The Kidnapped President

Later on we left the saloon and joined the ladies on deck. A cool wind was blowing, and it was very pleasant under the awnings. After half-an-hour's conversation, followed by an inspection of the yacht, the President declared his intention of returning to the shore. The boats were accordingly ordered alongside, whereupon, having thanked me for my hospitality, the President and the Señorita, attended by their aide-de-camp, the latter a great lady-killer, took their departure. General Sagana and his party followed suit a little later, and then I was free to discuss the success of our entertainment with Ferguson.

"If all goes on as it is doing now," I said, lighting a fresh cigar, and handing my case to him, "it should not prove a very difficult matter to inveigle him on board to dinner some night, when we might settle the affair once and for all."

"Unfortunately, the chances are a hundred to one that, if he came, he would bring an aide with him, as he did to-day. What should we do then?"

"Take the aide to the island with us," I replied promptly. "One more prisoner would make little or no difference to Silvestre."

Next morning I was the recipient of an invitation from the President to dine at the palace on the Thursday following. Needless to say, I hastened to accept, and in due course presented myself at his Excellency's magnificent abode. I was met in the hall by the aide-de-camp who had breakfasted with us on board the yacht, and by him was conducted to the great drawing-room where the President and his niece were receiving their guests. Some thirty or forty people were present, among the number being General Sagana and Madame, and their two fair daughters, who welcomed me like old friends. The President took the General's wife in to dinner, while, for some reason best known to them, I was permitted the honour of escorting the Señorita.

"So you have not grown tired of Equinata yet, Señor Trevelyan?" said my fair companion, as we made our way in our turn along the stately hall in the direction of the dining-room.

"On the contrary, I grow more charmed with it every day," I replied. "Who could help liking it, when its citizens are so hospitable to strangers?"

"Before you praise us, remember that you set us a charming example," she continued. "It will be long before I forget the pleasant morning we spent on board your yacht. I can assure you that my uncle also looks back on it with the greatest pleasure."

"I trust it may not be the last time he will visit her," I answered, with more truth than is usually attachable to an idle compliment.

The room in which we dined was a magnificent apartment, furnished with a grandeur that gave it an almost regal dignity. The President's chef was evidently a treasure, for the dinner could scarcely have been excelled. During its progress the President addressed himself on several occasions to me, and invited me to accompany him on a visit to some celebrated copper mines in the neighbourhood, also to a review of the troops which was to take place in the Great Square in a week's time. As may be supposed, I was quick to accept both invitations.

"And at the end of the week there is to be a grand ball at the Opera House," the Señorita continued, when her uncle had finished speaking. "It is in aid of the convent of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and is one of our recognized gaieties of the year. I wonder if we shall be able to persuade you to be present?"

"I shall be more than delighted," I replied. "That is, of course, provided I am not compelled to leave Equinata in the meantime."

"You must not leave us too soon," she said, and then paused and examined her plate attentively. I was about to answer her, when her attention was attracted by her neighbour on her right, and I was accordingly left to my own thoughts.

I looked down the long table, glittering with glass and plate, and as I did so, I endeavoured to apprize the value of my extraordinary position. Who at that board could have guessed the errand in Equinata of the man whom, doubtless, so many of them envied for his wealth and for his magnificent floating home? I could not help wondering what my own feelings would have been had I known only three months or so before, when I was standing watch as a mail-boat officer, that in a few short weeks I should be the honoured guest of the President of the Republic of Equinata, and the presumptive owner of a yacht valued at upwards of a hundred thousand pounds.

I looked across the room and examined the pictures hanging upon the walls. That exactly opposite me riveted my attention. I felt that I could not be mistaken as to the likeness. It was the portrait of Don Guzman de Silvestre, and the artist had managed to depict him to the life. How it called me back to other days! As I looked at it, I seemed to be sitting in the old inn garden at Falstead, listening to his instructions for the campaign, and wondering how long Molly would be at the choir practice.

"You have suddenly become very silent, Señor Trevelyan," said the Señorita, rousing me from my reverie.

"I was thinking that I shall often look back with pleasure upon this evening," I replied.

The look she gave me would probably have encouraged many men to embark on a course of the maddest flirtation. I, however, was adamant.

"In reality," she said, "I suppose you are like all the other visitors we have, and, as soon as you are away from Equinata, you will forget us altogether."

"I assure you I shall never forget your beautiful city as long as I live," I answered, and with more truth than she imagined.

She threw a quick glance at me and then, looking down the dinner-table, gave the signal to the ladies to rise. I must confess here that the Señorita interested me very strangely. At first I had thought her merely a very beautiful woman, well fitted by nature to perform the difficult task asked of her; it was not long, however, before I came to have a somewhat better understanding of her real abilities. In what light I regard her now, you will be able to realize for yourself when you have read my story.

As had been arranged, three days after the dinner I have just described, I accompanied the President and a considerable party to the famous copper mines in the mountain range that began behind the city and extended well-nigh to the further limit of the Republic. We were only absent three days, yet in that short space of time I was permitted an opportunity of studying the real character and personality of Equinata's ruler more closely than I had yet done. At first I must confess I had been prepared to dislike him, but little by little, so gradually indeed that I scarcely noticed the change, I found that he was managing to overcome my prejudices. Under the influence of these new impressions I also began to see my own part of the business in a new light. From what Silvestre had said to me, I had up to that time regarded him as a traitor to his friends, and as a tyrant and enemy to his country. I now discovered that he was neither the one nor the other. He ruled according to his lights, and if he held his people in an iron grip, it was for the good and sufficient reason that he knew their character, and the sort of government they required. My own position, when I came to overhaul it properly, I discovered to be by no means edifying. I accepted his hospitality and his kindnesses, yet I was only waiting my chance to prove myself a traitor of the worst kind. I was posing as his friend, yet at the same time was preparing to prove myself his worst enemy. Such thoughts as these kept me company by day and night, and made me regard myself with a contempt such as I had never dreamed of before. And yet I knew that, at any hazard, I must go through with it. Had I not taken Silvestre's money and pledged myself to serve him? Therefore I could not draw back.

On our return to the city from the mountains, I was present at the review of the troops in the Great Square, and witnessed the redoubtable army of Equinata, headed by General Sagana, as you may suppose in the fullest of full uniforms, march by and salute its chief. That ceremony over, I returned to the yacht to while away the hours as best I could until it should be time to dress for the great ball that was to take place at the Opera House that evening.

Having rigged myself out for the occasion, I was rowed ashore, and, as I had plenty of time to spare, I determined to walk to the Great Square in preference to taking a cab. To do this it was necessary for me to pass a certain fashionable café, whose little tables decorated the broad pavement outside. At one of these tables two men were seated, playing dominoes as they sipped their coffee. One of them looked up at me as I passed. As my eyes fell on his face I gave a start, for I recognized him instantly as a well-known Rio merchant, who had made several voyages with me in the old Pernambuco, and with whom I had been on the most friendly terms. He stared at me as if he thought he ought to know my face, but, I suppose on account of the absence of my moustache, could not quite remember where he had seen it last.

I hurried on, with my heart in my mouth, as the saying has it, but I had not gone very far ere I heard some one bustling after me. A few seconds later a hand was laid upon my arm, and I turned to find the individual I had seen seated at the table standing before me.

"Ten t'ousand pardons, señor," he began in English, "but am I mistaken if I say your name is 'Elmsworth?"

I had to make up my mind.

"I'm afraid you're making some little mistake," I replied, and then added what was worse than a lie, that is to say, a half-truth, "I know no one of the name of 'Elmsworth."

"Den I must beg of you ten t'ousand more bardons," he continued. "I t'ought you vas one of mine old vriends dot I vas at sea mit. Forgive me dat I interrupt you in your valk."

I willingly forgave him and passed on.

The question that kept me company for the rest of the evening was – Had my assurance satisfied him? If not, what would he be likely to do?

CHAPTER VIII

So long as I may live I shall never forget the ball at which I was present that night. The scene was gay beyond description. All the Rank and Fashion of La Gloria, and one might almost say of Equinata, were assembled there. When the dancing had been in progress for some time, the President and the Señorita Dolores put in an appearance and were received by the committee to the strains of the National Air. I must confess that Fernandez made a most imposing figure, with his broad ribbon of the Order of La Gloria, and his wealth of foreign decorations. As for his companion, it would be difficult for a mere male mortal to find words in which to describe the picture she presented. As soon as it was permissible I crossed the room to her and humbly asked her for a dance. She was graciously pleased to give me one, and presently we found ourselves circling round the room together to the music of a long swinging waltz, excellently played. Afterwards I escorted her from the ball-room into the balcony. It was a lovely night, and so still, that in the pauses of the music the sound of the waves upon the beach could be distinctly heard, though more than a mile away. I procured my companion's mantilla for her, with which she draped her head and neck, with characteristic grace. Never, I am inclined to believe, had she looked lovelier than she did at that moment, and when she leant upon the balustrading of the balcony, and looked across the city towards the mountains, behind which the moon was rising, I vowed that I had never beheld a fairer picture. Few men could have stood beside her then and not have felt the fascination of her presence.

"Señor Trevelyan," she said meditatively, in a voice that was as low and musical as the deep notes of a guitar, "what a strange thing is life! You and I stand here together now. Out of the infinite you hold my attention for minutes that never can be recalled. Later we shall separate, and then you will go your way, and I shall go mine. In all probability we shall never meet again – yet through Eternity our destinies will be linked, like the strands of a rope, by the remembrance of a few minutes' conversation on a certain moonlight night in Equinata."

I must confess that this sudden seriousness on her part puzzled me considerably. A moment before she had been all gaiety, a few seconds later she was gravity personified. The change was so instantaneous that I found it difficult to follow her.

"I am afraid I must be very obtuse," I stammered, "but I cannot say that I have quite caught your meaning."

"I am not sure that I know it myself," she replied. "The beauty of the night has taken hold of me. The rising of the moon always has a curious effect upon me. I am afraid you will think me very absurd, but people say I have a strange way of looking at things. I was thinking of our life. Consider for a moment how much we are governed by Chance. We meet some one we like, some one whom we believe might prove a good friend if ever occasion should arise. He, or she, crosses our path, tarries perhaps for a moment with us, and then vanishes, never to be seen by us again."

"But we have the consolation of recollection left us," I replied, more impressed than ever by her curious mood. "Every day we put away impressions in memory's store-house – mental photographs, may I call them – which will conjure up the Past for us in fifty years' time if need be. Think of the impression I am receiving at this moment. It will never be effaced. The scent of the orange blossoms, the glorious moonlight, the music of the ball-room yonder, and you leaning upon the balustrading looking down upon the sleeping city. The picture will still be with me even though I have the misfortune to be many thousand miles from La Gloria. In fifty years' time I may be in an English village, in a Chinese seaport, or on the South African Karroo; then the shimmer of the moonlight on a leaf – a chance strain of music – even a piece of black lace, like that of your mantilla – will be sufficient to bring the whole scene before my mind's eye. In a flash I shall be transported to this balcony, and you will be standing beside me once more."

It seemed to me that she gave a little shiver as I said this.

"If your mental photographs are to be so vivid," she continued, "what a sorry figure I shall cut in them, if through all time I continue to talk as I have been doing to-night." Then changing her manner, she went on, "I fear you will soon grow tired of Equinata."

"That could never be," I replied. "I only wish it were in my power to stay longer."

"When do you think it will be necessary for you to leave?" she inquired, as if the question were one of the utmost importance.

"It is difficult to say," I answered. "I am afraid, however, it will not be many more days. I have received information concerning some rather important business that may possibly necessitate my leaving for Europe almost immediately."

"I am sorry to hear that," she said meditatively. "We had looked forward to enjoying the pleasure of your society for some time to come."

She spoke as if I were an old friend whom she feared to lose. Had a stranger been present, he or she would have found it difficult to believe that a fortnight before we had never set eyes on each other. There are many men in the world who, had they been in my place, would doubtless have been charmed, and perhaps more than charmed, by the interest she displayed in my doings. She was a vastly pretty woman, dangerously pretty in fact, but even her tender interest in my affairs was not sufficient to shake my equilibrium. Ten minutes or so later we returned to the ball-room, and I surrendered her to the partner who came to claim her. Having done so, I was walking towards the further end of the room, when the President accosted me. He was in a most affable mood, and was evidently disposed for a chat.

"You do not appear to be dancing very much, Señor Trevelyan," he said, dropping into English, as was his wont when we were alone together. "Is it possible you feel inclined for a cigar?"

"I am more than inclined," I replied, "I am pining for one. I never was much of a dancing man. The hard sort of life I have been compelled to lead has not permitted me much opportunity for practising that graceful art."

The words had no sooner escaped my lips than I realized what a slip I had made. So far as he was aware, I was, to all intents and purposes, a rich young Englishman, and should be without a care in the world. It would therefore seem to him strange that I should not have had much chance of perfecting my knowledge of the terpsichorean art.

"I mean to say," I went on, as we made our way across the grand lobby to the smoking-room, "that after I left school, I was for some time abroad, and – well, the fact of the matter is, I never laid myself out very much for ladies' society."

"I think I understand," he replied gravely. "Like myself, you prefer to look for your amusements in other directions. Your passion for the sea I can quite appreciate, but I think, were I in your place, I should prefer a somewhat larger craft than your yacht. A mail-boat, for instance, such as the Pernambuco– or the Amantillado would come somewhat nearer the mark."

There was nothing remarkable in what he said, and his voice never for a second rose above its customary pitch. Nevertheless, I looked at him in overwhelming astonishment. It seemed to me his words were spoken with a deliberate intent, and were meant to have a definite value placed upon them. It was not the first time I had had the impression forced upon me, and it was not a pleasant one, I can assure you, that he had become aware of the real reason for my presence in Equinata. I hastened to abandon the subject of the sea, and directed the conversation into another channel. The result, however, was very much the same. We thereupon discussed the possibilities of a European war, which at that moment seemed not improbable.

"Power," he returned, à propos of a remark of mine, "is in my opinion precisely a question of temperament. Your London crowd is well trained and will stand what would drive a Neapolitan or a French mob to violence. Such speeches are delivered in your parks on Sundays as would prove in these latitudes as intoxicating as brandy. I have known a Revolution started by an ill-timed jest, a city wrecked, and a thousand lives lost in consequence. Talking of Revolutions, have you ever had the misfortune to be called upon to take part in one?"

Once more my suspicions were aroused.

"Good gracious, no!" I cried. "What makes you ask me such a question? Do I look like the sort of person who would be likely to have to do with such affairs?"

He glanced at me for a moment over the top of the cigar which he had taken from his mouth and was holding between his long slim fingers, as if to enjoy the beautiful aroma.

"I was merely venturing an inquiry," he continued, in the same quiet fashion as before. "If you have not, you should try the experiment. Believe me, there is a very fair amount of excitement to be got out of it, particularly if you have not the good fortune to be on the winning side. You have met Don Guzman de Silvestre, of course?"

"Don Guzman de who?" I asked, as if I had not quite caught the name.

"My predecessor," the President replied. "I thought that probably you might have come across him in your travels. He knocks about the Continent a good deal, and I am told he is well known at the various ports at which the mail-boats touch."

The situation was momentarily getting beyond me. I felt that I could not stand much more of it. He had referred to the Pernambuco, and had recommended me to try my hand at a Revolution; he had mentioned Don Guzman de Silvestre, and now he was speaking of the ports at which the South American mail-boats call, and implying that I was familiar with them. What did it all mean? Was it only a matter of chance, or was he aware of my identity, and only biding his time to rise and upset all my calculations? I think you will agree with me in saying that it was not a pleasant position for a man to be placed in!

"I remember," he went on, "on one occasion smoking a cigar with Don Guzman de Silvestre in this very balcony – he was sitting exactly where you are now. Though he thought I was not aware of it, I happened to know that he was at that time hatching a plot that he hoped would upset my calculations, turn me out of my palace, and make him President in my stead. He had been laying his plans for months, and was quite sure that they would succeed!"

"And the result?"

"The result was that it failed. If he had not managed to escape when he did, I am afraid his life would have paid the forfeit. In spite of the advice I gave you just now, interference in Revolutions in Equinata is not an amusement I should recommend to every one."

"I trust I may never be called upon to try it," I replied fervently.

"I hope you will not," he returned, without looking at me. "It's an unprofitable speculation unless you are certain of your cards. The strongest, of course, wins, and the loser generally goes to the wall."

I thought I understood to what wall he referred.

A few moments' silence followed his last speech. The President was the first to break it by referring to what he hoped would be the future of his country. It was evident that he firmly believed in it and its capabilities. Then, rising from his chair, he bade me "good-night" with an abruptness that was almost disconcerting.

When he had gone, and I had finished my cigar, I returned to the ball-room in time to meet the Presidential party as they were leaving.

"Good-night, Señor Trevelyan," said the señorita. "The Little Sisters are indebted to you for your most generous contribution. In their name I thank you."

"And I am equally indebted to them for the pleasure I have been permitted to enjoy this evening," I replied.

She bowed to me, and passed on, on her uncle's arm, towards the entrance. When they had departed I obtained my hat and cloak, and in my turn left the building. During the last ten minutes my spirits had been dropping down and down until they reached zero. Never since I had consented to Don Guzman's plan had my business in Equinata seemed so hazardous or indeed so despicable to me. I felt that I would have given anything never to have set eyes on my tempter, or to have listened to his invidious proposal. However, I am not going to moralize. I've my story to tell, and tell it I must, and in as few words as possible.

When I left the Opera House, the moon was sailing in a cloudless sky, and, in consequence, the streets were almost as light as day. It was a little after midnight, and I had not ordered the boat to meet me at the wharf until one o'clock. I had therefore plenty of time at my disposal. As I passed out of the Great Square and entered the Calle de San Pedro, the cathedral clock chimed the quarter past the hour. I strolled leisurely along, so that it was half-past by the time I reached the wharf. Then I lighted another cigar, and, seating myself on a stone block, prepared to await the arrival of the boat. I had perhaps been seated there ten minutes, when, suddenly, and before I could do anything to protect myself, a bag or cloth, I could not tell which, was thrown over my head, and my arms were pinioned from behind. Then a voice said in Spanish, "Lift him up, and bring him along. There's not a moment to lose." Thereupon a man took hold of my shoulders and another my legs, and I felt myself being carried along, though in what direction I could not of course tell. A few seconds later, however, I was dumped down on the wooden floor of what was evidently a cart. The crack of a whip followed, and we were off at a brisk pace somewhere – but where? The bag by this time was coming near to stifling me. It had been pulled so tight round my head that it was only with the greatest difficulty I could breathe. Eventually, I suppose, I must have lost consciousness, for I have no recollection of anything that happened until I opened my eyes to find myself lying on the floor of a small, bare room, through the grated windows of which the moonlight was streaming in. Thank goodness, the bag was gone, but my head ached consumedly, and I felt about as sick and wretched as a man could well be.

After a while I sat up, and endeavoured to puzzle out my position. Where was I? Who was it had made me prisoner? Was it a simple act of brigandage, having plunder for its motive, or had the President discovered the plot against him and ordered my arrest? Not one of the questions could I answer. In the hope of being able to solve the problem of my whereabouts, however, I got on to my feet and endeavoured to look out of the window, only to discover that it was out of my reach, and that I was too weak to draw myself up to it. I therefore seated myself on the floor once more, for the room or cell, whichever I cared to call it, was destitute of furniture, and resigned myself to my miserable thoughts.