A Ward of the Golden Gate Part 14

"So you ar-range to get rid of me--ha! lik thees? To tur-rn me off from your heels like a dog who have follow you--but without a word--without a--a--thanks--without a 'ope! Ah!--we have ser-rved you--me and my sister; we are the or-range dry--now we can go! Like the old shoe, we are to be flung away! Good! But I am here again--you see. I shall speak, and you shall hear-r."

Don Caesar's voice--alone with her! Paul gripped his chair and sat upright.

"Stop! Stay where you are! How dared you return here?" It was Yerba's voice, on the balcony, low and distinct.

"Shut the window! I shall speak with you what you will not the world to hear."

"I prefer to keep where I am, since you have crept into this room like a thief!"

"A thief! Good!" He broke out in Spanish, and, as if no longer fearful of being overheard, had evidently drawn nearer to the window.

"A thief. Ha! muy bueno--but it is not I, you understand--I, Caesar Briones, who am the thief! No! It is that swaggering espadachin--that fanfarron of a Colonel Pendleton--that pattern of an official, Mr.

Hathaway--that most beautiful heiress of the Californias, Miss ARGUELLO--that are thieves! Yes--of a NAME--Miss Arguello--of a NAME!

The name of Arguello!"

Paul rose to his feet.

"Ah, so! You start--you turn pale--you flash your eyes, senora, but you think you have deceived me all these years. You think I did not see your game at Rosario--yes, even when that foolish Castro muchacha first put that idea in your head. Who furnished you the facts you wanted? I--Mother of G.o.d! SUCH FACTS!--I, who knew the Arguello pedigree--I, who know it was as impossible for you to be a daughter of them as--what? let me think--as--as it is impossible for you to be the wife of that baron whom you would deceive with the rest! Ah, yes; it was a high flight for you, Mees--Mees--Dona Fulana--a n.o.ble game for you to bring down!"

Why did she not speak? What was she doing? If she had but uttered a single word of protest, of angry dismissal, Paul would have flown to her side. It could not be the paralysis of personal fear: the balcony was wide; she could easily pa.s.s to the end; she could even see his open window.

"Why did I do this? Because I loved you, senora--and you knew it! Ah!

you can turn your face away now; you can pretend to misunderstand me, as you did a moment ago; you can part from me now like a mere acquaintance--but it was not always so! No, it was YOU who brought me here; your eyes that smiled into mine--and drove home the colonel's request that I and my sister should accompany you. G.o.d! I was weak then! You smile, senora; you think you have succeeded--you and your pompous colonel and your clever governor! You think you have compromised me, and perjured ME, because of this. You are wrong! You think I dare not speak to this puppet of a baron, and that I have no proofs. You are wrong!"

"And even if you can produce them, what care I?" said Yerba unexpectedly, yet in a voice so free from excitement and pa.s.sion that the weariness which Paul had at first noticed seemed to be the only dominant tone. "Suppose you prove that I am not an Arguello. Good! you have yet to show that a connection with any of your race would be anything but a disgrace."

"Ah! you defy me, little one! Caramba! Listen, then! You do not know all! When you thought I was only helping you to fabricate your claim to the Arguellos' name, I was finding out WHO YOU REALLY WERE! Ah! It was not so difficult as you fondly hope, senora. We were not all brutes and fools in the early days, though we stood aside to let your people run their vulgar course. It was your hired bully--your respected guardian--this dog of an espadachin, who let out a hint of the secret--with a p.r.i.c.k of his blade--and a scandal. One of my peon women was a servant at the convent when you were a child, and recognized the woman who put you there and came to see you as a friend.

She overheard the Mother Superior say it was your mother, and saw a necklace that was left for you to wear. Ah! you begin to believe!

When I had put this and that together I found that Pepita could not identify you with the child that she had seen. But you, senora, you YOURSELF supplied the missing proof! Yes! you supplied it with the NECKLACE that you wore that evening at Rosario, when you wished to do honor to this young Hathaway--the guardian who had always thrown you off! Ah!--you now suspect why, perhaps! It was your mother's necklace that you wore, and you said so! That night I sent the good Pepita to identify it; to watch through the window from the garden when you were wearing it; to make it sure as the Creed. I sent her to your room late that night when you had changed your dress, that she might examine it among your jewels. And she did and will swear--look you!--SWEAR that it is the one given you as a child by the woman at the convent, who was your mother! And who was that woman--eh? Who was the mother of the Arguello de la Yerba Buena?--who this n.o.ble ancestress?"

"Excuse me--but perhaps you are not aware that you are raising your voice in a lady's drawing-room, and that although you are speaking a language no one here understands, you are disturbing the hotel."

It was Paul, quiet, pale in the moonlight, erect on the balcony before the window. As Yerba, with a start, retreated quickly into the room, Don Caesar stepped forward angrily and suspiciously towards the window.

He had his hand reached forward towards the handle as if to close the swinging sash against the intruder, when in an instant he was seized by Paul, tightly locked in a desperate grip, and whirled out on the balcony. Before he could gain breath to utter a cry, Hathaway had pa.s.sed his right arm around the Mexican's throat, effectively stopping his utterance, and, with a supreme effort of strength, dragged him along the wall, falling with him into the open window of his own room.

As he did so, to his inexpressible relief he heard the sash closed and the bolt drawn of the salon window, and regained his feet, collected, quiet, and triumphant.

"I am sorry," he said, coolly dusting his clothes, "to have been obliged to change the scene of this discussion so roughly, but you will observe that you can speak more freely HERE, and that any altercation WE may have in this room will be less likely to attract comment."

"a.s.sa.s.sin!" said Don Caesar chokingly, as he struggled to his feet.

"Thank you. Relieve your feelings as much as you like here; in fact, if you would speak a little louder you would oblige me. The guests are beginning to be awake," continued Paul, with a wicked smile, indicating the noise of an opening door and footsteps in the pa.s.sage, "and are now able to locate without difficulty the scene of the disturbance."

Briones apparently understood his meaning and the success of his stratagem. "You think you have saved HER from disgrace," he said, with a livid smile, in a lower tone and a desperate attempt to imitate Paul's coolness. "For the present--ah--yees! perhaps in this hotel and this evening. But you have not stop my mouth for--a--to-morrow--and the whole world, Mr. Hathaway."

"Well," said Paul, looking at him critically, "I don't know about that.

Of course, there's the equal chance that you may kill me--but that's a question for to-morrow, too."

The Mexican cast a quick glance at the door and window. Paul, as if carelessly, changed the key of the former from one pocket to the other, and stepped before the window.

"So this is a plot to murder me! Have a care! You are not in your own brigand California!"

"If you think so, alarm the house. They will find us quarreling, and you will only precipitate matters by receiving the insult that will make you fight--before them."

"I am r-ready, sir, when and where you will," said Briones, with a swaggering air but a s.h.i.+fting, furtive eye. "Open--a--the door."

"Pardon me. We will leave this room TOGETHER in an hour for the station. We will board the night express that will take us in three hours beyond the frontier, where we can each find a friend."

"But my affairs here--my sister--I must see her."

"You shall write a note to her at that table, saying that important business--a dispatch--has called you away, and we will leave it with the porter to be delivered IN THE MORNING. Or--I do not restrict you--you can say what you like, provided she don't get it until we have left."

"And you make of me a prisoner, sir?"

"No; a visitor, Don Caesar--a visitor whose conversation is so interesting that I am forced to detain him to hear more. You can pa.s.s the time pleasantly by finis.h.i.+ng the story I was obliged to interrupt a moment ago. Do you know this mother of Miss Yerba, of whom you spoke?"

"That's m--my affair."

"That means you don't know her. If you did, you'd have had her within call. And, as she is the only person who is able to say that Miss Yerba is NOT an Arguello, you have been very remiss."

"Ah, bah! I am not one of your--a--lawyers."

"No; or you would know that, with no better evidence than you have, you might be sued for slander."

"Ah! Why does not Miss Yerba sue, then?"

"Because she probably expects that somebody will shoot you."

"As YOU for instance?"

"Perhaps."

"And if you do NOT--eh?--you have not stop my mouth, but your own. And if you DO, you help her to marry the Baron, your rival. You are not wise, friend Hathaway."

"May I remind you that you have not yet written to your sister, and you may prefer to do it carefully and deliberately?"

Don Caesar arose with a vindictive glance at Paul, and pulled a chair before the table, as the latter placed pen, ink, and paper before him.

"Take your time," he added, folding his arms and walking towards the window. "Say what you like, and don't let my presence restrain you."

The Mexican began to write furiously, then spasmodically, then slowly and reluctantly. "I war-r-n you, I shall expose all," he said suddenly.

"As you please."

"And shall say that if I disappear, you are my murderer--you understand--my MURDERER!"

"Don't consult me on a question of epithets, but go on."

Don Caesar recommenced his writing with a malign smile. There was a sudden sharp rap at the door.

Don Caesar leaped to his feet, grasped his papers, and rushed to the door; but Paul was before him. "Who is there?" he demanded.