Under the Andes

by Rex Stout

  Chapter III.

  A MODERN MARANA.

  My journey westward was an eventful one; but this is not a "History ofTom Jones," and I shall refrain from detail. Denver I reached at last,after a week's stop-over in Kansas City. It was a delightfuladventure--but it had nothing to do with the story.

  I left the train at the Rocky Mountain city about the middle of theafternoon. And now, what to do? I think I am not a fool, but Icertainly lack the training of a detective, and I felt perfectlyrudderless and helpless as I ordered the taxi-driver to take me to theAlcazar Hotel.

  I was by no means sure that Harry had come to Denver. He was travelingwith a bundle of animated caprice, a creature who would have hauled himoff the train at Rahway, New Jersey, if she had happened to take afancy to the place. At the moment, I reflected, they might be drivingalong Michigan Boulevard, or attending a matinee at the Willis Wood, orsipping mint juleps at the Planters'.

  Even if they were in Denver, how was I to find them? I keenlyregretted the week I had lost. I was sure that Harry would avoid anychance of publicity and would probably shun the big hotels. And Denveris not a village.

  It was the beauty of Le Mire that saved me. Indeed, I might haveforeseen that; and I have but poorly portrayed the force of herunmatchable fascination unless you have realized that she was a womanwho could pass nowhere without being seen; and, seen, remembered.

  I made inquiries of the manager of the hotel, of course, but wasbrought up sharply when he asked me the names of my friends for whom Iwas asking. I got out of it somehow, some foolish evasion or other,and regarded my task as more difficult than ever.

  That same evening I dined at the home of my cousin, Hovey Stafford, whohad come West some years before on account of weak lungs, and stayedbecause he liked it. I met his wife that evening for the first time;she may be introduced with the observation that if she was his reasonfor remaining in the provinces, never did man have a better one.

  We were on the veranda with our after-dinner cigars. I wascongratulating Hovey on the felicity of his choice and jocularlysympathizing with his wife.

  "Yes," said my cousin, with a sigh, "I never regretted it till lastweek. It will never be the same again."

  Mrs. Hovey looked at him with supreme disdain.

  "I suppose you mean Senora Ramal," said she scornfully.

  Her husband, feigning the utmost woe, nodded mournfully; whereupon shebegan humming the air of the Chanson du Colonel, and was stopped by asmothering kiss.

  "And who is the Senora Ramal?" I asked.

  "The most beautiful woman in the world," said Mrs. Hovey.

  This from a woman who was herself beautiful! Amazing! I suppose myface betrayed my thought.

  "It isn't charity," she smiled. "Like John Holden, I have seenfire-balloons by the hundred, I have seen the moon, and--then I saw nomore fire-balloons."

  "But who is she?"

  Hovey explained. "She is the wife of Senor Ramal. They came here someten days ago, with letters to one or two of the best families, andthat's all we know about them. The senora is an entrancing mixture ofCleopatra, Sappho, Helen of Troy, and the devil. She had the town bythe ears in twenty-four hours, and you wouldn't wonder at it if you sawher."

  Already I felt that I knew, but I wanted to make sure.

  "Byron has described her," I suggested, "in Childe Harold."

  "Hardly," said Hovey. "No midnight beauty for hers, thank you. Herhair is the most perfect gold. Her eyes are green; her skin remarkablyfair. What she may be is unknowable, but she certainly is not Spanish;and, odder still, the senor himself fits the name no better."

  But I thought it needless to ask for a description of Harry; for I hadno doubt of the identity of Senor Ramal and his wife. I pondered overthe name, and suddenly realized that it was merely "Lamar" spelledbackward!

  The discovery removed the last remaining shadow of doubt.

  I asked in a tone of assumed indifference for their hotel, expressing adesire to meet them--and was informed by Hovey that they had leftDenver two days previously, nor did he know where they had gone.

  Thus did I face another obstacle. But I was on the track; and theperfume of a woman's beauty is the strongest scent in the world as wellas the sweetest. I thanked my cousin for a pleasant evening--though hedid not know the extent of my debt to him--and declined his urgentinvitation to have my luggage brought to his home.

  On my way to the hotel I was struck by a sudden thought: Senor Ramalcould not be my brother or my cousin would have recognized him! But Iimmediately reflected that the two had not seen each other for some tenyears, at which time Harry had been a mere boy.

  The following morning, with little difficulty, I ascertained the factthat the Ramals had departed--at least ostensibly--for Colorado Springs.

  I followed. That same evening, when I registered at the Antlers Hotel,a few minutes before the dinner hour, I turned over two pages of thebook, and there before me was the entry, "Senor and Senora Ramal,Paris." It was in Harry's handwriting.

  After dinner--a most excellent dinner, with melons from La Junta andtrout from the mountain streams--I descended on the hotel clerk withquestions. He was most obliging--a sharp, pleasant fellow, withprominent ears and a Rocky Mountain twang.

  "Senor and Senora Ramal? Most assuredly, sir. They have been hereseveral days. No, they are not now in the hotel. They left thisafternoon for Manitou, to take dinner there, and are going to make thenight trip up the Peak."

  An idea immediately suggested itself to me. They would, of course,return to the hotel in the morning. All I had to do was to sit downand wait for them; but that would have been dull sport. My idea wasbetter.

  I sought out the hotel's wardrobe--there is nothing the Antlers willnot do for you--and clothed myself in khaki, leggings, and boots. ThenI ordered a car and set out for Manitou, at the foot of the mountain.

  By ten o'clock I was mounted on a donkey, headed for the top, afterhaving been informed by a guide that "the man and the beautiful lady"had departed an hour previous.

  Having made the ascent twice before, I needed no guide. So I decided;but I regretted the decision. Three times I lost the path; once I cameperilously near descending on the village below--well, withouthesitation. It was well after midnight when I passed the Half-wayHouse, and I urged my donkey forward with a continual rat-a-tat-tat ofwell-directed kicks in the effort to make my goal.

  You who have experienced the philosophical calm and superb indifferenceof the Pike's Peak donkey may imagine the vocabulary I used on thisoccasion--I dare not print it. Nor did his speed increase.

  I was, in fact, a quarter of an hour late. I was still several hundredyards from the summit when the sun's first rays shot through the thinatmosphere, creating colorful riot among the clouds below, and Istopped, holding my breath in awe.

  There is no art nor poetry in that wonderful sight; it is glorious war.The sun charges forth in a vast flame of inconceivable brilliance; youcan almost hear the shout of victory. He who made the universe is noartist; too often He forgets restraint, and blinds us.

  I turned, almost regretting that I had come, for I had been put out oftune with my task. Then I mounted the donkey and slowly traversed thefew remaining yards to the Peak.

  There, seated in the dazzling sunshine on the edge of a huge bouldernear the eastern precipice, were the two I sought.

  Le Mire's head was turned from me as she sat gazing silently at thetumbling, gorgeous mass of clouds that seemed almost to be resting onher lap; Harry was looking at her. And such a look!

  There was no rival even in nature that could conquer Le Mire; never, Ibelieve, did woman achieve a more notable victory than hers of thatmorning. I watched them for several minutes before I moved or spoke;and never once did Harry's eyes leave her face.

  Then I advanced a step, calling his name; and they turned and caughtsight of me.

  "Paul!" cried Harry, leaping to his feet; then he stopped short andstared at me half de
fiantly, half curiously, moving close to Le Mireand placing his hand on her shoulder like a child clinging to a toy.

  His companion had not moved, except to turn her head; but after thefirst swift shadow of surprise her face brightened with a smile ofwelcome, for all the world as though this were a morning call in herboudoir.

  "Senor and Senora Ramal, I believe?" said I with a smile, crossing tothem with an exaggerated bow.

  I could see Harry cocking his ear to catch the tone of my first words,and when he heard their friendliness a grin overspread his face. Hetook his hand from Le Mire's shoulder and held it out to me.

  "How did you come here? How did you find us?"

  "You forgot to provide Le Mire with a veil," said I by way of answer.

  Harry looked at me, then at his companion. "Of course," he agreed--"ofcourse. By Jove! that was stupid of us."

  Whereupon Le Mire laughed with such frank enjoyment of the boy'ssimplicity that I couldn't help but join her.

  "And now," said Harry, "I suppose you want to know--"

  "I want to know nothing--at present," I interrupted. "It's nearly sixo'clock, and since ten last night I've been on top of the mostperfectly imbecile donkey ever devised by nature. I want breakfast."

  Velvet lids were upraised from Le Mire's eyes. "Here?" she queried.

  I pointed to the place--extreme charity might give it the title ofinn--where smoke was rising from a tin chimney.

  Soon we were seated inside with a pot of steaming black coffee beforeus. Harry was bubbling over with gaiety and good will, evidentlyoccasioned by my unexpected friendliness, while Le Mire sat for themost part silent. It was easy to see that she was more than a littledisturbed by my arrival, which surprised me.

  I gazed at her with real wonder and increasing admiration. It was sixin the morning; she had had no sleep, and had just finished a mostfatiguing journey of some eight hours; but I had never seen her sobeautiful.

  Our host approached, and I turned to him:

  "What have you?"

  There was pity in his glance.

  "Aigs," said he, with an air of finality.

  "Ah!" said Le Mire. "I want them--let's see--au beurre noire, if youplease."

  The man looked at her and uttered the single word: "Fried."

  "Fried?" said she doubtfully.

  "Only fried," was the inexorable answer. "How many?"

  Le Mire turned to me, and I explained. Then she turned again to thesurly host with a smile that must have caused him to regret hisgruffness.

  "Well, then, fr-r-ied!" said she, rolling the "r" deliciously. "Andyou may bring me five, if you please."

  It appeared that I was not the only hungry one. We ate leisurely andsmoked more leisurely still, and started on our return journey a littlebefore eight o'clock.

  It was late in the afternoon when we arrived at the Antlers. The tripwas accomplished without accident, but Le Mire was thoroughly exhaustedand Harry was anything but fresh. That is the worst of mountainclimbing: the exaltation at the summit hardly pays you for the reactionat the foot. We entered the broad portico with frank sighs of relief.

  I said something about joining them at dinner and left for my own rooms.

  At dinner that evening Harry was in high spirits and took great delightin everything that was said, both witty and dull, while Le Mirepositively sparkled.

  She made her impression; not a man in the well-filled room but sent histribute of admiring glances as she sat seemingly unconscious of all butHarry and myself. That is always agreeable; a man owes something tothe woman who carries a room for him.

  I had intended to have a talk with Harry after dinner, but I postponedit; the morning would assuredly be better. There was dancing in thesalon, but we were all too tired to take advantage of it; and afterlistening to one or two numbers, during which Le Mire was kept busyturning aside the importunities of would-be partners, we said goodnight and sought our beds.

  It was late the next morning when the precious pair joined me in thegarden, and when we went in for breakfast we found the dining-roomquite empty. We did not enjoy it as on the morning previous; thecuisine was of the kind usually--and in this case justly--described as"superior," but we did not have the same edge on our appetite.

  We were not very talkative; I myself was almost taciturn, having beforeme the necessity of coming to an understanding with Harry, a task whichI was far from relishing. But there were certain things I must know.

  "What do you say to a ride down the valley?" said Harry. "They haveexcellent horses here; I tried one of 'em the other day."

  "I trust that they bear no resemblance to my donkey," said I withfeeling.

  "Ugh!" said Le Mire with a shudder. "Never shall I forget that ride.Besides," she added, turning to Harry, "this morning I would be in theway. Don't you know that your brother has a thousand things to say toyou? He wants to scold you; you must remember that you are a very badboy."

  And she sent me a glance half defiant, half indifferent, which plainlysaid: "If I fight you, I shall win; but I really care very little aboutit one way or the other."

  After breakfast she went to her room--to have her hair dressed, shesaid--and I led Harry to a secluded corner of the magnificent groundssurrounding the hotel. During the walk we were both silent: Harry, Isuppose, was wondering what I was going to say, while I was trying tomake up my own mind.

  "I suppose," he began abruptly, "you are going to tell me I have actedlike a fool. Go ahead; the sooner it's over the better."

  "Nothing of the sort," said I, glad that he had opened it.

  He stopped short, demanding to know what I meant.

  "Of course," I continued, "Le Mire is a most amazing prize. Notexactly my style perhaps, but there are few men in the world whowouldn't envy you. I congratulate you.

  "But there were two things I feared for several reasons--Le Mire'sfascination, your own youth and impulsive recklessness, and the rathercurious mode of your departure. I feared first and most that you wouldmarry her; second, that you would achieve odium and publicity for ourname."

  Harry was regarding me with a smile which had in it very little ofamusement; it held a tinge of bitterness.

  "And so," he burst out suddenly, "you were afraid I would marry her!Well, I would. The last time I asked her"--again the smile--"was thismorning."

  "And--"

  "She won't have me."

  "Bah!" I concealed my surprise, for I had really not thought itpossible that the lad could be such a fool. "What's her game, Harry?"

  "Game the deuce! I tell you she won't have me."

  "You have asked her?"

  "A thousand times. I've begged her on my knees. Offeredher--anything."

  "And she refuses?"

  "Positively."

  "Refuses?"

  "With thanks."

  I stared at him for a moment in silence. Then I said: "Go and get herand bring her here. I'll find out what she wants," and sat down on abench to wait. Harry departed for the hotel without a word.

  In a few minutes he returned with Le Mire. I rose and proffered her aseat on the bench, which she accepted with a smile, and Harry sat downat her side. I stood in front of them.

  "Le Mire," said I, and I believe I frowned, "my brother tells me thatyou have been offered the name of Lamar in marriage."

  "I have thanked him for it," said she with a smile.

  "And declined it."

  "And--declined it," she agreed.

  "Well," said I, "I am not a man of half measures, as you will soon see,Le Mire. Besides, I appreciate your power. On the day," I continuedwith slow precision--"on the day that you give me a contract to adhereto that refusal you may have my check for one million dollars."

  She surprised me; I admit it. I had expected a burst of anger, with atouch of assumed hauteur; the surrender to follow, for I had made thestake high. But as I stood looking down at her, waiting for the flashof her eye, I was greeted by a burst of laughter--the frank laught
er ofgenuine mirth. Then she spoke:

  "Oh, you Americans! You are so funny! A million dollars! It isimpossible that I should be angry after such a compliment. Besides,you are so funny! Do you not know Le Mire? Am I not a princess if Idesire it--tomorrow--today? Bah! There is the world--is it not mine?Mrs. Lamar? Ugh! Pardon me, my friend, but it is an ugly name.

  "You know my ancestors? De L'Enclos, Montalais, Maintenon, La Marana!They were happy--in their way--and they were great. I must do nothingunworthy of them. Set your mind at rest, Mr. Lamar; but, really, youshould have known better--you who have seen the world and Le Mire inParis! And now our amusement is perhaps ended? Now we must return tothat awful New York? Voila!"

  Indeed I had not understood her. And how could I? There is only onesuch woman in a generation; sometimes none, for nature is sparing ofher favorites. By pure luck she sat before me, this twentieth-centuryMarana, and I acknowledged her presence with a deep bow of apology andadmiration.

  "If you will forgive me, madame," I said, "I will--not attempt to makereparation, for my words were not meant for you. Consider themunspoken. As for our amusement, why need it end? Surely, we canforget? I see plainly I am not a St. Evremond, but neither am I afool. My brother pleases you--well, there he is. As for myself, Ishall either stay to take care of you two children, or I shall returnto New York, as you desire."

  Le Mire looked at me uncertainly for a moment, then turned to Harry andwith a fluttering gesture took his hand in her own and patted it gaily.Then she laughed the happy laugh of a child as she said:

  "Then it is well! And, monsieur, you are less an American than Ithought. By all means, stay--we shall be so jolly! Will we not, mylittle friend?"

  Harry nodded, smiling at her. But there was a troubled look in hisface.