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Ghost Breaker, The

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XIV MORE OBSTACLES Dolores approached the Kentuckian politely, yet eagerly. "Pardon, señor, but I have a message for you from her Highness." "What is it?" "She instructed me to tell you that she would see you very soon." "Thanks, señorita. And may I ask—who was the cheerful, frolicsome individual who flattered me with that polite toast? Is he one of the royal family, taking a little vacation in this neighborhood?" The girl reddened, then laughed. "No, señor. He is well known in this part of our country. His name is Don Robledo." Warren lit another cigarette, and studied her attractive face with the gallant interest of a Southerner, who is always prone to admire beauty. She was embarrassed, yet pleased, under the unmistakable scrutiny. "Don Robledo. He seems to be well acquainted with you, señorita. Is he one of the family?" "No, but he wishes to be!" she snapped out. "And he shall never be until he changes his manners and...." "And his face? I don't really care for his face. If I were a girl I would never leave home and mother for that face. But of course, that's none of my business." He stopped for an instant to absorb the rowdy racket from the taproom. "Either he's a wonderful spender or he has unlimited credit with the bar cashier. Maybe he eats his checks ... it has been done. But I don't like that name. It sounds dangerous—and yet it doesn't seem to mean much, after all, to me." The girl looked at him earnestly. "It may mean much before you reach the castle. More than you suspect, señor—you have been the subject of much serious talk in this tavern before you were ever seen here." "And how was that? I'm really a very unimportant person, you know." "Let me tell you something, while I have the opportunity. You are in great danger here. Señor, I wish to help you. I have tried for weeks to stir up some manhood in the hearts of these cowardly sheep in Seguro. The Prince has been missing for days, since he went into that castle. I want to save my beloved Princess from the same fate which I fear overtook him when he braved the horrors of that castle. It is a place of Satan, señor." The American smiled at her, as he asked: "Now, do you really believe in all that superstitious trash, my good girl? You look intelligent." The girl crossed herself piously. "Have we not been taught by the priest, of the fiends who haunt the earth and wreck human happiness? How can I say such things could not happen, for the sins of bygone people? Not that I would think anything but love and respect for the Prince and his wonderful sister, her Highness! But, señor, I feel the same as do the other dwellers of Seguro." "And how is that?" "I feel that strange things have gone on in that castle. Even a great gentleman like the Duke says so. Surely if educated noblemen put faith in such things, we simple folk are not far wrong to believe what we are taught. But still..." "Yes, there you are, my good girl. You have a 'but still'—and that means a doubt. The doubts of the world have been the foundation stones of modern freedom—it was the doubts of the old farmers and traders back in America which threw off the yoke of the old kingdom, and made a great free country. If you have a doubt you may be saved. As for the Duke—the only god he pays allegiance to is himself—and he's not been so sure of that divinity during these last iconoclastic ten days." "I don't understand, Señor Warren?" she replied, in bewilderment. "Of course you don't, or you wouldn't be kow-towing to this royalty stuff, and you would hand a bottle to that Don Roughhouse or whatever his name is, right on his classic brow, with a classic smash. You ought to see how an American girl would treat one of these big bullies! Well, what about my danger? It never worries me when I know where and when and how to expect it. Whatever you tell will be absolutely our secret." Dolores looked at Rusty, who was struggling with a cigarette—he was more accustomed to Pittsburgh stogies, but his motto in life was based on the famous advice concerning Roman imitation! "How about the Señor Moor, señor? May you trust him?" she asked nervously. "Rusty is no Moor—he's an Afro-Methodist, my girl. He can't understand Spanish anyway, even though he's the best little guesser this side of the Ohio River. But I'd trust Rusty with my life. Go ahead with the danger signals." She heard a footfall on the balcony above them. "Let me pretend to read your palm, señor. I know we are being watched." "All right, read away—my palm will show you that after this trip through Spain my clothesline needs washing. But, what's the fortune of the castle?" It was the old Jarvis, now—blithesome, devil-may-worry, shrewd, and recovered completely, through the change of scene and a certain new interest in life which the reader may have already divined. The girl led him away from beneath the balcony, to the side of the big fireplace. She took up his hand and examined it carefully. Nor did her shrewd eyes miss the face on the balcony,—that of the Duke of Alva! She exaggerated her studious examination, and then in a low tone proceeded with the explanation of the lines of fate and life. "Every one of these breaks in your lifeline shows a moment when you stood face to face with death. Ah, señor, in all my experience I have never seen such an adventurous palm.... You have stood elbow to elbow with death, and yet those little squares about the breaks show a guiding spirit of protection." <ANTIMG src="images/007.jpg" alt=""Ah, señor, in all my experience I have never seen such an adventurous palm...."" width-obs="377" height-obs="500"> "Ah, señor, in all my experience I have never seen such an adventurous palm...." Warren was beginning to be bored. Yet something in the girl's furtive glances toward the balcony, which did not miss his own sharp eyes, convinced him that she was endeavoring to get a message to him. She continued, her own hand trembling unmistakably. "Ah, Señor Americano, there is one break which has not yet been reached by the line of time. The protecting square of your guardian saint is not perfect there, as with the others." The Kentuckian laughed incredulously. "Oh, I guess I can build up a square when the time comes and let the break take care of itself." "But the time is now," and her voice was tremulously low. "Now—what do you mean, now?" She nodded her head, and with half-closed eyes gazed at the fireplace significantly. "And are the fortune-teller's eyes so brilliant and so keen that they can light up the future and behold the day and the hour?" queried Jarvis. "Not my eyes, señor," and her voice died down to a whisper, "but my ears." The step of the Duke was upon the resonant stairs. "In all my experience I have seen but one hand like yours, señor,—it speaks of danger; and that hand belongs to Don Robledo, to Don Robledo!" The nobleman's voice cut short the séance. There was a warning note in it. "Well, Dolores, and why are you not attending her Highness? You know the house, and she needs assistance." "Pardon, señor." She stepped back and courtesied to Carlos, who came down the stairs, advancing toward Warren. "I will go at once, your Excellency." "Good-by, señorita; I'll take good care of the little square. Thanks for your occult wisdom," were Warren's smiling words, as he looked at the Duke. "Well, Mr. Warren. Looking into the future?" "Yes, Duke, and the immediate future promises to be very interesting. That little fortune-teller has occult powers, indeed. A dark man is to cross my path soon." Carlos had crossed the room to a position from where he could look into the taproom. He seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there. He turned toward the American. "Do you believe in such foolery, Mr. Warren? I had thought you too intelligent to believe in superstitious things like fortune-reading." "I like to believe some of these things on this occasion, for I hope it means someone I very much want to meet." The Duke now approached him very earnestly. "Mr. Warren, I feel a certain responsibility for her Highness, and all that pertains to my cousin. The prospect of your death to-night is most uncomfortable, when it can be so easily avoided by your own common sense. I seriously advise your waiting until the morning." "So, you don't think I'll come back?" "I think that if you go to the castle to-night, you take your life in your own hands." Warren opened and shut his sinewy fingers, and laughed back: "I've got a pretty good grip." "Look here," put in the nobleman. "You Americans are noted as being shrewd traders. You get dollar for dollar when you bargain—and generally a few extra dollars. You are not going to give your life away for nothing, are you?" "Oh, it is not worth very much," retorted Jarvis. "The deal was made on a bargain day. My life happened to be a little below par, and a good customer came along." There was a comprehensive sparkle in the dark Spanish eyes, to meet the twinkle in the firm blue ones. "Ah, I begin to see a light. Well, Mr. Warren, I am willing to release you from your offer and the bargain and meet your terms now." "Your Excellency, I am overwhelmed at the generosity, but the price was paid, the receipt given, and the bookkeeper has closed up the office. I'm on the job, and I'm certainly going to stay." The Duke snarled, as he inquired: "I suppose that means that you are foolish enough to keep faith with her Highness?" "Yes." "I never saw a man quite so anxious to be killed, Mr. Jarvis; but such is sometimes the case where, as it has been said: 'Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.'" Jarvis laughed provokingly. "I'd rather be an energetic fool than an angel with cold feet." "I don't understand you, sir." "Well, I understand you, your Excellency." The Duke turned toward the fireplace. "I am sorry for you," he remarked. Jarvis walked over close to the nobleman and looked him straight in the eyes, as he spoke with unusual meaning vibrant in his voice. "Your Excellency, your sympathy, your offer, and your advice are all declined, without thanks.... I once saw a gambler lay down four aces,—just think of it, four fat aces. He looked the dealer straight in the eye, as I am doing now with you. Then he said, 'The play ain't natural.'... Now, you have tried to have me arrested on the steamer, then you tipped off Scotland Yard and, for all I know, the Paris police, too. You have tried to block me every way you could, and you're a regular little prize blocker. Suddenly you express the utmost anxiety as to what's going to happen to me in the castle. You generously offer to buy me off. You advise me, with tears in your eyes, to stay away and save my life. Shall I take the bait—hook, line, and sinker? Duke, 'the play ain't natural'!" The nobleman clenched his fists in anger. "You have intruded into a matter which you neither understand nor appreciate. If, as you say, the play seems unnatural, then throw down your cards and stay out of the game." "Oh, no, no, no!" and Jarvis' voice again had that provokingly teasing tone in it. "I'll just stay right in the game and play my hand out—and watch every deal." He turned toward Rusty. "Come along, and let's see if we can find the landlord. We'll have a look at our rooms," he said. "Hurry, Rusty—don't go to sleep—the bedrooms are upstairs." Rusty was very thoughtful as he picked up the bags and began to follow. The Duke watched the two with sidelong glances. Both characters were mysteries to him—so different, nonchalant, and unaffected by this serious task. Europeans would have taken the case at least with greater seriousness. "What's the matter with you, Rusty? In love?" The negro was lost in a deep study, as he sniffed the air in a thoughtful, absent-minded fashion. "Marse Warren, I'd like to find a piece of chicken!" "Great Scott! What put that into your head?" "Oh, lawsee, Marse Warren, I'se powerful hungry! It ain't human to be so hungry!" "What—again?" "No, sir; it's de same old hunger. No matter how fast de train go I jes' cain't leave it behin'. Oh my, if I on'y had some po'k chops an' a little real gin!" Jarvis started on toward the steps. "Well, you come on now, Rusty—you don't eat a thing until we finish this job." Rusty shook his head despairingly. "Good Lawd, does I have to wait ontel you is dead—before I kin eat my vittles?" He followed his master across the room, just as the Princess came to the balcony and started down the stairs. "Well, Mr. Warren," added the Duke, "all Seguro will be buzzing with your ghost-hunt to-night. The whole town will sit up to hear the outcome." The Kentuckian turned to look at the speaker. "And where are you going to hear the returns of the battle, your Excellency?" "Unfortunately, I must leave at once—I have an urgent summons from Madrid." Jarvis shook his head in mock sorrow. "That's too bad, sure enough. I'm sorry we're to lose the inspiration of your company. Won't you even be around at the finish? Surely, you take that much interest in the little breaking party, your Excellency." "I am sorry, Mr. Warren, but I must go," answered the nobleman, writhing under the sarcasm, but never losing the smooth control of his words and studied reserve. "Well, I call that a doggoned shame!" and Jarvis started again for the stairs. The beautiful girl was just coming down, and the Duke's eyes came together in an angry squint as he saw the warmth of the glance which she bestowed upon the American. "Here, Pedro,—this is Mr. Warren and his man. Attend to his wants." "Yes, your Highness," and Pedro once more strained the faithful spine with a series of gutta-percha bows. "This way, sirs, to your rooms," and he led them up the stairs. Jarvis turned on the step and faced her. "Your Highness, I would like to have a couple of good horses, and two lanterns. I don't want to let any grass grow under my feet on the trip to the castle to-night." She gave the order to Pedro, and he promised to bring the required objects with sturdy steeds. "Ah, Mr. Warren, looking for an honest man, like old Socrates?" inquired the Duke of Alva. <ANTIMG src="images/008.jpg" alt=""Ah, Mr. Warren, looking for an honest man, like old Socrates?"" width-obs="378" height-obs="500"> "Ah, Mr. Warren, looking for an honest man, like old Socrates?" "Not in this neck of the woods, your Excellency!" and Jarvis disappeared in the balcony entrance to the old line of bedrooms. Maria Theresa turned anxiously to her cousin. "Carlos, what news of my brother? Have you heard anything yet?" "Not a thing, Maria. I am very sorry." "And yet I heard you say that you were leaving for Madrid?" she questioned. "Yes. The message is from his Gracious Majesty the King. You know how important a summons that is." "But why must you go so soon? Why not wait overnight at Pedro's tavern, here?" "Ah, my dear cousin, you know how long the ride before I connect with the railroad to Madrid." The girl wrung her hands, nervous at last, and her appealing eyes would have softened a gentler heart than that of the steely Carlos. "But, Carlos, my brother—your princely cousin—may be dying, he may be dead. Here am I alone with no kinsman at my side if you leave." The Duke protested, dramatically. "Maria, I must obey my King!" "To leave me, after all your protestations! You have not the time nor courage to stay and help me in this hour." Carlos laughed bitterly, pointing toward the distant room of Warren's. "What need of me, my dear? You have this marvel of Sir Galahads, the Ghost Breaker!" She dropped her head and answered slowly, "So, that is your excuse?" He caught eagerly at what he deemed his opportunity. He snatched her hand, although it was as promptly pulled away. "I make no excuses, my dear Maria. I need none. But you know the truth—that Yankee adventurer stands between you and me. He is of the common herd,—you and I of the bluest blood in Spain. Send him away, now—to-night, and I will do anything for you. I will postpone my journey to the King, at any sacrifice of displeasure. I'll send one of my men into the castle to find your brother." She turned scornfully toward him, her eyes flashing. "Yes—you will send one of your men—but you are not brave enough to go there yourself. Yet you ask me to send away this man, who of all of you is the only one willing to sacrifice his life for me?" Carlos snapped his tapering fingers angrily, as he clutched his sword-cane. His swarthy face was chalky under the stress of the emotion, as he replied savagely: "If he stays, I go!" "Very well; then, Carlos—you force me to make a choice. I choose a real man." Carlos caught her by the arm. "You are too interested in this worthless pretender, Maria! I love you myself, and with the keenness of love I have watched you follow him with your eyes, have seen the growing warmth in your voice—all through those days on the ocean, aboard the Mauretania. I warn you—royal princesses must aim higher than the common herd." "Go, Carlos Hernando! It is I who am the superior—I the one to abjure!" Jarvis was sauntering down the steps, and he was greeted by a confused look in the girl's eyes. Carlos took his hat and coat from the table. Maliciously he hoped that the American had been eavesdropping, for thus he might be encouraged to presumption—and the Duke was certain that of all women in the world the least susceptible to presumption was his haughty kinswoman. "Well, Maria, you are sending him to his death—and as for you, Mr. Ghost Breaker, I wish you success, when you beard the specter in his den!" With mock dignity at first, Jarvis's voice grew more menacing as he completed the words of retort: "Thanks, your Gracious Excellency!... I'll do my best to tie a can to the specter's tail—and the can will be loaded with fireworks!" As he left, Warren turned with a cheery grin, to face Maria. "We must start at once, Mr. Warren," she urged, "for any moment may be my brother's last." "Courage! If your brother is there, I'll find him. You must be patient and remain here, where you are safe,—try to rest up from that blood-curdling trip from Paris." "But, Mr. Warren, I cannot rest or even sit still until I know what has become of him. I shall go mad if I am left alone!" The womanly tears began to stream down her face. They melted a hitherto calm portion of Warren Jarvis' heart. "Now, my dear child," and he paused timidly, as though to learn whether or not the familiarity had offended her. Instead, she looked up through the long wet lashes with anything but an angry glance. "My dear child, I must insist on one condition." "What's that?" "Let me go ahead and look over the ground. I will signal when it is safe to follow. I have reasons of my own for wanting to get there without losing a minute; otherwise, I would wait until to-morrow, to look it over by daylight and lay my own trap. But I will surely let you know if I have found him." "How can you signal, Mr. Warren Jarvis? We have no telephones in Seguro." Jarvis walked over toward the old paneled window. "With a light. See over here—there is the castle; you can of course see it through the window. I was asking all sorts of questions of old Pedro when he was in my room. He knows every foot of that land, even if he has been afraid to go near it for fifteen years or so." "Well, what will you do?" "Just as Paul Revere's friend did in the early days in my country: I'll put a light somewhere in one of those towers, and you can see it from this room or through one of the windows upstairs here. It will shine in an hour at the most. You won't have long to wait!" "But if it does not shine?" and she paled at the thought. "I'll be too busy swapping lead for brimstone with Mr. Spook to stop and hang a lantern!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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