The Dust of Conflict

“Hallo!” he said. “Another of their blamed officers coming to worry us!”

Appleby heard a beat of hoofs, and looking down saw a man riding along the tramway on a mule. It was too dark to see the stranger clearly, and he sat still until there was a murmur of voices below, and a patter of feet on the stairway.

“He is coming up,” he said, with a trace of displeasure in his voice. “I fancied I had made it plain that nobody was to be shown in until I knew his business. Still, we can’t turn him out now. Tell Pancho to bring in the lights.”

Harper rose, but as he did so the major-domo flung the door open, and stood still with a lamp in his hand as a man walked into the room. He made a little gesture of greeting, and Appleby checked a gasp of astonishment. The major-domo set the lamp on the table, and then slipped out softly, closing the door behind him.

“Don Maccario!” said Harper, staring at the stranger. “Now, I wonder where he got those clothes.”

Maccario smiled, and sat down uninvited. He was dressed in broadcloth and very fine linen, and laid a costly Panama hat on the table. Then he held out a little card towards Appleby.

“With permission!” he said. “Don Erminio Peralla, merchant in tobacco, of Havana!”

Harper laughed when he had laid out a bottle and glasses, and the faint rose-like bouquet of Canary moscatel stole into the room.

“That’s a prescription you are fond of,” he said. “The tobacco business is evidently flourishing.”

The last was in Castilian, and Maccario delicately rolled up the brim of the hat and let it spring out again to show the beauty of the fabric, while his dark eyes twinkled.

“It seems that one’s efforts for the benefit of his countrymen are appreciated now and then, but my business is the same,” he said. “One does not look for the patriot Maccario in the prosperous merchant of tobacco, for those who would make mankind better and freer are usually poor. That is all – but I am still a leader of the Sin Verguenza, and as such I salute you, comrade.”

He made Appleby a little inclination, which the latter understood, as he drank off his wine. It implied that he, too, was still counted among the Sin Verguenza.

“There is business on hand?” he said quietly, signing to Harper, who moved towards the door.

Maccario, somewhat to his astonishment, checked Harper with a gesture. “It is not necessary,” he said. “There is nobody there. Morales is sending his troops away, and by and by we seize the Barremeda district for the Revolution.”

“You want me?” asked Appleby very slowly.

A curious little smile crept into Maccario’s eyes. “Where could one get another teniente to equal you?”

Appleby sat very still. He had, he fancied, started on the way to prosperity when he became Harding’s manager, and while he sympathized vaguely with the aspirations of the few disinterested Insurgents who seemed to possess any he had seen sufficient of the Sin Verguenza. If he could cling to the position it seemed not unlikely that a bright future awaited him; and while free from avarice, he had his ambitions. On the other hand, there were privations relieved only by the brief revelry that followed a scene of rapine, weary marches, hungry bivouacs, and anxious days spent hiding in foul morasses from the troops of Spain. Still, he had already surmised that he would sooner or later have to make the decision, and while he remembered the promise the ragged outcasts had required of him a vague illogical longing for the stress of the conflict awoke in him.

“Well,” he said quietly, “when I am wanted I will be ready.”

Maccario made him a very slight inclination, which was yet almost stately and expressive, as only a Spaniard’s gesture could be.

“It is as one expected, comrade; but perhaps we do not want you to carry the rifle,” he said. “It is the silver we have in the meanwhile the most need of.”

“What I have is my friends’, to the half of my salary.”

“We do not take so much from you. A little, yes, when the good will goes with it; but there is more you can do for us.”

“No!” and Appleby’s voice, though quiet, had a little ring in it. “There is nothing else.”

Maccario lifted one hand. “It is arms we want most, my friend, and now the patriotic committee are liberal we are getting them. There remains the question of distribution and storage for the rifles as they some from the coast, which is difficult. Still, I thing Morales would not search one place, and that is the hacienda San Cristoval. It is evident how you could help us.”

“No,” said Appleby grimly. “Not a single rifle shall be hidden here. When the Sin Verguenza send for me I will join them, but in the meanwhile I serve the Señor Harding. That implies a good deal, you understand?”

Maccario appeared reflective. “A little hint sent Morales would, I think, be effectual. Arrives a few files of cazadores with bayonets, and the Señor Harding will want another manager.”

“Oh yes,” said Harper dryly as he sprang towards the door. “That’s quite simple, but the hint isn’t sent yet. A word from me, and I guess the Sin Verguenza would be left without a leader!”

Maccario looked round, and laughed softly as he saw the American standing grim in face with his back to the door and a pistol glinting in his hand.

“It is Don Bernardino I have the honor of talking with,” he said.

“You have heard all I have to tell you,” said Appleby. “I cannot embroil the Señor Harding with Morales.”

Maccario rose, and smiled at Harper. “It saves trouble when one has an understanding; and now, my friends, I will show you something. The major-domo had orders not to send up anybody without announcing him, but he admitted me. Will you come out with me into the veranda?”

“Put your pistol up, Harper,” said Appleby; but Maccario shook his head.

“Not yet, I think,” he said. “Open that lattice so the light shines through. Will you send for the men I mention, Don Bernardino?”

They did as he directed, and when they went out into the veranda Appleby blew a whistle. It was answered by a patter of feet, and Appleby spoke swiftly when a man appeared below.

“I have sent for the men. They are among the best we have, and supported me when I had a difference with the rest,” he said.

Maccario smiled. “They did as they were told, my friend.”

Appleby could not see his face because the light from the room was behind them, but his tone was significant, and he waited in some astonishment until the patter of feet commenced again, and half-seen men flitted into the patio. The latter could, however, see the men above them, for a threatening murmur went up when they caught the glint of Harper’s pistol, and two of them came running to the foot of the stairway. Maccario laughed, and laid his hand on Harper’s shoulder. Then the murmurs died away, and the men stood still below, while Maccario turned with a little nod to Appleby.

“One would fancy they would do what I wished,” he said. “The Sin Verguenza have, it seems, friends everywhere. It is permissible for one to change his mind.”

“Yes,” said Appleby, who hid his astonishment by an effort. “Still, in this case you have not been as wise as usual, Don Maccario. There are men who become more obdurate when you try to intimidate them. You have already heard my decision.”

Maccario laughed, and waved his hand to the men below. “I commend these two gentlemen to your respect. They are good friends of mine. There is nothing else,” he said. “Now we will go back again, Don Bernardino.”

The men apparently went away, and Maccario, who walked back into the room, smiled when he seated himself again.

“The Señor Harding is to be congratulated upon his manager,” he said. “Still, there is a difficulty about the rifles. There are ten cases of them here already. They are marked hardware and engine fittings.”

Harper gasped. “Well, I’m blanked!” he said. “I guess it’s the only time any kind of a greaser got ahead of me.”

“Then they must be taken away,” said Appleby. “Where are they, Don Maccario? If you do not tell me I shall certainly find them.”

“In the iron store shed, I understand. They would have been sent for at night to-morrow.”

“Get them out,” said Appleby, turning to Harper. “They will be safer lying on the cane trucks in the open than anywhere.”

Harper went out, and Maccario poured out a glass of wine. “It is fortunate you are a friend of mine, and one in whom I have confidence,” he said. “Had it been otherwise you would have run a very serious risk, Don Bernardino.”

Appleby laughed, though he was glad that he sat in the shadow. “I can at least, let you have four hundred pesetas if the Sin Verguenza want them; but you will remember that if more rifles arrive here I will send them to Morales.”

“In silver?” said Maccario. “I have samples of tobacco to carry, and a mule.”

Appleby brought out two bags of silver from the chest in his office, for golden coin was almost as scarce in Cuba then as it usually is in Spain, and the two talked of different subjects with a frankness that concealed their thoughts, until there was a rattle of wheels as Harper passed below with several men pushing a little truck along the cane tramway. By and by he came in and sat down.

“The cases are marked as he told us, and I’ve left them on the line,” he said. “I guess nobody would think of looking for rifles there. When are your friends coming for them, Maccario?”

“I think that is better not mentioned,” said Maccario. “Those cases will, however, not be there to-morrow.”

“And your men?” said Appleby. “I cannot have them here.”

“You will listen to reason, my friend. I know you are one who keeps his word, and we will send no more rifles here. Still, those men work well, and the Señor Harding is not a Loyalist. He is here to make the dollars, and because the Spaniards are masters of Cuba he will not offend them. By and by, however, there is a change, and when it is we who hold the reins it may count much for him that he was also a friend of ours.”

“You know he is not a Loyalist?” said Appleby.

Maccario laughed a little. “Can you doubt it – while the hacienda of San Cristoval stands? There are many burnt sugar mills in Cuba, my friend.”

“Now,” said Harper dryly, “it seems to me he’s talking the plainest kind of sense. Make him promise he’ll give you warning, and take his men out quietly when he wants them for anything.”

Maccario gave his promise, and they sat talking for awhile until there was a knocking at the door below, and Pancho, who came up the stairway in haste, stopped where the light showed the apprehension in his olive face.

“Comes the Colonel Morales, and there are cazadores in the cane,” he said.

There was a sudden silence, and Maccario, who started to his feet, seized one of the bags of silver. He, however, nodded and sat down again when Appleby’s hand fell on his shoulder. There was, it was evident, no escaping now, for a quick tread showed that the officer was already ascending the stairway. Maccario made a little gesture of resignation.

“He has never seen me as a merchant of tobacco, and if he notices too much it is assuredly unfortunate for him,” he said. “Pancho will already have the affair in hand.”

Appleby said nothing, but he could feel his heart thumping painfully as he leaned on the table until Morales came in. He carried his kepi in one hand, and though he greeted Appleby punctiliously there was a little gleam in his eyes, while for just a moment he glanced keenly at Maccario. In the meanwhile Appleby saw Pancho’s face at the lattice behind his shoulder, and surmised that Morales was running a heavy risk just then. He had little esteem for the Spanish colonel, but it seemed to him that the fate of the San Cristoval hacienda, as well as its manager, depended upon what happened during the next five minutes.

“You will take a glass of wine, and these cigars are good,” he said.

Though every nerve in his body seemed to be tingling his voice was even; but while the officer poured out the wine Maccario laid a bundle of cigars before him, and smiled at Appleby.

“Your pardon, señor – but this is my affair,” he said. “It is not often I have the opportunity of offering so distinguished a soldier my poor tobacco, though there are men of note in Havana and Madrid who appreciate its flavor, as well as the Señor Harding.”

Morales glanced at him, and lighted a cigar; but Appleby fancied he was at least as interested in the bag of silver on the table.

“The tobacco is excellent,” he said.

Maccario took out a card. “If you will keep the bundle it would be an honor,” he said. “If you are still pleased when you have smoked them this will help you to remember where more can be obtained. We” – and he dropped his voice confidentially – “do not insist upon usual prices when supplying distinguished officers.”

“That is wise,” said Morales, who took the cigars. “It is not often they have the pesetas to meet such demands with. You will not find business flourishing in this country, which we have just swept clean of the Sin Verguenza. They have a very keen scent for silver.”

“No,” said Maccario plaintively. “There are also so many detentions and questions to be answered that it is difficult to make a business journey.”

Morales laughed, “It is as usual – you would ask for something? Still, they are good cigars!”

“I would venture to ask an endorsement of my cedula. With that one could travel with less difficulty.”

He brought out the strip of paper, and Morales turned to Appleby. “This gentlemen is a friend of yours?”

Appleby nodded, and the officer scribbled across the back of the cedula, and then, flinging it on the table, rose with a faint shrug of impatience.

“A word with you in private!” he said.

Appleby went out with him into the veranda, and set his lips for a moment when he saw, though Morales did not, a stealthy shadow flit out of it. He also surmised there were more men lurking in the patio beneath, and felt that a disaster was imminent if Maccario’s apprehensions led him to do anything precipitate. Then it seemed scarcely likely that the colonel of cazadores would leave the place alive. Still, his voice did not betray him.

“I am at your service, señor.” he said.

“The affair is serious,” said Morales dryly. “I am informed that there are arms concealed in your factory. Ten cases of them, I understand, are in your store shed.”

If he had expected any sign of consternation he did not see it, for Appleby smiled incredulously.

“If so, they were put there without my consent or knowledge, but I fancy your spies have been mistaken,” he said.

“Will you come with me and search the shed?”

Morales made a little gesture of assent. “I have men not far away, but I am a friend of the Señor Harding’s, and it seemed to me the affair demanded discretion,” he said. “That is why I left them until I had spoken with you. Still, if we do not find those arms nobody will be better pleased than me.”

They went down the stairway, and Appleby bade a man in the patio summon his comrades. Then they walked along the tramway towards an iron shed, where there was a delay while one of the men lighted a lantern and opened the door When this was done they went in, and for almost an hour the peons rolled out barrels and dragged about boxes and cases of which they opened one here and there. Still, there was no sign of a rifle, and when they had passed through two or three other sheds Morales’ face was expressionless as he professed himself satisfied. They walked back silently side by side, until the officer stopped by a cane truck and rubbed off the ash from his cigar on one of the cases that lay upon it. He also moved a little so that he could see Appleby’s face in the light of the lantern a dusky workman held. The latter was eyeing Morales curiously, and Appleby fancied by the way he bent his right hand that very little would bring the wicked, keen-pointed knife flashing from his sleeve.

“It seems that my informants have been mistaken,” said the colonel. “I can only recommend you the utmost discretion. It is – you understand – necessary.”

He turned with a little formal salutation and walked down the tram-line, while the dusty workman smiled curiously as he straightened his right hand. Appleby gasped and went back slowly, while he flung himself down somewhat limply into a chair when he reached his living-room, where Harper sat alone.

“Where is Maccario?” he asked.

“Lit out!” said Harper dryly. “He’d had ’bout enough of it, though I guess his nerves are good. Kind of a strain on your own ones too?”

Appleby’s face showed almost haggard, and he smiled wearily.

“It is evident that if we have much more of this kind of thing I shall earn my salary, though the Sin Verguenza will apparently get most of it,” he said.

XV – TONY’S LAST OPPORTUNITY

THE sun shone pleasantly warm, and a soft wind sighed among the branches, when Violet Wayne pulled up her ponies where the shadows of the firs fell athwart the winding road that dipped to Northrop valley. There had been a shower, and a sweet resinous fragrance came out of the dusky wood. Godfrey Palliser, who sat by the girl’s side, however, shivered a little, and buttoned the big fur-trimmed coat that lay loose about him, which did not escape his companion’s attention.

“Shall we drive out into the sun?” she asked.

“No,” said the man, “I think I should be just as chilly, and the view from here pleases me. It is scarcely likely that I shall see it very often again.”

Violet Wayne shook her head reproachfully as she glanced at him, though she felt that the prediction might be verified, for Godfrey Palliser had never been a strong man in any respect, and though he sat stiffly upright he looked very worn and frail just then. The pallor of his face also struck a little chill through her, for her pulses throbbed with the vigor of youth, and all the green world about her seemed to speak of life and hope. Yet there was a gravity in her eyes, which suggested that the shadow of care also rested upon her.

“That is not the spirit to hasten one’s recovery, and you have been ever so much better lately,” she said.

There was a curious wistfulness in Godfrey Palliser’s smile, and he laid a thin hand upon her arm. “I should like a little longer respite, if it was only to see you Tony’s wife,” he said. “Then I should know that what I had striven for so long would be worthily accomplished. Still, since my last illness I have other warnings than those the eminent specialist gave me, and I do not know at what hour the summons may come.”

At the mention of Tony the shadow deepened for a moment in the girl’s face, for it seemed to her there was a meaning behind what the old man had said which chimed with the misgivings that had troubled her of late. Still, she was loyal, and would not admit it even to herself.

“Tony would have made you a worthy successor in any case,” she said.

Godfrey Palliser smiled curiously. “Tony has many likable qualities, but he is weak,” he said. “That, my dear is one reason I am glad that he is going to marry you, for it is a burden I shall, I think very shortly, bequeath him. You will help him to lighten it, as well as bear it honorably.”

“There are, as you know, women in this country who would not consider it a burden,” said the girl.

Godfrey Palliser stretched out his hand and pointed to the vista of sunlit valley which, framed by the dark fir branches, opened up before them. Green beech wood, springing wheat, and rich meadow rolled away into the blue distance under a sky of softest azure, with the river flashing in the midst of them. Across the valley, under its sheltering hill-slope the gray front of Northrop Hall showed through embowering trees, and the tower of a little time-worn church rose in the foreground. It was this, Violet Wayne noticed, the old man’s eyes rested longest on.

“It will all be yours and Tony’s from this bank of the river as far as the beech woods where Sir George’s land breaks in, and it is a burden I have found heavy enough these thirty years,” he said. “The debt was almost crushing when it came to me, and rents were going down, while one can look for very little from agricultural property. I did what I could, and thanks to the years of economy the load is a little lighter now; but once I betrayed the trust reposed in me, and failed in my duty.”

Violet Wayne could not quite hide her astonishment, for no shadow of reproach had ever touched the punctilious Godfrey Palliser. He smiled when he saw the incredulity in her eyes.

“It is quite true, and yet the temptation to deceive myself was almost irresistible,” he said. “For thirty years I had lived at Northrop with the good will of my tenants and my neighbors’ esteem, and if that counted for too much with me it was because I felt I held the honor of the name in trust to be passed on unblemished to you and Tony, and those who would come after you. That was why I yielded, and it is only because you will be Tony’s wife I make confession now.”

“You are cold,” said the girl hastily. “We will drive out into the sunshine.”

Godfrey Palliser nodded, but he turned to her again as the ponies went slowly down the hill. “It is necessary that you should listen, because the man may live to trouble you,” he said. “It never became apparent who killed Davidson – for killed he was – but Tony and I knew, though I strove to convince myself the man I should have exposed might be innocent. Bernard Appleby would not have escaped to America if I had done my duty. Had the warrant been signed when it should have been Stitt would have arrested him.”

“You cannot believe that Bernard Appleby was guilty!”

“I am sure, my dear. I would not admit it, but I knew it then – and still, perhaps, I had excuses. The man was of my own blood, and I had meant, when he had proved his right to it, to do something for him. Tony is generous, and would not have grudged what I purposed to spare for him. It was a crushing blow, and left me scarcely capable of thinking, while before I quite realized it the thing was done, and I had become an accessory to the escape of a criminal.”

He stopped, gasped a little, for he had spoken with a curious intensity of expression; but the girl looked at him steadily.

“Still,” she said quietly, “I am not convinced yet.”

“No? It is quite plain to me that it could only have been him or Tony, and the latter suggestion is preposterous.”

“Yes,” said the girl, who shivered a little, though the sun was warm. “Of course it is! Still, I cannot believe that the culprit was Bernard Appleby.”

Palliser smiled faintly. “One could envy you your charity, my dear, but I have a charge to lay on you. That man may come back – and Tony would temporize. You, however, will show him no mercy. Not one penny of the Northrop rents must be touched by him – and now we will talk of something pleasanter.”

Violet Wayne shook the reins, and made an effort; but the old man appeared exhausted, and she was glad that he evinced no great interest in her conversation. What he had told her had left its sting, for she had already been almost driven to the decision he had come to. Appleby, she felt, – why she did not exactly know, though the belief was unshakable, – could not have done the horrible thing, and all the love and loyalty she possessed revolted against the suggestion that Tony was guilty. Yet the brightness seemed to have gone out of the sunlight, and the vista of wood and meadow lost its charm while the shadow deepened in her face as they drove down into the valley.

Her mother was waiting on the terrace when they reached Northrop Hall, and when Palliser had gone into the house leaning on a man’s shoulder she looked at the girl curiously.

“You are a trifle pale, Violet,” she said. “Of course, it is almost a duty, and he seems more tranquil in your company; but I have fancied lately that you spend too much time with Godfrey Palliser. He seems unusually feeble.”

“I do not think he is as well to-day,” said the girl.

“He has sent for lawyer Craythorne,” said her mother thoughtfully. “Well, you must shake off any morbid fancies he may have infected you with. You have Tony to consider, and he has been moody lately. I scarcely like to mention it, my dear, but I wonder if you have noticed that he is not quite so abstemious as he was a little while ago.”

A flush of crimson crept into the girl’s cheek, and once more the little chill struck through her, but she met the elder lady’s eyes.