"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.
"Pendleton."
At the sound of the colonel's voice Don Caesar fell back. Paul opened the door, admitted the tall figure of the colonel, and was about to turn the key again. But Pendleton lifted his hand in grim deprecation.
"That will do, Mr. Hathaway. I know all. But I wish to speak with Briones elsewhere, alone.""Excuse me, Colonel Pendleton," said Paul firmly, "but I have the prior claim. Words have passed between this gentleman and myself which we are now on our way to the station and the frontier to settle. If you are willing to accompany us, I shall give you every opportunity to converse with him alone, and arrange whatever business you may have with him, provided it does not interfere with mine.""My business," said Pendleton, "is of a personal nature, that will not interfere with any claim of yours that Mr. Briones may choose to admit, but is of a private quality that must be transacted between us now." His face was pale, and his voice, although steady and self-controlled, had that same strange suggestion of sudden age in it which Paul had before noticed. Whether Don Caesar detected it, or whether he had some other instinctive appreciation of greater security, Paul could not tell. He seemed to recover his swagger again, as he said,--"I shall hear what Colonel Pendleton has to say first. But I shall hold myself in readiness to meet you afterwards--you shall not fear, sir!"Paul remained looking from the one to the other without speaking.
It was Don Caesar who returned his glance boldly and defiantly, Colonel Pendleton who, with thin white fingers pulling his moustache, evaded it. Then Paul unlocked the door, and said slowly, "In five minutes I leave this house for the station. Ishall wait there until the train arrives. If this gentleman does not join me, I shall be better able to understand all this and take measures accordingly.""And I tell to you, Meester Hathaway, sir," said Don Caesar, striking an attitude in the doorway, "you shall do as I please--Caramba!--and shall beg"--
"Hold your tongue, sir--or, by the Eternal!"--burst out Pendleton suddenly, bringing down his thin hand on the Mexican's shoulder.
He stopped as suddenly. "Gentlemen, this is childish. Go, sir!"to Don Caesar, pointing with a gaunt white finger into the darkened hall. "I will follow you. Mr. Hathaway, as an older man, and one who has seen a good deal of foolish altercation, I regret, sir, deeply regret, to be a witness to this belligerent quality in a law-maker and a public man; and I must deprecate, sir--deprecate, your demand on that gentleman for what, in the folly of youth, you are pleased to call personal satisfaction."As he moved with dignity out of the room, Paul remained blankly staring after him. Was it all a dream?--or was this Colonel Pendleton the duelist? Had the old man gone crazy, or was he merely acting to veil some wild purpose? His sudden arrival showed that Yerba must have sent for him and told him of Don Caesar's threats; would he be wild enough to attempt to strangle the man in some remote room or in the darkness of the passage? He stepped softly into the hall: he could still hear the double tread of the two men: they had reached the staircase--they were DESCENDING! He heard the drowsy accents of the night porter and the swinging of the door--they were in the street!
Wherever they were going, or for what purpose, HE must be at the station, as he had warned them he would be. He hastily threw a few things into his valise, and prepared to follow them. When he went downstairs he informed the porter that owing to an urgent call of business he should try to catch the through express at three o'clock, but they must retain his room and luggage until they heard from him. He remembered Don Caesar's letter. Had either of the gentlemen, his friends who had just gone out, left a letter or message? No, Excellency; the gentlemen were talking earnestly--he believed, in the South American language--and had not spoken to him.
Perhaps it was this that reminded Paul, as he crossed the square again, that he had made no preparation for any possible fatal issue to himself in this adventure. SHE would know it, however, and why he had undertaken it. He tried to think that perhaps some interest in himself had prompted her to send the colonel to him. Yet, mingled with this was an odd sense of a certain ridiculousness in his position: there was the absurdity of his prospective antagonist being even now in confidential consultation with his own friend and ally, whose functions he had usurped, and in whose interests he was about to risk his life. And as he walked away through the silent streets, the conviction more than once was forced upon him that he was going to an appointment that would not be kept.
He reached the station some ten minutes before the train was due.