Whither Thou Goest

by William Le Queux

toobusily engaged with his official duties. He had sent round a notetelling her he would be round in the evening. She was expecting himevery minute.

  There was a tap at the door. The maid entered with a letter. Thegentleman who had brought it was waiting in the hall for an answer.

  She recognised the handwriting on the envelope at once as that of hercousin Maurice Farquhar. She tore it open and read the few pencilledwords: "I want to see you at once. It is about Mr Rossett." Sherushed out into the hall, and almost pulled him into the room.

  "What is it?" she panted in terrified tones. "Something has happened toGuy."

  "Yes, something has happened, but you must be brave and not give way.He has been trapped by the anarchists, but all will be well. Morenoassures me that he has foreseen this, and will save him. I am now on myway to do my share in the rescue."

  "Can I come with you?" pleaded Isobel. "I shall go mad if I stop here."

  For a moment Farquhar hesitated. He had a rooted dislike to womenmixing themselves up in dangerous or turbulent scenes. But her pleadingeyes overcame his scruples.

  "Yes, if you wish. I have a cab waiting. Leave a note for these peoplehere explaining your absence. Then put on your things and come with me.I will explain everything as we go along."

  A few minutes later they were seated side by side, driving to the sameobscure quarter of the town which had long ago been reached by theSpanish anarchist Alvedero.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

  In a shabby room of a shabby house in one of the most obscure quartersof Madrid, five men were sitting. They were Contraras, Zorrilta,Alvedero, Moreno, and Somoza, the fisherman of Fonterrabia.

  "Guy Rossett is here, in the next room." It was Moreno who spoke. Heturned to the fisherman. "Has he recovered sufficiently, Somoza?"

  The fisherman answered: "He was still a little bit dazed a minute agowhen I left him. The handkerchief I flung over his face contained apretty strong dose. I should give him another ten minutes before he isready to face the tribunal."

  The capture had been easy. Guy Rossett, reckless of danger, had lefthis flat to pay his visit to Isobel Clandon. Two members of the SecretPolice were ready to accompany him. Fearful of compromising Isobel, hehad rather roughly dispensed with their services. Reluctantly, they hadobeyed him. They agreed between themselves that an Englishman wasalways pig-headed, a bit of a dare-devil, and inclined to take risks.

  Guy walked carelessly along. He was in rather good spirits. He hadreceived that day a cheerful note from Moreno that everything was goingwell, that very soon the heads of the anarchist movement in Spain wouldbe laid by the heels.

  Of course, in this letter, Moreno did not explain his methods. If hehad done so, Guy might not have been in quite such high spirits.

  For at this moment, playing his very difficult game of saving GuyRossett, saving himself and Violet Hargrave, and also snaring theanarchists, Moreno could only give his full confidence to one man, hisold friend and companion, Maurice Farquhar.

  As a matter of fact, Rossett never knew what had really taken place thatnight. He was never told that Moreno knew of his projected visit toIsobel that evening, from a random remark of hers dropped in theafternoon--that he had set Somoza and another tall Biscayan fisherman tofollow him, for the purpose of bringing him to the house where the headsof the anarchist movement were assembled in solemn conclave.

  Rossett walked gaily along. He would have a precious hour with Isobel.In a dark street two men came up behind him. One pinioned his arms frombehind. Somoza pressed a saturated handkerchief over his face. In afew seconds the unfortunate young diplomatist was drugged and helpless.

  A cab, driven by a member of the brotherhood, had crawled slowly afterthe two men. As soon as the driver saw what had happened, he droverapidly up. The two powerful men lifted the inert body into thevehicle. He was partially recovered when they halted at the house wherethe tribunal of five was sitting to pronounce judgment on the man whohad dared to thwart their plans.

  They locked him in a room adjoining that in which Contraras waspresiding over the deliberations of his five trusted lieutenants. Afterlocking him in securely, Somoza went to report the matter to Moreno.His colleague, the other Biscayan fisherman, remained on guard outsidethe closed door, for fear of untoward accidents. Rossett was a powerfulman.

  Contraras, with his fine intellectual face, his hair in places turningfrom iron-grey to white, looked the embodiment of dignified justice.Perhaps, in his warped and fanatical mind, he believed he was.

  He spoke in his most judicial accents. "Nobody shall ever say that hehas not had a fair trial, when brought up before the tribunal of thebrotherhood. We will wait an hour, if it is necessary, for thismisguided young man to recover his senses." Moreno, who had arrived thelast of the party, looked round with a sudden start. "Where is ourcomrade, Violet Hargrave?"

  Contraras hastened to explain. "Ah! of course you have not heard.Alvedero went to bring her here, according to arrangement. He found herstretched on the sofa, motionless and inanimate. He thinks she is in adying condition. He is going round to inquire after these proceedingsare over."

  "This is very sad," said Moreno, in his gravest manner. "And she issuch a nice woman personally, and so devoted to the Cause, through theinfluence of Jaques. I wonder,"--he cast an inquiring look atAlvedero--"if, by any chance, she drinks or drugs. Many apparently nicewomen do!" Alvedero shook his big head. "I doubt it. I should say aseizure of some sort. Perhaps her heart is weak. She looks a littlefragile."

  Moreno, for obvious reasons, did not pursue the subject. VioletHargrave's absence had evidently excited no comment, no suspicion.

  A quarter of an hour had elapsed. Somoza was deputed to enter thelocked room and ascertain the condition of the prisoner. Contraras wasresolved to proceed justly, according to his interpretation of the wordjustice.

  Somoza returned after his inspection, and reported that the effects ofthe saturated handkerchief had worn off. Guy Rossett was in a senseclothed in his right mind. He was fit to face the tribunal.

  The members of the conclave assumed masks. Somoza had worn a mask whenhe had entered the locked room. Whatever happened, it was essentialthat Guy Rossett should not be able to identify any one of them.

  The prisoner, or captive, whatever he might be called, was brought in.In the cab he had been bound securely round the legs and wrists, but notpainfully. He was assisted to a chair by the masked Somoza, where hesat facing his judges.

  His face was a little pale, due to the effects of the chloroform, buthis demeanour was firm. He felt himself in a very tight corner, but hehad been assured so often by Moreno that he need never despair. A goodangel, in the shape of Moreno himself, was watching over him.

  He cast his glance rapidly over the masked men confronting him. Wherewas the black-browed young journalist whom he had known in old days?

  Yes, there on the right, nearest to the door. Had that position beenchosen by accident or design? He recognised at once the short, squatfigure. Through the holes of the mask, he could see the gleam of thosedark eyes. His demeanour would be more indomitable than ever.

  Contraras opened the proceedings in his most judicial manner.

  "Mr Rossett, you will recognise that you are now at the mercy of thebrotherhood, against whom for some time you have directed youractivities."

  "Quite true," replied Guy Rossett in his curtest manner. Whatever fatewas in store for him, he was not going to knuckle under to this crew ofbloodthirsty ruffians.

  Contraras continued in his calm, imperturbable manner.

  "I cannot say that, up to the present, you have done us very much harm,but still you are a menace to our schemes, our aspirations."

  "I am pleased to hear that I am of sufficient importance to justify thismock tribunal." Rossett waved his hand contemptuously at the masked mensitting in judgment on him.

  The eyes of Contraras flashed through his mask. He took his positionvery seriousl
y.

  "Mr Rossett, let me advise you, in your own interests, not to carrymatters with too high a hand. Kindly recognise your position. If youwere seated in the Calle Fernando el Santo, I admit you would be topdog. At the present moment the brotherhood, here in this obscure house,in this obscure quarter of the city of Madrid, is in that enviablesituation."

  A bitter retort was on Rossett's lips, but he thought he perceived analmost imperceptible gesture of warning from the short, squat figure inthe corner near the door. He temporised.

  "The fortunes of war, I admit, are with you, sir. I am sorry I have notthe advantage of knowing whom I have the honour to address."

  Contraras was, at heart, a gentleman. He felt the sting of the rebuke.

  "Mr Rossett, if you come into line with us to-night, I may deal withyou quite frankly. Before we separate, you may know as much about me asI do about you."

  There was an obvious movement on the part of Zorrilta and Alvedero.They evidently thought their chief was going too far.

  Contraras hushed the incipient rebellion with an authoritative wave ofhis hand.

  "Gentlemen, kindly leave me to deal with this matter. Mr Rossett and Iwill understand each other in a very few moments."

  He turned towards the young diplomatist, still undaunted in the midst ofthis hostile crowd.

  "Mr Rossett, you have much to lose by opposing us--perhaps life itself.By withdrawing from this unequal contest--and, believe me, it isunequal--you have much to gain."

  "I am not so sure it is unequal," answered Guy Rossett stubbornly. Hehad perceived too late the warning signal of Moreno, anxious that thesomewhat uncertain Contraras should not be deflected from his presentcalm, judicial mood.

  But Contraras kept his temper. "Mr Rossett, you are a young man, withlife, a happy and prosperous life, before you. I know a great dealabout you; it is my business to know much about other people. You areengaged to a very charming girl, you will inherit a great fortune from awealthy aunt."

  "And, if you could establish your principles," broke in Guy, speakingwith some heat, "you might take away from me my fiancee--you wouldcertainly rob me of my fortune."

  But Contraras was still patient. He was trying to reason with thisobstinate young man, whose bold bearing moved his admiration.

  "We cannot tell how the great Revolution will shape itself ultimately.But let us deal with present facts. A charming girl is waiting for you,longing for the moment when she can be your wife."

  A shadow of pain passed over Guy's face. To-night, he had set out tovisit his beloved Isobel, and he had been snared.

  Contraras watched him narrowly through the holes of his mask.

  "And a big fortune will be yours very shortly. Are you prepared to giveup these advantages for the sake of thwarting the brotherhood?"

  "I rather think I am. But tell me what you propose. I admit you arearguing in a most temperate fashion. But you have something up yoursleeve all the time."

  "I have," admitted Contraras frankly. "Mr Rossett, believe me, I haveno personal animosity against you, except as the tool of a decaying andeffete system. Come into line with me, and your bonds shall be loosed,and you shall go forth a free man."

  "Your conditions?" queried Rossett, in a hard voice.

  "Take your solemn oath, no, give me your word as an English gentleman--Iwill accept that--that you will resign your position at the Embassy, andtake no further action against the brotherhood."

  He rose, and pointed at the door. "Give me that promise, Mr Rossett,and you can walk out a free man."

  If Guy hesitated a moment, his hesitation must be pardoned. In thatswift instant he thought of Isobel, anxiously waiting his arrival, hisdear sister Mary, anxious and troubled also, even his father, whosemaladroit interference in his affairs had sent him into this hotbed ofdisaffection.

  Then he spoke slowly and deliberately. "You invite me to dishonourmyself, in order to secure my own personal safety. My answer is, _No_.Do your worst."

  "You will not reconsider that decision, Mr Rossett?"

  Guy shook his head. "No, a thousand times, no. Do what you like withme. I am a defenceless man. You can murder me here, and probably hushup your crime. But I shall be avenged--you can reckon on that."

  Contraras rose, and paced the room in great agitation. He was a braveman himself; he admired the quality of bravery in others. Fanatical andresolute as he was, it went against the grain to condemn this youngEnglishman to death, because he would not accept the dishonourable termsoffered to him.

  "Mr Rossett, I wish to spare you. The brotherhood does not condemn inhaste." He turned to Somoza. "Take this gentleman to his room, andbring him here in a quarter of an hour. Perhaps, by that time, he willtake a more reasonable view of his position."

  "Come, senor, if you please," said the obedient Somoza, speaking throughhis mask in the most polite accents. A Spaniard is always courteous,even if he is about to murder you.

  The fisherman bent down to assist his prisoner to rise, but beforeRossett was firmly on his legs, the short, squat figure of Moreno got upfrom his chair. He laid his finger to his lips and looked round at theassembly.

  "Silence, gentlemen, for a moment! I am sure I heard the sound of awhistle. Yes, there is another one. Did you catch it?"

  No, nobody had caught it, except Moreno. He stole gently to the window,and pulled the blind an inch aside. He dropped it hastily, andstaggered back in a state of extreme agitation. In that apparentlyunconscious movement he had drawn nearer to the door.

  "_Dios_!" he cried, in a shrill voice. "The house is surrounded. Thereare dozens of men outside."

  The pulling aside of the blind was a signal he had arranged with hisfriend, the head of the Police. The pretence of the whistle was ablind.

  There was a heavy trampling on the stairs. Almost before he had ceasedspeaking, the locked door was burst open to admit the members of thepolice, with levelled revolvers covering the masked men.

  Two of the unwelcome visitors seized Somoza and handcuffed him. A thirdcut the secure but not painful ropes that bound Rossett, and conductedhim down the narrow staircase.

  A cab was waiting; his guardian bundled the young man in.

  Was it a dream? Isobel's soft arms were round him, Isobel's soft voicewas whispering to him.

  "My darling, you are safe. Moreno has kept his promise."

  Rossett was bewildered. No wonder! He had hardly yet recovered fromthe effects of the drug which had been administered by Somoza. His headfell back on her shoulder.

  "Isobel, my dear sweetheart! You here! What does it mean?"

  "It means that you are saved through Moreno, and my cousin MauriceFarquhar." She felt it was no time to palter with the truth.

  "Your cousin, Maurice Farquhar! What has he to do with it all?"

  She was pleased to note that there was no suspicion in his tones, onlythe expression of bewilderment.

  "Oh, it would take hours to explain, but I will cut it as short as Ican. My cousin and Moreno are great friends. Maurice has come overhere to help him. I was expecting you to-night, as you will remember.Maurice came round to explain that you had been kidnapped. He wascoming on here, as Moreno's lieutenant, to help the police. I imploredhim to take me along, to welcome you when you escaped from them. Heconsented, and here I am."

  Guy clasped her in his arms. "You darling! And where is Mr Farquhar?I would like to thank him."

  Isobel beckoned to a man standing a little way in the shadow. Headvanced.

  "Maurice, Guy wishes to thank you for all your share in this night'swork."

  The two men exchanged a cordial handshake. Guy muttered his thanks.

  "I would like to tell you to drive off straight away," said Farquhar."But you must wait a minute or two. There will be a third occupant ofthis vehicle--our friend Moreno, who is going to pass the night at thehouse of the Chief of Police. To-morrow he will go to England."

  In the room from which Rossett had bee
n conducted to his friendlyguardian, the head of the police was taking the situation in hand.

  "Masks off, if you please, gentlemen," he cried out in stentorian tones.

  The men turned hesitatingly to each other. But the levelled revolvershad an eloquence that was very appealing. They tore off their masks andflung them on the floor.

  The chief scrutinised them in turn, offering audible comments.

  "Ah, Contraras, the dark horse of the conspiracy, connected with theSpanish nobility through your wife. I think I have met you at theCourt. Alvedero--ah, for some time you have been suspect. Zorrilta, Iknow you well. Governor of the Province of Navarre."

  He pointed to Somoza. "This gentleman I do not know. We shall findsomething about him later on."

  He turned to Moreno, who preserved an impassive demeanour.

  "I have not the honour of knowing this gentleman, either," he said witha splendid disregard of the truth, for which Moreno admired himimmensely. "But no doubt I shall shortly atone for my ignorance. Ishall have something to say to him later on."

  He turned to his subordinates. "Handcuff them and take them along."

  Moreno all the time had been edging nearer to the door. Suddenly hepulled out a knife, and hurled himself at the man who was guarding it.The man went down before the apparently savage onslaught. Moreno rusheddown the stairs.

  "After him," yelled the Chief. "Don't let that man escape."

  Three of the waiting men clattered down the stairs after the flyingMoreno. They returned a few moments later, crestfallen. They explainedthat he had flown like the wind, that they had lost him in the darkness.

  The Chief swore roundly, and cursed them. "Dolts, idiots!"