THE ESCAPE FROM CHILI.
It was nearly seven o'clock when Veneda bade farewell to the ruins of the house, in connection with which he had undergone such a variety of experiences; and, as I have already said, at half-past he had arranged to effect his escape from Chili. Now, though he was aware that there was no possible chance of his being able to get out of it, he was nevertheless much concerned about the wisdom of taking Juanita with him. He could not help seeing that by including a woman in his plans he was hampering his own freedom of action, and thus imperilling his one chance of safety; but on the other hand he could hit out no way of disposing of her, and since she possessed a large portion of his secret, it would be the most criminal folly possible to leave her behind to join the ranks of those who, he felt convinced, would ultimately pursue him from Chili. There were, besides, other and more cogent reasons against this latter course.
Though it was not a great distance to her abode, it took him some time to reach it. He had no desire to attract attention by any undue hurry; and for the same reason, when he did arrive at the house he made no attempt to gain admittance until he had absolutely convinced himself that he had not been followed. Then, crossing the patio, he knocked.
Juanita herself opened the door. When she realized who the visitor was she uttered a little cry of welcome, and led the way into an inner room, carefully closing the door behind them.
"Marcos," she began, lifting her clasped hands to him, "you really meant what you said last night? You are here to take me away with you?"
"Did you think I should break my promise?" he answered almost angrily, his disappointment at finding her unprepared getting the better of him. "Why are you not ready? Every second is of the utmost importance to us. As it is, we shall only just catch the tide."
"Wait only a moment and I will be with you; just one little moment."
She fled the room, and for five minutes he was left to his own thoughts. They were not pleasant, a consuming impatience was upon him. He knew that his very life depended upon the next half-hour, and now it looked as if he were about to lose everything because a woman had misunderstood a plain speech. Every moment found him more and more angry. At length, unable to control himself any longer, he was in the act of going to look for her, when a heavy footstep approached the room. The door was thrown open and a man entered, clad after the same fashion as himself. The behaviour of this individual was not conciliatory. Casting a quick look at Veneda standing by the window, he said gruffly—
"Your business here, senor?"
"I am waiting for a friend."
"The Senora Juanita perhaps?"
"Perhaps."
"Then you will wait a long time, for she has gone."
Veneda almost shouted in his surprise. In a second all sorts of treachery had flashed through his brain.
"Gone!" he cried. "What the devil do you mean? Where's she gone?"
"Who knows?" the other replied airily, giving his narrow shoulders a slight shrug. "I allow it's her own business where she goes, not mine, thank God."
In three strides Veneda was beside him, and had clapped a revolver to his head.
"Look here, my uncivil friend," he said, "I don't want to make trouble in this house for my own sake, but if you don't tell me what you know, I swear I'll blow your brains out where you stand. That's cold-drawn biz, I reckon."
The man was silent for a moment, then a nervous little laugh came from under the sombrero.
"Marcos, do you think I am well enough disguised?"
It was Juanita!
Veneda could scarcely credit his senses, the deception was so perfect. But his admiration for her acting did not prevent his drawing her towards the door, whispering as he did so—
"It's wonderful! No one could possibly recognize you in than get-up. Now we must fairly jump for the harbour, or we'll be too late."
Closing the front door on another incident in their lives they set off towards the port. And what a night it was! All day long the city had been the scene of constant rioting, but now that darkness had fallen to cloak their misdeeds, the mob had grown proportionately bolder. From simple exuberance of spirits and foolish mischief, their behaviour had become that of fiends. Houses had been and were still being looted in every street; incendiary fires pierced the sky in all directions; and the crack of rifles, with the whine of bullets, sounded almost without cessation. Scarcely a street, moreover, but was strewed with the bodies of their victims, the greater portion of which were women.
Juanita's presence of mind was little short of marvellous; terrifying though the sights she was constantly compelled to witness must have been to her, only once did she betray a sign of fear. Leaving the street in which her house was situated, they passed by a narrow alley into another, which in its turn led them into an open square. This it was unfortunately necessary that they should cross, in order to reach a thoroughfare leading to the wharves. No sooner had they entered it than Veneda saw what a fatal mistake he had made. One glance told him that it was filled with the lowest scum of the Chilian mob, frenzied with debauchery and incendiarism. On the far side a row of houses blazed into the sky, while on that nearest to them a dense crowd of men and women, denizens of the most infamous quarters, were dancing the Cueca, or national dance, with a wildness absolutely indescribable. Twice while he watched, Veneda saw men draw revolvers, and shoot down without any reason save wanton cruelty the wretched women who leapt and gesticulated opposite them.
These sights were too much for Juanita. She tottered, and would have fallen in a faint, had not Veneda passed his arm beneath her poncho and sustained her. Almost beside himself with despair, he dragged her into a dark alley, and bade her sit down and rest until she felt able to proceed. Then they resumed their walk at increased speed. Time was more precious to them now than money; they could risk no more delays. It seemed an eternity since they had set out together!
But there was not much more before them. Turning a corner the cold sea breeze smote upon their faces, and a moment later the dark waters of the bay confronted them. Had they had time, and been so inclined, they might have stopped to offer up a prayer of thankfulness for their escape; but as it was they contented themselves with looking anxiously for something they expected to find awaiting them. Seeing nothing, Veneda gave a peculiar whistle, which, to his evident relief, was instantly answered from a mass of deep shadow to their left. A second later a ship's long-boat came into the starlight, and pulled towards the landing-place, the man steering standing up and peering towards them as if to make certain of their identity.
"Who are you?" he took care to ask before he brought the boat up to the steps, "and what do you want?"
"My name's Veneda," was the reply, "and I want a boat from the Island Queen."
Evidently this answer was deemed satisfactory, for the same voice replied—
"One moment, sir, and I'll bring her alongside. I've been waiting for you this hour past; the tide is serving, and the old man will murder me for being so long."
When the man in the bows had hooked on, Veneda escorted Juanita down the steps, and signed her to enter the boat. But this the person in command was disinclined to permit.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, civilly but firmly, "my instructions were to bring you off alone, and I cannot include any one else."
"Oh, that's all right, my good fellow, this gentleman is a personal friend, and I have arranged to take him on board with me."
"I'm very sorry, sir, but I cannot exceed my instructions; will you be good enough to step in yourself? There's no time to waste if we want to catch this tide."
"But I tell you my friend must accompany me," Veneda answered, at the same time stepping into the boat himself; "I will be responsible to the captain."
"No, sir, not another word, I cannot do it. My instructions were most explicit—one gentleman, and only one! Jackson, shove off!"
"Ah! I see how it is. One gentleman—exactly—but nothing was said about my wife."
The mate, for such it turned out later he was appeared completely mystified.
"This lady is my wife," said Veneda, pointing to Juanita standing on the steps. "It was impossible for me to bring her through the town on a night like this in her own dress, so to ensure her safety I was compelled to make her wear a suit of mine. Juanita, my dear, convince this gentleman that you are only masquerading."
Her voice sounded very sweet and womanly as she said in English—
"Surely, sir, you will believe what my husband says?"
The mate scratched his head. He was in a dilemma, and he couldn't see his way out of it. At last he made up his mind.
"Well, sir, I'll risk it any way. Will you be good enough to step in, ma'am? I'm sorry to have made you wait, but the fault's with the captain for saying nothing about your coming."
Entering the boat, she took her seat opposite Veneda, and they pushed off. Before they had way on her, the sounds of a man running were heard upon the wharf, and next moment a strange figure came into view and bounded down the steps. It was none other than the Albino, under the influence of extraordinary rage; his long white hair floated in the wind, his arms worked with frantic gesticulations, and his voice shook with the violence of his passion. Fortunately for the fugitives he spoke in Spanish, a language with which neither the mate nor any of the boat's crew were familiar. He had caught sight of Veneda, and it was at him that his torrent of abuse was directed.
"Marcos Veneda," he cried, shaking his fist at the retreating boat, "thief! traitor! coward!—come back—come back, and give me what you've stolen from me!"
But his wrath was vain; the boat by this time was fifty yards from the steps, and under the strong arms of her crew was every moment increasing the distance.
He was not, however, to be baulked; securing another, he was soon in hot pursuit, rowing as though his very life, or rather £200,000, depended on it.
The Island Queen lay a good distance out, and when the boat containing Veneda and Juanita came alongside, Captain Boulger was on deck. Hastening to the gangway to receive his passenger, he was not a little surprised to see two.
"I'm right glad to see you at last, Mr. Veneda," he said. "But I can't say I counted on any one else accompanying you."
Veneda was prepared for this, and he beckoned the captain on one side. A minute later he rejoined Juanita with the information that the difficulty was satisfactorily settled. The mate went forward to attend to the raising of the anchor, and by the time the Albino's boat was within hailing distance, the schooner had got way on her, and was drawing quickly out of the harbour.
To say that that gentleman, when he realized his enemy was escaping him, was angry, would be to convey a very false impression of his state. He stood up in his boat, foaming at the mouth, unable to speak, and shaking his fist wildly at the vessel till she had passed out of sight. But, though he was so overcome with rage, he had not failed to notice the name painted in white letters across the stern—"Island Queen, Tahiti."
It was some time before he felt able to pull ashore. But when he did so, he said solemnly to himself—
"Marcos Veneda, I don't mind owning you're a very clever fellow; you seem, however, to have forgotten one thing. You've broken faith with one of the strongest organizations in the world. If it costs that Society every cent it's worth, if it has to chase you round the world, it will get the money back, and be even with you for this bit of treachery!"