Dane saw that the conditions were as favorable as any non-capitalist inventor could expect, but he felt that the gold he had sent home would help him to improve them; and it was with a thrill of satisfaction that he opened the second letter. This was from his last employers, offering him reasonable remuneration if he would undertake the supervision of the machines and bridge work they were sending out to execute an important railroad-building contract abroad.
Here was one difficulty removed, at least. Dane hastened to the cable offices, and felt a great contentment when his messages were on the wires. His prospects were improving, and it was encouraging to know he would not pose as a wholly indigent suitor. When he reached the hotel once more, the clerk had returned, and informed him that Mr. Chatterton and family had retired for the sake of coolness to Laguna, five or six miles away.
Dane procured a horse, and within the next few minutes he was urging it at its best pace up the steep hillside. The horse, as it happened, was a good one, and its rider's spirits rose higher as each mile went by. It was a fine evening, and to one fresh from the enervating heat of Africa, there was a wonderful buoyancy in the cool air that came down from the cordillera. It was a refreshing change to see the merry brown faces of the peasants who saluted him as he passed, and hear the laughter of the mule drivers as their climbing teams dropped behind. Dane had almost forgotten the dark land when the white walls of drowsy Laguna rose to view. The loungers in the plaza knew the Englishman Dane inquired for, and one of them preceded him down a narrow street with a dignified leisureliness which even the sight of a dollar failed to dissipate, and finally halted outside a high-walled garden doubtless laid out by some Castilian conquistador four centuries ago.
Dane swung himself from the saddle before a door ornamented by a beautiful bronze bell handle, and spent two minutes pulling the bell vigorously. There was no answer nor any sound within, and remembering that it did not necessarily follow that the handle had a wire attached, he stepped back into the roadway and flung himself against the barrier. A hasp of some kind yielded, and he staggered forward into the garden. The sun was dipping behind the cordillera, but its red light beat into his eyes, and at first he could see only a row of crimson oleanders stretching away before him. Their fragrance and the scent of heliotrope was heavy within his nostrils. Passing through the shadow of an orange-tree he made out a white wall garlanded by blue bougainvillea, and halted at the sound of a startled voice as his eyes fell upon the group on the terrace beneath it.
Thomas Chatterton had flung his chair back, and stood up with a flushed face, speaking excitedly. His niece also had risen, and her gaze was fixed upon the man who came hurriedly out of the shadow of the tree. She was silent, but Dane read in her eyes that which set his heart beating, and for a second or two he saw only the dainty figure and the smiling face turned toward his own.
The elation suddenly died out within him, and it was by an effort that he moved forward, for there was a third in the party. A man with iron-gray hair stood a little apart from the rest, and while each of his companions showed that they rejoiced to see the new arrival, he was gazing fixedly at the open door behind him. Dane saw that it was Brandram Maxwell of Culmeny, and knew why he watched the door.
"This is even more than we hoped for, Hilton, though we have all been anxiously waiting for news of you," said Chatterton. "Thank Heaven you are safe anyway. Worth a good many dead men, isn't he, Lilian? She knew Maxwell would bring you out; and when I grew anxious her confidence reassured me. But why didn't you cable—and where is Maxwell?"
Dane disregarded the last question, for Lilian laid her hand in his. He was not certain what she said, but her eyes were shining under the half-closed lashes in a fashion that was eloquent enough. Still Dane could not linger to wonder what, if they were fully opened, he might see within them, for Chatterton repeated his question.
"Where have you left Carsluith. Did he not come up with you from Santa Cruz?"
"No," Dane answered, and his voice shook a little. "Did you receive my cable?"