Part 45 (1/2)

When Kate and her father, with Mr. Britton's a.s.sistance, before returning home for the night, removed the articles taken from Walcott's pockets, the tiny, poisoned stiletto was nowhere to be found.

_Chapter x.x.xVI_

SENORA MARTINEZ

Although Mr. Underwood escaped the stroke which it was feared might follow the excitement of his final interview with Walcott, it was soon apparent that his nervous system had suffered from the shock. His physician became insistent in his demands that he not only retire from business, but have an entire change of scene, to insure absolute relaxation and rest. This advice was earnestly seconded by Mr. Britton, not alone for the sake of his friend's health, but more especially because he believed it unsafe for Mr. Underwood or Kate to remain in that part of the country so long as Walcott had his liberty. Their combined counsel and entreaties at length prevailed. A responsible man was found to take charge, under Mr. Britton's supervision, of Mr.

Underwood's business interests. The Pines was closed, two or three faithful servants being retained to guard and care for the property, and early in April Mr. Underwood, accompanied by his sister and daughter, left Ophir ostensibly for the South. They remained south, however, only until he had recuperated sufficiently for a longer journey, and then sailed for Europe, but of this fact no one in Ophir had knowledge save Mr. Britton.

During the last days of Kate's stay in Ophir she watched in vain for another glimpse of her strange friend. On the morning of her departure, as the train was leaving the depot, she suddenly saw the olive-skinned messenger of former occasions running alongside the Pullman in which she was seated. Catching her eye, he motioned for her to raise the window; she did so, whereupon he tossed a little package into her lap, pointing at the same time farther down the platform, and lifting his ragged sombrero, vanished. An instant later the Senora came into view, standing at the extreme end of the platform, a lace mantilla thrown about her head and shoulders, the ends of which she now waved in token of farewell. Kate held up the little package with a smile; she responded with a deprecatory gesture indicative of its insignificance, then with another wave of the lace scarf and a flutter of Kate's handkerchief, they pa.s.sed out of each other's sight.

Kate hastily undid the package; a little box of ebony inlaid with pearl slipped from the wrappings, which, upon touching a secret spring, opened, disclosing a small cross of Etruscan gold of the most exquisite workmans.h.i.+p. In her first letter to Mr. Britton Kate related the incident, and begged him to look out for the woman and render her any a.s.sistance possible.

To this Mr. Britton needed no urging. Since his first sight of her that night in Mr. Underwood's office he had been looking for her, for a twofold purpose. For a number of weeks he failed to get even a glimpse of her, nor could he obtain any clew to her whereabouts.

One night, well into the summer, he came upon her, unexpectedly, standing in front of a cheap restaurant, looking at the edibles displayed in the window. She was not veiled, her face was pale and haggard, and there was no mistaking the expression in her eyes as she finally turned away.

”My friend,” said Mr. Britton, laying his hand gently on her shoulder, ”are you hungry?”

She shrank from him with a start till a glance in his face rea.s.sured her, and she answered, with an expressive gesture,--

”Yes, Senor; I have had nothing to eat to-day, and but little yesterday.”

”This is no fit place; come with me,” Mr. Britton replied, leading the way two or three blocks down the street, to a first-cla.s.s restaurant. He conducted her through the ladies' entrance into a private box, where he ordered a substantial dinner for two.

”Senor,” she protested, as the waiter left the box, ”I have no money, no way to repay you for this, you understand?”

”I understand,” he answered, quickly; ”I want no return for this. Miss Underwood wished me to find you, and help you, if I could.”

”Yes, I know; you are the Senorita's friend.”

”And your friend also, if I can help you.”

”You saved his life that night, Senor; I do not forget,” the woman said, with peculiar emphasis.

”Yes, I undoubtedly saved the scoundrel from a summary vengeance; possibly I might not have done it, had I known what the alternative would be. Where is that man now?” he asked, with sudden directness.

”I do not know, Senor; he tells me nothing, but I have heard he went south some time ago.”

The entrance of the waiter with their orders put a temporary stop to conversation. The woman ate silently, regarding Mr. Britton from time to time with an expression of childlike wonder. When her hunger was appeased, and she seemed inclined to talk, he said,--

”Tell me something of yourself. When and where did you marry that man?”

”We were married in Mexico, seven years ago.”

”Your home was in Mexico?”

”No, Senor, my father owned a big cattle ranch in Texas. Senor Walcott, as you call him here, worked for him. He wanted to marry me, but my father opposed the marriage. We lived close to the line, so we went across one day and were married. My father was very angry, but I was his only child, and by and by he forgave and took us back.”