His Unknown Wife Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  "FIND THE LADY"

  A slight mist hung over the sea--sure outcome of the tremendous range ofthe thermometer between noon and midnight in a tropical clime. The skywas cloudless, and the stars clustered in myriads.

  Though the Southern Hemisphere falls far short of the glory of the northin constellations of the first magnitude, the extraordinary clearness ofthe upper air near the equator enhances the stellar display. It wouldalmost seem that nature knows she may veil her ample splendors in thenorth, but must make the most of her scantier charms in the south.

  Maseden, swinging on his heel in sheer bewilderment, suddenly foundhimself face to face with the Southern Cross, hanging low above thehorizon. Had an impossible meteor flamed forth from the familiar clusterof stars and shot in awe-inspiring flight across the whole arc of theheavens northward to the line, it would not have surprised him more thanthe discovery that his "wife" was on board the ship.

  That was a stupendous fact before which the whirl of adventure of thelong day now drawing to a close subsided into calm remoteness.

  "Madeleine," the woman he had married, was his fellow-passenger! Hewould surely see her many times during the voyage to Buenos Ayres! Hewould hear her voice, which he could not fail to recognize.

  She, on her part, would probably identify him at the first glance. Howwould she handle an extraordinary situation? Would she claim him as herhusband, repudiate him scornfully, or utterly ignore him? He could noteven guess.

  There was no telling what a woman would do who had elected to marry aman whom she had never met, whose very name, in all likelihood, she hadnever heard, merely because he happened to be a prisoner condemned tospeedy death.

  Yet she could not be a particularly cold-blooded person. She had weptfor him, had whispered her heartfelt grief; had promised to pray for andthink of him always. Even the man with the high-pitched voice of ahypochondriac--presumably, from the manner of his address, herfather--had hinted that her suffering had already passed the bounds setfor one who, to serve her own ends, had gone through that amazingceremony.

  Maseden did not actually marshal his thoughts thus clearly. If compelledto bend his wits to the task, he might have spoken or written in suchwise. But an active brain has its own haphazard methods of weighing anew and distracting problem; it will ask and answer a dozen startlingquestions simultaneously.

  In the midst of Maseden's strange and formless imaginings the ship'scourse was changed a couple of points to the southward, and the SouthernCross was shut out of sight by the forecastle head. Then, and not untilthen, did the coincidence of the vessel's name with that of theconstellation occur to his bemused wits.

  He laughed cheerfully.

  "By gad!" he said, "all the signs of the zodiac must have clusteredabout my horoscope on this 15th of January. When I get ashore I mustfind an astrologer and ask him to expound."

  The sound of his own voice brought a belated warning to Maseden of thefolly he had committed in speaking aloud.

  There was no other occupant of the fore deck at the moment. A look-outman in the bows could not possibly have overheard, because of thewhistling of the breeze created by the ship's momentum and the plash ofthe curved waves set up by the cut-water, and it was highly improbablethat words uttered in a conversational tone would have reached thebridge.

  But behind him rose the three decks of the superstructure, and theremight be eavesdroppers on the promenade deck or in one of the two darkgangways running aft.

  He glanced over his shoulder to right and left. Apparently he hadescaped this time. No matter what developments took place in the nearfuture, he was by no means anxious as yet to reveal his nationality.Each hour brought home, more and more forcibly, the misfortune of thechance which left him no alternative but the shooting of Suarez thatmorning.

  The act was absolutely essential to his own safety, but it put himclearly out of court. At any rate, the authorities of no South Americanstate would listen to a recital of his earlier wrongs. If, as was highlyprobable, a sensational account of the attempted assassination of thenew president had been tacked on to the telegrams announcing the _coupd'etat_ in San Juan, and he, Maseden, were painted as a desperado ofmark, it might even be feared that the settled and respectable ArgentineRepublic would arrest him and endeavor to send him back to San Juan fortrial.

  Of course, the United States Consul in Buenos Ayres would have somethingto say about it, but there was a very real danger of consular effortsbeing overruled. No matter how distasteful the role, Philip AlexanderMaseden must continue to masquerade as Ramon Aliones, _vaquero_, untilhe could leave the ship and assume another alias.

  It was soon borne in on him how narrow was the margin which stillseparated him from disaster. He had gone to his berth, an unsavory hutchnext to a larger cabin tenanted by deck-hands, when the door was thrustwide (he had left it half open while undressing, there being no electricswitch within) and a lamp flashed in his eyes.

  A short, stockily-built man, whom Maseden rightly took for the captain,stood there, accompanied by another man, seemingly a Spanish steward.

  "Now, then," came the gruff question, "what's this I hear about yourspeaking English to yourself? Who are you? What's your name?"

  Luckily, Maseden was so surprised that he did not answer. The swarthysteward, a thin, lantern-jawed person, grinned. Maseden saw that the manwas wearing canvas shoes with india-rubber soles, and guessed the truthinstantly.

  His nerve had been tested many times that day; nor did it fail him now.Gazing blankly at the captain, he said, in Spanish, that he did notunderstand.

  "Tell him, Alfonso, that you heard him speaking English a few minutessince.... Hi, you! Stop that! No smoking in your berth."

  Maseden was rolling a cigarette in true Spanish style. The captain wasobviously suspicious, so the situation called for a touch of stageartistry.

  Alfonso translated, pricking his ears for Maseden's reply. But he hailedfrom the east coast, whereas Maseden used the _patois_ of San Juan.

  "You made a natural mistake, senor," said the American easily. "I wastalking to the stars, a habit of mine when alone on the _pampas_, andtheir names would sound somewhat like the words of a barbarous tongue."

  "And a foolish habit, too!" commented the captain when he heard theexplanation. "Do you know any of 'em?" and he glanced up at the strip ofsky visible from where he stood.

  The smiling _vaquero_ stepped out on to the open deck. Oh, yes, all thechief stars were old friends of his. He pointed to the "Sea-serpent,"the "Crow," and the "Great Dog," giving the Spanish equivalents.

  The steward, of course, densely ignorant in such things, and alreadyhalf convinced that he had blundered, was only anxious now to avoidbeing rated by the captain for having gone to him with a cock-and-bullstory. Somehow, Maseden sensed this fact, and made smooth the path.

  "They are strange names," he said with a laugh, "but we of the plainsoften have to find the way on land as a sailor on the sea."

  "Has he any papers?" demanded the captain, apparently satisfied that thepassenger was really acquainted with the chief star-groups.

  Maseden produced that thrice-fortunate duplicate of the receipt forcattle brought from the San Luis ranch to Cartagena by Ramon Alionesthat very day. The captain examined it, and turned wrathfully on thesteward.

  "Be off to the devil!" he growled. "Find some other job than botheringme with your fool's tales!"

  When Alfonso had vanished, he added, seemingly as an afterthought:

  "If I was a _vaquero_ with a dirty face, I wouldn't worry about cleanfingernails or wear silk underclothing, and I'd do my star-gazing indumb show!"

  With that he, too, strode away. Undoubtedly, the captain of the_Southern Cross_ was no fool.

  Five minutes later the silk vest and pants which Maseden had nottroubled to change while donning the gay attire of old Lopez's nephew,went into the Pacific through the small port-hole which redeemed thecabin's otherwise stuffy atmosphere. Happily the bunk, though crude,
was clean, and long enough to hold a tall man.

  Maseden fancied he would lie awake for hours. In reality, he was deadtired, and slept the sleep of sheer exhaustion until wakened by aloud-voiced intimation that all crimson-hued Dagoes must rousethemselves if they didn't want to be stirred up by a hose-pipe.

  Now, if there was one thing more than another that Maseden liked whenon board ship, it was a cold salt-water bath. But he dared neithertake a bath nor wash his face. Personal cleanliness is not a markedcharacteristic of South American cowboys. That he should displayclose-cropped hair instead of an abundance of oiled and curly tresseswas a fact singular enough in itself, without inviting attention bythe use of soap and water.

  Perforce, he remained filthy. The captain's hint was very much to thepoint.

  The _Southern Cross_ was not a regular passenger boat. Primarily atrader, carrying nitrate or grain to home ports, and coal thence tovarious points on the southern or western seaboard of South America,she was equipped with a few cabins, about a dozen all told, on the upperdeck.

  The so-called second-class accommodation was several degrees worse thanthe steerage on a crack Atlantic liner. That is to say, the humanfreight ranked a long way after cargo. The food was plentiful, thoughrough. Even for saloon passengers there was neither stewardess nordoctor.

  As a matter of course, a passenger list would be an absurdity. The chiefsteward acted as purser, and knew the names of all on board after fiveminutes' study of his ledger. Passengers and ship's officers soon becameacquainted. Within twenty-four hours Maseden had ascertained that a Mr.James Gray, with his two daughters, occupied staterooms; but, for thelife of him, he could not learn the ladies' Christian names.

  He cudgeled his brains to try and remember whether or not his "wife" hadsigned the register as Madeleine Gray; but the effort failed completely.He knew why, for the best of reasons; yet the knowledge did not renderfailure less tantalizing.

  It is one thing to be dazzled by the prospect of escape from the seemingcertainty of death within a few minutes, but quite another to be on thesame ship as the lady you have married two days earlier, yet neitherknow her name nor be positive as to her identity.

  This, however, was literally Maseden's predicament when chance favoredhim with a long, steady look at the Misses Gray. He could not bemistaken, because there were no other ladies on board.

  Thus when a very pretty girl, wearing a muslin dress and hat of Leghornstraw, appeared at the forward rail of the promenade deck and gazedwistfully out over the sea, Maseden's heart fluttered more violentlythan he would have thought possible as the effect of a casual glance atany woman.

  So, then, this fair, slim creature, whose unheeding eyes had dwelt onhim for a fleeting second ere they sought the horizon, was his wife! Itwas an extraordinary notion; fantastic, yet not wholly unpleasing. Itwould be rather a joke, if opportunity offered, to flirt with her. Hehad never flirted with any girl, and hardly knew how to begin; but muchreading had taught him that the lady herself might prove an admirablecoach if so minded.

  Of course, there was room for error in one respect. He might havemarried the sister, who, thus far, nearly midday, had not been visibleduring daylight. He calculated the pros and cons of the situation. Ifhis "wife" was feeling the strain of that unnerving experience in thegreat hall of the Castle of San Juan, she might now be resting in herstateroom. But why should the sister, on whose shoulders, one wouldsuppose, sat no such heavy load of care, come on deck alone and scan theblue Pacific with that dreamy air?

  Yes, by Jove, this really must be his wife! Somehow, poetic justicedemanded that she, and not her sister, should meet him thusunconsciously.

  In covert fashion he began to study her. The deck on which she stood wasfully twenty feet above him, and she was still further separated fromhim by some thirty feet of the fore hatch, but he noted that her eyeswere of the Parma violet tint so frequently met with in the heroines offiction, yet all too seldom seen in real life. Being a mere man, he wasnot aware that blue eyes in shadow assume that exact tint. At any rate,as eyes, they were more than satisfactory.

  Her nose was well modeled, with broad, flexible nostrils, unfailingsign of good health and an equable disposition. Her lips were prettilycurved, and the oval face, framed in a cluster of brown hair, was poisedon a perfectly molded neck. She owned shapely arms; he had already hadoccasion to admire her hands; a small, neatly-shod foot was visibleunder the lowest rail as the girl leaned on her elbows in an attitudeof unstudied grace.

  Altogether, Mr. Maseden liked the looks of Mrs. Maseden!

  He was beginning to revel in sentiment when the edifice of seeminglysubstantial fact so swiftly constructed by a fertile imagination wasdissipated into space by hearing a voice--_the_ voice, he wassure--coming from some unseen part of the upper deck.

  "Ah! There you are, Nina!" it said. "I've been looking for youeverywhere! How long have you been here?"

  Nina! So this fairy was only the _sister_. Maseden smiled grimly behinda cloud of cigarette smoke because of the absurd shock which the wordsadministered. He was sharply aware of a sense of disappointment, afeeling so far-fetched as to be almost ludicrous.

  What in the world did it matter to which of these two he was married?In all probability he would never exchange a word with either, and hisfirst serious business on reaching a civilized country would be to getrid of the incubus with which a set of phenomenal circumstances alonehad saddled him.

  At last, however, he would really see his wife, and thus end one phaseof a curious entanglement. Nina had half turned. Evidently she realizedthat Madeleine meant to join her. Maseden leaned back against theexternal paneling of his cubby-hole and looked aloft now with curiosityat once quickened and undisguised.

  But he was fated to suffer many minor shocks that day. Madeleineappeared, and presented such an exact replica of Nina that, at firstsight, and in the strong shadows cast by the canvas screen which alonerendered that portion of the deck habitable while the sun was up, it waspractically impossible for a stranger to differentiate between them.

  Maseden discovered later that Madeleine was twenty-two and Nina nearlytwenty-four; but the marked resemblance between the pair, accentuatedby their trick of dressing alike, led people to take them for twins.Moreover, each so admirably duplicated the other in voice and mannerismsthat only near relatives or intimate friends could be certain which wasspeaking if the owner of the voice remained invisible.

  For a little while, too, Maseden's mind was reduced to chaos by hearingNina address her sister as "Madge." He was vouchsafed the merest glimpseof Madge's face, because, after a quick, heedless look at him and at ahalf-caste sailor readjusting the hatches covering the fore hold, sheturned her back to the rail and said something that Maseden could notoverhear.

  A man joined the two girls, whereupon Nina also faced aft. The newcomer,standing well away under the screen, could not be seen at all, andMaseden thought it must be Mr. Gray, the querulous person whoseoutspoken utterances had first warned Maseden that his wife was onboard.

  But he erred again. Some comment passed by Nina raised a laugh, andMaseden recognized the voice of Mr. Sturgess, whose baggage he hadcarried overnight.

  "I guess _not_!" he was saying, with a humorous stress on each word. "Asa summer resort, San Juan disagreed with my complaint, Miss Gray."

  "Have you been ill, then?" came the natural query.

  "No, but I might have been had I remained there too long," was theanswer. "A change of president in one of these small republics is like abad railroad smash--you never know who'll get hurt. I've a notion thatMr. Gray must have felt sort of relieved when he brought you two youngladies safe and sound aboard this ship."

  "We didn't see anything specially alarming," said Nina. "Madge went outtwice during the day with Mr. Steinbaum, a trader, and the streets werevery quiet, she thought."

  Madge! Was "Madge" a family diminutive for Madeleine? Maseden neitherknew nor cared. Nina's harmless chatter had told him the truth. Madgemost certainly did find th
e streets quiet, if the story brought by Lopezfrom Cartagena was correct; namely, that she had been carried out of theCastle in a dead faint.

  And now the heartless creature was actually laughing!

  "One cannot take a South American revolution quite seriously--it alwayshas something comical about it," she cried, and it was astounding howclosely the one sister's voice resembled the other's. "I understand thatsome poor people were shot the night before last, but I saw a man whokeeps a restaurant opposite Mr. Steinbaum's house produce a device withflags and a scroll. On the scroll was painted 'Long Live Valdez.' Hedrew some fresh letters over the first part of the name, dabbed onplenty of black and white paint, and the new legend ran 'Long LiveSuarez.' The whole thing was done, and the flags were out, in less thanfive minutes."

  Sturgess evidently asked for and obtained permission to smoke. He cameto the rail. Both girls faced forward again, and Maseden was free tocompare them.

  Madge, or Madeleine, as he preferred to style her, seemed to be a triflepaler than Nina. Otherwise, her likeness to her sister was almostuncanny, if that ill-omened word might be applied to two remarkablypretty girls. Neither of the girls wore gloves, but Maseden looked invain for the heavy gold wedding-ring which Steinbaum's thoroughness hadsupplied when wanted.

  At that moment an officer appeared on the main deck. The fore hold hadto be opened, it seemed. A quartermaster, summoned from the forecastle,hoisted a block and tackle to a derrick. The noise effectually drownedthe talk of the trio on the upper deck until the tackle was rigged, anda couple of hatches were removed. The half-caste sailor was about todescend into the hold just as Sturgess's somewhat staccato accentsreached Maseden clearly again.

  "Say, did you ladies hear of the American who was to be shot earlyyesterday morning? A most thrilling yarn was spun by a friend of minewho knows Cartagena from A to Z. He said--"

  Maseden was on the alert to detect the slightest variation of expressionon Madeleine's face. She bent forward, her hands tightly clutching therail, and darted a piteous under look at her sister. Thus it happenedthat Maseden alone was gazing upward, and he saw, out of the tail ofhis eye, the heavy block detaching itself from the derrick and fallingstraight on top of the sailor, who had a leg over the coaming of thehatch and a foot on the first rung of the iron ladder leading down intothe hold.

  With a quickness born of many a tussle with a bucking broncho, Masedenleaped, caught the rope held by the quartermaster, and jerked itviolently. The block missed the half-caste by a few inches, and clangedin the hold far beneath.

  The tenth part of a second decided whether the sailor should be dashedheadlong into the depths or left wholly unscathed. As it was, he andevery onlooker realized that the rakish-looking _vaquero_ had saved hislife.

  In the impulsive way of his race, the man darted forward, threw his armsaround Maseden's neck, and kissed him. To his very great surprise, hisrescuer thrust him off, and said angrily:

  "Don't be such a damn fool!"

  An exclamation, almost a slight scream, came from the upper deck.Maseden knew in an instant that this time he had blundered beyondrepair. Madeleine had heard his voice, and had recognized him. Moreover,the officer, the quartermaster, even the grateful Spaniard, were eyeinghim with unmixed amazement.

  The fat _was_ in the fire this time! In another moment would comedenunciation and arrest, and then--back to the firing squad! What shouldhe do?