Long Live the King!

"'No, Señor,' he replied. 'Allow me to say that I am more than satisfied.'

"'Very good,' I answered. 'In that case you will oblige me by drinking with me.'

"Turning to the landlord, I ordered a glass of Agoadente de Cana, and when it had been supplied to me once more addressed my antagonist.

"'Let us clink glasses together,' I said, holding mine out to him.

"'But I have no glass,' he replied, and thinking that I did not intend to provide it, was about to order some refreshment for himself.

"'One moment,' I answered; 'there is a glass upon the table. Oblige me by drinking what it contains.'

"This he absolutely refused to do, knowing, of course, that it was drugged. I was firm, however. He had had an opportunity of playing his game and had failed, and now I was going to try mine.

"'Pick it up,' I said, 'and drink what it contains without further delay. If it is good enough for our friend here, it is surely good enough for you.'

"Once more he refused to do as I ordered.

"'I am sorry for that,' I said. 'It seems a pity you should be so anxious to quarrel with me. Let me say, once and for all, that you must either drink, or show me your skill with that weapon in your belt. There is no middle course.'

"On hearing this his swarthy skin turned a sort of sickly green. The man was a coward right through. He did not want to fight after what he had seen of my skill with the revolver, and it was equally certain he had no desire to drink the mixture he had himself prepared. Eventually I gave him three minutes to decide, and, at the expiration of the time, had the happiness to persuade him to decide in favour of my proposal.

"'Your health, Señor,' I said, tossing off the contents of my own glass. 'Your health, and, if you will permit me to wish them to you, pleasant dreams.'

"If he had had half an opportunity he would have upset the glass, but I was on the watch for that. My right hand was in my pocket; the same in which I had placed the revolver, and from the expression upon his face I gathered that he was aware of the fact. At last, seeing that there was nothing for it but to do as I desired, he lifted the glass and tossed off the contents. I assured myself that he had left no heel-tap, and then bade him be seated, returning myself to the game of cards which the old man's entry had interrupted. The strength of the drug must have been considerable, for we had not played more than a dozen hands before his head had fallen forward on the table, and he was fast asleep. I convinced myself that he was not shamming, and then turned to the old man.

"'You see, my venerable friend,' I said, 'what your fate would have been had you drunk what was in that glass. For the future were I in your place, I should bestow my patronage elsewhere. This inn is not safe for you. And now let me escort you to your dwelling. Our friends here are none too amiably disposed towards you, and it is just possible they might take their revenge as soon as my back was turned.' With that we left the inn together and tramped along the track, till we reached the miserable hovel in which he lived. During our walk the old fellow had scarcely spoken. Now he became somewhat more communicative.

"'I am obliged to you, Señor, for what you have done for me,' he began. 'They hate me over there because they think I know more about diamonds than they do.' He was silent again for a few moments. 'And it's quite true,' he added solemnly to himself.

"At the time I regarded this as only another proof of the old boy's idiocy. I had often seen him polishing his pebbles, and, like every one else, had come to the conclusion that he believed them to be diamonds. Now, however, I have the very best of reasons for knowing that it was only another proof of his cleverness. It suited him to pose as a softy, and the pebbles were only a means he had adopted for putting us off the scent.

"'When you come to think of it, it was rather a good thing for you that I visited the hospederia to-night,' I said, when I had seated myself on a log that did duty for a chair, and had lit a cigar. For you see I wanted him to understand plainly that I had rendered him a service, and also that I expected him to be grateful for the same. 'If I hadn't been at hand they'd have played a nice game on you.' I thereupon furnished him with a brief outline of the intended amusement.

"As I proceeded I noticed the same look on his face that I had observed on a previous occasion. Had the jokers seen it, I fancy they would have treated him with more respect than they had hitherto done.

"'It was certainly good for me that you were there,' he replied, 'and I am very grateful to you, Señor, for the service you have rendered me.'

"After that he went to a corner of his hut, and having fumbled about for some time, produced a small leather bag. Taking his place once more on the log beside me, he unlaced the bag, and tilted half a dozen medium-sized stones into the palm of his hand. If the others he carried about with him, and of which he appeared to be proud, were only glittering pebbles, these were undoubtedly diamonds. Possibly they were not as valuable as he supposed, but, at any rate, they were worth quite enough to show me that what I had suspected was correct, namely, that his supposed ignorance was only a blind to cover his real cleverness. 'If the Señor will honour me by accepting one of these stones, he will add to the debt I already owe him,' he observed with a certain quiet dignity. 'It may remind him, in days to come, of his kindness to an old man who had no sort of claim upon him.'

"But I was not to be caught napping. The old fellow wanted me to believe that these few stones were the collection of a lifetime, stored as a provision against a rainy day. I knew better, however. My common sense told me that he wouldn't have been so ready to give them away if they had been the sole result of so much misery and toil. I accordingly declined his generous offer, taking a high hand, and stating that I had no desire to be paid for doing what was, after all, only a friendly act. The old fellow pretended to be hurt by my decision, and stowed the diamonds away once more in their hiding-place. Well, to make a long story short, I kept in close touch with him for the next fortnight. The practical jokers in the neighbourhood had had a lesson, and, seeing that I had constituted myself his protector, they left him severely alone. Presently I saw that he was contemplating some important step. A couple of fresh mules had made their appearance in his corral, and there were evident signs in the hut itself that he intended clearing out. I wondered what this could mean, and, since he had said nothing to me on the subject, I resolved to watch him the more closely. Knowing what I did, and guessing the rest, I had no intention of allowing him to give me the slip. For several days I watched him in this fashion. Then I noticed that his visits to the village became less and less frequent, and, when he did put in an appearance there, he invariably talked in such a way as to lead people to suppose that he had quite settled down in the neighbourhood, and had not the least intention of removing elsewhere for many a long day to come. Being aware of his character, this in itself was sufficient to put me on my guard.

"A night or two later, and fortunately when I was spending the evening with him, the climax came. The old fellow had, or pretended to have, taken a great fancy to me, and more than once he reiterated his desire that I should accept the diamond he had first offered to me. I steadfastly refused to do so, however, and could see that my decision increased his good opinion of me. On this occasion it was nearly ten o'clock before I left the hut. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and so still that you could have heard a leaf drop a hundred yards away. It was his own proposal that he should walk a portion of the way with me. We therefore set out, and had proceeded about half the distance, when there was a loud report of a rifle in the bushes close beside us, and a second later he uttered a cry and fell into my arms. That the shot was intended for myself, and that it was fired by one of my enemies in the village, I had not the least doubt. Bending over the old fellow, I asked him how he felt, but he did not answer. Then, carrying him as best I could, I retraced my steps as quickly as possible. When I reached the hut I laid him upon his bed, and, by the light of a lamp, endeavoured to discover the nature of his wound. The bullet, it appeared, had penetrated his right breast, and, from such knowledge of gun wounds as I possessed, it was evident to me that it was a fatal one. He was breathing heavily and with a considerable amount of difficulty, and must have realised that it was all up with him, for, when he spoke, he said as much.

"'Lay me down on the bed,' he said. 'They've got me this time, the cowardly dogs! If only I had been able to get away from here safe and sound, they'd have treated me a bit different when they next met me. In three months' time, if all had gone well, I should have been one of the richest men in the world. But I suppose it wasn't to be, so what's the use of grumbling?'

"After this philosophical expression of his feelings he was silent for a while. Once more I wiped the blood from his lips, and once more he spoke.

"'Señor Moreas,' he said, 'you're the only friend I've had these many years past. You wouldn't take what I offered you here, but I can give you some information now that will make it up to you a dozen times over. You may think I am not quite right in my head, but, right or not right, I know of the whereabouts of a place in this country where the finest diamonds in all Brazil are to be found.'

"From what he told me I gathered that he had learnt about the place from an old Indian woman for whom he had in his turn done a kindness. Twice he had made attempts to reach the place, but on each occasion he had been unsuccessful. That it existed, however, he was quite convinced. With his dying breath he gave me full particulars, informing me in what direction I was to proceed, and how I should recognise the place when I did come upon it. Then, having told me where to find several small bags of stones in the hut, and which, I might add, I afterwards sold for upwards of two thousand pounds in English money, he breathed his last in my arms. As soon as I was sure that he was dead, I made a final examination of the hut, took what I thought would be of service to me, and then returned to the village.

"A fortnight later I was on my way to Europe, and when I met you on board the Diamintina, I had found a market for the stones the old fellow had given me. They proved to be more valuable than I had supposed, and when I was convinced of this, I was anxious, as you may believe, not to let the grass grow under my feet before I set out in search of the place of which he had spoken to me. Circumstances, however, combined to prevent my doing so at once. A year went by, and still the opportunity did not arrive. If the truth must be told, the money I had brought from England I had lost at cards, and until I could find more, I knew it was impossible for me to embark upon such a costly expedition. What was more, I discovered that I was being shadowed by three men who were, to all intents and purposes, participators in my secret. How they obtained their knowledge, unless they had got it from the old man some time before, when he was drunk and talkative, I cannot say; but that they knew I had it, and that they did not intend to let me escape with it, soon became painfully apparent. Wherever I went those three men followed me, until at last their leader, an Englishman, came boldly up and placed a proposal before me. If I were prepared to allow them to participate to a certain extent, they were willing to find a proportion of the necessary money; they would also accompany me, and do their best to find the place in question. If I would not consent, then they would not allow me to go without them. I argued, threatened, and even attempted to buy them off, but it was of no use. They stuck to their point like bulldogs. Either they must be permitted to go with me, or I should not go at all. At last, seeing that I could do nothing else, I was perforce compelled to agree to their terms."

"And what do you intend doing now?" Max inquired.

"To-night we are going to meet here, and make the final arrangements; after that we shall start away on our journey."

"And what part am I to play in the performance?"

"That's exactly what we have to arrange," Moreas replied. "As I have already told you, these fellows are none too well disposed towards myself. If it should come to fighting, as it may very well do, they could act as they please with me. I should be powerless to resist them. My idea, therefore, is to get hold of some good man, and import him into the business, not as a friend of my own, but in the capacity of another enemy. To all appearances he would be hand-in-glove with them, but in reality he would be my ally, ready to step up and turn the tables, should they make themselves objectionable. Do you understand?"

Max replied that he understood perfectly well, but he was not quite certain that he altogether liked the idea. He was certainly not going to act in the capacity of a spy, either for Moreas or for anyone else. He said as much to the other, who laughed the matter off.

"My dear fellow, I don't want you to be a spy at all," he said. "What on earth put that notion into your head? I should be the last to suggest such a thing. No, all I want you to do is to prevent them from playing me false. If you come with me as my friend, they'll turn you out again. Don't you see? They're much too sharp to let me employ a bodyguard to act against themselves. All you will have to do will be to stand between us in the capacity of an umpire, and see that there is fair play on both sides. Now, what have you to say?"

"Under those circumstances I have no objection to acting as you propose."

"Very good; that settles it. Now we'd better arrange one or two other little matters while we're about it, and then postpone the remainder until they arrive."

It was not until nearly nine o'clock that evening that the three men, whom Moreas had informed Max were so determined to share the chances of the expedition with him, put in an appearance. It was part of the plan, that Max and he had arranged together, that the former should not be in the room when they arrived. He was to drop in half an hour or so later, as if by chance, and then to appear annoyed at finding them there. When he did so, Moreas greeted him with well-simulated surprise. The others stared at the intruder, as if they scarcely knew what to make of him, and then at Moreas, as if they were suspicious of his action in the matter. On his part Max studied them with equal interest. The taller of the trio was an Englishman, possibly thirty-five years of age, who boasted a frank and extremely pleasing countenance. His name was Bertram, and, as Max discovered later, he had occupied a good position in the world, from which he had fallen, more by his own folly than on account of any material wrong-doing. The other two were unmistakably Spaniards. The name of one was Diego Pereira, that of the other Antonio Rodriguez. Neither of them were particularly pleasant-looking fellows, and Max wondered as he looked at them what it was that had made the Englishman associate with them.

At the moment Max entered, the two Spaniards were talking vociferously. From what he could catch of their conversation it appeared that they were extremely dissatisfied with something Moreas had done, and desired to make trouble out of it if only such a thing were possible. Their grievance eventually proved to be his own importation into the affair, of which Moreas had been telling them.

"But what can I do?" the latter asked snappishly. "He swears that he will come with us, and how am I to prevent him?"

"As it appears that I am the subject of your conversation," said Max coolly, seating himself on the table, "perhaps I may be permitted to say a word. Let me inform you, therefore, once and for all, that it is not a bit of use Moreas or anybody else trying to keep me out of the business. I know all the ins and outs of it, and, I tell you plainly, our friend here doesn't leave Rio without me. You can buy me off if you're willing to pay my price, but, I give you fair warning, it will be a stiff one. Otherwise, I go. Take your choice."

"What did I tell you?" said Moreas angrily to the others. "I wish to goodness you were all at the bottom of the sea."

"That is very likely," returned Max. "But as we're not, you've got to give yourself the pleasure of our society. Has anyone else any objection to raise?"

He looked round at the assembled company. His coolness had evidently impressed them.

"If you are determined to go, and Moreas is willing to give half of his share to you, I don't know that anything more need be said," observed the Englishman. "Personally, I think it's a pity to bring a fifth person in; but, as he says, it is his affair, not ours. I'll give you one piece of advice, however, if you are coming; don't try to play any tricks with us."

"Or with me," put in Moreas sulkily. "If you do, you'll find yourself in the wrong box. By the time I've paid all of you your shares there will be nothing left for myself. I only hope nothing will go wrong."

"It had better not," answered Max. "At least, so far as you are concerned. You know me, I think, and I know you."

Moreas instinctively thought of the game of cards they had played together on the Diamintina, and of the pistol practice that had followed it. Was Max's speech only a part of the game of bluff they were both playing, or was it really intended as a warning to himself? A look of real apprehension flashed across his face. The Englishman observed it, and, if he had entertained suspicions before as to their complicity in the affair, this effectually dispersed them. They thereupon proceeded to make the final arrangements for the journey. A rendezvous was agreed upon for the following morning, and, this done, Max rose to take his leave.

"Adeos, Señors," he said, bowing to them with graceful insolence. "I have the honour to bid you farewell until to-morrow."

Then he left the room and went downstairs. But he did not leave the neighbourhood. According to the plan they had arranged, he took up his position in a dark corner of the street until he had seen the others depart. Then he returned to the house and rejoined Moreas.

"You played your part extremely well," said the latter patronisingly. "It's a long time since I witnessed a prettier bit of acting than when you told me I had better see that nothing went wrong while we were away."

"Don't be too sure it was all acting," replied Max quietly. "You have brought me into it to look after your interests; but I fancy you'll agree with me that a man's first duty, in affairs like this at any rate, is to look after his own."

Moreas tried to laugh unconcernedly, but the result was a comparative failure.

CHAPTER XV

To attempt a detailed description of Max's wanderings for the next few months would, even with the help of his diary, prove, I fear, a task altogether beyond my abilities. On the morning following the interview I have just described as taking place at Moreas' house, they embarked upon the train at a wayside station, a few miles out of Rio, and remained in it until they had proceeded as far as it was possible for the line to take them. Having reached the end of the construction, they alighted at a miserable village consisting of some twenty or thirty houses of the typical Brazilian type, and collected their impedimenta. Such stores and equipments as they intended carrying with them had already arrived, as also had the mules which had been purchased for the journey. Moreas, by virtue of being the only person who knew the secret, was duly installed as leader of the expedition; and, seeing that the day was too far advanced for them to make a start, he decided on remaining in the village that night, and proceeding as soon as it was light next morning. Being anxious to obtain as much information as possible concerning the track they were to follow for the next hundred miles, Moreas invited certain of the leading inhabitants to sup with them that night. This gave rise to a regular orgie. By midnight Moreas was decidedly intoxicated, while the two Spaniards were incapable of even sitting upright, so were stretched at full length upon the floor. Disgusted beyond measure with what he saw, Max left the room and passed into the verandah. There he found the Englishman, Bertram, smoking a cigar. He had taken a liking to the man, and cherished a belief that the feeling was reciprocated. "So you have had enough of it, too," said the latter as Max approached. "I couldn't stand any more of it, so I came out here."

"My case is very similar," answered Max. "It's a good thing this sort of thing is not likely to occur very often."

"I agree with you," returned the other. "Moreas and the Spaniards are very well when they are sober, but when they are drunk they are altogether impossible. Forgive me asking the question, but have you known Moreas very long?"

"A matter of two years," Max replied. "I met him first on the steamer that brought me out from England."

"Ah! I was right then," said Bertram, in a somewhat kindlier tone than he had yet spoken. "I felt certain that you were an Englishman when I saw you yesterday; and yet, do you know, if you don't mind my saying so, you don't altogether look like one."

"I'm not," said Max. "By birth I am a Pannonian, but I have lived in England since I was quite a youngster. You, of course, are English. There can be no sort of doubt about that."

"Am I so dreadfully insular, then?" the other inquired with a laugh. "I thought the knocking about the world I have had would have rubbed the edges off. Yes, I am an Englishman, I suppose, if ever there was one. I hail from Gainsthorpe, in Yorkshire. Do you happen to know the place?"

"I should think so," said Max, with sudden animation. "I've stayed there often."

After that they were both silent. The simple fact that they both happened to be acquainted with the same obscure village struck them as a marvellous coincidence; after a time, however, it became a bond that bound them very closely together. Later on, for some reason not altogether explainable, they left England, and talked of Brazil and life in South America generally. Of the subject upon which they were for the time being engaged they said nothing. They did not know each other particularly well yet, and both felt it would be safer to let it alone. Presently Moreas staggered into the verandah, stared wildly about him for a few seconds, as if he were looking for some one, and then reeled towards them.

"Come, come, Señors," he said with a hiccup, "I don't call this sociable at all. Here we are enjoying ourselves in the room yonder, and you keep away from us as if you don't desire our company. It isn't the sort of thing to make us friendly."

He seized Max by the arm, and attempted to lead him in the direction of the door, but the other shook him off.

"You must excuse me," he said. "I don't feel up to it to-night. Besides, if the noise you are making is any criterion, you are getting along well enough without us."

The other's mood had changed by this time. He turned and faced them, supporting himself by the verandah rails.

"I suppose you don't want to offend me on the first evening of this mem – mem – (hic) memorable journey?" he said.

"I have not the least desire to offend you," Max retorted. "Nevertheless, I am not coming in. It is useless for you to ask me."

Moreas thereupon transferred his attentions to Bertram, who proved equally intractable.

"Very well," he said at last, when he had tried to arrive at a proper understanding of the position; "if you won't come I suppose you won't, so I'll go myself, and leave you to conspire against me in peace."

With that he took himself off, and the two men were left to construe his last speech according to their inclinations.

"That is a cur who will require some watching," said Bertram, when they were alone once more together. "Thank goodness, however, I'm up to most of his tricks."

Max offered no reply to this remark. Angry as he was with Moreas, he felt that he himself was in an invidious position. To all intents and purpose he was the other's servant, and an innate feeling of loyalty, to however unworthy a master, kept him silent.