by Jack London
“But you were with my daughter when she died.” Enrico interrupted to sob, “Had she no word for me?” “Yes,” Torres sobbed back, genuinely affected by the death-scene of his fancy. “She died with your name on her lips. Her last words were-”
But, with bulging eyes, he failed to complete his sentence, for he was watching Henry and Leoncia, in the most natural, casual manner in the world stroll down the room, immersed in quiet conversation. Not noticing Torres, they crossed over to the window still deep in talk.
“You were telling me her last words were���?” Enrico prompted.
“I���I have lied to you,” Torres stammered, while he sparred for time in which to get himself out of the scrape. “I was confident that they were as good as dead and would never find their way to the world again. And I thought to soften the blow to you, Senor Solano, by telling what I am confident would be her last words were she dying. Also, this man Francis, whom you have elected to like. I thought it better for you to believe him dead than know him for the Gringo cur he is.”
Here the hound barked joyfully at the screen, giving the two Indians all they could do to hold him back. But Torres, instead of suspecting, blundered on to his fate.
In the Valley there is a silly weak demented creature who pretends to read the future by magic. An altogether atrocious and bloodthirsty female is she. I am not denying that in physical beauty she is beautiful. For beautiful she is, as a centipede is beautiful to those who think centipedes are beautiful. You see what has happened. She has sent Henry and Leoncia out of the Valley by some secret way, while Francis has elected to remain there with her in sin for sin it is, since there exists in the valley no Catholic priest to make their relation lawful. Oh, not that Francis is infatuated with the terrible creature. But he is infatuated with a paltry treasure the creature possesses. And this is the Gringo Francis you have welcomed into the bosom of your familv, the slimy snake of a Gringo Francis who has even flared to sully the fair Leoncia by casting upon her the looks of a lover. Oh, I know of what I speak. I have seen-”
A joyous outburst from the hound drowned his voice, and he beheld Francis and the Queen, as deep in conversation as the two who had preceded them, walk down the room. The Queen paused to caress the hound, who stood so tall against her that his forepaws, on her shoulders, elevated his head above hers; while Torres licked his suddenly dry lips and vainly cudgeled his brains for some fresh lie with which to extricate himself from the impossible situation.
Enrico Solano was the first to break down in mirth. All his sons joined him, while tears of sheer delight welled out of his eyes.
“I could have married her myself,” Torres sneered malignantly. “She begged me on her knees.”
“And now,” said Francis, “I shall save you all a dirty job by throwing him out.”
But Henry, advancing swiftly, asserted:
“I like dirty jobs equally. And this is a dirty job particularly to my liking.”
Both the Morgans were about to fall on Torres, when the Queen held up her hand.
“First,” she said, “let him return to me, from there in his belt, the dagger he stole from me.”
“Ah,” said Enrico, when this had been accomplished. “Should he not also return to you, lovely lady, the gems he filched?”
Torres did not hesitate. Dipping into his pocket, he laid a handful of the jewels on the table. Enrico glanced at the Queen, who merely waited expectantly.
“More,” said Enrico.
And three more of the beautiful uncut stones Torres added to the others on the table.
“Would you search me like a common pickpocket?” he demanded in frantic indignation, turning both trousers’ pockets emptily inside out.
“Me,” said Francis.
“I insist,” said Henry.
“Oh, all very well,” Francis conceded. “Then we’ll do it together. We can throw him farther off the steps.”
Acting as one, they clutched Torres by collar and trousers and started in a propulsive rush for the door.
All others in the room ran to the windows to behold Torres’ exjt; but Enrico, quickest of all, gained a window first. And, afterward, into the middle of the room, the Queen scooped the gems from the table into both her hands, and gave the double handful to Leoncia, saying:
“From Francis and me to you and Henry your wedding present.”
Yi Poon, having left the crone by the beach and crept back to peer at the house from the bushes, chuckled gratifiedly to himself when he saw the rich caballero thrown off the steps with such a will as to be sent sprawling far out into the gravel. But Yi Poon was too clever to let on that he had seen. Hurrying away, he was half down the hill ere overtaken by Torres on his horse.
The celestial addressed him humbly, and Torres, in his general rage, lifted his riding whip savagely to slash him across the face. But Yi Poon did not quail.
“The Senorita Leoncia,” he said quickly, and arrested the blow. “I have great secret.” Torres waited, the whip still lifted as a threat. “You like ‘m some other man marry that very nice Senorita Leoncia?”
Torres dropped the whip to his side.
“Go on,” he commanded harshly. “What is the secret?”
“You no want ‘m other man marry that Senorita Leoncia?”
“Suppose I don’t?”
“Then, suppose you have secret, you can stop other man.”
“Well, what is it? Spit it out.”
“But first,” Yi Poon shook his head, “you pay me six hundred dollars gold. Then I tell you secret.”
“I’ll pay you,” Torres said readily, although without the slightest thought of keeping his word. “You tell me first, then, if no lie, I’ll pay you. See!”
From his breast pocket he drew a wallet bulging with paper bills; and Yi Poon, uneasily acquiescing, led him down the road to the crone on the beach.
“This old woman,” he explained, “she no lie. She sick woman. Pretty soon she die. She is afraid. She talk to priest along Colon. Priest say she must tell secret, or die and go to hell. So she no lie.”
“Well, if she doesn’t lie, what is it she must tell?” You pay me?”
“Sure. Six hundred gold.”
“Well, she born Cadiz in old country. She number one servant, number one baby nurse. One time she take job with English family that come traveling in her country. Long time she work with that family. She go back along England. Then, bime by you know Spanish blood very hot she get very mad. That family have one little baby girl. She steal little baby girl and run away to Panama. That little baby girl Senor Solano he adopt just the same his own daughter. He have plenty sons and no daughter, So that little baby girl he make his daughter. But that old woman she no tell what name belong little girl’s family. That family very high blood, very rich, everybody in England know that family. That family’s name “Morgan.’ You know that name? In Colon comes San Antonio men who say Senor Solano’s daughter marry English Gringo named Morgan. That Gringo Morgan the Senorita Leoncia’s brother.”
“Ah!” said Torres with maleficent delight.
“You pay me now six hundred gold,” said Yi Poon.
“Thank you for the fool you are,” said Torres with untold mockery in his voice. “You will learn better perhaps some day the business of selling secrets. Secrets are not shoes or mahogany timber. A secret told is no more than a whisper in the air. It comes. It goes. It is gone. It is a ghost. Who has seen it? You can claim back shoes or mahogany timber. You can never claim back a secret when you have told it.”
“We talk of ghosts, you and I,” said Yi Poon calmly. “And the ghosts are gone. I have told you no secret. You have dreamed a dream. When you tell men they will ask you who told you. And you will say, ‘Yi Poon.’ But Yi Poon will say, ‘No.’ And they will say, ‘Ghosts,’ and laugh at you.”
Yi Poon, feeling the other yield to his superior subtlety of thought, deliberately paused.
“We have talked whispers,” he resumed after a few seconds.
“You speak true when you say whispers are ghosts. When I sell secrets I do not sell ghosts. I sell shoes. I sell mahogany timber. My proofs are what I sell. They are solid. On the scales they will weigh weight. You can tear the paper of them, which is legal paper of record, on which they are written. Some of them, not paper, you can bite with your teeth and break your teeth upon. For the whispers are already gone like morning mists. I have proofs. You will pay me six hundred gold for the proofs, or men will laugh at you for lending your ears to ghosts.”
“All right,” Torres capitulated, convinced. “Show me the proofs that I can tear and bite.”
“Pay me the six hundred gold.”
“When you have shown me the proofs.”
“The proofs you can tear and bite are yours after you have put the six hundred gold into my hand. You promise. A promise is a whisper, a ghost. I do not do business with ghost money. You pay me real money I can tear or bite.” And in the end Torres surrendered, paying in advance for what did satisfy him when he had examined the documents, the old letters, the baby locket and the baby trinkets. And Torres not only assured Yi Poon that he was satisfied, but paid him in advance, on the latter’s insistence, an additional hundred gold to execute a commission for him.
Meanwhile, in the bathroom which connected their bedrooms, clad in fresh undeiiinen and shaving with safety razors, Henry and Francis were singing:
“Back to back against the mainmast,
Held at bay the entire crew���”
In her charming quarters, aided and abetted by a couple of Indian seamstresses, Leoncia, half in mirth, half in sadness, and in all sweetness and wholesomeness of generosity, was initiating the Queen into the charmingness of civilized woman’s dress. The Queen, a true woman to her heart’s core, was wild with delight in the countless pretties of texture and adornment with which Leoncia’s wardrobe was stored. It was a maiden frolic for the pair of them, and a stitch here and a take-up there modified certain of Leoncia’s gowns to the Queen’s slenderness.
No,” said Leoncia judicially. “You will not need a corset. You are the one woman in a hundred for whom a corset is not necessary. You have the roundest lines for a thin woman that I ever saw. You��� “Leoncia paused, apparently deflected by her need for a pin from her dressing table, for which she turned; but at the same time she swallowed the swelling that choked in her throat, so that she was able to continue: “You are a beautiful bride, and Francis can only grow prouder of you.”
In the bathroom, Francis, finished shaving first, broke off the song to respond to the knock at his bedroom door and received a telegram from Fernando, the next to the youngest of the Solano brothers. And Francis read:
Important your immediate return. Need more margins. While market very weak but a strong attack on all your stocks except Tampico Petroleum, which is strong as ever. Wire me when to expect you. Situation is serious. Think I can hold out if you start to return at once. Wire me at once.
Bascom.
In the living room the two Morgans found Enrico and his sons opening wine.
“Having but had my daughter restored to me,” Enrico said, “I now lose her again. But it is an easier loss, Henry. Tomorrow shall be the wedding. It cannot take place too quickly. It is sure, right now, that that scoundrel Torres is whispering all over San Antonio Leoncia’s latest unprotected escapade with you.”
Ere Henry could express his gratification, Leoncia and the Queen entered. He held up his glass and toasted: “To the bride!”
Leoncia, not understanding, raised a glass from the table and glanced to the Queen.
“No, no,” Henry said, taking her glass with the intention of passing it to the Queen.
“No, no,” said Enrico. “Neither shall drink the toast which is incomplete. Let me make it:
“To the brides!”
You and Henry are to be married tomorrow,” Alesandro explained to Leoncia.
Unexpected and bitter though the news was, Leoncia controlled herself, and dared with assumed jollity to look Francis in the eyes while she cried:
Another toast! To the bridegrooms!”
Difficult as Francis had found it to marry the Queen and maintain equanimity, he now found equanimity impossible at the announcement of the immediate marriage of Leoncia. Nor did Leoncia fail to observe how hard he struggled to control himself. His suffering gave her secret joy, and with a feeling almost of triumph she watched him take advantage of the first opportunity to leave the room.
Showing them his telegram and assuring them that his fortune was at stake, he! said he must get off an answer and asked Fernando to arrange for a rider to carry it to the government wireless at San Antonio.
Nor was Leoncia long in following him. In the library she came upon him, seated at the reading table, his telegram unwritten, while his gaze was fixed upon a large photograph of her which he had taken from its place on top the low bookshelves. All of which was too much for her. Her involuntary gasping sob brought him to his feet in time to catch her as she swayed into his arms. And before either knew it their lips were together in fervent expression. Leoncia struggled and tore herself away, gazing upon her lover with horror.
Tiiis must stop, Francis!” she cried. “More: you cannot remain here for my wedding. If you do, I shall not be responsible for my actions. There is a steamer leaves San Antonio for Colon. You and your wife must sail on it. You can easily catch passage on the fruit boats to New r Orleans and take train to New York. I love you! you know it.”
“The Queen and I are not married!” Francis pleaded, beside himself, overcome by what had taken place. “That heathen marriage before the Altar of the Sun was no marriage. In neither deed nor ceremony are we married. I assure you of that, Leoncia. It is not too late
That heathen marriage has lasted you thus far,” she interrupted him with quiet firmness. Let it last you to New York, or, at least, to ��� Colon.”
“The Queen will not have any further marriage after our forms,” Francis said. “She insists that all her female line before her has been so married and that the Sun Altar ceremony is sacredly binding.”
Leoncia shrugged her shoulders noncommittally, although her face was stern with resolution.
Marriage or no,” she replied, “you must go to-night the pair of you. Else I shall go mad. I warn you: I shall not be able to withstand the presence of you. I cannot, I know I cannot, be able to stand the sight of you while I am being married to Henry and after I am married to Henry. Oh, please, please, do not misunderstand me. I do love Henry, but not in the��� not in that way��� not in the way I love you. I and I am not ashamed of the boldness with which I say it I love Henry about as much as you love the Queen; but I love you as I should love Henry, as you should love the Queen, as I know you do love me.”
She caught his hand and pressed it against her heart. “There! For the last time! Now go!”
But his arms were around her, and she could not help but yield her lips. Again she tore herself away, this time fleeing to the doorway. Francis bowed his head to her decision, then picked up her picture.
“I shall keep this,” he announced.
“You oughtn’t to,” she flashed a last fond smile at him. “You may,” she added, as she turned and was gone.
Yet Yi Poon had a commission to execute, for which Torres had paid him one hundred gold hi advance. Next morning, with Francis and the Queen hours departed on their way to Colon, Yi Poon arrived at the Solano hacienda. Enrico, smoking a cigar on the veranda and very much pleased with himself and all the world and the way the world was going, recognized and welcomed Yi Poon as his visitor of the day before. Even ere they talked, Leoncia’s father had dispatched Alesandro for the five hundred pesos agreed upon. And Yi Poon, whose profession was trafficking in secrets, was not averse to selling his secret the second time. Yet was he true to his salt, in so far as he obeyed Torres’ instructions in refusing to tell the secret save in the presence of Leoncia and Henry.
“That secret has the str
ing on it,” Yi Poon apologized, after the couple had been summoned, as he began unwrapping the parcel of proofs. “The Senorita Leoncia and the man she is going to marry must first, before anybody else, look at these things. Afterward, all can look.”
“Which is fair, since they are more interested than any of us,” Enrico conceded grandly, although at the same time he betrayed his eagerness by the impatience with which ho motioned his daughter and Henry to take the evidence to one side for examination.
He tried to appear uninterested, but his side-glances missed nothing of what they did. To his amazement, he saw Leoncia suddenly cast down a legal ��� appear ing document, which she and Henry had read through, and throw her arms, wholeheartedly and freely about his neck, and wholeheartedly and freely kiss him on the lips. Next, Enrico saw Henry step back and exclaim in a dazed, heart-broken way:
“But, my God, Leoncia! This is the end of everything. Never can we be husband and wife!”
“Eh?” Enrico snorted. “When everything was arranged! What do you mean, sir? This is an insult! Marry you shall, and marry to-day!”
Henry, almost in stupefaction, looked to Leoncia to speak for him.
“It is against God’s law and man’s,” she said, “for a man to marry his sister. Now I understand my strange love for Henry. He is my brother. We are full brother and sister, unless these documents lie.”
And Yi Poon knew that he could take report to Torres that the marriage would not take place and would never take place.
CHAPTER XXIV
CATCHING a United Fruit Company boat at Colon within fifteen minutes after landing from the small coaster, the Queen’s progress with Francis to New York had been a swift rush of fortunate connections. At New Orleans a taxi from the wharf to the station and a racing of porters with hand luggage had barely got them aboard the train just as it started. Arrived at New York, Francis had been met by Bascom, in Francis’ private machine, and the rush had continued to the rather ornate palace R.H.M. himself, Francis’ father, had built out of his millions on Riverside Drive.
