."

"Yes, I am well come to Seguro."

The natives doffed their hats, and like Pedro bowed and howled in the time-honored peasant way.

"The Duke! The Duke!"

"Pedro, go out and help the Princess and her servants with the luggage. I want to speak to you alone, Robledo. Hurry, while the others are delayed with that execrable car. I walked a hundred yards to get here first."

He turned toward Dolores with a scowl.

"Those are charming sentiments for your fellow-townsmen, whose healthy common sense prevents them from rushing to a fool's death. Still, all fools are not dead yet. One of them will be here to-night. And you, senorita, will doubtless be pleased to look over him, as he has come all the way from America for the privilege of entering the castle and playing your hero."

Dolores looked at Robledo, as she parried:

"And did her Highness have to go all the way to America to find him?"

"Yes, indeed. He's from America, where all the fools come from!"

And the villagers joined in a merry chorus of intelligent laughter!

XIII

"GENTLEMEN, A MAN!"

Dolores had hurried upstairs, where she well knew there was a tiny attic in the rambling old building which acted as an excellent whispering gallery. Every word spoken in the larger room below could be heard from this vantage. She was no sooner secreted there than she heard the voice of the Duke.

"You received my telegram sent to San Fernandez?"

"Yes, Excellency. Antonio brought it over with the mail-bags."

"What about the Prince?"

"Ah, Excellency ... why ask? The same news as before. This stupid Vardos has been taking food to the castle every day, but he is too frightened to venture into the miserable old pile of stones. It is most droll, your Excellency."

"Well then, Robledo, I am satisfied as far as that goes. But you have work before you of a new character."

The swordsman struck a chair with his riding-crop. It seemed a favorite stage effect with him; the Duke was not slow in catching its significance.

"Just forget these little affectations, my good man," he said haughtily. "None of this blustering around me. I know that you do your work well, and at other times there is much to be desired. Now, in this case, you have a dangerous man to combat. And the combat must be final, no matter how difficult."

"How is he dangerous?" and there was a new note in Robledo's blustering voice.

"Unless he is stopped he may cause trouble for the traditions of Seguro. He is crafty as a _contrabandisto_, cunning as the snakes of the Pyrenees! He has been brought here by my cousin the Princess to make some special investigations." He laughed, with that cruel, mirthless inflection so characteristic. "She should have left that to me--and she will be sorry ere it is all over. This man has thwarted me twice already. Coming over on the steamer from America the scoundrel disappeared from the ship most remarkably, just when I had all arranged to put him into duress in Liverpool. I have yet to learn the secret of it. He must be discouraged ... you understand, Robledo?"

"Excellency, I can assure you that the Yankee pig will be convinced, in a language which he will understand, that his presence in the castle to-night is quite unnecessary. Have you any particular instructions?"

The Duke shook his head and grimaced suggestively.

"Any way you please, Robledo. You understand my general ideas on such subjects. Means are of no consequence to a born statesman. Results are the only permanent things in this world. However--I warn you. Don't underestimate your man. He will shoot; I imagine that he can shoot quickly and without a tremor."

"Ha, ha! Good opposition. I welcome such an antagonist--these fat-brained peasants about here are too simple to stimulate me to good work. I have been growing dull and commonplace--I am almost out of training, as they call it in the bull-ring."

"Come then, and I will give Pedro some money to buy drinks for the stupid dolts,--they can drink my health: it is none of the best these days, Robledo. My American trip was wearing. It is a wretched, unromantic hole--not a country, just a great mob of people."

"I can well believe your Excellency. This way, sir."

They returned to the big room of the tavern, and Dolores retired from the temporary confessional box. Her face showed mixed emotions--but predominating over any other influence was the great desire to serve the rulers of her family. Curiously loyal are these humble peasants of the inland Latin districts. Their lives follow the monotonous example of the generations before them: as their grandsires, their fathers were tradesmen of a certain calling, so do they follow the strata, contented to exist with the conventional beginning, moderately happy middle era, and inevitably stupid ending of their lives.

It is this which is so pleasing to the European aristocrats: no matter how bankrupt, incompetent, disreputable, the class theory which is recognized by the masses is, "Once a gentleman, always a gentleman."

It is inconceivable upon the Continent for a peasant's or even a tradesman's son or daughter to aspire to a higher level than that of the family. Exceptions to the rule are looked upon with distrust by superiors as well as the lowly equals: too much ambition is a temptation to the gods which is hardly respectable.

There is a smug contentment, then, in the feudal countries which is the surest bulwark of the "divine right of kings"--and courtiers! A pleasantly distended belly, a mellow thrill from cheap wine, a certainty about the repetition of regular meals and drinks, with enough clothes and shelter to maintain relative positions with the neighbors--this year, next year, and twenty years from now ... these things are the mess of pottage for which the Esaus of the kingdoms and principalities sell their birthrights and their souls!

Vardos--for instance--bodyservant and sole military retainer of a princely line which for generation after generation had considered itself in humiliating straits unless there were at least a thousand lances at beck and call--old Vardos had been thrown into a mental maelstrom by the sudden change in the lifelong existence. Sure of his meals and a modicum of money for occasional visits to taprooms, he was now placed in a position of responsibility, one where executive and aggressiveness were demanded. Here old Vardos failed, because he was a peasant true to his type. The poor fellow had struggled with his grief these fifteen days--now he felt, with a helpless aching of the faithful heart, that he must have been in a sense responsible for the death of his master. He had pleaded with the young Prince not to enter the accursed place.

Insanity and suicide though it seemed to be to him, he could not help it. That was bad enough--but with the prospect of the beautiful Princess going into the place as well: life had become a horrible thing to him.

He sought the wayside shrine down the crooked village street. He threw himself upon his knees before it, vowing candles to every saint who had granted petty favors to him in the past!

He faced the great cathedral, rearing its pale crest in the dim light from the stars, vast and exalted above the miserable squalor of those whose ancestors had created its grandeur with their inspired devotion. He told the Holy Family and the saints, with tear-choked voice, the quandary of his noble master, and begged that, though they should never grant him another request, somehow, somewhere, they find and bring a gallant adventurer who could turn defeat into victory, one more willing and competent than himself, to die!

And the answer to this prayer was unburdening his own soul with semi-religious phrases, in a Kentucky accent, addressed with unwonted and even picturesque fluency at the stumbling, stodgy Rusty Snow, who trudged along loaded with luggage and an insatiate hatred of this "cussed foreign joint," as he labeled it to himself.

The Princess and her maid had, at Jarvis' suggestion, left them with the automobile in its latest quagmire, to reach the shelter of the inn. So it was that, as her vassal and his vassal struggled with the luggage in the dark, she reached the portal of the house of Pedro.

Robledo was hearkening carefully to certain careful instructions from the Duke of Alva, nodding with a smile of malicious portent at the final words.

"I will not fall short of my former reputation, your Excellency," declared the Don. "When a man reaches my time of life, after a success in the bull-ring as toreador, in the army as a duelist, and in the private retinue of so distinguished a nobleman as yourself, he has a certain pride in his ability.... Indeed, I regret that I must waste my talents upon a stupid pig of a Yankee."

Shaking his head, Carlos drew out his purse.

"The man is no idiot, unfortunately. He has completely won the confidence of the Princess, despite his obvious trickeries. Now, however, I would like to attend to a few little tasks of cleaning up after that miserable trip."

Pedro was approaching them subserviently, a humble, bobbing head betokening his anxiety to please the fine folk.

"Anything else, your Excellency?" he stammered, overcome with the pomp and majesty of the situation.

"Here, my good man, take this coin and have the brave lads in the taproom drink to my health and that of her Exalted Highness, the Princess Maria Theresa."

With studied carelessness, he dropped the coin upon the floor, and Pedro chased the rolling golden disk with surprising agility.

"Then bring me up some hot water, soap, and towels. You may prepare a hasty supper, as well--but let it be fit for a gentleman to eat!"

"Yes, yes! Your Excellency!" and Pedro nearly brought back his rheumatic spell by the renewed bobbing of the stiff old back, as he retreated to the barroom.

He returned promptly after breaking the gladsome tidings of the treat, and led the nobleman up the stairway, as a chorus of cheers rang out from the alcoholic ward.

"The Duke! The Duke! His Excellency the Duke of Alva!"

Robledo walked to the door, with his characteristic swashbuckler rhythm, and stirred them up to more enthusiasm.

"Louder, you beggars, or I'll give you something to yell about--louder, I say!"

Dolores had slipped through the doorway, facing the road.

Suddenly she danced in through the entry again, happy and exultant.

"Her Highness has come, father. Her Highness!"

Old Pedro stumbled toward the balcony and peered over at her querulously.

"Father, father!"

"What is it, Dolores?"

"Her Highness, the Princess!"

The old man bustled down the stairs, trembling with added excitement, just as Maria Theresa and Nita were bowed into the tavern by a villager who had accompanied them from the delayed machine.

The peasants trooped into the room from the tap, howling with mediaeval enthusiasm.

"Your Gracious Highness does my humble inn great honor," began Pedro, as his local guests imitated the clumsy courtesy with varying ability.

"Thank you, Pedro," replied the Princess graciously as one would address a polite child.

She held out her hand to Dolores, who kissed it reverently, with a bow and a bend of the knee.

"Your Highness, we are poorly prepared for this great favor, ill prepared indeed," apologized Dolores. "Your exalted cousin gave us but short warning of your coming. Our humble tavern is hardly fitting for a great lady."

"My child, any place to remove the dust of travel will do for me." She turned toward the villager at the door. "Tell my chauffeur that when he repairs the car I shall want it kept in readiness to use again."

Nita advanced anxiously.

"Your Highness is not thinking of going to the castle to-night, surely?" Her voice was politely remonstrative, with a note of apprehensiveness for the welfare of her mistress.

"But I must have news," declared the young woman impatiently. "I am frantic with worry, and the things which Jose has told me. Come to a room, Nita."

"Ah, your Highness, you are too brave, too determined. You are all worn out with this long trip. Better to wait until daylight, if I may be so bold as to suggest to your ladyship. You are all unstrung just now."

Maria Theresa did indeed show the strain of the nerve-racking trip, but she valiantly shook her head.

"Show me up, Dolores. When Mr. Warren, my representative, arrives inform him that I will be down very soon. Come, Nita, for I know that your hands can rest me, with their skillful massage," and she spoke wearily.

Pedro stepped forward, bowing.

"Allow me the honor, your Highness. I have the finest chamber in the tavern prepared for you--a fire to take the night chill from the largest bedroom."

She started up the steps, followed by her maid and the old man, still risking a strained back with his excited bows.

Again she turned to Dolores, with a strange nervousness, to say: "Do not forget to explain to Mr. Warren. He may think I have left the tavern. I will see him soon."

"I will give your commands to the Senor Americano, your Highness," promised the black-eyed Dolores, with a heightened color.

Then the Princess disappeared across the end of the balcony. Dolores walked to the doorway, and discerned two figures approaching with a strange slowness.

"Is this the inn?" cried a voice, with a slight foreign accent in the Spanish.

"Yes, yes, senor. Come in, senor, we are expecting you," replied the girl.

The villagers were still grouped about the door to the taproom. Dolores stepped back, as Warren Jarvis and Rusty Snow entered the big front hallway, and blinked in the unaccustomed glare of light.

They were both burdened with suitcases, and two of the Princess' hatboxes. These they dropped unceremoniously on the floor, with sighs of relief.

"We're here, Rusty, with both feet!"

"Yassir," and the negro groaned with exhaustion, "and I'd jest as lieve be back in Meadow Green. Dis don't look very scrumptious for a Mrs. Princessess' plantation house."

"This is no castle, Rusty. This is only the halfway house."

Dolores could not understand their low conversation in English--and Afro-Americanese! But she had studied the clear features, the nonchalant bearing of the tall American. She turned toward the sheep-like, staring villagers, and with an eloquent wave of her hand she cried out resonantly:

"Gentlemen--_a man_!"

Jarvis was lighting his cigarette, and he laughed, with a side-remark to his valet:

"Rusty, as the Indians said to Columbus: 'We're discovered!'" He turned toward the girl. "Did you by any chance address me, fair senorita?"

"I'm calling the attention of these valiant gentlemen of Seguro to the only man with spirit and bravery enough to enter the haunted castle," she declared.

"How did you know?" and his eyes widened with surprise. This was a queer place.

"All Seguro knows by this time, senor."

At these words, Don Robledo swaggered in through the door from the bar. He pushed the villagers aside with contemptuous roughness. He even thrust the girl out of his way as she tried to detain him. He laughed insultingly into the bland face of Jarvis.

"So, you are the _brave_ American, are you?" he cried, surveying Jarvis, with hands on hips and stocky legs well spread.

Jarvis puffed cigarette smoke at him and answered with ingenuous modesty.

"I'm _an_ American. And here" (he waved his hand to Rusty, who saluted with divination of the tenor of the interchange) "I present to your notice another American. In fact, we're both Americans!"

"And you both want to die?" cried Don Robledo, drawing a stiff forefinger suggestively across his brawny throat. Rusty was reading the pantomime with perfect understanding. He made a wry face and rolled his eyes at Jarvis, who responded with a droll wink.

"Well, now that you mention it, I'm in no hurry about it. I'm not at all anxious on the subject."

He sat down in one of the carven chairs and continued to puff his cigarette with provoking amiability.

Robeldo leaned forward toward him and snarled:

"You had better keep out of the castle then. It has a fatal climate."

Warren laughed, and flicked the ashes of the cigarette upon the sleeve of his interviewer.

"Oh, you mean the castle ghost--this old rummy who can't sleep in his grave of nights? Ha, ha! I'm not afraid of a little trifle like that, senor."

Robledo stepped back threateningly, and yet with hesitation caused by the perplexing simplicity of this foreigner.

"No?... Well, senorita, we gentlemen of Seguro will gladly drink to your American hero! Here, lads, is a toast to the maddest fool that ever came to Spain!"

He turned contemptuously on his heel, with military precision. Then he chuckled Dolores under the chin with a leer, to have his hand indignantly pushed aside. As the girl glared at him with a flash of hatred in her eyes, he stalked into the taproom, followed by the ready topers.

"Pile these bags on the table, Rusty," ordered Warren, as he smiled winningly at the girl.

"Yassir. We kin use 'em for one of these yere barracadies, if we has to."

"It looks as though we're booked for a warm reception in Seguro, Rusty. Doesn't it?"

Rusty rolled those chalky optics, with an expression of mingled drollery, apprehension, and confidence in his master's ability to lead the battle. It is wonderful how much expression can be condensed into a darky's eyes!

"Yassir. It's some tropical, dat's shore. But, you-all ain't no cold-storage rooster yohself, Marse Warren. A little Kaintucky ammanition might make some echoes 'round dis confabulation."

From the taproom came loud howls of derision from the associated village sports of Seguro.

"That ward heeler seems to be making a campaign speech, Rusty. He may be making a few promises that he can't fulfill after he gets elected," observed the Kentuckian, with pursed lips. "Listen to them holler!"

Rusty looked over his shoulder, while Dolores studied these two types with girlish curiosity, as they chattered in their alien tongue. She had never seen a man unafraid of Don Robledo but his distinguished Excellency, the Duke, before. It gave her a new thrill.

"He's a mighty nice man, he is. Mighty nice, Marse Warren. He's almos' too nice, ain't he?"

Warren shook his head, with a serious look on the usually laughing face.

"No, Rusty, not too nice--yet! He'll be a lot nicer before he's ten years older. I think his education has been neglected. You and I must begin to keep school around this township. There's nothing so nice as education, especially when the school-teacher has a nice long rattan concealed up his sleeve!"

XIV

MORE OBSTACLES

Dolores approached the Kentuckian politely, yet eagerly.

"Pardon, senor, but I have a message for you from her Highness."

"What is it?"

"She instructed me to tell you that she would see you very soon."

"Thanks, senorita. And may I ask--who was the cheerful, frolicsome individual who flattered me with that polite toast? Is he one of the royal family, taking a little vacation in this neighborhood?"

The girl reddened, then laughed.

"No, senor. He is well known in this part of our country. His name is Don Robledo."

Warren lit another cigarette, and studied her attractive face with the gallant interest of a Southerner, who is always prone to admire beauty. She was embarrassed, yet pleased, under the unmistakable scrutiny.

"Don Robledo. He seems to be well acquainted with you, senorita. Is he one of the family?"

"No, but he wishes to be!" she snapped out. "And he shall never be until he changes his manners and...."

"And his face? I don't really care for his face. If I were a girl I would never leave home and mother for that face. But of course, that's none of my business."

He stopped for an instant to absorb the rowdy racket from the taproom.

"Either he's a wonderful spender or he has unlimited credit with the bar cashier. Maybe he eats his checks ... it has been done. But I don't like that name. It sounds dangerous--and yet it doesn't seem to mean much, after all, to me."

The girl looked at him earnestly.

"It may mean much before you reach the castle. More than you suspect, senor--you have been the subject of much serious talk in this tavern before you were ever seen here."

"And how was that? I'm really a very unimportant person, you know."

"Let me tell you something, while I have the opportunity. You are in great danger here. Senor, I wish to help you. I have tried for weeks to stir up some manhood in the hearts of these cowardly sheep in Seguro. The Prince has been missing for days, since he went into that castle. I want to save my beloved Princess from the same fate which I fear overtook him when he braved the horrors of that castle. It is a place of Satan, senor."

The American smiled at her, as he asked:

"Now, do you really believe in all that superstitious trash, my good girl? You look intelligent."

The girl crossed herself piously.

"Have we not been taught by the priest, of the fiends who haunt the earth and wreck human happiness? How can I say such things could not happen, for the sins of bygone people? Not that I would think anything but love and respect for the Prince and his wonderful sister, her Highness! But, senor, I feel the same as do the other dwellers of Seguro."

"And how is that?"

"I feel that strange things have gone on in that castle. Even a great gentleman like the Duke says so. Surely if educated noblemen put faith in such things, we simple folk are not far wrong to believe what we are taught. But still..."

"Yes, there you are, my good girl. You have a 'but still'--and that means a doubt. The doubts of the world have been the foundation stones of modern freedom--it was the doubts of the old farmers and traders back in America which threw off the yoke of the old kingdom, and made a great free country. If you have a doubt you may be saved. As for the Duke--the only god he pays allegiance to is himself--and he's not been so sure of that divinity during these last iconoclastic ten days."

"I don't understand, Senor Warren?" she replied, in bewilderment.

"Of course you don't, or you wouldn't be kow-towing to this royalty stuff, and you would hand a bottle to that Don Roughhouse or whatever his name is, right on his classic brow, with a classic smash. You ought to see how an American girl would treat one of these big bullies! Well, what about my danger? It never worries me when I know where and when and how to expect it. Whatever you tell will be absolutely our secret."

Dolores looked at Rusty, who was struggling with a cigarette--he was more accustomed to Pittsburgh stogies, but his motto in life was based on the famous advice concerning Roman imitation!

"How about the Senor Moor, senor? May you trust him?" she asked nervously.

"Rusty is no Moor--he's an Afro-Methodist, my girl. He can't understand Spanish anyway, even though he's the best little guesser this side of the Ohio River. But I'd trust Rusty with my life. Go ahead with the danger signals."

She heard a footfall on the balcony above them.

"Let me pretend to read your palm, senor. I know we are being watched."

"All right, read away--my palm will show you that after this trip through Spain my clothesline needs washing. But, what's the fortune of the castle?"

It was the old Jarvis, now--blithesome, devil-may-worry, shrewd, and recovered completely, through the change of scene and a certain new interest in life which the reader may have already divined.

The girl led him away from beneath the balcony, to the side of the big fireplace. She took up his hand and examined it carefully.

Nor did her shrewd eyes miss the face on the balcony,--that of the Duke of Alva! She exaggerated her studious examination, and then in a low tone proceeded with the explanation of the lines of fate and life.

"Every one of these breaks in your lifeline shows a moment when you stood face to face with death. Ah, senor, in all my experience I have never seen such an adventurous palm.... You have stood elbow to elbow with death, and yet those little squares about the breaks show a guiding spirit of protection."

Warren was beginning to be bored. Yet something in the girl's furtive glances toward the balcony, which did not miss his own sharp eyes, convinced him that she was endeavoring to get a message to him.

She continued, her own hand trembling unmistakably.

"Ah, Senor Americano, there is one break which has not yet been reached by the line of time. The protecting square of your guardian saint is not perfect there, as with the others."

The Kentuckian laughed incredulously.

"Oh, I guess I can build up a square when the time comes and let the break take care of itself."

"But the time is now," and her voice was tremulously low.

"Now--what do you mean, now?"

She nodded her head, and with half-closed eyes gazed at the fireplace significantly.

"And are the fortune-teller's eyes so brilliant and so keen that they can light up the future and behold the day and the hour?" queried Jarvis.

"Not my eyes, senor," and her voice died down to a whisper, "but my ears."

The step of the Duke was upon the resonant stairs.

"In all my experience I have seen but one hand like yours, senor,--it speaks of danger; and that hand belongs to Don Robledo, to Don Robledo!"

The nobleman's voice cut short the seance. There was a warning note in it.

"Well, Dolores, and why are you not attending her Highness? You know the house, and she needs assistance."

"Pardon, senor." She stepped back and courtesied to Carlos, who came down the stairs, advancing toward Warren. "I will go at once, your Excellency."

"Good-by, senorita; I'll take good care of the little square. Thanks for your occult wisdom," were Warren's smiling words, as he looked at the Duke.

"Well, Mr. Warren. Looking into the future?"

"Yes, Duke, and the immediate future promises to be very interesting. That little fortune-teller has occult powers, indeed. A dark man is to cross my path soon."

Carlos had crossed the room to a position from where he could look into the taproom. He seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there. He turned toward the American.

"Do you believe in such foolery, Mr. Warren? I had thought you too intelligent to believe in superstitious things like fortune-reading."

"I like to believe some of these things on this occasion, for I hope it means someone I very much want to meet."

The Duke now approached him very earnestly.

"Mr. Warren, I feel a certain responsibility for her Highness, and all that pertains to my cousin. The prospect of your death to-night is most uncomfortable, when it can be so easily avoided by your own common sense. I seriously advise your waiting until the morning."

"So, you don't think I'll come back?"

"I think that if you go to the castle to-night, you take your life in your own hands."

Warren opened and shut his sinewy fingers, and laughed back: "I've got a pretty good grip."

"Look here," put in the nobleman. "You Americans are noted as being shrewd traders. You get dollar for dollar when you bargain--and generally a few extra dollars. You are not going to give your life away for nothing, are you?"

"Oh, it is not worth very much," retorted Jarvis. "The deal was made on a bargain day. My life happened to be a little below par, and a good customer came along."

There was a comprehensive sparkle in the dark Spanish eyes, to meet the twinkle in the firm blue ones.

"Ah, I begin to see a light. Well, Mr. Warren, I am willing to release you from your offer and the bargain and meet your terms now."

"Your Excellency, I am overwhelmed at the generosity, but the price was paid, the receipt given, and the bookkeeper has closed up the office. I'm on the job, and I'm certainly going to stay."

The Duke snarled, as he inquired: "I suppose that means that you are foolish enough to keep faith with her Highness?"

"Yes."

"I never saw a man quite so anxious to be killed, Mr. Jarvis; but such is sometimes the case where, as it has been said: 'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.'"

Jarvis laughed provokingly.

"I'd rather be an energetic fool than an angel with cold feet."

"I don't understand you, sir."

"Well, I understand you, your Excellency."

The Duke turned toward the fireplace.

"I am sorry for you," he remarked.

Jarvis walked over close to the nobleman and looked him straight in the eyes, as he spoke with unusual meaning vibrant in his voice.

"Your Excellency, your sympathy, your offer, and your advice are all declined, without thanks.... I once saw a gambler lay down four aces,--just think of it, four fat aces. He looked the dealer straight in the eye, as I am doing now with you. Then he said, 'The play ain't natural.'... Now, you have tried to have me arrested on the steamer, then you tipped off Scotland Yard and, for all I know, the Paris police, too. You have tried to block me every way you could, and you're a regular little prize blocker. Suddenly you express the utmost anxiety as to what's going to happen to me in the castle. You generously offer to buy me off. You advise me, with tears in your eyes, to stay away and save my life. Shall I take the bait--hook, line, and sinker? Duke, 'the play ain't natural'!"

The nobleman clenched his fists in anger.

"You have intruded into a matter which you neither understand nor appreciate. If, as you say, the play seems unnatural, then throw down your cards and stay out of the game."

"Oh, no, no, no!" and Jarvis' voice again had that provokingly teasing tone in it. "I'll just stay right in the game and play my hand out--and watch every deal."

He turned toward Rusty.

"Come along, and let's see if we can find the landlord. We'll have a look at our rooms," he said. "Hurry, Rusty--don't go to sleep--the bedrooms are upstairs."