“Is that the best you can do for me?”
“With my present knowledge, yes,” returned the lawyer.
“And will it clear me from this suspicion?” was the next question.
“I hope so.”
“You are not sure?”
“This is an extraordinary case, Mr. Jones. Your friends all believe you innocent, but the judge wants facts — cold, hard facts — and only these will influence him. Mr. Le Drieux, commissioned by the Austrian government, states that you are Jack Andrews, and have escaped to America after having stolen the pearls of a noble Viennese lady. He will offer, as evidence to prove his assertion, the photograph and the pearls. You must refute this charge with counter-evidence, in order to escape extradition and a journey to the country where the crime was committed. There you will be granted a regular trial, to be sure, but even if you then secure an acquittal you will have suffered many indignities and your good name will be permanently tarnished.”
“Well, sir?”
“I shall work unceasingly to secure your release at the examination. But
I wish I had some stronger evidence to offer in rebuttal.”
“Go ahead and do your best,” said the boy, nonchalantly. “I will abide by the result, whatever it may be.”
“May I ask a few questions?” Maud timidly inquired.
He turned to her with an air of relief.
“Most certainly you may, Miss Stanton.”
“And you will answer them?”
“I pledge myself to do so, if I am able.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I am not going to interfere with Mr. Colby’s plans, but I’d like to help you on my own account, if I may.”
He gave her a quick look, at once grateful, suspicious and amused.
Then he said:
“Clear out, Colby. I’m sure you have a hundred things to attend to, and when you’re gone I’ll have a little talk with Miss Stanton.”
The lawyer hesitated.
“If this conversation is likely to affect your case,” he began, “then — ”
“Then Miss Stanton will give you any information she may acquire,” interrupted Jones, and that left Colby no alternative but to go away.
“Now, then, Miss Stanton, out with it!” said the boy.
“There are a lot of things we don’t know, but ought to know, in order to defend you properly,” she observed, looking at him earnestly.
“Question me, then.”
“I want to know the exact date when you landed in this country from Sangoa.”
“Let me see. It was the twelfth day of October, of last year.”
“Oh! so long ago as that? It is fifteen months. Once you told us that you had been here about a year.”
“I didn’t stop to count the months, you see. The twelfth of October is correct.”
“Where did you land?”
“At San Francisco.”
“Direct from Sangoa?”
“Direct from Sangoa.”
“And what brought you from Sangoa to San Francisco?”
“A boat.”
“A sailing-ship?”
“No, a large yacht. Two thousand tons burden.”
“Whose yacht was it?”
“Mine.”
“Then where is it now?”
He reflected a moment.
“I think Captain Carg must be anchored at San Pedro, by now. Or perhaps he is at Long Beach, or Santa Monica,” he said quietly.
“On this coast!” exclaimed Maud.
“Yes.”
Patsy was all excitement by now and could no longer hold her tongue.
“Is the yacht Arabella yours?” she demanded.
“It is, Miss Patsy.”
“Then it is lying off Santa Monica Bay. I’ve seen it!” she cried.
“It was named for my mother,” said the boy, his voice softening, “and built by my father. In the Arabella I made my first voyage; so you will realize I am very fond of the little craft.”
Maud was busily thinking.
“Is Captain Carg a Sangoan?” she asked.
“Of course. The entire crew are Sangoans.”
“Then where has the yacht been since it landed you here fifteen months ago?”
“It returned at once to the island, and at my request has now made another voyage to America.”
“It has been here several days.”
“Quite likely.”
“Has it brought more pearls from Sangoa?”
“Perhaps. I do not know, for I have not yet asked for the captain’s report.”
Both Uncle John and Patsy were amazed at the rapidity with which Maud was acquiring information of a really important character. Indeed, she was herself surprised and the boy’s answers were already clearing away some of the mists. She stared at him thoughtfully as she considered her next question, and Jones seemed to grow thoughtful, too.
“I have no desire to worry my friends over my peculiar difficulties,” he presently said. “Frankly, I am not in the least worried myself. The charge against me is so preposterous that I am sure to be released after the judge has examined me; and, even at the worst — if I were sent to Vienna for trial — the Austrians would know very well that I am not the man they seek.”
“That trip would cause you great inconvenience, however,” suggested
Mr. Merrick.
“I am told a prisoner is treated very well, if he is willing to pay for such consideration,” said Jones.
“And your good name?” asked Maud, with a touch of impatience.
“My good name is precious only to me, and I know it is still untarnished. For your sake, my newly found friends, I would like the world to believe in me, but there is none save you to suffer through my disgrace, and you may easily ignore my acquaintance.”
“What nonsense!” cried Patsy, scornfully. “Tell me, sir, what’s to become of our grand motion picture enterprise, if you allow yourself to be shipped to Vienna as a captured thief?”
He winced a trifle at the blunt epithet but quickly recovered and smiled at her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Patsy,” said he. “I know you will be disappointed if our enterprise is abandoned. So will I. Since this latest complication arose I fear I have not given our project the consideration it deserves.”
The boy passed his hand wearily across his forehead and, rising from his seat, took a few nervous steps up and down the room. Then, pausing, he asked abruptly:
“Are you still inclined to be my champion, Miss Stanton?”
“If I can be of any help,” she replied, simply.
“Then I wish you would visit the yacht, make the acquaintance of Captain
Carg and tell him of the trouble I am in. Will you?”
“With pleasure. That is — I’ll be glad to do your errand.”
“I’ll give you a letter to him,” he continued, and turning to the attendant he asked for writing material, which was promptly furnished him. At the table he wrote a brief note and enclosed it in an envelope which he handed to Maud.
“You will find the captain a splendid old fellow,” said he.
“Will he answer any questions I may ask him?” she demanded.
“That will depend upon your questions,” he answered evasively. “Carg is considered a bit taciturn, I believe, but he has my best interests at heart and you will find him ready to serve me in any possible way.”
“Is there any objection to my going with Maud?” asked Patsy. “I’d like to visit that yacht; it looks so beautiful from a distance.”
“You may all go, if you wish,” said he. “It might be well for Mr. Merrick to meet Captain Carg, who would prefer, I am sure, to discuss so delicate a matter as my arrest with a man. Not that he is ungallant, but with a man such as Mr. Merrick he would be more at his ease. Carg is a sailor, rather blunt and rugged, both in speech and demeanor, but wholly devoted to me because I am at present the Jones of Sangoa.”
“I’ll accompany the girls, of course,” said
Uncle John; “and I think we ought not to delay in seeing your man. Colby says you may be called for examination at any time.”
“There is one more question I want to ask,” announced Maud as they rose to go. “On what date did you reach New York, after landing at San Francisco?”
“Why, it must have been some time in last January. I know it was soon after Christmas, which I passed in Chicago.”
“Is that as near as you can recollect the date?”
“Yes, at short notice.”
“Then perhaps you can tell me the date you took possession of the Continental Film Company by entering the stockholders’ meeting and ejecting yourself president?”
He seemed surprised at her information and the question drew from him an odd laugh.
“How did you learn about that incident?” he asked.
“Goldstein told Mr. Merrick. He said it was a coup d’etat.”
The boy laughed again.
“It was really funny,” said he. “Old Bingley, the last president, had no inkling that I controlled the stock. He was so sure of being reelected that he had a camera-man on hand to make a motion picture of the scene where all would hail him as the chief. The picture was taken, but it didn’t interest Bingley any, for it showed the consternation on his face, and the faces of his favored coterie, when I rose and calmly voted him out of office with the majority of the stock.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Maud. “There was a picture made of that scene, then?”
“To be sure. It was never shown but once to an audience of one. I sat and chuckled to myself while the film was being run.”
“Was it kept, or destroyed?” asked the girl, breathlessly.
“I ordered it preserved amongst our archives. Probably Goldstein now has the negative out here, stored in our Hollywood vaults.”
“And the date — when was it?” she demanded.
“Why, the annual meeting is always the last Thursday in January. Figure it out — it must have been the twenty-sixth. But is the exact date important, Miss Stanton?”
“Very,” she announced. “I don’t know yet the exact date that Andrews landed in New York on his return from Vienna, but if it happened to be later than the twenty-sixth of January — ”
“I see. In that case the picture will clear me of suspicion.”
“Precisely. I shall now go and wire New York for the information I need.”
“Can’t you get it of Le Drieux?” asked the young man.
“Perhaps so; I’ll try. But it will be better to get the date from the steamship agent direct.”
With this they shook the boy’s hand, assuring him of their sympathy and their keen desire to aid him, and then hurried away from the jail.
CHAPTER XXII
MASCULINE AND FEMININE
Uncle John and the girls, after consulting together, decided to stop at the Hollywood studio and pick up Flo and Mrs. Montrose.
“It would be a shame to visit that lovely yacht without them,” said
Patsy; “and we were all invited, you know.”
“Yes, invited by a host who is unavoidably detained elsewhere,” added
Uncle John.
“Still, that yacht is very exclusive,” his niece stated, “and I’m sure we are the first Americans to step foot on its decks.”
They were all in a brighter mood since the interview at the jail, and after a hurried lunch at the hotel, during which Maud related to the others the morning’s occurrences, they boarded the big Merrick seven-passenger automobile and drove to Santa Monica Bay. Louise couldn’t leave the baby, who was cutting teeth, but Arthur and Beth joined the party and on arrival at the beach Uncle John had no difficulty in securing a launch to take them out to the Arabella.
“They won’t let you aboard, though,” declared the boatman. “A good many have tried it, an’ come back disjointed. There’s something queer about that craft; but the gov’ment don’t seem worried, so I guess it ain’t a pirate.”
The beauty of the yacht grew on them as they approached it. It was painted a pure white in every part and on the stern was the one word: Arabella, but no name of the port from which she hailed. The ladder was hoisted and fastened to an upper rail, but as they drew up to the smooth sides a close-cropped bullet-head projected from the bulwarks and a gruff voice demanded:
“Well, what’s wanted?”
“We want to see Captain Carg,” called Arthur, in reply.
The head wagged sidewise.
“No one allowed aboard,” said the man.
“Here’s a letter to the captain, from Mr. Jones,” said Maud, exhibiting it.
The word seemed magical. Immediately the head disappeared and an instant later the boarding ladder began to descend. But the man, a sub-officer dressed in a neat uniform of white and gold, came quickly down the steps and held out his hand for the letter.
“Beg pardon,” said he, touching his cap to the ladies, “but the rules are very strict aboard the Arabella. Will you please wait until I’ve taken this to the captain? Thank you!”
Then he ran lightly up the steps and they remained seated in the launch until he returned.
“The captain begs you to come aboard,” he then said, speaking very respectfully but with a face that betrayed his wonder at the order of his superior. Then he escorted them up the side to the deck, which was marvelously neat and attractive. Some half a dozen sailors lounged here and there and these stared as wonderingly at the invasion of strangers as the subaltern had done. But their guide did not pause longer than to see that they had all reached the deck safely, when he led them into a spacious cabin.
Here they faced Captain Carg, whom Patsy afterward declared was the tallest, thinnest, chilliest man she had ever encountered. His hair was grizzled and hung low on his neck; his chin was very long and ended in a point; his nose was broad, with sensitive nostrils that marked every breath he drew. As for his eyes, which instantly attracted attention, they were brown and gentle as a girl’s but had that retrospective expression that suggests far-away thoughts or an utter lack of interest in one’s surroundings. They never looked at but through one. The effect of Carg’s eyes was distinctly disconcerting.
The commander of the Arabella bowed with much dignity as his guests entered and with a sweep of his long arm he muttered in distant tones: “Pray be seated.” They obeyed. The cabin was luxuriously furnished and there was no lack of comfortable chairs.
Somehow, despite the courteous words and attitude of Captain Carg, there was something about him that repelled confidence. Already Maud and Patsy were wondering if such a man could be loyal and true.
“My young master,” he was saying, as he glanced at the letter he still held in his hand, “tells me that any questions you may ask I may answer as freely as I am permitted to.”
“What does that mean, sir?” Maud inquired, for the speech was quite ambiguous.
“That I await your queries, Miss,” with another perfunctory bow in her direction.
She hesitated, puzzled how to proceed.
“Mr. Jones is in a little trouble,” she finally began. “He has been mistaken for some other man and — they have put him in jail until he can be examined by the federal judge of this district.”
The captain’s face exhibited no expression whatever. Even the eyes failed to express surprise at her startling news. He faced his visitors without emotion.
“At the examination,” Maud went on, “it will be necessary for him to prove he is from Sangoa.”
No reply. The captain sat like a statue.
“He must also prove that certain pearls found in his possession came from Sangoa.”
Still no reply. Maud began to falter and fidget. Beth was amused. Patsy was fast growing indignant. Flo had a queer expression on her pretty face that denoted mischief to such an extent that it alarmed her Aunt Jane.
“I’m afraid,” said Maud, “that unless you come to your master’s assistance, Captain Carg, he will be sent to Austria, a prisoner charged with a
serious crime.”
She meant this assertion to be very impressive, but it did not seem to affect the man in the least. She sighed, and Flo, with a giggle, broke an awkward pause.
“Well, why don’t you get busy. Maud?” she asked.
“I — in what way, Flo?” asked her sister, catching at the suggestion implied.
“Captain Carg would make a splendid motion picture actor,” declared the younger Miss Stanton, audaciously. “He sticks close to his cues, you see, and won’t move till he gets one. He will answer your questions; yes, he has said he would; but you may prattle until doomsday without effect, so far as he is concerned, unless you finish your speech with an interrogation point.”
Mrs. Montrose gave a gasp of dismay, while Maud flushed painfully. The captain, however, allowed a gleam of admiration to soften his grim features as he stared fixedly at saucy Flo. Patsy marked this fleeting change of expression at once and said hastily:
“I think. Maud, dear, the captain is waiting to be questioned.”
At this he cast a grateful look in Miss Doyle’s direction and bowed to her. Maud began to appreciate the peculiar situation and marshalled her questions in orderly array.
“Tell me, please, where is Sangoa?” she began.
“In the South Seas, Miss.”
“Will you give me the latitude and longitude?”
“I cannot.”
“Oh, you mean that you will not?”
“I have been commanded to forget the latitude and longitude of Sangoa.”
“But this is folly!” she exclaimed, much annoyed. “Such absurd reticence may be fatal to Mr. Jones’ interests.”
He made no reply to this and after reflection she tried again.
“What is the nearest land to Sangoa?”
“Toerdal,” said he.
“What is that, an island?”
“Yes.”
“Is it on the maps? Is it charted?”
“No, Miss.”
She silenced Flo’s aggravating giggle with a frown.
“Tell me, sir,” she continued, “what is the nearest land to Sangoa that is known to the world?”
He smiled faintly as he replied: “I cannot tell.”
Uncle John had grown very uneasy by this time and he decided he ought to attempt to assist Maud. So, addressing Captain Carg, he said in a positive tone:
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 518