CHAPTER XX. THE SURPRISE

They galloped thus till night without exchanging a word. At sunset they reached a ruined rancho, standing like a sentry, on the skirt of the road. The adventurer made a sign and the riders pulled up their horses. A man came out of the rancho, looked at them, without saying a word, and then went in again. Some minutes elapsed; the man reappeared, but this time he came from behind the rancho, and was leading two horses by the bridle. These horses were saddled. The adventurer and Dominique leapt down, removed their alforjas and pistols, placed them on the fresh horses and remounted. The man returned a second time with two other horses, which Lo?ck and López mounted. The man, still silent, collected the bridles of the four horses, and went off dragging them after him.

"Forwards!" don Jaime cried.

They set out once more. The silent and rapid ride recommenced. The night was gloomy and the riders glided through the shadows like phantoms. All night they galloped thus. At about five a.m. they changed horses again at a half-ruined rancho. These men seemed made of iron; though they had been fifteen hours in the saddle, fatigue had no hold on them. Not a word had been exchanged between them during this long ride.

At about ten o'clock in the morning, they saw the domes of Puebla glittering in the dazzling sunbeams. They had covered one hundred and twenty-six miles that separated that town from Mexico, in twenty hours, along almost impracticable roads. At about half a league from the town, instead of continuing to advance in a straight line, at a sign from the adventurer, they turned off and entered a scarce traced path that ran through a wood. For an hour they galloped after don Jaime, who had taken the lead of the cavalcade. They thus reached a rather extensive clearing, in the centre of which stood an enramada.

"We have arrived," said the adventurer, checking his horse and dismounting. "We will establish our headquarters here temporarily."

His companions leaped down and prepared to unsaddle their horses.

"Wait," he continued. "Lo?ck, you will go to your rancho, where the Count de la Saulay and his servants are at present, and bring them here. You, López, will fetch our provisions."

"Are we two going to wait under this enramada, then?" Dominique asked.

"No; for I am going to Puebla."

"Do you not fear being recognized?"

The adventurer smiled. Don Jaime and the vaquero were left alone. They removed their horses' bridles so that they might graze freely on the tender grass of the clearing.

"Follow me," said don Jaime.

Dominique obeyed. They went under the enramada. This is the name given in Mexico to a species of shapeless hut formed of interlaced branches, and covered with other branches and leaves; these tenements, though of very paltry appearance, offer a very sufficient shelter against rain and sunshine. This enramada, better built than the others, was divided into two compartments by a hurdle of intertwined branches, which mounted to the roof and divided the hut into two equal parts. Don Jaime did not stop in the first compartment, but passed straight into the second, still followed by Dominique, who for some moments past seemed to be plunged into serious reflections. The adventurer disturbed a pile of grass and dry leaves, and drawing his machete, began digging up the ground. Dominique looked at him in amazement.

"What are you doing there?" he asked him.

"As you see, I am clearing the entrance of a vault; come and help me," he answered.

Both set to work. Ere long appeared a large flat stone, in the centre of which a ring was fixed. When the stone was removed, steps, clumsily cut in the rock, became visible.

"Come down," said the adventurer.

He had lighted a lamp by means of a lucifer match. Dominique cast a curious glance around him. The spot where he was, situated some seven or eight yards underground, formed a sort of octagonal hall of very considerable dimensions; four galleries, which seemed to run further underground, entered at so many different points. This hall was amply supplied with weapons of every description; there were also harnesses, clothes, a bed made of leaves and furs, and even books on a shelf hanging against the side.

"You see one of my dens," the adventurer said with a smile. "I possess several like this scattered all over Mexico. This vault dates from the time of the Aztecs, and its existence was revealed to me several years ago by an aged Indian. You are aware that the province in which we now are, was anciently the sacred territory of the Mexican religion, and temples swarmed on it; the numberless underground passages were used by the priests to go from one place to another without being discovered, and thus give greater force to miracles of ubiquity which they pretended to accomplish. At a later date, they served as a refuge to the Indians persecuted by the Spanish conquerors. The one we are now in, which runs on one side to the pyramid of Cholula, and on the other to the very heart of Puebla without counting other issues, was on several occasions extremely useful to the Mexican insurgents during the war of Independence—now its existence is forgotten, and the secret is only known to myself and to you now."

The vaquero had listened to this explanation with the most lively interest.

"Pardon me," he said, "but there is one thing that I do not exactly understand."

"What is it?"

"You told me just now that if anyone arrived by chance, we should be at once warned?"

"Yes, I did say so."

"I do not at all understand how this can be."

"Very simply. You see that gallery, do you not?"

"Yes."

"It terminates with a sort of outlook about a yard square, covered with shrubs, and impossible to detect at the very entrance of the path by which it is alone possible to enter the wood; now, by a singular effect of acoustics, which I shall not at all attempt to explain, all sounds, of whatever nature they may be, even the slightest, which are produced near that outlook are immediately repeated here, with such distinctness, that it is most easy to recognize their nature."

"Oh! In that case I am no longer alarmed."

"Moreover, when the persons we expect have arrived, we will stop up this hole, which will be useless to us, and leave by the gallery that opens there in front of you."

While giving these explanations to his friend, the adventurer had doffed a portion of his garments.

"What are you doing?" Dominique asked.

"I am disguising myself, in order to go and find out how matters stand in Puebla. The inhabitants of that town are very religious; monasteries are numerous there, and hence I am going to put on a Camaldoli dress, by favour of which I can attend to my business without fear of attracting attention."

The vaquero had sat down on the furs, and was reflecting with his back against the wall.

"What is the matter, Dominique? You appear to me preoccupied and sad?" don Jaime asked him a moment after.

The young man started as if a viper had suddenly stung him.

"I am, in truth, sad, master," he muttered.

"Have I not told you that we shall find do?a Dolores again?" he continued.

Dominique quivered, and his face became livid; "Master," he said, as he rose, and hung his head, "despise me, I am a coward."

"You a coward, Domingo! Good God, you speak falsely."

"No, master, I am telling the truth, I have misunderstood my duty, betrayed my friend, and forgotten your recommendations." He gave a profound sigh. "I love the betrothed wife of my friend," he added feebly.

The adventurer fixed his bright eyes on him, "I was aware of it," he said.

Domingo started and exclaimed in alarm, "You knew it?"

"I did," don Jaime continued, "And you do not despise me?"

"Why should I? Are we masters of our heart?"

"But she is betrothed to the count, my friend."

The adventurer made no answer to this exclamation. "And does she love you in return?" he asked.

"How can I tell?" he exclaimed, "I have hardly dared to confess it to myself."

There was a lengthened silence. While putting on his monastic garb, the adventurer examined the young man aside. "The count does not love do?a Dolores?" he at length said.

"What! Can it be possible?" he exclaimed, hotly. Don Jaime burst into a laugh.

"That is the way with lovers," he remarked, "they do not understand that others have not the same eyes as themselves."

"But he is going to marry her?"

"He ought," he said, laying a marked stress on the word.

"Did he not come to Mexico expressly for the purpose?"

"It is true."

"Then you see he will marry her in that case."

The adventurer shrugged his shoulders.

"Your conclusion is absurd," he said. "Does a man ever know what he will do? Does the morrow belong to him?"

"But since the misfortunes which have crushed do?a Dolores' family and herself, the count has been attempting impossibilities to save the young lady."

"That proves that the count is a perfect gentleman and man of honour, that is all. Besides, he is her relation, and is doing his duty in trying to save her, even at the risk of his life and fortune."

Dominique shrugged his shoulders several times, "He loves her," he said.

"In that case I will turn the sentence; do?a Dolores does not love him."

"You think so?"

"I am sure of it."

"Oh, if I could only persuade myself of it, I might hope."

"You are a baby. Now I am off, and do you wait for me here: swear not to leave this place till my return."

"I swear it."

"Good: I am going to work for you, so hope I shall return soon."

And giving him a last wave of the hand, the adventurer went off by a side gallery.

The young man remained pensive so long as the sound of his friend's retiring footsteps reached him, then he fell back on the bed of furs, murmuring in a low voice, "He told me to wait."

We will leave Dominique plunged in those reflections which, judging from the expression of his face, must have been agreeable, and follow don Jaime on his adventurous expedition. As the vault was situated about half a league from the town, don Jaime had that distance to go underground before he found himself in Puebla. But this long walk did not appear at all to alarm him: he proceeded at a round pace along the gallery into which sufficient light penetrated by invisible interstices, for him to be able to guide himself in the countless windings he was forced to make. He walked thus for about three parts of an hour, and at length reached the foot of a staircase, consisting of fifteen steps.

The adventurer stopped a moment to draw breath, and then went up. When he reached the top of the steps, he sought for a spring, which he soon found, and pressed his finger on it. Immediately an enormous stone became detached from the wall, moved noiselessly on invisible hinges, and displayed a wide passage. Don Jaime stepped out and thrust back the stone, which immediately resumed its first position in so perfect a manner, that it was impossible, even with the most earnest attention, to perceive the slightest crack or solution of continuity in the wall.

Don Jaime looked searchingly round him: he was alone. The spot where he was was a chapel of the cathedral of Puebla. The secret door through which the adventurer had passed opened on a corner of this chapel, and was concealed by a confessional. These precautions were carefully taken, and there was no risk of a discovery. Don Jaime left the church and found himself on the Plaza Mayor. It was about midday, the hour of the siesta, and the square was almost deserted. The adventurer pulled the hood over his eyes, hid his hands in his cuffs, and with his head hanging on his chest, and with a calm and contemplative step he crossed the square and entered one of the streets that ran from it.

Oliver thus reached the gate of a pretty house, standing in its own grounds, and which seemed to rise from the centre of a bouquet of orange and pomegranate trees. As this gate was only on the hasp, the adventurer pushed it, went in and closed the gate again after him. He then found himself on the sanded walk that led to the door of the house, which was raised by a few steps, and covered by a large verandah in the Mexican fashion. Oliver looked suspiciously around him, but the garden was deserted. He advanced; but instead of proceeding toward the house he struck into a sidewalk, and after a few turns found himself facing a door apparently belonging to the offices.

On reaching this spot Oliver took a silver whistle hanging round his neck by a thin gold chain, raised it to his lips, and produced a sweet and peculiarly modulated sound. Almost immediately a similar whistle was heard from the interior, the door opened, and a man appeared. The adventurer made him a Masonic sign, to which the other replied, and followed him into the house. Without speaking, this man guided him through several apartments till he reached a door which he opened to let the adventurer pass through, while he remained behind.

The room into which Oliver was thus introduced was elegantly furnished, large Venetian blinds interrupted the rays of the sun, the floor was covered with one of those soft petates which the Indians alone know how to manufacture; a hammock of aloe fibre suspended by silver rings from hooks of the same material divided the room in two. A man was lying in this hammock fast asleep. It was don Melchior de la Cruz; a knife with a curiously embossed silver hilt, with a wide long blade sharp as a viper's tongue, was placed on a low sandalwood table within reach, by the side of two magnificent revolvers.

Even in his own house, in the middle of Puebla, don Melchior thought it right to be on his guard against a surprise or treachery. His fears, however, were not at all exaggerated, for the man who is at that moment before him might fairly be reputed one of his most formidable enemies.

The adventurer surveyed him for some minutes, then advanced softly to the hammock without producing the slightest noise. He took the revolvers, concealed them under his gown, seized the knife, and then gently touched the sleeper. Though the touch, was so light, it sufficed to arouse don Melchior. He at once opened his eyes, and stretched out his arm to the table by a mechanical movement.

"It is useless," Oliver said to him, coldly; "the weapons are no longer there."

At the sound of this well-known voice don Melchior sprang up as if moved by a spring, and fixing a haggard eye on the man standing motionless before him, he asked, in a voice choked by horror—

"Who are you?"

"Have you not recognized me yet?" the adventurer remarked, jeeringly.

"Who are you?" he repeated.

"Ah! You require a certainty: well, look!" and he threw back his hood on his shoulders.

"Don Adolfo!" the young man muttered, in a hollow voice.

"Why this astonishment?" the adventurer continued, in the same mocking voice. "Did you not expect me? Still, you should have supposed that I would come to seek you."

Don Melchior remained for a moment as if lost in thought. "Be it so," he at length said, "After all it is better to come to an end once for all," and he sat down again, apparently calm and careless, on the edge of the hammock.

Oliver smiled. "Very good," he said; "I would sooner see you thus: let us talk, we have time."

"Then you have not come with the intention of assassinating me?" he asked, ironically.

"Oh! What a bad thought that is of yours, my dear sir! I raise a hand against you! Oh, no! Heaven preserve me from it! That is the hangman's business, and I should be most sorry to poach on the manor of that estimable functionary."

"The fact is," he exclaimed, impetuously, "that you have entered my house as a malefactor, in disguise, of course, to assassinate me."

"You repeat yourself, and that is clumsy; if I have come to you in disguise it is because circumstances compelled me to take the precaution, that is all: moreover, I only followed your example," and suddenly changing his tone, he added—"by the by, are you satisfied with Juárez? Has he rewarded your treachery handsomely? I have heard say that he is a very greedy and mean Indian, and so, I suppose, he contented himself with making you promises?"

Don Melchior smiled disdainfully.

"Did you thus privily enter my house only to talk such trash to me?" he asked.

The adventurer rose, drew a revolver, stepped forward, and regarding him with a look of indescribable contempt, shouted, in a voice of thunder—

"No, scoundrel, I have come to blow out your brains if you refuse to reveal to me what you have done with your sister, do?a Dolores!"