# South, West and North/Part 2/Chapter 4

Adventure magazine, 30 Oct 1924, pp. 42-46.

### IV

“YOU are expected, señores,” said the yellow man in bad Spanish.
“Say quick!” snapped Job Warlock in English. “In or out, matey?”
“In,” said Hampton, stepping forward. There suddenly came to him the realization that if this woman really were Doña Hermana, she could of course assist them on their way—not to Upper California, but to Lower California. If she could be wheedled into assisting them, so much the better.
Then, while he stood beside Warlock in the hall for a moment, as the Chinaman took their hats before leading them on into the patio, Hampton could have groaned aloud. The woman took them for Basques; but if his suspicions were correct, Dias' spies already knew their true names—or that of Hampton, at least. Perhaps, after all, Dias had taken for granted that they would never reach Panama; yet he was not a man to take things for granted. Hampton gripped Job Warlock's shoulder, as they crossed the threshold.
“I've mixed things horribly, Job,” he said quietly. “Careful, now!”
“Injun does it,” said Warlock cheerfully, not understanding yet accepting the words. Then they were following the yellow man into a hidden but magnificent patio, sweet with the spray of a large fountain, the air heavy with flower scents, orange trees and blooming beds all around.
The Chinaman led to an awning spread near the fountain, where Doña Hermana awaited them. Now she was clad in a shimmering brocade of dark-blue shot with silver, which richly accentuated her startling beauty, and enhanced the slight oriental effect of her features. Yet for all her beauty, for all the smiling warmth of her greeting, Hampton could not feel that he was dealing with a woman, as he knew women; in her seemed no depth of emotion, and the liquid tenderness of her eyes rang false, though her welcome appeared sincere enough.
“So my paladins could leave the delights of Panama to come and see a poor woman!” she exclaimed, holding out her hands to them. “Señores, I am honored; this house is yours.”
“Señora, my friend here has been moving all day in a dream,” put in Warlock slyly. “He has talked only of you—by the saints, each hour has been a century for him! I do not know whether he more desires to proceed to California, or to stay in Panama!”
At this audacious speech, Hampton flung his friend one angry glance, but the señora laughed merrily and directed the full battery of her eyes on Hampton.
“Well, señor, has your desire for California in truth grown so weak?”
“Not at all,” responded Hampton, resigning himself. “But what is there in California except gold?”
“That was a much nicer compliment, señor,” she returned, and for a moment Hampton read singular and disquieting things in her eyes. “I like you both, my bold Basques! Here, sit by me and I shall roll you something to smoke, and you shall taste my sherbets while we talk.”
They seated themselves, and two native women appeared, placing sherbet and cakes on the table and supplying the señor with smoking materials. When she had deftly rolled cigaritos from tobacco and the fine thin paper that the ricos used, she struck a sulphur match, lighted her own first, in the courteous Mexican fashion, and then when the sulphur had burned off held out the match to Hampton.
“Now tell me of your affairs,” she said, watching the two, although her eyes rested more upon Hampton than on Warlock. “How did you happen to be on the road this morning?”
“We were lost, coming across from Chagres, and followed jungle trails,” said Hampton.
“You have money? You have arranged for a passage north, perhaps?”
“Money, yes, but money will not buy a passage north,” returned Hampton. “A ship from Callao is expected next week, every berth is sold, and a bonus of five hundred dollars is being offered without a taker. We have no hope of getting a passage for some months.”
The señora smiled.
“Then I can in some slight measure repay your service, señores! My husband's schooner is now down among the islands, and will return here in a week, to carry me north to Mazatlan. May I offer you a passage to that port? There I can help you arrange for a passage to San Francisco, or my husband can do so. Would this suit you?”
Her gaze dwelt upon Hampton's face, and he endeavored to assume a joy that he was far from feeling. It was ridiculous to think that this woman was deliberately flirting with him, yet he read curious things in those dark and liquid eyes.
“Señora, the thought of that voyage in your company overpowers me with happiness!” he made answer, and thanked her with the stately Spanish phrases that could mean so much or so little. He was uncomfortably conscious of Job Warlock's grin.
“Bueno. Then it is arranged,” and the lady waved her cigarito grandly. “Come, tell me about yourselves and your adventures in Cuba! Every one knows that Basques are adventurers and men of great deeds-”
“But, señora,” protested Hampton, “we do not yet know whose hospitality we are so happily enjoying!”
The señora opened her dark eyes.
“What! Have I not told you that my husband is the merchant Juan Avilar y Sortes of Mazatlan, and that I am Inez de Sortes? You must pardon my omission, then, señores! Come, what of yourselves?”
Hampton made haste to forestall his companion in replying. Now that he definitely knew the lady for a liar—he was convinced that she was the wife of Dias—he did not hesitate to deliver a bold stroke. In any case, she would know soon enough that he was not what he represented himself, but an American; and if Dias had left any word of Hampton, she would quickly know him for whom he was. Perhaps before the night was out.
“There is little to tell, señora,” he replied swiftly, building on the lady's evident failure to meet her husband here. “We obtained passage to Chagres from the Havana with a most charming gentleman, a North American, whom we expected to meet here, but so far we have not found him. He came ahead of us from Chagres, you understand.”
“His name?” she murmured. “Perhaps I could help you in the search.”
“His name,” said Hampton, while Warlock gave him an oblique glance, “was Señor Day—James or Diego Day. You have heard of him, yes?”
By the brief narrowing of her lids he knew the shot had driven home. She only picked up a fan, however, and began to move it lazily.
“I regret not to have heard of him, señor,” she said. “I shall have inquiries made.”
“That will be most kind,” said Hampton earnestly. “This Señor Day must certainly be in the city; had we not become lost in the mountains for several days, we should have met him, though by now he may have gone to Tobago Island. He was much enamored of a lady aboard the ship, and has perhaps taken her to the island to await a north-bound vessel.”
Now was reward, certain and prompt, for the eyes of the lady flashed with a sudden and fierce glint, as the eyes of an angered tigress, and her long fingers checked the fan for an instant. Then it passed, but Hampton knew that he had scored a hit. Job Warlock by his silence betrayed his perplexity, so Hampton swiftly ordered him to tell the señora of their adventures, and Job wakened into action. He had a seaman's gift for using his imagination, and now he used it to a remarkable extent.
The lady listened to the recital with only perfunctory attention, however, lazily using her fan and watching Hampton rather than Warlock. The brain behind those dark eyes was busy, and Hampton, realizing the fact, was only too glad to seize the first opportunity of rising and taking leave.
“We promised to be at the Astor House by dark, and it is nearly sunset now,” he said. “We have arranged to get a room there, or else at a small tavern in this same street; so we must be on hand to secure it. Also, we must look for news of Señor Day.”
The señora did not protest, and rose to say farewell first to Job Warlock, smiling into his eyes as she did so. Then she struck a gong on the table, and the Chinese servant who had admitted them made his appearance.
“Señor,” she said to Job, “you expressed your admiration of my tobacco—I shall have this servant give you a packet of it, with my compliments. I trust that I shall see you very shortly; perhaps at the comandante's grand baile on Sunday night, for which I shall secure you invitations. Hasta la vista!"
Warlock, finding himself dismissed, winked over the lady's shoulder and moved toward the patio entrance. The señora turned swiftly to Hampton, as the latter bowed over her hand, and clutched his fingers. He felt something shoved into his palm.
“Here, señor! Take this, and in time of trouble it may be of use to you. Preserve it carefully; you will find that I am not ungrateful to my gallant Basque adventurer! You will return—when? Tomorrow evening when the moon rises?”
“Señor, if I am in this city tomorrow evening,” responded Hampton, forcing a smile to meet those disquieting eyes, “the power of Señor Diablo himself shall not keep me from looking into your eyes! Hasta la vista.”
“Hasta la noche,” corrected the señora, and smiled after him as he departed.
Five minutes afterward, the carven doors closed behind the two friends, and they were in the almost empty street, the heavens above and the ancient stone walls and houses tinctured with the red glare of sunset. Hampton wiped sweat from his brow.
“I said it,” observed Job Warlock whimsically. “These Spanish girls all look twice at a fair-haired señor whose gray eyes——”
Hampton's fingers closed on his arm.
“Stop it! Job, you have plenty of money? Then get off in a hurry and find that Mex skipper of yours; tell him we're in danger of our lives from Americans—any story you like. The point is, we must get out of here at the earliest possible moment. Bribe him to sail at dawn, if you can.”
“But—” began the staring Warlock. Hampton checked him energetically.
“No time to talk now; explain later. Arrange for ourselves and our Indian servant, and do it at any cost, savvy? If we're here tomorrow, we'll catch it hot and heavy. Get along with you, now, and back to the inn on the jump. I'll have dinner waiting for you.”
Comprehending that some urgency threatened, Warlock paused not for more argument, but departed at a run. Hampton, drawing a deep breath, started more calmly for the inn.
“That was a stiff job, and a mighty mean one!” he reflected uncomfortably. “But she asked for it, and she got it. How far she meant well, heaven only knows, and I'm sure no judge—she lied like a good one, though, and if I can get her started on the trail of her precious spouse, so much the better. All's fair in war. Just the same, I want to be out of town when she wakes up to the truth.”
Feeling the lady's parting gift in his sweating palm, he looked at the object. This proved to be a small flat tablet of ivory or bone, in which a gold ring was inserted for suspension by a cord. Upon the tablet were incised those same two characters which Dias used as a seal or brand, and the incisions were filled with blue paint.
Hampton was swift to comprehend that this was a token which would be recognized by any of Dias' men; the señora had not spoken falsely in describing its potential value. He thrust it into a pocket and turned in at the tavern entrance. D'Aquila, wrinkled and gentle, met and led him through a crowd of peons to the passage, and in a few words Hampton arranged to have dinner served in their private room in an hour's time.
Alone, he stretched out, lighted his pipe, and rather gloomily reviewed the events of the afternoon. He was beginning to feel afraid of Doña Hermana; he felt more afraid of her in kindness than in anger. This, in fact, was one reason for his words to her. He felt very certain that within a few hours she would know much of all of the truth about him, and he desired to leave her in no doubt of his own position.
His pipe was not yet finished when Job came into the room, shut the door, and then dropped into a chair.
“Done it! Found him still at monte and in a run of bad luck,” Warlock announced without preamble. “He's agreed to sail at dawn, and will have a boat waiting for us then; we're to flash a light twice on the beach. Passage to Mazatlan will cost us two hundred each. I paid him half down, and it cleaned me out. Lord help us if he discovers that we're Americans and not Basques! He hates gringos like poison. Well, matey, what's the good word?”
Hampton knocked out his pipe, and recounted his experiences of the afternoon. When he told about the inquiring peon, Warlock let out a whistle.
“'Little black bull came over the mountain'—oh, I savvy plenty, Dick! Old Dias left word to look out for us if we ever did show up, and you can gamble on it. But why tell the señora all that stuff?”
“If the peon was a spy, won't he report to her—probably this evening?” countered Hampton. “Job, there's only one word to apply to the lady; she's plumb bad! She'll find soon enough that we've skipped town—then what?”
“—— to pay, I reckon.”
“Sure; but we'll be heading north and she'll be laid up here until her schooner comes back in a week. Meantime, she'll be boiling about her precious husband. Also, the chances are she'll know that we've started north, and she'll drop in an Acapulco and Mazatlan to look us up. All in all, she'll waste a lot of time before she gets home, and we'll have a chance to work at Dias. I don't mind saying that I'd like to leave her out of the scrap; at the same time, I'd sooner have her enmity than her friendship.”
Warlock grinned at this.
“Injun does it, matey! You played her, all right—and I don't know as I blame you for being scared of her. She has her eye on you, right enough. Still, that tobacco was pretty good stuff. What was it she slipped into your hand during that affectionate adios you exchanged?”
Hampton grunted disgustedly, and produced the bone tablet. Warlock examined it, and frowned over the characters.
“I'd like to know what this writing means! Well, take care of the thing; we may need it yet. Now, see here—what about guns? We can't get any more ammunition for these durned French revolvers; but if we look sharp, we can rustle up some real American style pistols and rifles tonight. The town's full of would-be Injun hunters, and there's plenty of men will be glad to cash in on the guns they can't use. Guns ain't grub, as the Injun said when he rubbed his belly.”
“Good idea,” approved Hampton, and got out his money-belt. “Suppose you attend to it right after dinner, will you? Here's enough money to see you through; we'll reach Mazatlan with a slim purse, but I think we'll scrape along all right. Here's dinner now.”
Their host entered, himself bearing the meal Hampton had ordered, and the two friends discussed a simple but excellent dinner. When he had finished, Job Warlock girded up his loins and departed on his errand. Hampton, finding himself with half an hour to spare, donned his hat and went out in search of a razor, for he was determined to be rid of his beard before the next sun.
He sauntered up toward the plaza, and found the gay night life of Panama in full blast—the streets thronged with natives and gold-hunters, music-halls and drink-shops riotous with loud voices, palaces of chance crowded to the doors with seekers after sudden wealth at dice or cards. Guitars thrummed and voices thundered “Susannah” with every known variation, for here were the men with money to spend, the still eager and hopeful ones—that horrible camp near the beach was far from this bright scene. Hampton saw nothing of his French friends, who had probably not yet arrived from Gorgona.
He wandered on, and behind the cathedral found a shop where he purchased a razor and other toilet articles. Then, retracing his steps toward the plaza, he came to the squalid little tavern known as the Astor House, and was passing it when he caught a sudden shrill shout from close at hand. He halted, and the next moment found a dozen little brown soldiers all around him, rifles up and an officer pushing to the front.
And, beside the officer, pointing him out eagerly, was the peon whom he had noticed in the camp that afternoon—the spy of Dias.