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

      “I would do anything for you I could,” he explained plaintively to Jack and Philip; “but I really cannot go on paying attention to Doña Serafina. She thinks I am in earnest!”

      “And so you ought to be, you little monster,” said Tim, quickly. “It’s time you were married.”

      “Well, then, why don’t you set the example?”

      “It’s easy talking! I have no one to love me.”

      “Journalism is a jealous mistress,” observed Philip, laughing. “Tim is devoted to ‘Articles from a Special Correspondent.’”

      “True for you,” replied Tim, complacently; “but my occupation’s gone. Didn’t I send my last article about ‘The Fall of Acauhtzin’ from Janjalla? and isn’t the war over?”

      “The war is certainly over!” said Jack, lighting a cigarette; “but the danger of another war is not yet past.”

      “What do you mean, Jack?”

      “Don Hypolito still lives; and while he lives, the Republic is not safe.”

      “Still lives!” echoed Philip, in surprise. “Why, Jack, I don’t see how you can make that out. He was not found on the field of battle, nor in Janjalla, nor in Acauhtzin. He must be dead!”

      “No; Don Hypolito is not the man to die so easily. Where he is, I do not know, but I am certain he is yet alive.”

      There was silence for a few minutes, as each was busy with his own thoughts regarding the probable resurrection of Xuarez. After the battle of Centeotl, he had vanished utterly from the face of the earth. It was thought he had fled to Janjalla, or perchance to Acauhtzin; but in neither of those towns could he be discovered. After a bombardment of five hours, the latter city had surrendered to the warships. Don Josè, the Governor, in the absence of Xuarez, had been killed by the bursting of a bomb, and many of his officers had shared the same fate. Of Xuarez, however, nothing could be discovered, and Don Miguel was much disturbed thereat. With a restless spirit like the rebel leader still working in secret, the danger was not yet at an end, and the President was determined to spare no effort to bring Xuarez, to justice. While the four friends were thinking over this matter, Don Rafael, who had been holding a private conversation with his father, entered the patio.

      That young man was the hero of the bombardment of Acauhtzin. He had recovered Doña Carmencita; his father had consented to his speedy marriage with that lady, and he was idolised by his fellow-citizens. With all this good fortune, he should have been gay and lighthearted; but as he entered the patio, he certainly looked anything but happy.

      “Dios! What ails you, Rafael?” asked Jack, as his friend threw himself into a seat, and sighed heavily. “Anything wrong?”

      “Carambo! Everything is wrong. My father refuses his consent to our marriages.”

      “What?” interrupted Philip and Jack, in dismay.

      “Till Xuarez is discovered and punished,” finished Rafael, dismally.

      “Ah!” said Philip, with a breath of relief, “it might have been worse. I thought you were about to say Don Miguel had refused his consent altogether.”

      “Dios! I don’t know if it does not amount to that,” replied Rafael, shrugging his shoulders. “How are we to find this ladron of a Xuarez? He is not at Acauhtzin. He is not in the south. Where then are we to look for him?”

      “Can you not find out?——”

      “I can find out nothing, mi amigo. For my part, I believe he is dead.”

      “For my part, Señor Rafael, I believe he is alive,” retorted Tim, gruffly.

      “Eh! And where do you think he is to be found, Señor Correspoñsal?”

      “Quien sabe,” said Tim, carelessly. “But you know, Señor, that after the battle of Centeotl, I rode to Janjalla, to wire my report to England?”

      “Yes.”

      “While there, I heard two prisoners talking. They, deeming me to be a foreigner, and not knowing that I was conversant with Spanish, spoke freely.”

      “Bueno! And they said?——”

      “Nothing about Don Hypolito, but talked of Pepe.”

      “Pepe!” echoed Philip, quickly. “The zambo who decoyed Dolores from Tlatonac—the lover of Marina?”

      “The same. Pepe, it appears, had followed Xuarez to Janjalla, being, as we know, the prince of spies. When The Cortes was taken, and Xuarez was thus cut off from getting back to Acauhtzin, Pepe happened to be in Janjalla. The troops of Xuarez were wondering, in the case of defeat, how they could escape from the hands of our men. Pepe laughed, on hearing their doubts, and said he could easily escape to Totatzine.”

      “To Totatzine?”

      “To the sacred city. He said no one could follow him there, and that he knew of a secret way in the south, which would take him thither.”

      “But, Jack, the secret way you came is to the north of Tlatonac,” said Philip turning towards Duval.

      “Very true! But for a long time I have had my suspicions that there is a second way to that city, by the cañon road, of which I told you. It is by that way, to my mind, that Pepe intended to go.”

      “Yes, mi amigo!” said Rafael, triumphantly; “but you quite forget. Pepe was captured in the south, after the battle of Centeotl, and is now in prison at Tlatonac, awaiting punishment.”

      “Very true! He did not escape to Totatzine, as he intended. But where was he captured? At the battle of Centeotl. Now, seeing that Don Hypolito has disappeared, it is just possible that Pepe told him of the second secret way to the sacred city, and that Xuarez may have escaped thence.”

      “Dios!” exclaimed Rafael, springing to his feet. “Think you, Señor Correspoñsal, that this dog is now at Totatzine?”

      “I am not sure, but it might be so. Ixtlilxochitli is his friend. There he would be safe, and if at the battle of Centeotl Pepe told him of this southern way to the city, when he saw that all was lost, he probably took advantage of the information.”

      “Why not find out if this is so, from Pepe?” suggested Jack, when Tim ceased speaking.

      “He will tell nothing,” replied Rafael, in disgust. “This zambo is a mule for obstinacy.”

      “We might try, at all events,” said Philip, cheerfully. “Where is Pepe, mi amigo?”

      “In the prison of the Palacio Nacional. If you think, Señores, there is any chance of getting information from the zambo, let us seek him now.”

      “Why to-night?” said Peter, looking at his watch, “or rather this morning. It is two o’clock. You are all weary with the ball. Better wait till to-morrow.”

      “No!” exclaimed Rafael, throwing his heavy cloak over his shoulder. “We will go now. My father absolutely refuses to let any of us marry until we discover Xuarez. I want to know where he is to be found at once, otherwise I shall get no rest. As for you, señor——”

      “I will come, by all means,” said Philip, putting on his sombrero. “It is also to my interest to find Xuarez, else I may not marry your sister, Rafael.”

      “We will all go!” said Jack, rising to his feet. “Tim, you may get some copy, and make an article of it—‘The Confessions of a Spy.’ Peter, you can go to bed, as this matter does not interest you in the least.”

      “Oh, doesn’t it?” said Peter, indignantly. “I am as anxious as you are to see you married, Jack. But with your permission, I shall go to bed, because I do not think you’ll get any information out of Pepe.”

      “We’ll