Chapter Thirty Seven.
A Suspicion of Connivance.
“Suspicious, to say the least of it! If a coincidence, certainly the strangest in my experience, or that I’ve ever heard of. A score of other carriages passing, and they to have chosen that one of all! Carrai! it cannot have been chance—improbable—impossible!”
So soliloquised the Chief Magistrate of Mexico, after receiving a report of what had occurred in the Callé de Plateros. He had as yet only been furnished with a general account of it; but particularising the prisoners who had escaped, with their mode of making off, as also whose carriage they had seized upon. He had been told, also, that there were two ladies in it, but needed not telling who they were.
All this was made known by a messenger who came post-haste to the Palace, soon after the occurrence. He had been sent by Colonel Santander, who could not come himself; too busy getting the Hussars into their saddles for the pursuit—for he it was who led it. And never did man follow fugitives with more eagerness to overtake them, or more bitter chagrin in their flight.
Not much, if anything, less was that of Santa Anna himself, as he now sat reflecting over it. He, too, had seen the two Texans with Rivas in the sewers; the latter a well-known enemy in war, and, as he late believed, a dangerous rival in love. He had glanced exultingly at him, with the thought of that danger past. The rebel proscribed, and for years sought for, had at length been found; was in his power, with life forfeit, and the determination it should be taken. That but a short hour ago, and now the doomed man was free again!
But surely not? With a squadron of cavalry in pursuit, canon booming, bells ringing, every military post and picket for miles round on the alert, surely four men chained two and two, conspicuous in a grand carriage, could not eventually get off.
It might seem so; still the thing was possible, as Santa Anna had reason to know. A man of many adventures, he had himself more than once eluded a pursuing enemy with chances little better.
He sat chewing the cud of disappointment, though not patiently, nor keeping all the time to his chair. Every now and then he rose to his feet, made stumping excursions round the room, repeatedly touched the bell, to inquire whether any news had been received of the fugitive party.
The aide-de-camp in attendance could not help wondering at all this, having had orders to report instantly whatever word should be brought in. Besides, why should the great Generalissimo be troubling himself about so small a matter as the escape of three or four prisoners, seeming excited as if he had lost a battle.
The cause of this excitement the Dictator alone knew, keeping it to himself. He was still in the dark as to certain details of what had transpired, and had sent for the governor of the Acordada, who should be able to supply them.
Meantime he went about muttering threats against this one and that one, giving way to bitter reflections; one bitterest of all, that there had been a suspicion of connivance at the escape of the prisoners. But to this there was a sweet side as well; so some words uttered by him would indicate.
“Ah, Condesa! You may be clever—you are. But if I find you’ve had a hand in this, and it can be proved to the world, never was a woman in a man’s power more than you’ll be in mine. Title, riches, family influence, all will be powerless to shield you. In the cell of a prison where I may yet have the pleasure of paying you a visit, you won’t be either so proud or so scornful as you’ve shown yourself in a palace this same day. Veremos—we shall see.”
“Don Pedro Arias.”
It was an aide-de-camp announcing the Governor of the Acordada.
“Conduct him in.”
Without delay the prison official was ushered into the presence, looking very sad and cowed-like. Nor did the reception accorded him have a restoring influence; instead, the reverse.
“What’s all this I hear?” thundered out the disposer of punishments and of places; “you’ve been letting your prisoners bolt from you in whole batches. I suppose by this time the Acordada will be empty.”
“Excellentissimo! I am very sorry to say that four of them—”
“Yes; and of the four, two of them you had orders to guard most strictly—rigorously.”
“I admit it, Sire, but—”
“Sirrah! you needn’t waste words excusing yourself. Your conduct shall be inquired into by-and-by. What I want now is to know the circumstances—the exact particulars of this strange affair. So answer the questions I put to you without concealment or prevarication.”
The gaol-governor, making humble obeisance, silently awaited the examination, as a witness in the box who fears he may himself soon stand in the dock.
“To begin: why did you send those four prisoners out with the chain-gang?”
“By order of Colonel Santander, Sire. He said it was your Excellency’s wish.”
“Humph! Well, that’s comprehensible. And so far you’re excusable. But how came it you didn’t see to their being better guarded?”
“Sire, I placed them in charge of the chief turnkey—a man named Dominguez—whom I had found most trustworthy on other occasions. To-day being exceptional, on account of the ceremonies, he was pressed to take drink, and, I’m sorry to say, got well-nigh drunk. That will explain his neglect of duty.”
“It seems there were two ladies in the carriage. You know who they were, I suppose?”
“By inquiry I have ascertained, your Excellency. One was the Countess Almonté the other Don Luisa Valverde, as your Excellency will know, the daughter of him to whom the equipage belonged.”
“Yes, yes. I know all that. I have been told the carriage made stop directly opposite to where these men were at work. Was that so?”
“It was, Sire.”
“And have you heard how the stoppage came about?”
“Yes, Excellentissimo. The horses shied at something, and brought the wheels into a bank of mud. Then the cochero, who appears to be a stupid fellow, pulled them up, when he ought to have forced them on. While they were at rest the four forzados made a rush, two right into the carriage, the other two up to the box; one of these last, the big Tejano, getting hold of the reins and whip, and driving off at a gallop. They had only one sentry to pass in the direction of San Francisco. He, like Dominguez, was too far gone in drink, so there was nothing to stop them—except the guards at the garitas. And, I am sorry to say, the sergeant at El Nino Perdita let them pass through without so much as challenging. His account is that, seeing the carriage belonged to one of your Excellency’s Ministers, he never thought of stopping it, and should not. Why should he, Sire?”
This touch of obsequious flattery seemed to mollify the Dictator’s wrath, or it had by this otherwise expended itself, as evinced by his rejoinder in a more tranquil tone. Indeed, his manner became almost confidential.
“Don Pedro,” he said, “I’m satisfied with the explanation you give, so far as regards your own conduct in the affair. But now, tell me, do you think the ladies who were in the carriage had anything to do with the drawing up of the horses? Or was it all an accident?”
“Will your Excellency allow me a moment to reflect? I had thought something of that before; but—”
“Think of it again. Take time, and give me your opinion. Let it be a truthful one, Don Pedro; there’s much depending on it.”
Thus appealed to, the gaol-governor stood for a time silent, evidently cudgelling his brains. He made mental review of all that had been told him about the behaviour of the young ladies, both before they were turned out of the carriage and after. He was himself aware of certain relations, friendly at least, supposed to exist between one of them and one of the escaped prisoners, and had thought it strange, too, that particular equipage being chosen. Still, from all he could gather, after ample inquiry, he was forced to the conclusion that the thing was unpremeditated—at least on the part of the ladies.
This was still his belief, after reflecting as he had been enjoined to do. In support of it he stated the facts as represented to him, how the Señoritas had been forced from their carriage, almost pitched into the street, their costly dresses dirtied and damaged, themselves showing wildest affright. Still, this was strange, too, on the part of the Condesa; and, in fine, Don Pedro, after further cross-questioning, was unable to say whether there had been connivance or not.
After giving such an unsatisfactory account of the matter he was dismissed, rather brusquely; and returned to the Acordada, with an ugly apprehension that instead of continuing governor of this grand gaol, with a handsome salary and snug quarters, he might ere long be himself the occupant of one of its cells, set apart for common prisoners.