The Fate of a Crown

Bastro shrugged his shoulders.

“We have confidence in the Minister of Police,” said he, calmly. “There is no doubt but General Fonseca, at Rio, has before now gained control of the capital, and that the Revolution is successfully established. We shall know everything very soon, for my men have gone to the nearest telegraph station for news. Meantime, to guard against any emergency, our patriots are being armed in readiness for combat, and, in Matto Grosso at least, the royalists are powerless to oppose us.”

“But the funds – the records! What will happen if the Emperor seizes them?” I asked.

“The Emperor will not seize them,” returned Bastro, unmoved. “The contents of the vault are in safe-keeping.”

Before I could question him further a man sprang through the doorway.

“The wires from Rio are cut in every direction,” said he, in an agitated voice. “A band of the Uruguayan guards, under de Souza and Valcour, is galloping over the country to arrest every patriot they can find, and our people are hiding themselves in terror.”

Consternation spread over the features of the little band which a moment before had deemed itself so secure and powerful. Bastro turned to pace the earthen floor with anxious strides, while the others watched him silently.

“What of Francisco Paola?” suddenly asked the leader.

“Why, senhor, he seems to have disappeared,” replied the scout, with hesitation.

“Disappeared! And why?”

“Perhaps I can answer that question, Senhor Bastro,” said a voice behind us, and turning my head I saw my friend Pedro, the station-master at Cuyaba, standing within the doorway.

“Enter, Pedro,” commanded the leader. “What news do you bring, and why have you abandoned your post?”

“The wires are down,” said the station-master, “and no train is allowed to leave Rio since the Emperor reached there at midnight.”

“Then you know nothing of what has transpired at the capital?” asked Bastro.

“Nothing, senhor. It was yesterday morning when the Emperor’s party met the train at Cuyaba, and I handed him a telegram from de Lima, the Minister of State. It read in this way: ‘General Fonseca and his army have revolted and seized the palace, the citadel, and all public buildings. I have called upon every loyal Brazilian to rally to the support of the Empire. Return at once. Arrest the traitors Francisco Paola and his sister. Situation critical.”

“Ah!” cried Bastro, drawing a deep breath, “and what said the Emperor to that message?”

“He spoke with his counselors, and wired this brief reply to de Lima, ‘I am coming.’ Also he sent a soldier back to de Pintra’s mansion with orders to arrest Francisco and Lesba Paola. Then he boarded the train and instructed the conductor to proceed to Rio with all possible haste. And that is all I know, senhor, save that I called up Rio last evening and learned that Fonseca was still in control of the city. At midnight the wires were cut and nothing further can be learned. Therefore I came to join you, and if there is a chance to fight for the Cause I beg that you will accept my services.”

Bastro paused in his walk to press the honest fellow’s hand; then he resumed his thoughtful pacing.

The others whispered among themselves, and one said:

“Why need we despair, Sanchez Bastro? Will not Fonseca, once in control, succeed in holding the city?”

“Surely!” exclaimed the leader. “It is not for him that I fear, but for ourselves. If the Uruguayans are on our trail we must disperse our men and scatter over the country, for the spy Valcour knows, I am sure, of this rendezvous.”

“But they are not hunting you, senhor,” protested Pedro, “but rather Paola and his sister, who have managed to escape from de Pintra’s house.”

“Nevertheless, the Uruguayans are liable to be here at any moment,” returned Bastro, “and there is nothing to be gained by facing that devil, de Souza.”

He then called his men together in the clearing, explained to them the situation, and ordered them to scatter and to secrete themselves in the edges of the forests and pick off the Uruguayans with their rifles whenever occasion offered.

“If anything of importance transpires,” he added, “report to me at once at my house.”

Without a word of protest his commands were obeyed. The leaders mounted their horses and rode away through the numerous forest paths that led into the clearing.

The men also saluted and disappeared among the trees, and presently only Bastro, Pedro, and myself stood in the open space. “Come with me, Senhor Harcliffe,” said the leader; “I shall be glad to have you join me at breakfast. You may follow us, Pedro.”

Then he strode to the edge of the clearing, pressed aside some bushes, and stepped into a secret path that led through the densest portion of the tangled forest. I followed, and Pedro brought up the rear.

For some twenty minutes Bastro guided us along the path, which might well have been impassable to a novice, until finally we emerged from the forest to find the open country before us, and a small, cozy-looking dwelling facing us from the opposite side of a well-defined roadway.

Bastro led us to a side door, which he threw open, and then stepped back with a courteous gesture.

“Enter, gentlemen,” said he; “you are welcome to my humble home.”

I crossed the threshold and came to an abrupt stop. Something seemed to clutch my heart with a grip of iron; my limbs trembled involuntarily, and my eyes grew set and staring.

For, standing before me, with composed look and a smile upon his dark face, was the living form of my lamented friend Miguel de Pintra!

CHAPTER XXI

ONE MYSTERY SOLVED

“Compose yourself, my dear Robert,” said Dom Miguel, pressing my hands in both his own. “It is no ghost you see, for – thanks be to God! – I am still alive.”

I had no words to answer him. In all my speculations as to the result of Madam Izabel’s terrible deed, the fate of the records and the mysterious opening of the vault without its key, I never had conceived the idea that Dom Miguel might have escaped his doom. And to find him here, not only alive, but apparently in good health and still busy with the affairs of the Revolution, conveyed so vivid a shock to my nerves that I could but dumbly stare into my old friend’s kind eyes and try to imagine that I beheld a reality and not the vision of a disordered brain.

Bastro assisted me by laughing loudly and giving me a hearty slap across the shoulders.

“Wake up, Senhor Harcliffe!” said he; “and hereafter have more faith in Providence and the luck that follows in the wake of true patriotism. We could ill afford to lose our chief at this juncture.”

“But how did it happen?” I gasped, still filled with wonder. “What earthly power could have opened that awful vault when its key was miles and miles away?”

“The earthly power was wielded by a very ordinary little woman,” said Dom Miguel, with his old gentle smile. “When you rode away from the house on that terrible morning Lesba came and unlocked my prison, setting me free.”

“But how?” I demanded, still blindly groping for the truth.

“By means of a duplicate key that she had constantly carried in her bosom.”

I drew a long breath.

“Did you know of this key, sir?” I asked, after a pause, which my companions courteously forbore to interrupt.

“I did not even suspect its existence,” replied Dom Miguel. “But it seems that Francisco Paola, with his usual thoughtfulness, took an impression in wax of my ring, without my knowledge, and had an exact duplicate prepared. I think he foresaw that an emergency might arise when another key might be required; but it would not do to let any one know of his action, for the mere knowledge that such a duplicate existed would render us all suspicious and uneasy. So he kept the matter secret even from me, and gave the ring into the keeping of his sister, who was his only confidante, and whom he had requested me to accept as an inmate of my household, under the plea that I am her legal guardian. This was done in order to have her always at hand in case the interests of the conspiracy demanded immediate use of the duplicate key. That Francisco trusted her more fully than he has any other living person is obvious; and that she was worthy of such trust the girl has fully proved.”

“Then you were released at once?” I asked; “and you suffered little from your confinement?”

“My anguish was more mental than of a bodily nature,” Dom Miguel answered, sadly; “but I was free to meet Paola when he arrived at my house, and to assist him and Lesba in removing the contents of the vault to a safer place.”

“But why, knowing that his sister held a duplicate key, did the Minister send me in chase of the ring Madam Izabel had stolen?” I demanded.

“Because it was necessary to keep the matter from the Emperor until the records had been removed,” explained de Pintra. “Indeed, Francisco was on his way to us that morning to insist upon our abandoning the vault, after having given us warning, as you will remember, the night before, that the clever hiding-place of our treasure and papers was no longer a secret.”