Hurrah after hurrah went up. The crowd grew less and less under self-control.
The minister continued: “Do not delay; make the first strike to-night. Listen,” he cried in hushed tones. “Listen! I will assist yon noble speaker to lead you to the front—to face the foe in battle.”
At the conclusion of his speech, and before another word could be spoken by anyone else present, the lights in the room went out and the mad cries of the audience went up in protest.
A strong breeze, which could only come through an open door or window, swept through the room.
It needed no voice to tell that trouble was at hand, but not the kind they had been talking about trying to create. Quick orders were given by some one in authority, in a low voice, and responded to by others in curses. Everybody tried to get to the door and into the street.
In less than ten minutes after the lights went out, the large room seemed to be empty; but it was not quite empty—there was one person left and he was the speaker of the evening. The night was intensely dark, and the large crowd got as near together as possible, and planned for a night of carnage. Until one o’clock they remained quiet, except for planning.
By some one the Rev. J. T. Note was missed; but no one felt alarmed, for those who missed him thought he was somewhere amongst the crowd, helping to carry out their proposed plan of attack. Now that the hour had arrived that they had agreed upon to attempt to take the life of the Governor and his two scientific friends, a company of three hundred men, led by the old man with the piping voice, cautiously wended their way in that direction. Others started in various directions to carry out their nefarious ideas.
The tall, raw-boned person remained, almost breathless, in his crouched position on the floor back of a big empty box, until thoroughly satisfied that no interloper, or friend, as for that, was in the room. Cautiously walking to the back door, the position of which he must have been well informed, he opened it noiselessly and quietly stepped out into the dark night. For five minutes more he strode back and forth, his thumbs securely thrust into the band of his trousers, in deep meditation, now and then chuckling to himself.
“Let me see,” he said aloud as he suddenly came to a stop, “let me see. It is now fifteen minutes after one o’clock. Whew! What did Helen Hinckley think when I failed to meet her at the appointed place and time. The result of the meeting just closed was the most unexpected event of my life. It is all day with these would-be revolutionists if the city police and state militia are onto this meeting. It is all up with you, Reverend Note, I am quite sure. Chihuahua’s police force took charge of you, I’ll bet a copper. You are languishing in a small cell, behind the iron bars, as a nineteenth century romance writer would say, on a charge of treason. It will go hard with these three transgressors of law. It is a strange affair, and I have done my best to help both sides accomplish what they are out for. Ha! ha! It is a great world, and Free Thought, based upon scientific reasoning, is sure to win. As sure as fate. The poor deluded creatures here to-night have my sympathies, and also had my assistance to-night. I did all within my power to make the fire of revenge burn bright within their bosom. Some people may say I am a hypocrite. Well, I am in a way; but when one can make others happy by practising a little deception, the wrong cannot be lasting. And what if it is, what if it is? The beautiful creature who has so completely captivated the bachelor heart of the Governor, was disappointed, no doubt, by not finding me at my apartment at the Annex, at ten o’clock. But not so disappointed, I fancy, as when she reads in to-morrow morning’s Chihuahuan, an account of the murder of the Governor, whose love, I imagine, she reciprocates; and of Don Guillermo Gonzales, and of Julio Murillo, the son of Señora Suzzan Carriles, of Colima, as well. ‘Memory Fluid’ will go over the board, if that wholesale slaughter is effected. Their great test case will be laid over for another incarnation. ‘The Plunger from Kansas’ will have one more chance for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, without living in mortal fear of being dragged up before the bar of civil justice and politely requested to make amends for a deed done in the body in at least two existences past. Yes, poor fellow, he will have a little rest and peace of mind; for there is no one who will concern himself about presenting to the world proofs of the results obtained by the use of their great discovery. Helen Hinckley will pine away, and the grave will claim her for another victim before the summer is over. Their spirits will voice a desire to enter again into a physical condition immediately, and before twenty years of their new life has passed away, those two hearts that this moment beat as one, soon to be so ruthlessly severed, will be united forever and forever, and as they glide along and form one of the many scenes in life’s grand panorama, they will cause, by their subtle philosophy, the ‘Plunger from Kansas’ to adjust the wrong they are now trying to right. Ha! ha! ha! Really I must move on, and cease my early morning soliloquy. I really believe I am getting to be a prophet. Certainly I have been talking aloud. In the nineteenth century, when one fell into the habit of talking aloud to one’s self he was said to be loco; but no such a fear need be entertained now, for this is the age of scientific revelation. No one can accuse the other, for every queer action is attributed to his knowledge of science. And either everyone is a student of science—of course that science which pertains to the soul of man, particularly—or everyone is loco or crazy. Adios, all ye demons of darkness, soon to be superseded by the angels of light, adios. I certainly hope the messages you bring will be such that my sad heart will be avenged. Now, with feet as fleet as the wild goat that once roamed the mountains over, I will reach the Mexican Annex, quietly steal into my apartments, quickly conceal all of my disguise, and to-morrow no one will be any the wiser for my night’s escapade. Ha! ha! no doubt, that on in the day while the revolutionists are playing havoc in the great, progressive city, I will be shedding tears, mingling mine with those of the Plunger of Kansas over the biers of our lately departed friends. Only friend Julio will I grieve for the loss of. Poor Señora Suzzan Carriles, of Colima, had no idea when she and Father Hernandez, now languishing in jail, committed the crime of adultery in a former existence that their progeny would rise up nearly two centuries afterwards and make them repent of their folly. Ha! ha! Ye vigils of darkness, I am gone!”
The person who had just concluded the lengthy soliloquy, passed away, without further delay or comment, in the direction of the Mexican Annex.