"We must go," said the Barbadian woman, warningly.
"Yes, yes! It is of no avail to resist," came the girl's choking voice. She stretched out her little hand, and then, looking up at him, said, uncertainly: "I—may never speak with you again alone, senor, and I must pray to—cease loving you; but will you—kiss me once so that I may never forget?"
He breathed a tender exclamation and took her gently to his breast, while the negress stood by scowling and muttering.
The memory of that long, breathless moment lived with him for years. Strangely enough, at the touch of her lips he felt his courage forsake him—it ran out like water. He became weak, fearful, despairing, as if it were his life that was ebbing away. And the pang when she drew herself from him was like a bayonet-thrust. Even when she and Stephanie had melted into the shadows, he stood motionless under the spell of that caress, its ecstasy still suffusing him.
He found himself following slowly in the direction they had taken in the hope of catching just one more glimpse of her, but as he emerged from the darkness of the park he paused. There across the street, in the little open shrine set in the corner of the great cathedral, she was kneeling before the shining figure of the Madonna. The candle-glow that illumined the holy image and shone out so hopefully against the gloom showed her crouched close before the altar, her dark head bowed in uttermost dejection. Outside, and barely revealed, stood the tall, gaunt Bajan woman, silent, watchful, and forbidding.
With a painful grip at his throat Kirk watched until the girl rose and hurried away into the shadows. Then he, too, turned and made his way up the street, but he went slowly, unseeingly, as if he had beheld a vision.
For the first time in his life he was a prey to fear. A thousand panics clamored at him, his mind began working with the exaggerated speed of a person in dire peril. Once more, as upon that night when he had first called at her father's house, he turned abruptly at the corner to stare at her window, and again he surprised a figure skulking after him. Without a moment's hesitation he made after it at a run, but the fellow dodged into the Plaza and disappeared among the shrubbery. Not caring to pursue the chase into those lurking shadows Kirk desisted, certain only of one thing—that he was not Allan who was trailing him. He recalled the oft-repeated threats of Ramon Alfarez, and returned to his quarters by way of the lighted thoroughfares.
XXIV
A BUSINESS PROPOSITION
Edith Cortlandt's interview with the rival candidates for the Panamanian Presidency formed but a part of her plan. She next held a long conversation with Colonel Jolson, to the end that on Friday morning Runnels heard a rumor that threw him into the greatest consternation. It was to the effect that instead of his succeeding to the office of Superintendent, he was to retain his old post, and that Colonel Jolson's brother-in-law was to supersede him. Although the word was not authoritative, it came with sufficient directness to leave him aghast. If true, it was, of course, equivalent to his discharge, for it meant that he could not even continue in his former position without putting himself in a light intolerable to any man of spirit. Since he was entitled to the promotion, had been promised it, in fact, and had made his plans accordingly, there was no course open except resignation. If he did not resign voluntarily, he knew that his new superior would eventually force him to do so, for Blakeley would build up an organization of his own, and in it there would be no place for one who had aspired to the highest office.