THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM.

Press, Volume LVI, Issue 10269, 11 February 1899, Page 2

THE MAN AND HIS KINGDOM.

■• (By E. Phillips Oppenhoim, author of "Mysterious Mr Sabin,' etc.) CHAFlttltm All night long San Martina was in a state of suppressed uproar. Dene, when he returned to the hotel, found it packed with people, and the very walls of the r ll, '' fi shook with the mingled clamour of revelry and excited speeches. The hall was blocked with men shouting their nrders; they were sitting upon the bannisters, overturned cases, even upon the stairs to the topmost flight tho waiters, sworn at and threatened whenever they appeared with their trays upon their heads, making only feeble, efforts to cope with this invasion. Dene, who had just returned from the Presidency, stood for a moment looking upon the scene in wonderment. Then realising the impossibility of Teaching his room and the lurther impossibility of sleep if ever he should reach it. he stepped back again into the street almost unnoticed. , The hotel h;id become for the moment the headquarters of the malcontents, and outside the crowd in tho Place was thinning fast. Done lit hii pipe »nd strolled aimlessly along. Then a breath of sea air and a vision of twinkling limits set in a black gulf directed his footstep.*. He turned to the left and climbed the hill of St. Martina, on the top of which .stood the fort and prison. Soon he reached a little iron seat, with several of which a former President had adorned the (rest of tho hill. He sat down ;:ml relit his pip-?, which had gone out during the ascent. Below him on his right the lights of tineasv Sun Martina flared up to the deep soft sky—in front was tlie ocean, above the Milieu "grimlooking prison, casting a long, frowning shadow downwards. Dene drew » little sigh of relief. He had found a spot whom he c.-uiJd De alone for a f.ow moments and think ov-r calmly the events of a day. which hud certainly been one of the most momentous of jus life. For now that lie had actually parted with the money for Beau Desir, and committed hiimelf to this one spit on the earth for the carrying out of his experiment, he began to see that h.; had done a somewhat unwise and AtfiuinU- r. hasty tbiiii,'. When ho had been in San Martina before there had been no signs of a political crisis—the little State, indeed, had appeared to him, so far as he could judge, to be in a sound and prosperous condition. He had formed his conclusions too hastily. Yet. after all, had he so much to fear?" Beau Desir was well outside the feverish influences of a rebellion if one should take place. He could scarcely be dragged into it. and it was very unlikely that the conquering party would seek to dispossess him. There was a British Consul within a few days' journey. It could be the policy of no on»i to make enemies of him and bis men. Only he must do his best to ba lawny before the flams kindled. The wisest course for him was to leave San Martina at daybreak with such of his possessions as were unshipped, and let the other things follow. What a change in her appearance when she was not peevish or frowning. Dene wondered whether he had ever seen a more, beautiful face than the one which was smiling at him through the clouds of his tobacco smoke. His thoughts had suddenly taken an abrupt turn. He was bsck again in the Presidency talking to Lucia. Her absolute frankness and sincerity had appealed to him ,—-she was a wonderfully picturesque figure . in. his memory. Tho delicious coquettishness which seemed to be a part of her cosmopolitanism, the legacy of what was French in her mother and Spanish in her father, gave her a certain airy delicate charm which no other woman whom he had ever met had possessed in the least degree. She stood quite alone—there was no one with whom he could compare her. When he thought of her in the conservatory, with the lights gleaming op, her dark burnished hair, and her ■wonderful eyes raised to his, he was conscious that the memory brought with it a distinct and curiously pleasant thrill. Suddenly he waa recalled from a train of thought which was not without its own peculiar fascinations to the grim and uninteresting present. He pulled himself together and tamed round with a start. He had heard nothing, but he had received a swift and Strong impression that he was not alone. To lu'a amazement he found that a stranger was dialing his seat. A man in a long military Coat, whose approach must have been absolutely noiseless," and must further have come • from the summit of tho hill and not from the town, waa sitting on the other corner of the bench. The new comer turned his head at Dene's movement. His cloak and a peaked hat worn over, his forehead concealed most of his face, but from the first Dene felt nne instinct of recognition. , When he epoke the instinct became a certainty. ;• "Gregory Dene, by the shades of Alma ' Mater 1" tho new comer exclaimed. "Sagasta!" Dene repied in blank wonderment. "Why I thought that you were in ; prison l"^ "So I was—twenty minutes ago. I have just escaped!" . Dene said, still a little dazed. Tell mc how you managed it! But aro you safe-so near? Why don't you get into the town and hide?" Sagasta paused to light a cigarette. . '"When they discover," he said,, "that I nave given them the slip they will fife a gun. I shall have plenty of time when I hear that to get into the town. I paused here to reflect. I Am hot sure what fcojdo." "The whole placSSitDene said, "is in a moat excited statefEJ'be shops are barricaded, and the standing army are drawn up around the Presidency/. The people here are the most excitable I ever saw in mv life." ;.'■ "And that rascal, the President?" * , "I have boon dining with him this evening," Dene answered with a smile. "He is in perfect health, and apparently excellent * spirits. He prof ewes to have no anxiety for the future, but I fancy that he is reckoning upon your early deceasf. Sagasta knocked the ash from his cigarette, and replacing it i.ii his mouth folded his' arms and leaned bac;:. ."I am pausing hero," he said, "because I am not quit© sure whether destiny may not have something more in store for mc than to become President of San Martina, and to build up in tho future a model state. If lshow myself in the town below the thing is settled. I cannot escape from it. The people are all with mc, and half the military. Tho revolution would not last an hour. • There are half a dozen whom I should hang— otherwise it would bo bloodless. But then, I have to ask myself this question—is it worth while? After all lam chiefly a theorist. As a practical man I might be a failure, and in any case it would bore mc terribly." "The old Sagasta!" Dene murmured. "I should have to work hard and to meet •with disappointments." Sagasta continued. "I thould meet with ingratitude and with crass stupidity. I should have to imbue with a sense of morality and order a people who do not possess either. Probably I should become in a month as unpopular as Rimarez, which would be a great blow to my vanity, besides placing mc in a somewhat painful posit ion." "I speak," Dene remarked, "as a man wholly ignorant of such matters, but I detest force as a factor in any readjustment of things. Cannot you work for reform politically?" "Not," Sagasta answered duly, "in San Martina. I have tried that, and I have narrowly escaped hanging. It is a penal offence here to protest against the President paying for liis wife's clothes out of the public coffers. The fact is, that everyone who has any position at all haa.a dip in. and I am not at all sure that half "my supporters might not expect to bo placed in a somewhat similar position if they made mc President. I find it hard. Dene, to make up my mind absolutely what to do." Crack! Whiz?.! Bang! Both men turned suddenly round. From tlie prison above came the dull booming of a gun. followed by the reports of several rifles. They had discovered the escape of the prisoner. Sagasta sprang to his feet. "I urn for the town»!" he cried. "There is one man whom I cannot bear to leave alive here. Dene, a word with you. will see tho President and that" hound Sanarez. Tell them this from rhe. If harm comes to the person who set mc free. I will hang them both from the flagstaff of tne prison before sundown to-morrow." "When I see them, and if it is necessary," Dene answered, knocking out the ashes of his pine, "I wil not fail to give them your •greeable message.'

CHAPTER XTIT. ] The path which led from the Prison down into the town cur'.ed round and round in corkscrew fashion above the seat qn which Dene had been sitting. He stood up and '■ listened. Light flying footsteps were coming t towards him. followed close behind by ! heavier ones. Wonderfully light footsteps - they were for a man's Dene thought, as he 1 moved a little on one side to let the chase : go by him, and listened to their flying beat. ' It must be a boy who was the fugitive. Nearer and nearer they came—at every stride ' the pursuer seemed to be gaining ground. The capture would probably take place < within a few yards of him. Dene >-lanced down towards'the town. So far all was still. There was no hope for the runaway , ' from there, if his captor felt in the mood ' for summary vengeance. At that moment Dene was not sure whether he meant to interfere or not. But as it happened that was decided for him in a very unexpected fashion. The chase at that moment came in sight. A slim dark figure came 'flying round the corner with ; uncertain footsteps" and evidently failing ■ strength. Almost immediately behind was a man in uniform, and no sooner had they appeared in sight than the race was over. With a sudden leap forward the pursuing 1 man threw his arm around the neck of his quarry. They came to an abrupt and 1 breathless standstill within a few feet of 1 Dene. He could see them both distinctly in the faint moonlight. The captured man wore the uniform of an officer in the army of Sun Martina, and at first glance Dene had no doubt whatever but that it was Eugene Rimarez. The man in whose grasp he was, appeared to be one of the sentries from the prison. The two looked at one another, panting and speechless .the sentry with blank amazement, his prisoner with face which seemed ablaze with passion and i with a frown which reminded Dene wonderfully of Lucia's. "You beast. How dare you touch me'. Take your hands away." The" sentry looked more and more mystified. Slowly his hand went up to the military salute. '. "The Senor Captain must forgive," he > began, "but it was my duty. It was surely the Senor Captain who has just paid Sai gasta a visit, and he must know that the i prisoner had escaped. It was all most unaccountable, most mysterious—" The man broke suddenly off in the string of his apologies. He took a quick step i nearer to the prisoner whom he had a moment before released, and as though "by accident, knocked his cap off. Then he burst out laughing, for Lucia's hark hair suddenly escaped from its bonds, fell about her shoulders. "By the Holy Saints," he cried, "it's a girl, "and a beauty too! Come, come! No temper! The game is up little one. You i must return with mc, but you shall be ?rell treated. Oh, never fear that, for I will ook after you myself. Santa Maria! but what eyes. Come, just one kiss—it is as well to be friends with your gaoler, little one, and if you are reasonable—well, who knows!" He made an effort to embrace her, but !, stopped short with a cry of pain. Lucia had struck bim across the cheek with all i the strength of her outstretched palm, and i her diamond rings had cut into his flesk i "You beast!" she exclaimed passionately. > "Let mc alone!" i The man recovered himself, and before i she could escape she was in his arms. "You shall repay mc many times for that blow, dear little one," he said mockingly, i "many times indeed. Come, I will have a ! few kisses to start with, just to whet the i appetite you uuderstand. I must be quick, 1 too, for soon my comrades will be here, I and they will demand a share. But, first i come first served. That is—Holy Maria!" F He went over like a log, inert and lifeless. s Dene stood between them, cool but angry. * Lucia recognised him at once, and a light broke across her face. "You!" she exclaimed with a breathles3 little sob of reli_f. "You! Oh! what f fortune. You will protect mc!" She clasped her hands around his aim, - and then suddenly she remembered. Her I cheeks became scarlet. Dene looked at her I half in amusement half in pity. I "You are quite safe now," he said. "I > will see to that. I suppose it was you who i helped Sagasta to escape. He is safe in r the town by now." He glanced towards the mar. who lay > groaning upon the ground; but Lucia' > dragged him away. > "Come," she cried. "Come. There are more of them behind. We have but a few s minutes to escape." i "The man may die," Dene said, lingering , still. "I hit him hard. I spoke first, but f he did not hear, and I was angry." ( i "If he* dies," she exclaimed scornfully, "what matter. He is only a half-breed. If i I had had the strength or a weapon I would hare killed him myself." Dene looked at her a little gravely. It i was the first suggestion of kinship with her father which had escaped her. After ail > then there was fierce blood there. Yet above them he could hear distant voices, and it was not safe to linger. He turned i and followed her down the hill. j "Can you get.back -to the Presidency without going through the town?" he asked. "There should be a shorter way." [ She nodded. "Yes. At the turn there we make for the t river! Tho gardens run down to the bank, and I have the key of a little gate. It is not far. Inside there I shall be safe." t "You are a brave girl," he said. " I - never dreamed that you were going to use > that order yourself." 3 "I did not choose," she answered, "that Arnold Sagasta should be shot. I know that Eugena betrayed him, and I am bit- . terly ashamed of my brother. I made up my 5 mind to save him." t Dene sighed. "I am afraid that San Martina is in for some rough times now," -he said. ,'Do you hear the shouting. It is Sagasta who has . reached the town. He is safe now!" I " ■*'We deserve rough times." she answered shortly. "If I were one of the people I , would not submit to such miserable misgovernment. If I were a man I would be a patriot and a reformer." 1 "Well, you have done mere for them to- , night," he said, "than any man could do. ' You have given them « leader. Do you know that it may mean a revolution 'against your father?" "I did only what was right," she answered doggedly. "I would rather see my father deposed and in prison than have him ! kill an innocent man." Dene looked at her curiously. Then he made a remark which was unlike himself, and of which he repented immediately afterwards. "Especially an innocent man in whom you aro so greatly interested!" She flashed an angry glancs upon him. 'You have no right to assume that, Senor 1 Dene," she exclaimed. "At least I did hope 1 that you would not have misunderstood mc. 1 I see*that I was mistaken." ' "It was a remark which I had no right 1 to make," he declared. "Please forgive mc!" Their eyes met for a moment. She was no longer angry, but a vivid flush burned in her cheeks. She had suddenly remembered her unusual attire. "At least," sho faltered, "do not look at mc. I am very uncomfortable and— It was a little sob which checked her speech, but Dene with an effort pretended not to notice it. He walked steadily on, and she recovered her composure. "I wonder," she murmured, "what he will do now'that he is free." "When I saw him." Dene answered, "he seemed undecided. He spoke of flight, he spoke also of casting in his lot with the patriots. He is just the same as ever—half cynic, half enthusiast. Listen! What is that?" They both stopped short. A sound of voices, swelling and swelling until 'it became almost a roar, came travelling up to them. It was one man whose name seemed to have let loose a sudden wild enthusiasm. "Sagasta! Sagasta! Sagasta!" Dene and Lucia exchanged glances quickened into a mutual intelligence. "He has decided," Dene said. "He has no i longer any choice. He cannot draw back. He lias declared himself!" ■■«. The girl looked thoughtful for a moment. Then she sighed. "I am very sorry for my poor mother,"' she said. "She has no nerves, and she will be frightened to death!" CHAPTER XIV. They were on the outskirts of the town now, and Dene paused. The last turn in the

path had bought them suddenly into clear vievr of all that was passing below. The whole place was in an uproar. Everyone was running towards the square, and the smashing of lamps, the shouting of the people and the cracking of rifles made up a din which., from where Dene and Lucia stood, was positively deafening. "How on earth," he said, "am I to get you into the Presidency*" "Not across the"Plaza," she answered, laughing. "Come, and I will show you the way I spoke of." She turned to the left, and he followed her closely. Soon they reached a high whit* wall overhanging with drooping shrubs. Keeping in its shadow for a few minutes they came to a small iron gate spiked at the top and solidly built. Lucia took a key from her, pocket and unlocked it. "I am. quite safe now," she said. "You had better get back to your hotel as quickly as you can." '' He seemed in no great hurry. "So far as I am concerned," he said, "I am safe anywhere. But how about you? There are your own people to evade." "I have no fear about that." she answered. "I have an excellent plan for reaching my room unobserved. You have been very good indeed to mc, Senor Dene. May I give you a little word of advice?" "It was a very fortunate chance." Dene i answered heartily, "which brought it within my power to help you." j "It was very fortunate for mc." she deelar- | cd. "I want you to do what I know is the wisest thing. Leave San Martina to-night. Go straight to your home at Beau Desir. Have nothing whatever to do with the quar- i rels of this wretched place. Do not let Sagasta persuade you into helping him. and, Senor Dene, above all things, do not let my father keep you here. Their miserable squabbling has nothing to do with you. If you linger here you will be dragged into it. Oh, I know you will. They will contrive it somehow." He looked at her searchingly. 'You would not have mc join Sagasta then?" 'Certainly not," she answered promptly. "You would have nothing to gain by it, and you migh- lose your property, perhaps your life. Good-bye!" She i?eld out her hand a little shyly, and lifted her dark eyes to liis. They were very soft and very bright. A long cloak, which she had evidently left behind one of the shrubs before starting on her excursion, covered her now from head to foot. She folded it around her with a sigh of relief. There was nothing to remind her any "more of her unusual attire. • f . ( "Good-ty c," he said. "You are. very good to think of mc. I believe you are quite right. The be*t thing I can do is to get away*to Beau Desir. You, at least, "will be in no danger. "Sagasta will see to that!" She snatched her hand away from him, the old frewn durkened her face. Her black eyes winch flashed into his for a moment were lit with passionate reproach. She was gone before he could ask himself the reason of this sudden change in her. He looked after her wondering. Already she was out of sight. doVn one of the winding paths. He turned away towards the town. "She is a strange <rirl," he said to himself | scftly as he stopped to light a cigar. "I i wonder how I could have offended her." He had scarcely taken a dozen steps when he became aware of a most remarkable change in the aspect of affairs. A sudden breathless, and portentous calm hung over the town, a silence which following so closely upon tlie babel and uproar of a few minutes before was in a sense gruesome. Every now and then there was the sharp crack of a rifle, but the ' tumult of voices and the sound of the moving throngs of people had ceased. When at last he came to the Plaza he could scarcely believe I his eyes. There wes not a soul in sight. j The great empty space and the stillness were curiously ominous. Here and there across the square lay the bodies of dead men—close to him, propped up against the railing, with ghastly face and blood still trickling from a wflund in the forehead, was the corpse of one of the President's bodyguard. Dene shuddered as lie met the fixed, hideous stare of the unseeing eyes. He started to cross the Plaza obliquely, making his way towards the hotel. Suddenly a warning cry from one of the windows caused him to siart, and immediately afterwards a bullet whistled past his ear. It, seemed as though that slight movement hadif saved his life. For a moment he stood perfectly motionless, then he turned and looked in the direction from whence it had come. He understood at once the reason for this strange stillness. The north end of the square was occupied by a solid phalanx of soldiers, and it was from there that the shot had come. The townspeople had all retired within their doors—they were waiting for orders from Sagasta. Dene, who was in a towering rage, turned round and walked straight up to where the moonlight fell upon the gleaming rifles of the President's bodyguard. Eugene Rimares was there talking earnestly with several of the officers. When he saw Dene his face darkened. He greeted him with scant civility. "Do you know," Dene said, "that I was fired upon by one of your men a minute ago as I was crossing the square?" Captain Rimarez twirled his black moustache. "You are mistaken," he declared coolly. "The shot was fired by one of these drunken rebels.' My men would not fire without orders, and none have been given." "The shot came rom here,' Dene persisted. "If you doubt mc. examine your men's rifles." Captain Rimarez turned upon his heel. | "We have no time," he said. "Take my J advice, Senor Dene, and get back to your j hotel; or. better stii/i, to Beau Desir at once. I If you linger around here you will learn to think less of a chance shot or two. There is going to be seme warm work before these devils -.aye had all they deserve. j "There is going to be some d d butchI cry," Dene answered warmly. "You know quite well that one of your men fired at mc. Captain Rimarez. I shall report the matter to the President.' Dene walked away uneasy, even alarmed. Circumstances seemed to be conspiring to drive him into sympathy with Sagasta and the townspeople. He knew quite well that he was an easy mark for any of their rifles as lie parsed along the pavement, but not a shot was fired. The hotet door stood open as usual. He walked into the hall and looked around. Almost as he crossed the threshold he was covered by a dozen revolvers. He quite still, thinking it was perhaps his wisest course. Then he heard a voice from the staire. 'It is the. Englishman, Gregory Dene, of Beau Desir. Let him oass. He is a friend." Instantly every revolver was lowered. The ! babel of conversation was resumed. To Dene's surprise the ordinary business of the hotel was scarcely interrupted. Waiters were rushing about with trays full of glasses, men were sitting or standing everywhere, drinking and smoking. To all appearance a revolt in San Martina was an everyday oc- I currence. Only, piled up against the wall was a heap of rifles, and in place of the white linen coats and trousers, which was the usual costume of the men of San Jiartina, everyone was clad in dark-coloured clothes and wore cartridge belts. Dene passed unchallenged up the stairs and entered his room. Nothing apparently had been disturbed. Onl'- throughout the upper portion of the hotel reigned a profound silence. He walked immediately to the partition which separated Ternissa Denison's room from his, and listened intently. There was no sound. After i a while he knocked upon the wooden wall, softly at first then louder. Still uo answer. He left the room the handle of her door. It opened without difficulty, and he stood upon the threshold. The room was in darkness. He struck a match and held it over his head. She was not there. He stepped back into the passage and remained there for a moment or two thinking. The momentary glimpse which he had had into the room showed all the signs of a hurried departure. Articles of wearing apparel were all scattered about, her trunk was open, and her dressing-case lay overturned upon the floor. Dene descended the stairs : again, and after some trouble discovered the proprietor of the hotel, who had locked himself in one of the back rooms, and who was in a state of hopeless panic. Dene plied him with questions, but the man rambled on incoherently. He was simply prostrate with fear. j All. it was a terrible country this. If only the great Senor would send a warship. For all of them it was bloodshed, for him it was ruin also. They were drinking his .

dollars away like water—and for paymentwell, who could compel them? The demoiselle. Ah, he kuew nothing. It was'true that he had told her to leave —the order came from the President, so what could he do but obey? She had gon«. Doubtless, yes. Had ' she*paid ber bill? No. But what was it? A bagatelle. Meanwhile Sagasta and those terrible men were drinking his dollars dry. It was champagne—champagne of the best— which they were ordering so freely; champagne which as he lived a poor man bmv hor.est, had cost him thirty dollars a dozen, and they were drinking it like water, and for payment—well— Dene stopped him firmly. ."I am not interested in you or your losses." he said. "I am interested only in the young English lady who was staying hejpe. Did anyone in the hotel see her go Out?" "I myself. Senor."* cried a feminine voice. 4 Dene looked around. It was the wife of the wretched little man who was cowering before him. She had just come in from the bar, her face flushed and her bosom heaving. She fanned herself vigorously as she spoke, and cast every now and then glances of furious contempt at her abject spouse. "I saw her, Senor. It was before the firing commenced, and that coward." she shook her fan threateningly at h:'m "had shut himself up. Imagine it. Senor. To be married to such a creature, such a hound, a rascal so beneath contempt. It was she. a woman who had to face the furious men and serve them. Pay? O course'they would pay fast enough if one were only firm. But to think that it was she who had had to deal with them alone. Well they were men of gallantry-—bravo men all of them, and as for Senor Sagasta, well, if her husband was not man enough to protect her—" . Dene broke in at last with difficulty upon what had threatened to develop into a domestic storm of the first water and succeeded in bringing the lady back to the point. "Yes, she could tell him of the Signora. It was when the news of the escape of Sagasta reached the town, the people were shouting and Sagasta himself was in their midst. She had come then to her, the wretched wife of that cur, and in one great tremble had cried out to know if it were true that Sagasta were free. And when I told her that, thanks he to all the Saints." the lady continued, "that brave man had escaped she clasped her hands and shod tears of joy—l myself saw her. She left the hotel only a few minutes later, and brought in a man from the streets, who carried away some luggage for heri Since then —I know nothing " Dene waited to hear no more. He thanked Madame with scant oourtesv, and ascended into the hall of the hotel. Here he came face to face with Sagasta, who greeted him with a little cry of triumph. "The very man we want!" he cried. "Who better, friends, than Gregory Dene, the Englishman?" (To be Continued.)