The Dust of Conflict Part 34

"I am sorry-and I think I know what you mean," she said as she handed it him. "If my father is in Cuba now-and I think he is-he will tell you just what to do."

Tony thanked her gravely, and with a little formal goodbye, which included Hester Earle, went out of the room. In another minute they heard the outer door close behind him, and Nettie's color grew a trifle deeper as she glanced at her companion.

"I couldn't help it, but I'm sorry I wasn't quite sure of him now," she said. "There's a great difference in that man since yesterday. He has had a rough shaking up, but it has brought all that's good in him up on top."

Hester nodded. "There is a good deal that's very nice at least in Tony,"

she said. "It is Violet I am most sorry for. She believed in him. I wouldn't worry her just yet, Nettie."

Violet Wayne in the meanwhile lay very still in her chair. The blow had blunted her susceptibilities, too, and the pain was less intense. She felt numb and pa.s.sionless, and only realized that the man she had striven to believe in had never existed. The actual Tony had been shown to her, and it was with difficulty she had overcome the sense of disgust and horror which accompanied the revelation. Still, the evident sincerity of his desire to make reparation had touched her, and she was sensible of a curious pity for him. The tenderness was, however, alloyed with contempt, and she wondered vaguely whether that would pa.s.s with time. In the meanwhile she was glad he was going to Cuba, for she would be more sure of herself, and where her duty lay, when he came back with his task accomplished, though she realized with a curious unconcern that she might never see him again. Then there was a little tapping at the door, and it was almost a relief to her when Nettie Harding came in.

"I feel horribly mean, and want to ask you to forgive me because I am going away in a day or two," she said. "Still, I felt I had to tell that story, and if it was necessary I think I would tell it again. I knew it would hurt you, but I couldn't help it."

Violet smiled a trifle wearily. "It was a little painful. One can't hide it. Still, I don't think anybody would blame you."

Nettie came forward and seized her hands impulsively. "My dear," she said, "it would almost have killed me, and I'm ever so sorry-but what could I do? And you know you told me when I tried to ask you that it was better to know the truth. Can't you understand that if it was only because you didn't know what kind of man he was I had to tell you?"

"And that was your only reason?"

"No. There was the other man who took the blame! I didn't tell you, but the insurrection has broken out around Santa Marta where he is again, and he has left all he had and gone back to his comrades because he promised he would when they wanted him, though he knew my father would have made him rich if he had stayed with him. When I thought of him, ragged, hungry, and thirsty, and perhaps wounded, too, while Tony Palliser had everything, I could not sit still and say nothing."

Violet's gaze grew steadier as she said, "What is that man to you?"

"Nothing. Only a friend. Oh, of course, you can't understand, but a girl in America can be quite fond of a man without falling in love with him.

Bernard Appleby never tried even the mildest flirtation with me, and he'd have been sorry if he had. He's nice, and makes one trust him, but he's 'way behind the man I'm going to marry."

Her tone carried conviction with it, and Violet made a little gesture.

"Yes," she said slowly, "it is not astonis.h.i.+ng that you believe in him."

Then Nettie yielded to impulse, and made a venture "There was nothing more," she said reflectively. "If I had thrown myself and my money at his feet he wouldn't have had me. I think, though he never told me, there was somebody in England he would always remember."

The big gray eyes were perfectly steady, but a faint trace of color showed in Violet's cheek.

"Well," she said slowly, "Tony is going out to find him."

Nettie felt a little thrill at what she had noticed, but she rose and, somewhat to her companion's astonishment, kissed her.

"I'll feel happier now I know you have forgiven me," she said.

She had gone in another minute, and Violet Wayne lay still with half- closed eyes and a weary face, while Tony drove home up the Northrop valley with a faint hope in his heart.

It was about the same hour next day when he laid several papers down on the table at which he sat in lawyer Craythorne's office with a little smile of content.

"It's all straight now and I'm glad," he said. "I can make Dane Cop over to Appleby because it never was an integral part of the estate, and it is worth a good deal to anybody now. It should, as you know, have been his in any case, while in the event of my dying unmarried he will get a share of the other property. I would have made it more only that Esmond Palliser has nearer claim."

Craythorne folded the will just signed. "It is wise to take precautions, but one would certainly expect you to marry," he said.

Tony rose, and smiled curiously as he straightened himself. "Well," he said, "one can never be sure of anything-and, you see, I am going to Cuba to-morrow. Travelling there must be a trifle risky just now. Still, I fancy I shall find Appleby."

XXII - MORALES MAKES A PROPOSAL

THE night was clear and hot when Appleby sat with Harper in the Cafe Salamanca looking out upon the plaza at Santa Marta. The big room was open-fronted, and only divided from the pavement by a row of wooden pillars and a bal.u.s.trade. It was also, as usual, crowded with citizens who a.s.sembled there in the evening to discuss politics and the progress of the campaign, which accounted for the fact that Appleby sat quietly in a corner with a little gla.s.s of wine on the table in front of him. He realized it was highly desirable that he should obtain some insight into what was going on, for there was then a growing distrust of American imperialism which was perhaps not altogether unwarranted among the Cuban loyalists. Aliens were being watched with a jealous eye, and Appleby, who had already had difficulties with the petty officials, was aware that there was little the Administration contemplated that was not known in the cafes. Most men of Iberian extraction are apt at intrigue, and since the journals for excellent reasons usually maintained a discreet reticence popular discontent and factional bitterness found another vent.

It seemed to him that there was a vague expectancy and uneasiness upon everybody that evening, for the voices were lower than usual, and here and there a group sat silent turning over the latest journals from Spain, though at times a man would express himself with almost pa.s.sionate vehemence and then stop abruptly, as though uncertain of his audience. It was known that American wars.h.i.+ps had been sighted on the Cuban coast, and one great vessel was even then lying in Havana harbor, and the men's dark eyes grew suspicious as they asked what it foretided.

Appleby heard enough to convince him that if he hoped to carry on the business of the hacienda considerable discretion would be necessary, and then turned his eyes upon the plaza.

The cazadores' band was playing there, and the patter of feet, swish of light dresses, jingle of steel, and murmur of voices broke through the music, for the citizens were as usual taking their evening promenade with their wives and daughters. The plaza was well lighted, and the mixture of broadcloth, uniform, white duck, and diaphanous draperies caught the eye; and Appleby, who had artistic perceptions, found pleasure in watching the concourse stream through the light that shone out from the cafe. Grave merchant, portly senora draped in black, with powdered face, and slim, olive-cheeked senorita went by, smiling not infrequently over a lifted fan at an officer of cazadores with clinking sword, or a youthful exquisite from Havana in costly hat of Panama and toothpick-pointed shoes. Still, even where the press was thickest there was no jostling, for the a.s.sembly was good-humored and characterized by a distinguished courtesy. The men were Latins, and they could take their pleasure unconcernedly, though the land lay desolate and strewn with ashes only a few leagues away. Santa Marta was, for the most part, loyal, and, in spite of official corruption, and not infrequent abuse of authority, Spanish domination produced at least an outward decorum and sense of security in the tropics.

By and by the music stopped, and a murmur seemed to run round the plaza.

It grew louder, and there was a clamor in one of the streets, then a shout and a bewildering hum of voices broke out. The men in the cafe rose to their feet, but Appleby, who laid his hand on Harper warningly, sat still. Something was evidently happening, and he knew the uncertain temper of the Latins. Then a man who pushed through the crowd sprang into the cafe flouris.h.i.+ng what appeared to be a Havana journal and was seized by those about the door. A sudden tense silence, which was heightened by the clamor outside, followed the babel of questions, while one of the men who had grasped the paper opened it. Then he flung disjointed sentences at the rest in a voice which was hoa.r.s.e with pa.s.sion and apprehension.

"The American wars.h.i.+p sunk at Havana with all her crew!" he said. "No, a few, it seems, were saved. American suggestions that she was destroyed by a torpedo insulting to Spain. It is believed to be an explosion in the magazine. There will be demands for compensation. Att.i.tude of the Americans unreasonable."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE BIG GAUNT AMERICAN AND SLIM LATIN REELED THROUGH THE CAFe."]

Harper rose up suddenly, a tall, commanding figure, with his face very grim, and brought a great fist cras.h.i.+ng down upon the table.

"Good Lord!" he said hoa.r.s.ely. "They've sunk the 'Maine'!"

Then striding forward he rent half of the journal from the man who held it. He thrust it upon Appleby, who followed him, and his face was almost gray with anger as he waved the rest aside.

"Read it! I can't trust my eyes," he said.

Appleby took the journal, and there was once more silence in the cafe, for Harper stood with his big hand clenched on the neck of a heavy decanter while his comrade read aloud in Castilian. The account was brief, and had evidently been written tactfully, but there were mixed with its expression of regret vague hints that in case of unwarranted American demands the Administration would remember what was due to Spanish dignity.

"It's horrible, Harper! Still, it must have been an accident," he said.

Harper stood very straight, with a blaze in his eyes and the veins on his forehead swelling.

"No," he said, and his voice rang through the cafe, so that men swung round and stared at him outside. "The devils sunk her. By the Lord, we'll whip them off the earth!"

He spoke in English, but his voice and att.i.tude were significant, and a slim young officer of cazadores rose up at a table close beside him, and glanced at the rest.

"We shall know how to answer the insolence of these Americans, senores,"

he said, and held up his wine-gla.s.s as he turned to Harper. "It is demanded that you join us-Viva la Espana!"

The table went over, and the gla.s.s fell in s.h.i.+vers as Harper sprang.

Next moment a frantic clamor broke out, and he had the officer by the waist and arm. A brown hand clutched at the sword, but dropped inert again, and the big gaunt American and slim Latin reeled through the cafe, overturning seats and tables as they went. Then they fell with a crash against the bal.u.s.trade, and, though even Appleby could not quite understand how his comrade accomplished it, the officer of cazadores was swung from his feet, and went down full-length upon the pavement outside. A roar went up from the crowd, but while Appleby, who set his lips, wondered what the result of Harper's folly would be, two of the lights went out suddenly, and a hand touched his arm.

"It is not advisable to stay here," a low voice said. "There is a door at the back. Come with me."

The place was almost dark now, and Appleby contrived to seize Harper's shoulder and drag him back as the crowd poured in from the plaza. Once more somebody touched him, and a man overturned a larger table, which brought down three or four of those who made at them most fiercely, while in another moment or two he found himself, still clutching Harper, in a shadowy calle behind the cafe. He turned to thank the two men he saw beside him, but one ran up the street, and the other, slipping back into the cafe, slammed the door in his face. Harper stared at him, gasping.

"Let go of me. I'm going back to kill two or three of them," he said.