“There has been more than one person here to-night for the same purpose. But the Governor is alive and well, and will so remain until the end of time.”
“Juan,” tantalizingly replied Miss Motuble, “you are fast becoming a man of science. Association has done it all, Juan—done it all.”
At that moment a small figure in white appeared in the room where they stood.
“It is the ghost of Catalina,” said Juan.
“It is no ghost. It is Catalina herself. She is a somnambulist. You do not know what that word means, do you, Juan? It means she walks in her sleep. Come; we will follow her,” concluded Miss Motuble. Catalina walked quietly to the far end of the room in the direction she was going, then, turning around, she retraced her steps and entered her own room. She was closely followed by Marriet Motuble. Juan took advantage of the occasion to slip away unobserved and to carry out the instructions of Julio Murillo.
Catalina climbed upon her little bed, and to all appearances went to sleep. Marriet Motuble wanted to speak to the child, yet hesitated. Going close to the bed and gazing intently on her upturned face, she said: “She is very much of a child, indeed. I will not speak to her. Juan, show me over the house.” Juan made no reply, and turning around, she discovered for the first time that he was not present. “That is a cool way of treating a guest. I will report the actions of this domestic to his Honor the first time I meet him. Think of it. I, Marriet Motuble, in her sixth life, with a full and complete remembrance of each, being left to pilot myself through the grand mansion of the great Governor of Chihuahua. It seems that the manners of domestics, and some people who are not domestics, to-day are as much out of order as they were in the nineteenth century. The nonprogression of some people is not to be accounted for; at least, I shall not occupy my mind trying to figure it out. There are other things of more consequence. For instance, were the revolutionists successful in killing his Honor, and his coworkers? If so, where are their bodies? If not, where are the revolutionists? There are no signs of any disturbers of peace having been here. I’ll make a hasty search through the house, and quietly make my exit.”
No sooner had Marriet Motuble passed from the room, than Catalina sprang from her bed, quickly put on a street dress, and in a few minutes was out of the house. She passed on without attracting any attention.
The streets were alive with trades-people hurrying to their respective places of business. In the great bustle, no one noticed the child. Marriet Motuble, too, evaded the guardianship of Juan, and was soon lost in the crowds on the streets. Everywhere there were large numbers of policemen, and now and then small squads of soldiers hurried by, all of whom evidently had a place in view which they were bent on reaching at an early hour.
As she wandered on and on through one crowded street after another, she met here and there a face whom she recognized as a revolutionary sympathizer, many of whom had been amongst the crowd in the store room the evening before, and heard her deliver a sympathetic speech, disguised as a man. How none of them recognized her. How could they, when no one had any suspicions that the speaker of the previous evening was a woman in disguise. Marriet Motuble’s face wore a look of serious disappointment.
Approaching a small group of men she inquired the hour, and on being told it was five o’clock, she then asked if the morning paper was out and what news there was about the persons intent on disturbing the peace. Several expressed themselves as considering the condition of affairs very alarming; while others who joined the crowd thought the affair would be of no further consequence.