The Fate of a Crown

Evidently my fellow-prisoner had the same thought, for after a time he concealed the fork in his bosom, and then turned to examine the room more carefully. His first act was to approach the window, and when he started and shrank away I knew our ever-vigilant guard had warned him not to consider that avenue of escape.

Next he swung around and faced the place where I sat, slightly in the shadow. The day was drawing to its close, and he had not noticed me before. A swift motion toward his breast was followed by a smile, and he advanced close to me and said, in his stumbling English:

“Aha! My American frien’ to which I gave the ring! It is safe, señor? It is safe?”

I nodded, thinking to humor him. Indeed, I could not determine at that moment whether the man was still insane or not.

He drew a chair to my side and sat down.

“Listen, then, my frien’. Together we will find riches – riches very great! Why? Because we Mexicans – Careno and myself – we build the door of the big vault under this house. So? They bring us here blindfold. We work many days on the big plate with strange device cut in the steel. Careno was expert. Only one place, cut with great cunning, shot the bolts in their sockets. For myself, I am clockmaker and gem-cutter. They tell me to cut emerald so it fit the plate, and mount it in ring. Yes, it was I, Señor Americano, who do that fine work – I, Manuel Pesta!

“Then they carry us away, blindfold again, to the border of Uruguay. We do not know this house – we cannot find it again ever. So they think. But to make sure they hire men to assassinate us – to stab us to the heart in those Uruguay Mountain. Fine pay for our work – eh, señor? But, peste! Careno and I – we stab our assassins – we escape – we swear vengeance! For two year we wander in Brazil – seeking, ever seeking for the house with the vault.

“How clever they are! But we, are we not also clever? On a railway train one day we see a lady with the ring! We cannot mistake – I made it, and I know my work. It is key to the big vault! Careno cannot wait. He sit beside lady and put his knife in her heart. The train rattle along and the lady make no noise. But the ring sticks, so Careno cuts off finger and puts in pocket. Are we not clever, señor? Now we have ring, but yet know not of the house with the vault. We keep quiet and ride on to Rio. There the dead lady is carried out and all is excitement. She is Señora Izabel de Mar, daughter of Dom Miguel de Pintra. She come from her father’s house at Cuyaba. This we hear and remember. Then a man they call Valcour he rush up and cry, ‘Her finger is gone! The ring – where is the ring?’ Aha! we know now we are right.

“So we go away and find out about Miguel de Pintra – the head of great rebellion with millions of gold and notes to pay the soldiers when they fight. Good! We know now of the vault. We know we have key. We know we are now rich! Careno and I we go to Cuyaba – we find this house – we hide in the bushes till night. Then Careno get mad for the money – he want it all, not half – and he try to murder me. Ah, well! my pistol is quicker than his knife, that is all. He is wearing ring, and it stick like it stick on lady’s hand. Bah! I cut off Careno’s hand and carve away the ring. It is simple, is it not?

“But now the soldiers gallop up. The house is fill with people. So I must wait. I hide in secret place, but soon they drag me out and make me prisoner. What! must I lose all now – millions – millions of gold – and no Careno to share it? No! I am still clever. I keep ring in mouth until I meet you, and I give it to you to keep. When they search me, there is no ring.”

He sprang up, chuckling and rubbing his hands together in great delight. He danced a step or two and then drew the steel fork from his breast and struck it fiercely into the table-top, standing silently to watch it while the prongs quivered and came to rest.

“Am I not clever?” he again asked, drawing out the fork from the wood and returning it to his breast. “But I am generous, too. You shall divide with me. But not half! I won all from Careno, but you shall have some – enough to be rich, Señor Americano. And now, give me the ring!”

By this time his eyes were glittering with insanity, and at his abrupt demand I shifted uneasily in my seat, not knowing how to reply.

“Give me the ring!” he repeated, a tone of menace creeping into his high-pitched voice.

I arose and walked toward the window, getting the table between us. Then I turned and faced him.

“They have taken the ring from me,” I said.

He stood as if turned to stone, his fierce eyes fixed upon my own.

“They have opened the vault with it,” I continued, “and found it bare and empty.”

He gave a shrill scream at this, and began trembling in every limb.

“You lie!” he shouted, wildly. “You try to cheat me – to get all! And the vault has millions – millions in gold and notes. Give me the ring!”

I made no reply. To reiterate my assertion would do no good, and the man was incompetent to consider the matter calmly. Indeed, he once more drew that ugly fork from his breast and, grasping it as one would a dagger, began creeping toward me with a stealthy, cat-like tread.

I approached the edge of the round center-table, alert to keep its breadth between me and my companion. The Mexican paused opposite me, and whispered between his clinched teeth:

“Give it me! Give me the ring!”

“The guard will be here presently,” said I, fervently hoping I spoke the truth, “and he will tell you of the ring. I am quite sure Senhor Valcour has it.”

“Ah, I am betrayed! You wish to take all – you and this Valcour! But see, my Americano – I will kill you. I will kill you now, and then you have nothing for your treachery!”

Slowly he edged his way around the table, menacing me with his strange weapon, and with my eyes fixed upon his I moved in the opposite direction, retaining the table as my shield.

First in one direction and then in the other he moved, swiftly at times, then with deliberate caution, striving ever to take me unawares and reach me with his improvised dagger.

This situation could not stand the tension for long; I realized that sooner or later the game must have an abrupt ending.

So, as I dodged my persistent enemy, I set my wits working to devise a means of escape. The window seemed my only hope, and I had lost all fear of the sentry in the more terrible danger that confronted me.

Suddenly I exerted my strength and thrust the table against the Mexican so forcibly that he staggered backward. Then I caught up a chair and after a swing around my head hurled it toward him like a catapult. It crushed him to the floor, and e’er he could rise again I had thrown up the sash of the window and leaped out.

Fortune often favors the desperate. I alighted full upon the form of the unsuspecting sentry, bearing him to the ground by my weight, where we both rolled in the grass.

Quickly I regained my feet and darted away into the flower-garden, seeking to reach the hedges before my guard could recover himself.

Over my shoulder I saw him kneeling and deliberately pointing at me his carbine. Before he could fire the flying form of the Mexican descended upon him from the window. There was a flash and a report, but the ball went wide its mark, and instantly the two men were struggling in a death-grapple upon the lawn.

Away I ran through the maze of hedge and shrubbery, threading the well-known paths unerringly. I heard excited shouts as the guardsmen, aroused by their comrade’s shot, poured from the mansion and plunged into the gardens to follow me. But it was dusk by this time, and I had little fear of being overtaken.

The estate was bounded upon this side by an impenetrable thick-set hedge, but it was broken in one place by a gardeners’ tool-house, which had a door at each side, and thus admitted one into a lane that wound through a grove and joined the main highway a mile beyond.

Reaching this tool-house I dashed within, closed and barred the door behind me, and then emerged upon the lane.

To my surprise I saw a covered carriage standing in the gloom, and made out that the door stood open and a man upon the box was holding the reins and leaning toward me eagerly as if striving to solve my identity.

Without hesitation I sprang into the carriage and closed the door, crying to the man:

“Quick! for your life – drive on!”

Without a word he lashed his horses and we started with a jerk that threw me into the back seat.

I heard an exclamation in a woman’s startled voice and felt a muffled form shrinking into the corner of the carriage. Then two shots rang out; I heard a scream and the sound of a fall as the driver pitched upon the ground, and now like the wind the maddened horses rushed on without guidance, swaying the carriage from side to side with a dangerous motion.

These Brazilian carriages have a trap in the top to permit the occupants to speak to the driver. I found this trap, threw it upward, and drew myself up until I was able to scramble into the vacant seat. The reins had fallen between the horses, evidently, but we were now dashing through the grove, and the shadows were so deep that I could distinguish nothing distinctly.

Cautiously I let myself down until my feet touched the pole, and then, resting my hands upon the loins of the madly galloping animals, I succeeded in grasping the reins and returned safely to the box seat.

Then I braced myself to conquer the runaways, and when we emerged from the grove and came upon the highway there was sufficient light for me to keep the horses in the straight road until they had tired themselves sufficiently to be brought under control.

During this time I had turned to speak a reassuring word, now and then, to the unknown woman in the carriage.

Doubtless she had been both amazed and indignant at my abrupt seizure of her equipage; but there was not yet time to explain to her my necessity.

We were headed straight for the station at Cuyaba, and I decided at once to send a telegram warning Mazanovitch of danger. For Paola had turned traitor, the vault had been opened, and the Emperor was even now on his way to Rio to arrest all who had previously escaped the net of the Minister of Police.

So we presently dashed up to the station, which was nearly deserted at this hour, and after calling a porter to hold the horses I went into the station to write my telegram.

Mazanovitch had asked me to use but one word, and although I had much of interest to communicate, a moment’s thought assured me that a warning of danger was sufficient.

So, after a brief hesitation, I wrote the word “Lesba,” and handed the message to the operator.