At a late hour that night a rather weary horseman rode into the Prefect's camp, a few miles beyond the defile which Mr. O'Hagan was holding with his 400 men. News of the Mollendist extravagances in San Rosario having reached San Juan, the Prefect with a sudden burst of energy moved out with a motley force of 1500, and established himself on the hills in readiness to force the passage next day. The horseman sought out the Prefect's quarters, in a sheltered glade some distance from the track, and was checked every few yards by sentries demanding the countersign. The Prefect was always very careful that all proper precautions were taken for the safeguard of his person.
Pardo was rather annoyed by these frequent interruptions. He was very tired. The roundabout route which he had been forced to take by the presence of the enemy across the road had kept him for many hours in the saddle. He had hidden the loot from his late master's house; but, like all traitors, he did not trust the man who had assisted him, and almost wished that he had not left the spoils and his friend behind. But, knowing the kind of men who formed the bulk of the Prefect's army, he had prudently decided not to bring valuables within their reach and expose them to temptation.
He came to the last of the chain of sentries, and requested an interview with the Prefect.
"His excellency is asleep, señor," said the man dubiously. "It is very late."
"Tell his excellency that Señor Miguel Pardo desires to see him," returned Pardo with impatience.
The man durst not leave his post, but summoned a comrade, who conveyed the message.
"His excellency cursed and declined to see you until the morning, señor," said the man on his return.
Now, so far as Pardo knew, there was no need for haste. He had taken great care to gag and bind Tim very thoroughly. He had left the house locked up and the windows fastened, and even if anybody should break in, it was unlikely that the hiding-place beneath the floor of the office would be suspected and the prisoner discovered. But Pardo was eager to conclude a scheme which he had ingeniously concocted. He had also a rather exaggerated notion of his importance. So he sent the messenger back again, to say that he had something of great moment to communicate, and begged the Prefect to see him at once.
After a little delay he was admitted to his excellency, whom he found reclining on a camp bed in the open air; tents were not required in this rainless region.
"What is this important matter that justifies the disturbance of my rest?" asked the Prefect, rather haughtily.
"I regret the necessity, excellency," said Pardo, "but I think when you have heard me you will consider me justified."
"Well, say on."
"Your excellency would no doubt be glad to be rid of the man O'Hagan and his boy?"
"Caramba! I agree with you. Without them the brigands would be easily dealt with, and this ridiculous republic would tumble like a house of cards. You have some plan?"
"I have, excellency; but I beg you not to demand particulars. I have means of getting rid of them both. It has cost me a great deal of labour and not a little danger."
"Name your price," said the Prefect impatiently. "And I warn you to be moderate, for this expedition is draining me."
"It will not cost you a peseta, excellency. All that I ask is that you will bestow on me, free of taxes, the full ownership of O'Hagan's hacienda."
"Por Dios! That is your idea of moderation! The hacienda produces several thousand pounds a year. Not cost me a peseta, indeed! You are presumptuous, señor."
"What I shall do is worth the price, excellency. O'Hagan has great military capacity. The Mollendist cause is gaining ground. A single reverse will break up your army, and even if you win you will have endless trouble while the Inglés is at large."
The Prefect reflected. He had reckoned on making a large income out of Mr. O'Hagan's estate. He might still do so, even if he acceded to Pardo's terms. What he gave he could also take away. When the insurrection had been scotched, he could squeeze Pardo until he became troublesome, and then confiscate the property a second time. After a show of hesitation he agreed to the proposal, and did not demur when Pardo asked him to sign his name to a paper with which the man with admirable forethought had come provided.
Pardo took his leave. He might now have thought himself justified in seeking repose, but impatient greed still urged him on. He mounted his horse, rode through the lines, and did not halt until he had reached the Mollendist outposts, whom he approached under a flag of truce. It was perhaps fortunate that they were not Mr. O'Hagan's Japanese workmen. It was fortunate, too, that he did not encounter Romaña. He was taken to Mr. O'Hagan, who lacked the luxury of a camp bed: his couch was a bundle of straw.
"It's you, is it?" said Mr. O'Hagan dryly, as he recognised his visitor. "Going to turn traitor again?"
Pardo bit his lips; there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. But he curbed his anger: he was a man of policy.
"I have the honour to inform you, señor," he said coldly, "that your son is a prisoner."
Mr. O'Hagan went pale. This was an unexpected blow. But he said nothing.
"The Prefect is, as you are aware, not so complaisant as the brigand Mollendo," Pardo continued. "He will not release the boy for a paltry £250. He will not accept any sum as ransom for so mischievous a rebel."
He paused, as a cat releases a mouse for a moment, for the pleasure, it would seem, of prolonging its victim's agony.
"What have you come here for?" cried Mr. O'Hagan impetuously. "Merely to harass me, you----"
He checked himself. It was no good abusing the man.
"I come to make a proposal," said Pardo. "Your son is at present my prisoner; it rests with you whether I hand him over to the Prefect, and then!..." He expressed his meaning by a gesture. "Or whether he is released, and allowed to rejoin you. My terms are quite simple, but absolutely unconditional. They are not open to discussion. You will make a formal assignment of your estate to me; you will then leave the country. Your son's life depends on your prompt acceptance."
Mr. O'Hagan sprang up.
"What is to prevent me from shooting you, you villain?" he cried, overmastered by his rage.
Pardo shrank from him. He felt a chill run down his spine like a trickle of cold water. But he recovered himself in a moment.
"The honour of an Englishman will prevent you," he said with an air of assurance. "Besides, if I die, your son dies. Nobody but myself and one other knows where he is. He will starve!"
Mr. O'Hagan shivered. Pardo quailed before his blazing eyes. For a moment there was silence; then Mr. O'Hagan, putting a restraint upon himself, said:
"If I assign my estate to you----"
"Discussion is mere waste of time," Pardo interposed. "The conditions are peremptory. You must not only assign your estate to me but leave the country. That is final."
"Go away," said Mr. O'Hagan.
"I cannot go without an answer."
"I will send for you--presently, when I have made up my mind--in a few minutes."
Pardo withdrew, lit a cigarette, and strolled up and down. He felt very confident, and flattered himself on his astuteness. He was by no means so sure of the success of the Prefect's arms as he had professed in his interview with that gentleman, even if Mr. O'Hagan were out of the way. The Mollendists were growing in number; Mollendo had made a clever move in declaring for a republic, and the loyalty of the Prefect's troops hung by a very slender thread. Pardo had schemed to secure possession of the estate in any event. But it was necessary to get rid of Mr. O'Hagan. Mollendo, if he gained the upper hand, might in O'Hagan's absence respect the assignment. He was a stickler for law. But the Prefect would certainly not do so unless his enemy were removed. Pardo considered that he had played his cards well.
Mr. O'Hagan was in a cruel predicament. He could not doubt Pardo's story. He would willingly have given up his estate to save Tim's life, but could he also desert the cause which he had taken up? His honour was engaged. He paced up and down the bare space in front of his couch: the sight of the red end of Pardo's cigarette a few yards away filled him with bitter anger. He knew that he must yield. With Tim's life and his own honour in the balance, there was no doubt which would outweigh the other. He was too proud to consult Señor Mollendo. The dilemma must be solved by himself alone. He could only make up his mind, go to the President, and confess that every other consideration--wealth, success, honour--must give way before the danger of his only son.
Out of the darkness Romaña came up to him.
"A despatch from Colonel Zegarra, señor," he said. "The courier waits for a reply."
Pardo saw Romaña, flung his cigarette away, and effaced himself among the trees. Mr. O'Hagan took the envelope, and tearing it open mechanically, read the few lines it contained. And then Romaña was amazed to find his hand grasped and shaken vigorously.
"He's safe, Nicolas!" said Mr. O'Hagan, working his arm up and down like a pump-handle. "My boy's safe!"
"Señor!"
"Go and kick that villain out," cried Mr. O'Hagan, recollecting himself.
"Señor, I don't understand!"
"Pardo! He's over there. Bring him to me."
Romaña followed the indication of his outstretched hand, and came back with Pardo, who, watching the scene, had been invaded by a vague uneasiness.
"Go and hang yourself; that's my answer," said Mr. O'Hagan, turning his back on the startled man. "See him safe out," he called over his shoulder to Romaña. "If the Japs get hold of him they'll throttle him."
And Pardo, feeling with a sinking heart that something had gone amiss, was escorted by Romaña to the outskirts of the camp.
Mr. O'Hagan read again the brief despatch. It was in Colonel Zegarra's writing.
SEÑOR,
I have the honour to report that the enemy has made no movement. A reconnaissance has been admirably carried out by Lieutenant O'Hagan alone, and I hope to report to you to-morrow the measures which I propose to take for our greater security.
I have the honour to be, señor, Yours in the service of the Republic,-
ZEGARRA,
Colonel.
And there was a postscript in Tim's hand:
Pardo has been playing tricks. Will write to-morrow, as I'm very tired. All well.
TIM,Lieutenant and chief of staff.
At the second reading Mr. O'Hagan could smile at the odd subscription. He saw Tim's eyes twinkling as he wrote.
Unknown equally to Tim and to Pardo, the house was not deserted, as they supposed. Biddy Flanagan, the old Irish maid-servant, had stuck to it when all the other domestics fled, just as Puss will linger forlorn in an empty house. She shut herself in her room, and only ventured out to forage. She had thus sallied forth to make a cup of tea when she saw Pardo and his companion coming from the direction of the town. She at once slipped out at the back, locking the kitchen door and taking the key with her, and hid herself in the shrubbery. Thus she did not see Tim's arrival, though she heard the hoof-beats, and supposed that Pardo had been joined by another friend. When, after some time, she heard the thud of hoofs again, and guessed that the intruders had gone away, she let herself into the house, put the kettle on, and while she waited for the water to boil, went through the house to see what the spalpeens had been after.
"They've took the gold clock," she muttered, standing with arms folded at the drawing-room door; "and I wouldn't wonder if it did be after striking in the bundle, and maybe get them rogues into trouble. And the mistress's best chainey: faith, 'tis a mercy she took all her jools along with her, or there'd be none of um left at all." She went on to the dining-room. "The like of it! Sorra a silver spoon to be seen, nor the silver jug; I never heard tell of the way them villains have the place stripped, and that Pardo the master's man and all."
She made a mental inventory of the missing articles and proceeded to the office.
"What did they be after doing here?" she grunted, as she noticed, with the quick eye of one accustomed to superintend the cleaning operations, signs of disturbance about the matting. She stooped to straighten it, and discovered the loosened boards. "I wouldn't wonder but they did be hiding the things," she said, raising the planks one after another; "and mighty foolish will they look when they come back, if so be I can get myself down through the hole and back again. There! the kettle's on the boil; I'll just be wetting the tea, and fetch a candle for this same."
The daylight streaming in through the gap had roused Tim from his stupor, and seeing Biddy above he tried to shout, but could not utter a sound through the gag. Biddy soon returned with a candle and a kitchen chair. The latter she lowered into the hole, stepped on to it, carrying the candle, and so reached the ground. She stooped, to search for the stolen articles, and started back in a hurry.
"Holy St. Patrick!" she exclaimed; "but 'tis a man, sure. Is it murder they were after?"
Recovering herself, she held the candle lower.
"Mercy! 'Tis master Tim!" she cried, "and beasties crawling all over on the poor face of um. The like of it! Divil such a state ever I seen as the poor boy do be in."
She bent over him, whipped out a pair of scissors and snapped the cords, and whisked the insects from his spotted and swollen face with her apron.
"The poor lamb!" she said, lifting him. "Sure the life's fair bitten out of um."
Tim could neither speak nor use his numbed limbs. The old woman took him in her arms, climbed up through the hole, and carried him to the kitchen, where she made him swallow a cup of tea, and bathed his face with warm water, speaking her mind freely on the iniquities of Pardo.
He told her what had happened, and what Pardo had said.
"And is it pay that the master will be giving for a prisoner that is free!" cried the old woman. "Sure now, cannot ye telegraph to um?"
"I wish I could; we ought to have repaired the wire. But the Colonel will be sending a despatch to Father, and his courier will get there before Pardo."
"He might," said Biddy. "Faith, I hope the master will shoot the wretch; he has all the silver stolen, and I don't know what all. And what did ye be after, coming into this den of lions?"
"Just a change of clothes, Biddy. I suppose they haven't taken them."
"Not them. They're not clean inside or out. I will get ye the bits of things, my dear, and do ye rub this butter on your face. 'Tis the good thing for them bites."
In an hour or so Tim felt able to return to the camp.
"You had better go into the town, Biddy," he said as he set off.
"What for would I be doing that?" she rejoined. "I do not be in dread of the likes of them villains, and if so be they come back, I wouldn't say but I tell um what I think of um."