The Mystery of The Barranca

by Herman Whitaker

  CHAPTER XV

  As a matter of fact, Don Luis knew even less than Seyd of the realreason behind his niece's departure. Like many another and much moreimportant event, it was brought about by the simplest of causes, whichwent back to the afternoon when, on her arrival at San Nicolas,Francesca found Sebastien waiting there with the news of his mother'sillness.

  First in the sequence of cause and effect which sent her away standsSeyd's five-peso note; next, Pancho, Sebastien's _mozo_, for theconjunction of these two gave birth to the event. Ordinarily, that is,when in full possession of his simple wits, Tomas, Francesca's _mozo_,would have suffered crucifixion in her cause, and had he chosen anyother than Pancho to assist in the transmutation of Seyd's note intoalcohol at the San Nicolas wine shop the process would have beenaccomplished without damage to aught but his own head. But when in thecause of their tipplings Pancho began to enlarge on the benefits thatwould follow to all from the blending of their respective houses bymarriage Tomas began to writhe under the itch of secret and superiorknowledge. From knowing winks he progressed to mysterious hints, andfinally ended with a clean confession of all he had seen that afternoon.

  "But this is not to be spoken of, _hombre_," he warned Pancho, withsolemn hiccoughs, at the close. "By the grave of thy father, let noteven a whisper forth."

  As being less difficult to find in a country where parenthood is moreeasily traced on the feminine side, Pancho swore to it by the grave ofhis mother. But, though he added thereto those of his aunts,grandmother, and entire female line, the combined weight still failed tobalance such astonishing news. Inflamed by thoughts of the prestige hewould gain in his master's sight, he moderated his potations. After hehad seen Tomas comfortably bestowed under the _cantina_ table he carriedthe tale straight to Sebastien's room.

  In this, however, he showed more zeal than discretion, for in lieu ofthe expected prestige he got a blow in the mouth which laid him out in amanner convenient for the quirting of his life. Not until Sebastien'sarm tired did he gain permission to retire, whimpering, to his straw inthe stable; and next morning both he and Tomas trembled for their liveswhen Sebastien arraigned them before him.

  "Listen, dogs!" He struck them with his whip across their faces. "Forthis piece of lying the tongues of you both should be pulled out by theroots. If I spare you it is because until now you have both beenfaithful servants. But remember!" He swore to it with an oath sofrightfully sacrilegious that both shrank in anticipation of a bolt fromthe skies. "But remember! If ever, drunk or sober, there proceeds out ofeither of you one further word 'twill surely be done."

  Leaving them shaking, he passed out and on upstairs to the patio whereFrancesca was sitting, with Roberta at her knees, in the shade of the_corredor's_ green arches. The drone of hummers, fluting of birds in thepatio garden set her soft musings to pleasant music, and she looked upwith sudden vexation at the jangle of his spurs.

  "So this is the child that we have renamed in his honor?"

  Last night they had parted better friends than usual, for out of thepity bred of her own realized love she had done her best to please him.Love had also sharpened her naturally sensitive perceptions. Divininghis knowledge from the concentrated anger of his look, she rose,instinctively nerving herself for the encounter.

  "Just so." He divined, in turn, her feeling. "Between those whounderstand words are wasted. Send the child away."

  As he said "understand" a surge of passion wiped out the weary linesleft by a night of hate. But while the child was passing along thecorridor he controlled it and became his usual sardonic self. He wasbeginning "Thanks to the excellent Tomas--" when she interrupted with anangry gesture.

  "Then it _was_ he! I'll have him--"

  "_Caramba!_" He shrugged. "What a heat! But easy--do not blame Tomas foryour gringo's fault. What else could you expect from a peon that foundhimself enriched at a stroke? The wonder is that he did not proclaim hisnews from your topmost wall. Be content that he will never whisper oneword again."

  "You didn't--" she began, alarmed now for her servant.

  "No. Pancho, to whom he told it, I flogged for the liar he now thinksTomas, and Tomas--is trembling for his tongue. Except between us thematter is dead. Yet Tomas served his purpose. Thanks to him, we may nowpass words and come to terms."

  "Terms?" She faltered it after a silence.

  "Terms!" he repeated, gravely. "That is, if you would save your gringoalive. Supposing this were to escape to the good uncle? Soft as he hasbeen with these gringos of late, supposing that he were to hear of boththis and that other night in the hut, how long, think you, would the manlast?"

  Her eyes told. After a pause her mouth opened with a small gasp."You--oh! you will not?"

  "Not if you obey. Now see you, Francesca." He dropped into a tone ofgrave confidence which was really winning. "If I had not known that hisdeath at my hands would place you forever beyond me the man had neverseen the dawn of another day. Whether he sees its setting depends onyou. If you will go with my mother to Europe--"

  "_Si_--if--I--go?" It issued between pauses of pain after a longsilence.

  "He lives. I will even protect him till he arrives at the end of hisfool's rope."

  "And--then?"

  "There will be no 'then.' I know these gringos. They will disappear liketheir vanishing gold."

  Her slight flush indicated defiant unbelief. But knowing that this wasin deadly earnest, that Seyd's life hung by a hair, she let him go on."Let there be no misunderstanding. I shall require your promise, on theword of a Garcia, not to attempt communication." He added, turning away,perhaps in pity for the misery of her face: "There is no hurry. Taketime to think it over--an hour, two if you wish."

  He could easily afford, too, the concession, for her love was playinginto his hands. None knew better than she that a contrary answer wouldmake of Seyd an Ishmaelite with every man's hand raised against hislife. He could never escape. With that dread fact staring her in theface she could give but one answer; and while, later, she spent hourspacing her bedroom in restless strivings to find a way out, she reachedher decision before he gained the end of the gallery.

  "I will go."