In the Name of the People

by Arthur W. Marchmont

He had gulled me so completely that I had been within an ace of giving him the authority to the skipper, which would have sent the Stella racing off to bring the men back to the city, while I was kept a prisoner.

Fortunately I had pulled up in time to checkmate that move, and thus was still so far master of the position.

What would be Barosa’s next step? What did he mean to do with me? It would not do him much good to keep me a prisoner. Nor, so far as his conspiracy was concerned, would he gain anything even by knocking me on the head or putting a bullet in it.

I had rubbed the fact in well that, if anything happened to me, there were others who would give the information which would blow his plans into the air and send him flying for his life. There was a certain amount of grim satisfaction that I was worth more to him alive than dead; and in my present plight any consolation at all was welcome.

There was another source of consolation, too. Bryant knew where I was, and when I did not return to him he would do something. He was a sharp fellow, and quite shrewd enough to make matters unpleasant for my gaolers. Fortunately, I had told him that I was coming to the house in search of Miralda; and as he knew about Barosa and the attempt the latter and Henriques had made, he would soon scent danger.

He would be in a desperate fix, however, what to do and when to do it; urged, on the one hand, to immediate action by his alarm for me, but restrained on the other by fear of acting too soon and so interfering with my plans. But I might safely reckon that he would not let many hours pass without taking some vigorous measures on my behalf. In that case I might still escape without any more serious trouble than those hours of discomfort.

Barosa was ignorant of the fact that Bryant knew of my presence in the house, and thus would not have the very strong incentive to hurry matters which that knowledge would have given him. If my guess was right—that his object was to force me to send an order to Captain Bolton to go after the Rampallo and set the prisoners at liberty—he would be chary of doing me any injury which would prevent my sending for them.

I had reached that point in my speculations when the door was unbolted, and two or three persons entered. They carefully examined the cords on my arms, and then hauled me to my feet, and half led, half carried me up several flights of stairs to a room where the gag and cloth over my head were taken off.

I found myself in a small room, the one window of which was barred. A pallet bed stood in one corner with a mattress, but without sheets or blankets, and by the window a chair and a small table with writing materials on it.

I lay down on the bed, intensely glad to be able to breathe freely once more, but both sick and dizzy from the pressure of the gag. I recognized the men who had brought me upstairs. I had seen them on the night of the “test,” and I judged that they had been intentionally selected by Barosa in order that I might see I was in the hands of men who would have scant mercy for a traitor.