The League of the Leopard Part 16

"They are a curious people," observed Dom Pedro dryly. "One of those two, however, was surely a trifle blind."

A faint trace of color crept into Bonita's face.

"It is time for you to receive your guest," she said.

Dom Pedro did so with the utmost cordiality, his hat in his hand, and the two men--one of whom despised the other, who feared and hated him--expressed their mutual delight at the meeting with great effusiveness. Bonita Castro watched them meanwhile from a green latticed window, and s.h.i.+vered a little, though the day was as hot as it usually is at that season in West Africa. She slipped her fingers under the laces at her breast, and her face was not attractive when they touched a little piece of wrought silver. It was not a mere adornment, for there was a slender blade of steel attached to it. Again she said, with an intensity of detestation: "_El perro!_"

Dom Pedro played chess and discoursed upon the shortcomings of their rulers with his guest all afternoon, and the five o'clock _comida_ had been eaten before either hinted that Rideau could have any possible motive for his visit beyond the pleasure of seeing his former partner.

Time has no great value to men of Latin extraction in the tropics; and it is possible that one of them found pleasure in prolonging the other's anxiety. At last, when they sat out on the veranda, the visitor, lighting a maize husk cigarette, thrust his winegla.s.s away.

"It is always a gratification to see my old friend Dom Pedro, and I have traveled a long way to give myself that pleasure," he observed; and his host, knowing how much this was worth, braced himself to meet what should follow. "Being here, there is, however, a little affair we can discuss together. I have an opportunity for a small investment to lay before you."

"I am honored, but trade is very bad, and silver scanty," Dom Pedro said hastily. "I have received no profits yet on the last venture."

Rideau spread out his palms deprecatingly.

"They are very dishonest men up yonder in the bush, as you, my friend, should know, and have robbed me shamefully; while it was but an hour since I rejoiced at your prosperity. I saw the cloth and gin sheds empty--and they were full not long ago."

Dom Pedro groaned inwardly, but attempted a show of resolution.

"I repeat that trade is bad. It is, I fear, impossible to oblige even you."

Rideau laughed a little, but his merriment was akin to mockery.

"I can only hope you are mistaken, and this time there will be a profit.

There is also another affair I would discuss with you. I am a man with a conscience, and something we are concerned in up in the bush country troubles me. It is told me that these troublesome English make protest with the Administration that when the Emir invaded their dominions his men carried good rifles which could only have been obtained from this colony. The Captain Oger stated publicly that it is a stain on the national honor, and there will be strict inquiry. I am a good friend of Dom Pedro, but first of all patriotic Frenchman, me."

There was no need to speak more plainly, because Dom Pedro understood him thoroughly, and inquired forthwith the lowest sum that would set his visitor's uneasy conscience at rest. Rideau promptly named it; and the Portuguese, being desirous of gaining time, shook his head.

"It is impossible. I also have considered about those rifles often," he said. "Now I think it would be better for me, being an innocent man, to explain to the Administration how the Emir robbed me."

Rideau was not in the least deceived, for he smiled sardonically.

"Is it not a little late, my friend, and the Commandant is a most suspicious man. It is possible he might not believe you, and it is not permitted to arm even one's carriers for protection with rifles; while there is in existence a scroll signed by the Emir and another which shows a voluntary sale. But you say what I ask is impossible. Well, I'll consider, and to-morrow may make a more feasible offer. The last time I came you entertained the sick comrade of the Englishman Maxwell. He has not given you any information about Niven's mine?"

"He did not," said Dom Pedro, with so much earnestness that Rideau did not believe him, and dismissing the subject, airily proposed another game of chess.

The next morning, Dom Pedro, being perhaps anxious to postpone the evil moment, set out for a bush village where he stated he had business; and his guest, feeling sure of his own position, was not wholly sorry to see him go. It would allow him to enjoy Miss Castro's society undisturbed, and also, if circ.u.mstances permitted, to glance through the books in her father's office, which he had long desired to do, with a view to discovering how far the man might be taxed. Dom Pedro was not a good bookkeeper, it is true, but his late partner understood his system, or rather the lack of it.

An opportunity did not present itself until all the occupants of the factory had apparently retired, as usual, to sleep in the coolest place they could find during the heat which follows noon. Rideau slipped into the iron-roofed room where Dom Pedro kept his accounts. As it happened, however, Bonita was rather more wide-awake than usual, and shortly afterward she also entered the office, to find her guest glancing into a big folio with evident interest. He was in no way disconcerted, and smiled upon her affably.

"There was a difference in the weight of the last gums I sent down," he explained. "I would find the entry before I speak to Dom Pedro."

Bonita Castro was quick of wit.

"Then, as I help my father with the accounts, you will give me the details," she said.

Rideau's inventive genius was apparently unequal to the task, for he bowed ceremoniously.

"It is impossible to consider any question of business in the brightness of the senorita's presence."

Miss Castro laughed.

"You have my full permission. Now, as regards this gum?"

Rideau seated himself languidly.

"I am a man of affairs, but I have also sensibility, and shall I trouble the senorita about a bag of gum? To touch those dusty books is a desecration to her fingers."

"Still, it is of business I wish to talk to you, and you will give me your attention, senor," said the girl. "You have the power to cause my father some anxiety."

Rideau leaned forward a little in his chair.

"It is true, but I am too devoted a servant of the senorita's to wish to do so. It is for her sake I have concealed an indiscretion of Dom Pedro's which would excite the anger of the Administration. As I have said, I would do very much to win the senorita's approval."

"But this is very little, and Dom Pedro pays you well," returned the girl. "The Commandant, who is not a friend of yours, might not credit your story if you told it to him."

Rideau smiled significantly.

"It is very little for me to do if it pleases the senorita; but it is much for Dom Pedro. You will know there is provided confiscation and banishment, and even a worse penalty, for selling the Indigene modern rifles, and I have therefore carefully hidden the Emir's agreement and safe conduct made in the Arabic when he is at war with this colony. It is misfortune that Dom Pedro has written his name to it."

Bonita Castro felt a chill run through her, though her face was calm.

The man had shown his power plainly, but the desire in his eyes, as he watched her, caused her greater uneasiness. She could, she fancied, see the African nature beneath the indifferent veneer of civilization, and she trembled, knowing that under sufficient pressure her father might be capable of selling more than forbidden rifles. Therefore, even if she had no other motive, it was of the first necessity to lessen that power.

"Such generosity should not go unrewarded," she said. "You have long desired the gold you think the Englishman Niven found, but, unless I help you, you will never discover it. Even the man with the cross on his forehead does not know where the river lies. What would you give for a map showing Niven's road through the Leopards' country? It is so plain that a child could understand it."

Rideau's eyes glistened, but he was cautious.

"There is only one man who can have such a book; and I know he would never part with it."

Bonita laughed.

"Yes--the Senor Maxwell. You know he would not part with it? Then you have tried and failed to obtain it from him? The Senor Maxwell is a very clever man. Nevertheless, I have the map. Would you recognize that it was genuine if I showed it to you?"

Rideau rose carelessly, and strolled toward the window. There was n.o.body on that side of the veranda--the compound lay empty under the pitiless heat below, and a slumbrous silence pervaded the factory. There was a change in him when he turned toward the girl, who held out an unfolded paper so that he could see a portion of it. The man was usually cunning, but it was not without results that he had inherited a strain of native blood, and now the instincts of the savage rose uppermost. Brute pa.s.sion and unreasoning avarice were stamped on his face. He had hitherto made his admiration for the girl very plain, and had accepted her rebuffs with the serenity of one strong enough to wait. Now, however, his companion conceived it possible that he intended to retain his hold upon Dom Pedro and secure the map as well. It was her person he desired, and whether her good will accompanied it or not was probably immaterial.

"The sun has dazzled my eyes, and you will give it to me for near examination," he said, and his voice was husky. When she made a gesture of negation, he halted close in front of her with the veins on his forehead swollen, and one big, dusky hand partly raised.

Bonita Castro had not studied the native character profitlessly, and she knew that very little was required to cause those fingers--and they were the fingers of a negro--to fasten upon her shoulders, or even about her throat; but she had arranged accordingly. She clapped her hands sharply, and Rideau let his arm drop to his side when a patter of bare feet drew nearer along the veranda. A huge muscular Krooman in white uniform stood in the doorway, and the girl smiled a little.

"Call Andres, Pobrecito. Tell him to bring the wine and the last of the steamer ice; but stay there on the veranda yourself. I may want you. It is so hot that you will not refuse if I offer you refreshment, senor?"

she said.

Rideau's lips twitched a little, and his face was greasy, but the look of the African had faded from it, and he might have pa.s.sed for a native of southern France when he bowed.

"Who could refuse anything offered by the senorita?"

The wine was brought, and the man, who a few moments earlier might have posed for a study of avarice and pa.s.sion debased to ferocity, smiled as he compared his companion's eyes to the sparkling ocean when he raised his gla.s.s. Then, while the big negro squatted just outside the doorway, Miss Castro read extracts from the notes on the back of the map.