The Fate of a Crown

“And where is that?” asked Fonseca.

I looked at the chief. He sat thoughtfully considering the matter.

“There is no need of immediate haste,” said he presently, “and nothing can be done to-night, in any event. To-morrow we will pack everything in chests and carry them to Senhor Bastro, who has a safe hiding-place. Meantime, General, you may leave me your men to serve as escort. How many are there?”

“Three. They are now guarding the usual approaches to this house.”

“Let them ride with you to the station at Cruz, and send them back to me in the morning. I will also summon some of our nearby patriots. By noon to-morrow everything will be ready for the transfer.”

“Very good!” ejaculated the general. “We cannot abandon too soon the vault we constructed with so much care. Where is your daughter?”

“In her apartments.”

“Before you leave to-morrow, lock her up and put a guard at her door. We must not let her suspect the removal of the records.”

“It shall be done,” answered de Pintra, with a sigh. “It may be,” he continued, hesitatingly, “that my confidence in Izabel has been misplaced.”

The general did not reply. He folded his cloak about him, glanced at the clock, and strode from the room without a word of farewell.

When he had gone Dom Miguel turned to me.

“Well?” said he.

“I do not like Fonseca,” I answered.

“As a man he is at times rather disagreeable,” admitted the chief. “But as a general he possesses rare ability, and his high station renders him the most valuable leader the Cause can boast. Moreover, Fonseca has risked everything in our enterprise, and may be implicitly trusted. When at last we strike our great blow for freedom, much will depend upon Manuel da Fonseca. And now, Robert, let us retire, for an hour before daybreak we must be at work.”

It was then eleven o’clock. I bade the chief good night and retired to my little room next the study. Dom Miguel slept in a similar apartment opening from the opposite side of the study.

The exciting interview with Fonseca had left me nervous and wakeful, and it was some time before I sank into a restless slumber.

A hand upon my shoulder aroused me.

It was Dom Miguel.

“Come quick, for God’s sake!” he cried, in trembling tones. “She has stolen my ring!”

CHAPTER VIII

A TERRIBLE CRIME

Scarcely awake, I sprang from my couch in time to see de Pintra’s form disappear through the doorway. A moment later I was in the study, which was beginning to lighten with the dawn of a new day.

The trap in the floor was open, and the chief threw himself into the aperture and quickly descended. At once I followed, feeling my way down the iron staircase and along the passage. Reaching the domed chamber a strange sight met our view. Both traps had been raised, the second one standing upright upon its hinged edge, and from the interior of the vault shone a dim light.

While we hesitated the light grew stronger, and soon Madam Izabel came slowly from the vault with a small lamp in one hand and a great bundle of papers in the other. As she reached the chamber Dom Miguel sprang from out the shadow and wrenched the papers from her grasp.

“So, madam!” he cried, “you have betrayed yourself in seeking to betray us. Shame! Shame that a daughter of mine should be guilty of so vile an act!” As he spoke he struck her so sharply across the face with the bundle of papers that she reeled backward and almost dropped the lamp.

“Look to her, Robert,” he said, and leaped into the vault to restore the papers to their place.

Then, while I stood stupidly by, not thinking of any further danger, Madam Izabel sprang to the trap and with one quick movement dashed down the heavy plate of steel. I saw her place the ring in its cavity and heard the shooting of the bolts; and then, suddenly regaining my senses, I rushed forward and seized her arm.

“The ring!” I gasped, in horror; “give me the ring! He will suffocate in that dungeon in a few minutes.”

I can see yet her cold, serpent-like eyes as they glared venomously into my own. The next instant she dashed the lamp into my face. It shivered against the wall, and as I staggered backward the burning oil streamed down my pajamas and turned me into a living pillar of fire.

Screaming with pain, I tore the burning cloth from my body and stamped it into ashes with my bare feet. Then, smarting from the sting of many burns, I looked about me and found myself in darkness and alone.

Instantly the danger that menaced Dom Miguel flashed upon me anew, and I stumbled up the iron stairs until I reached the study, where I set the alarm bell going so fiercely that its deep tones resounded throughout the whole house.

In my chamber I hastily pulled my clothing over my smarting flesh, and as the astonished servants came pouring into the study, I shouted to them:

“Find Senhora de Mar immediately and bring her to me – by force if necessary. She has murdered Dom Miguel!”

Over the heads of the stupidly staring group I saw a white, startled face, and Lesba’s great eyes met my own with a quick look of comprehension. Then she disappeared, and I turned again to the wondering servants.

“Make haste!” I cried. “Can you not understand? Every moment is precious.”

But the frightened creatures gazed upon each other silently, and I thrust them aside and ran through the house in frantic search for the murderess. The rooms were all vacant, and when I reached the entrance hall a groom stopped me.

“Senhora de Mar left the house five minutes ago, sir. She was mounted upon our swiftest horse, and knows every inch of the country. It would be useless to pursue her.”

While I glared at the fellow a soft hand touched my elbow.

“Come!” said Lesba. “Your horse is waiting – I have saddled him myself. Make for the station at Cruz, for Izabel will seek to board the train for Rio.”

She had led me through the door across the broad piazza; and as, half-dazed, I mounted the horse, she added, “Tell me, can I do anything in your absence?”

“Nothing!” I cried, with a sob; “Dom Miguel is locked up in the vault, and I must find the key – the key!”

Away dashed the horse, and over my shoulder I saw her still standing on the steps of the piazza staring after me.

The station at Cruz! I must reach it as soon as possible – before Izabel de Mar should escape. Almost crazed at the thought of my impotency and shuddering at the knowledge that de Pintra was slowly dying in his tomb while I was powerless to assist him, I lashed the good steed until it fairly flew over the uneven road.

“Halt!” cried a stern voice.

The way had led me beneath some overhanging trees, and as I pulled the horse back upon his haunches I caught the gleam of a revolver held by a mounted man whose form was enveloped in a long cloak.

Then came a peal of light laughter.

“Why, ‘tis our Americano!” said the horseman, gayly; “whither away, my gallant cavalier?”

To my delight I recognized Paola’s voice.

“Dom Miguel is imprisoned in the vault!” I almost screamed in my agitation; “and Madam Izabel has stolen the key.”

“Indeed!” he answered. “And where is Senhora Izabel?”