"Yes, as you say, the sooner the better," said Cortlandt, with a shade of meaning. "Well, good-night, and good-luck to you in your shooting!"
It was with much less self-assurance that Kirk set out again on the next morning, for this was his last day of grace, and he realized that unless he accomplished something definite it might be a considerable time before he could continue his quest. In view of what the girl had said regarding her engagement, delays seemed particularly dangerous.
He haunted the vicinity of the meeting-place all the morning, but no one came, and a heavy shower at midday drove him into the palm-thatched hut for shelter. When it had passed he put an end to his indecision and boldly took the other path. At least he would find out where she lived and who she was. But once again he was disappointed. The trail led out through the grove to the rain-drenched pasture, where it disappeared, and, instead of one house, he saw three, half hidden in foliage and all facing in the opposite direction. They stood upon the crest of a hill fronting the road, and he realized that the pool might be the bathing-place for the inmates of one or all of them.
Up past the grazing stock he went and around to the front of the nearest residence, which proved to be a low, rambling, bungalow affair with many outhouses smothered in a profusion of vines and fruit-trees. Evidently it was unoccupied, for heavy wooden shutters barricaded the windows, and no one answered his knock, although some pigeons perched upon the tile roof cooed at him in a friendly manner. He struck across lots to the next house, but met with no better success, and he approached the third dwelling with a certain hesitation, for it was his last chance. It was more pretentious than the rest, and stood proudly upon the highest point of the ridge, up which ran a private road guarded by twin rows of stately royal palms, whose perfectly rounded trunks seemed to have been turned upon some giant lathe. The house itself was large, square, and double-galleried. It was shaded by lofty hard-wood trees and overlooked a sort of formal garden, now badly in need of care. The road was of shell, and where it entered the grounds passed through a huge iron gate suspended upon concrete pillars. The whole place had an air of wealth and exclusiveness.
Here, too, the windows stared at him blindly, and he saw no evidence of occupation; yet he advanced and pounded vigorously on the door. Failing to rouse any one, he paused to take a general view of the surroundings. Scattered upon every side were other winter homes, some bleaching nakedly in the open, others peeping out from luxuriant groves, some mean and poor, others really beautiful and impressive. He knew that he was in the heart of Panama's exclusive winter colony, where her wealthy residents came to avoid the heat.
Unwilling to acknowledge himself beaten, he plodded from one place to another, calling at all the nearest houses, finding most of them locked, and begging a glass of water where he chanced to be more fortunate. Nowhere did he see the girl or the Barbadian woman, nowhere did he receive an intelligible answer to his questions. The caretakers looked upon him with suspicion, and made it known that he was unwelcome, while their women retreated at sight of him. Even the children were unfriendly. Once, indeed, he heard the name that had been ringing so steadily in his ears, and it gave him a wild thrill until he discovered that it was only a negress calling to her child. Afterward it seemed that he heard it everywhere. On his disconsolate journey home it was spoken twenty times, being applied indifferently to dogs, cats, parrots, and naked youngsters, each mention causing him to start and listen.
Whether the girl had been playing with him, or whether she had been prevented from keeping her word, was of little moment now. He loved her and he intended to have her! He shut his teeth grimly and made a vow to find her if he had to invade every home in Las Savannas, or pull apart the walls of Panama.
XV
ALIAS JEFFERSON LOCKE
It was fortunate for Kirk, on the whole, that his last expedition had proved a failure, for his methods were none of the most discreet; and it was as well, perhaps, that his work on the railroad intervened to prevent further wild incursions.