“‘Yes, I do remember much; but not anything about this man who plunged, and not into a river, one hundred and fifty years ago. Say, chile, you is dreaming, honey. Come, Juanita will put the precious niña in bed.’ I led her to the housekeeper’s room, and as we went, she said:
“‘You are funny, Juan. I am awake, not dreaming. You will see the “Plunger from Kansas” to-morrow.’”
“‘How will I know him when I see him?’ I asked.
“‘Oh, he will come to this house to see Governor Lehumada in the morning, and when he gets here he will say: “You are Juan, the Governor’s man? Is his Honor in?” and when you say he is, the ‘Plunger’ will reply: “I came to see him, but I will not call this day. Please hand him this, with my compliments,” and he will hand you a package.’
“Well, he did come, and he did say just what the child prophesied, and he did give me this package, your Honor. Take it, please. I am afraid of it. The devil is let loose, as certain as fate. And I think this fluid you tell about in your great book, is the cause of so much trouble.”
The Governor had an interested and amused smile on his face as he opened the package handed him by his man.
“You are no doubt quite right about the book I wrote, and the public demonstrations and proofs we have given of the results of our great fluid upon matter and mind, being the cause of so much trouble. On that score, Juan, you are right. But there have been no evil results, and there will be none. But what is this? Look, Juan, look; who is this the picture of? Don’t be mistaken, man; don’t. Be sure you speak correctly. Have you seen the face before?”
“My sight is not good, your Honor. It’s failing,” replied the frightened man, getting further away from his master, out of pure fear. “My sight is nigh gone, your Honor.”
“Can it be? Can it be the face of the one I loved? Of the one I now love?”
“It is Helen Hinckley’s picture, papa, taken in that life long gone by,” cried Catalina, grasping the Governor’s hand.