“Surely,” she exclaimed, “you will not subject me to a scene before the servants.”
In answer to her summons the doors flew open, and the frightened servants, who had heard of the blood-stained messenger, pushed into the room. With the air of a great lady dismissing an honored guest Señora Rojas bowed to Roddy, and Roddy, accepting the inevitable, bowed deeply in return.
As he walked to the door he cast toward Inez an unhappy look of apology and appeal. But the smile with which she answered seemed to show that, to her, their discomfiture was in no way tragic. Roddy at once took heart and beamed with gratitude. In the look he gave her he endeavored to convey his assurance of the devotion of a lifetime.
“Good-by,” said Inez pleasantly.
“Good-by,” said Roddy.
On coming to Porto Cabello Sam Caldwell had made his headquarters at the home of the United States Consul, who owed his appointment to the influence of Mr. Forrester, and who, in behalf of that gentleman, was very justly suspected by Alvarez of “pernicious activity.” On taking his leave of Señora Rojas, which he did as soon as Roddy had been shown the door, Caldwell hastened to the Consulate, and, as there might be domiciliary visits to the houses of all the Vegaistas, Colonel Ramon, seeking protection as a political refugee, accompanied him.
The police had precipitated the departure of Vega from the city by only a few hours. He had planned to leave it and to join his adherents in the mountains that same afternoon, and it was only to learn the result of the final appeal to Roddy that he had waited. As they hastened through the back streets to the Consulate, Ramon said:
“It was not worth waiting for. Young Forrester told nothing. And why? Because he knows nothing!”
“To me,” growled Caldwell, “he makes a noise like a joker in the pack. I don’t mind telling you he’s got me listening. He wouldn’t have thrown up his job and quarrelled with his father and Señora Rojas if he wasn’t pretty sure he was in right. Vega tells me, three weeks ago Roddy went to Curaçao to ask Madame Rojas to help him get her husband out of prison. Instead, she turned him down hard. But did that phase him? No! I believe he’s still working—working at this moment on some plan of his own to get Rojas free. Every night he goes out in his launch with young De Peyster. Where do they go? They say they go fishing. Well, maybe! We can’t follow them, for they douse the lights and their motor is too fast for us. But, to me, it looks like a rescue, for the only way they could rescue Rojas would be from the harbor. If they have slipped him tools and he is cutting his way to the water, some dark night they’ll carry him off in that damned launch. And then,” he exclaimed angrily, “where would I be? That old Rip Van Winkle has only got to show his face, and it would be all over but the shouting. He’d lose us what we’ve staked on Vega, and he’d make us carry out some of the terms of our concession that would cost us a million more.”