CHAPTER XX.

A RENDEZVOUS AT THE TOBACCONIST'S.

Some men have a passion for the uncertainties of chance--they delight in wagering all they possess in the shape of filthy lucre on the turn of a die.

Doubtless such inveterate gamesters might have found some satisfaction in Roderic's position when, upon turning from the friendly balcony he pitched himself and his fortunes through the open window of the house.

All was uncertainty before him, and the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter would have found it extremely difficult to declare just what turn fortune's wheel was about to take for him.

Roderic himself experienced no pleasure in this groping in the dark, and would have been much better satisfied could he have known just what lay before him.

However, there be times when one must accept philosophically whatever favors the Fates choose to toss us as they go swinging past--times when action is the only resource left, and even at that one needs be wide awake in order to take advantage of the opportunity.

When he burst into the apartment Roderic heard a feminine shriek, but his only thought was a door of some sort that would give him egress.

Fortunately he found this, more through good luck than anything else.

It brought him to a hall.

Few though the seconds had been since his departure from the balcony, he could already hear the lusty blows that were being delivered upon the door of the house, which, unless of far better material than the average doors in San Juan must speedily succumb before the vigorous assault.

This meant that should he descend to the lower strata in search of an outlet by way of court or garden or rear exit of some sort he might be just in time to be overwhelmed by the inflowing tide of eager hustling citizens and soldiers.

At the same time it would never do to stand still and lose what little advantage he had gained.

Perhaps even now some of his enemies were clambering up to the balcony, since he had shown them the way.

Roderic had at least retarded pursuit from that quarter by closing the door after quitting the apartment from whence the dismal shrieks sounded in a high pitched female voice, and the others might not prove so successful in finding the opening as he had been.

He knew the peculiarities of Spanish houses.

In all probability there was some means of reaching the roof, though he hardly expected to find an _azotea_ with its flowers and place for lounging, as in the better class of more isolated dwellings.

Thus it came to pass that Roderic found himself crawling through an opening at the top of a ladder, and thus reaching the outer air.

His enemies were giving tongue with all the eagerness of a pack of hounds, and the quick and thrilling pulsation of blows announced that as yet the stubborn door had failed to yield before their vigorous assault.

Just then, however, a crash followed by a chorus of whoops and much laughter declared that success had finally rewarded their efforts.

Immediately the house would be swarming with the seekers after Yankee blood--like rats they would dart hither and thither, leaving no stone unturned in their eagerness to find that which was lost.

Roderic gave them his blessing.

He had surveyed the situation and laid out his plan of action like a wise general.

It was necessary that he crawl over a number of roofs before he could think of endeavoring to touch ground again.

This he managed to accomplish without discovery from the street, and on the whole he had reason to be thankful that no curious eyes had fastened upon him from neighboring buildings.

Meanwhile the searchers were having a merry time of it in the house that had been made the object of their assault--it sounded as if Bedlam had broken loose in that quarter, and the shrieks of the terrorized maiden lady formed but a small proportion of the chorus that arose.

Roderic had found his opportunity to leave the roof and reach a friendly deserted balcony.

From this to the ground was but a small undertaking, and he managed to accomplish it with the utmost ease.

Thus triumph had followed his line of action.

He was now free to return to the plaza or seek the humble abode of his friend, under the roof of which he could rest in peace.

This should apparently have been his first thought, but his action indicated that it was far removed from his mind.

Not that he was in such a reckless mood as to invite a fresh attack from these desperadoes of the San Juan streets--Roderic had simply become impressed with a bright idea and was bent upon carrying it out.

He had not forgotten that a wonderful fortune placed him in communication with the very girl whom he desired to meet--the only one who could tell him where to find Leon de Brabant, because she had fled with him and was in all probability his wife.

Such a golden opportunity should not be neglected.

Fortune had been kind but the same chance might not occur again.

To have a few words with her, to appoint a place of future meeting, was the magnet that held Owen to the spot even when ordinary discretion should have demanded that he leave the dangerous neighborhood post haste.

It would not be the first time on record that a charming woman's presence has nailed a man to danger's cross, and so long as the world lasts will the story be repeated.

He did not believe there was much chance of his identity being discovered, especially if he could avoid the keen eye of that same Julio who had penetrated his disguise before.

In appearance he did not differ to any material extent from the majority of those to be seen in the streets of San Juan.

Besides, all attention was at present centred on the luckless dwelling that was being overhauled by a miscellaneous assortment of soldiers and civilians. Some of these enthusiasts had even clambered out upon the roof and were eagerly searching for the fugitive in that quarter.

Wise men have before this time been known to lock the stable door after the horse was stolen.

Roderic was now among those who stood in the calle and chattering like a collection of magpies, kept their regards fastened upon the wretched house whose balcony had tempted the Yankee and thus precipitated trouble.

His one thought of course, was the girl--had she flitted from the spot because the clamor had alarmed her soul?

Perhaps she was not so unfamiliar with scenes of confusion, since her father had been the governor of famous old Morro Castle, under the walls of which many a remarkable event has occurred since the days of the Virginius affair, when American filibusters were shot down by order of the Spanish authorities.

At any rate she was still there, watching the house where so much clamor arose, twisting and untwisting her little hands in nervous anxiety.

Thanks to Roderic's vandal hand her pretty face was no longer screened by a veil, and more than one rough soldier drank in the outlines of her charming features with avidity.

She was evidently deeply concerned in the outcome of the search.

Roderic should feel flattered at this evidence of approval from so sincere a source.

It was no time, however, to indulge in any foolish speculations, or allow his masculine vanity a chance to arise.

Julio was still on deck, and since his eyesight was apparently as sound as ever, despite his rough treatment at the hands of the Yankee, it would be a wretched mistake to again come under his withering observation, for on this occasion no friendly balcony might offer him an asylum from the outstretched hands of the bolero dancer's excited allies.

So Roderic approached the spot where stood the girl--he must exchange words with her, no matter what the risk or the consequences--at least it was necessary that some rendezvous be appointed where he could engage her more fully in conversation.

With this set object in view he drew near, and watching his opportunity whispered:

"Senorita--Leon's sister--turn this way!"

She must have heard him, for she immediately forgot to watch the house that was being searched, and fastened her eyes on him.

Roderic, fearing lest she might by means of some unwise exclamation draw Julio's attention to him, had a finger on his lips, indicating caution.

He saw her start and knew she immediately suspected his identity.

Time was most valuable, and it was utterly out of the question for him to learn what he desired while laboring under such serious disadvantages.

Besides, it was folly to run any more risk than was absolutely necessary, and with such a good hater as the dashing _bolero_ dancer only three yards away, every second he remained there increased his danger.

At any rate he could not blame Leon for falling in love with such a charming creature as the governor's daughter--Roderic considered himself a fair judge of beauty, even if he were not a connoisseur, and he saw a vision of loveliness before him that might easily have disturbed the sternest old anchorite.

Another thing--he discovered traces of distinct resemblance between this girl and the handsome Julio, so that a suspicion as to their possible relationship flashed into his mind.

"Never mind how I escaped--I am here to speak to you. My object in entering this city is to find Leon--you must take me to him--it is the price of my happiness with Georgia--when and where can I see you again--appoint a _rendezvous_, I pray you."

This is what he said hastily almost in her pretty ear--she was quick of comprehension, and by the look upon her face he knew she had grasped the situation.

One glance she shot toward Julio, who just at the moment seemed deeply engrossed with the antics of the men who were running over the roofs like a lot of monkeys.

Roderic pressed even closer, eager to hear what she might say, since it concerned his future state as connected with Georgia.

"At Senor Pedro Sanchez the tobacconist, on the Grand Plaza--at eight o'clock--to-morrow--_Madre de Dios_ protect you, senor! Do not longer delay!"

It was enough.

He knew he could find the place and keep the appointment. Her warning was well timed too, for just as he turned away Julio came to her side.

It was a rare piece of good fortune that had kept him away thus long.

Julio seemed uneasy and suspicious--he even glanced sharply at every one near by as though some inward monitor warned him he was being outgeneraled.

The bystanders were to all appearances quite innocent of wrong intentions, and he could not run after the man who walked away so composedly, demanding that he then and there give an account of himself--those in whose veins bounds the hot blood of Spain stand no such peremptory challenges as that, and the answer just as likely as not would be the drawn arm, the glint of polished steel, the thud of a _cuchillo_ striking home--ugh! he wanted not of that sort.

Oh! yes, Julio knew all about this, for his education while neglected in some other particulars was quite up to date when it came to the stir and danger of war--he had been through many a little engagement himself during his checkered career, and knew just what he would do under similar conditions.

Wherefore his exceeding caution.

It was the development of this trait that had given Julio so long a lease on life in spite of his many entanglements.

Roderic now made it his business to quit the stirring locality.

Little he cared to what lengths the mob went in their vigorous search--they could tear the old town wide open; but he had good reason to doubt whether they would receive any reward, since it was himself they sought, and he had high hopes of continuing to avoid their clutches.

The morning would find him on the plaza, with his eyes fastened upon the tobacconist's jaunty little shop--did he not know it well, for had he not many a time in the past loitered in that same queer establishment, selecting prime weeds from Senor Pedro's carefully arranged stock, and discussing the affairs of the universe with the white bearded philosopher who guided the destinies of the rendezvous where men met and formed plans and sought advice.

Ah! that was in the good days of long ago, before San Juan had heard the deep growl of hostile Yankee guns, before it was a capital offense to be known as an American in Porto Rico--halcyon days when Love's brush painted all around him a rosy hue, when life's horizon knew no cloud.

Since then he had suffered much, but thank heaven it seemed as though the old state was about to once more come upon him, and gold is doubly precious when refined by fire.

The clamor and confusion was left behind as he passed along various narrow streets, heading once again toward the Plaza Cristobal Colon.

Minor things attracted him as in the happy past when he knew no care--he even stopped where the sound of guitars announced some entertainment under a canvas shelter, and found his old acquaintances the gypsies in their weird dance, dark skinned sons and daughters of the warm Sierra Morena valleys.

Other scenes, common enough in this section of the capital, drew his attention, and he found a peculiar joy in watching two humble lovers, he with his sturdy arm about the maiden's waist, strolling along just beyond.

Well satisfied with what had come to pass on this particular night Roderic reached the cottage home of his Cuban friend, and giving the signal knock was admitted.

Wearied in body yet with a mind relieved from all care he sought and found rest in sleep.

With the coming of morning he was astir.

Every one rises early in San Juan, for there is life and vigor in the bracing air, a tonic that becomes a necessity to these people who live in a semi-tropical region that has never known frost, and where midday is stifling.

Roderic had more than ordinary reasons for rising early on this morning--one can look with considerable pleasure upon that day whose dawn promises to usher in the greatest blessing on earth for him, and this was the extent of his hopes in connection with the governor's daughter who had saved Leon.

When he issued forth he found that an unusual stir pervaded the town.

Some military movement was on the _tapis_, and he presumed that it could only be one of considerable importance, judging from the bustle that pervaded even this portion of the town.

Maneuvers were usually confined to those sections where the streets were wider and a better class of citizens could enjoy the brilliant spectacle; for no soldiers like appreciation more than those of Spain.

Curiosity might have led Roderic to look into this matter a little more deeply, but just at present he had his time well occupied, and besides, it mattered very little to General Miles what the soldier garrison of San Juan did, since they were doomed to capture at no distant day, squirm and struggle as they pleased.

Breakfast first, and this he secured at a cafe where many men had gathered to drink their coffee and talk over the exciting events about to transpire in the Antilles. They had no hesitation in expressing sympathy with the American arms for this was not Cuba--even the Spanish soldiers in Porto Rico had a leaning toward the Yankees--there was far less bitterness shown than in Havana, for the people were more independent. The sensation of liberty was in the air, and men seemed to feel the new strength that was soon to make them a section of the Western giant--they had known for some time what Destiny had in store for Porto Rico, and patiently awaited the glorious dawn of that blessed day, instead of the useless struggles of years, that would sap their powers, and blight their beloved land, even as Cuba had been, with the incendiary's torch and the bushwhacker's rifle.

The day for their reward was coming, and once the stars and stripes had been planted on Spain's colony's sacred soil, it was there to stay, whether that land be Cuba, Porto Rico, the Ladrones or the far away Philippines.

It was now near the hour when he had agreed to meet the girl, so Roderic made his way toward the plaza. While this place lacked much of the charm that is always associated with myriads of lights, moving gayly dressed throngs and stirring open air concerts, it was full of people about this hour of the day since the summer sun would chase people indoors long before noon.

He came down in the quarter where the quaint little shop of the tobacconist was to be found, and kept his eyes eagerly on the alert for a figure that would, as he remembered, remind him of Georgia's.