BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

am I likely to be. I support the established Government of Cholacaca.”

      “You are a—but no,” said Xuarez, checking himself with a sardonic smile; “we have no time to discuss politics. All are against me now, but when I am seated in the presidential chair, the world will be in my favour. To-day, Señor, I am an adventurer. To-morrow I will be a conqueror. Success is everything in the eyes of the world. However, we need not talk of these things which do not interest you. I notice you have not yet asked after your friends.”

      “Why should I, Don Hypolito?” replied Jack, determined to show no signs of anxiety in the presence of this man. “I know that my friends are safe, and are at present on their way to Tlatonac.”

      “It is true, but how did you guess this much, Don Juan?”

      “From what I know of your character.”

      “Pardon me, Señor, no one knows my character,” said Xuarez, quietly.

      “Not your real character, perhaps, but the character by which you choose to be known to the world.”

      The nonchalance of the young Englishman somewhat puzzled Xuarez. Here was a man talking quietly with one whom he had every reason to hate and dread. Wounded as he was, incarcerated in a gloomy cell; in doubt as to the safety of his friends, the whereabouts of his sweetheart—Jack had yet sufficient pluck to conceal his real feelings, and play a part which entirely deceived even so acute an observer of human nature as Don Hypolito. He saw that Jack was purposely holding himself back instead of giving way to his righteous indignation, but while admiring the self-restraint of the young man, he was doubtful as to the meaning of such diplomatic conduct.

      Experience had taught Don Hypolito that the only way to fathom the feelings of others was to make them talk freely, listen attentively, and draw conclusions from chance observations. This method he now applied to Jack, and asked him to proceed in a grave tone of voice, all the time keeping his ears open to find out the underlying meaning of this impassive demeanour. He discovered nothing, because there was nothing to discover. Jack spoke truthfully and bluntly, giving voice to his real feelings, and Xuarez, accustomed to double dealing, to double meaning, was for once in his life utterly at fault.

      “You have started this war, Señor,” said Jack with painful candour, “entirely for your own ends. The excuse you make is that Gomez has broken the constitution of Cholacaca. This is false, as you know well. However, it is a good excuse upon which to work out your aims. In this war you wish the civilised world to be on your side—to look upon you as a great man, fitted to be the saviour of Cholacaca from a tyrannical Government. To this end you dare not act violently towards any representative nation of the civilised world. England is a representative nation, and you to-day saluted her flag. You respected the ambassadors from the Junta because they were accompanied by Englishmen, because they came here on an English ship. One of those men whom you thus respected is the war correspondent of a London paper, and you wished him of write home to his journal narrating the courtesy of Don Hypolito Xuarez, and thus interesting our nation’s feelings in your favour. The attack made by the mob was, I firmly believe, made without your sanction. You wished the embassy to depart in safety, and they so departed. One man, however, you desired to detain, because he was your rival in the affections of a woman. That man is myself! So you made use of the riot to have me knocked down in the fight, and taken here to prison. Now that you think I am worn out with wounds, thirst, and imprisonment, you come to offer me my liberty on two conditions. First, that I surrender all right to the hand of Doña Dolores. Second, that I leave Cholacaca for ever. These, Señor Xuarez, are your motives in acting as you have done, dictated, as I said before, not, perhaps, by your real character, but by the noble character in which you wish to appear to the world.”

      Don Hypolito listened to this long speech with rapt attention, and could not help admiring the way in which the young man had fathomed his motives. When Jack ended, he raised his head and proceeded to lie—uselessly, as it afterwards proved—still he lied.

      “In a great measure, what you say is correct, Don Juan. I do wish to stand well with the nations, of Europe, because I believe my cause to be a just one. Gomez was elected President by the aristocrats, not by the people. I believe in democracy. He governs so as to throw the whole power of the state into the hands of those who would take away the liberties of the people, won so gloriously by Zuloaga. You say I have begun this war from a personal ambition. That may be so. I wish to be Dictator—Supreme Dictator of the Republic, and to raise her to her rightful position as a power in the world. These, Señor, are political and personal questions. They need not be discussed. What you say about the embassy is true. Had the boat of Señor Felipe entered the harbour under the opal flag, I would have ordered the fort guns to sink her for such audacity. She however carried the English ensign. I respected that ensign; I received the deputation; I heard the insolent demand of the Junta, and gave my answer. They were free to depart without hindrance from me. The outbreak of the mob was solely due to the message sent. I did not create the riot. I did not make use of the tumult to get you into my power. But when in the mêlée you were stunned, my soldiers carried you off to the Palacio Nacional. I saw an opportunity of gaining my ends by thus having you in my power, and so put you in this prison. Now I come to make my terms. Accept them, and you are free. Refuse, and a terrible fate will befall you!”

      “To remain in prison here, I suppose?” said Jack, contemptuously.

      “No; worse!”

      “What, would you kill me?”

      “I will not harm a hair of your head. What your fate will be I refuse to tell you; but if you are a wise man you will accept my offer of freedom.”

      “And accept your conditions also. The conditions being those I have stated?”

      “Precisely! You have rare penetration, Don Juan! My conditions are as you have guessed. Give up Doña Dolores! leave Cholacaca, and you are free.”

      “I refuse.”

      “Think well, Señor,” said Xuarez, coldly. “I am not a man to threaten in vain. Your fate will be a terrible one.”

      “I quite believe you capable of any enormity, Don Hypolito,” retorted Jack, with a curling lip; “but why waste any more time over the matter? I refuse!”

      “On what grounds?”

      “On what grounds?” reiterated Jack, in a haughty tone. “Simply that it does not suit my convenience either to give up Doña Dolores or to leave Cholacaca at your bidding.”

      Xuarez was nettled at Jack’s elaborately insulting manner; but he did not lose his temper. He was too clever a man to do that. With a sudden change of front, he took a hint from card-players, and tried to force Jack’s hand.

      “You love Doña Dolores?”

      “That is not a question for you to ask.”

      “Pardon me, Señor; I also love Doña Dolores, therefore I am interested in your reply.”

      “Are you?” said Jack, facing his questioner sharply; “then you shall have it. I do love Doña Dolores; and, what is more, she returns that love. One person only will she marry, and that person is myself, John Duval!”

      “You will never marry her!” exclaimed Xuarez, vehemently. “She is mine!—mine! Before a month is gone, she becomes my wife!”

      “Ah!” sneered Jack, with a world of meaning in his tone, “I knew you lied when you said she was not in Acauhtzin.”

      “Carrai!” cried Don Hypolito, who was beginning to lose his temper; “I did not lie. She is not in Acauhtzin. She is——”

      “Where?” asked Duval, impetuously.

      “In a place you will never discover, Señor. Not that it matters much, for, in any case, you will not marry her. No! You are reserved for a worse fate!—a fate which will bitterly punish you for daring to be my rival.”

      “I am not a child, to be frightened of big words,” said Jack, scornfully,