Barr Robert
A Chicago Princess

Next day the yacht was floated and appeared none the worse for the collision. The captain took her out to the anchorage, and so we waited several days to hear from the girl, but no word came. Finally her father wrote a letter to her, beseeching some indication of her plans, and this was sent by messenger to the House of the Million Blossoms. The old gentleman had become exceedingly tired of Nagasaki, and very evidently did not know what to do with himself. The messenger returned, but brought no answer. He said the man at the gate had taken in the letter, and brought out the verbal message that the lady would write when she was ready to do so. This was the reverse of satisfactory, and Mr. Hemster roamed about disconsolately like a lost spirit. Hilda said he told her that his daughter had never before remained in the same mind for two days together, and this prolonged country house visit caused him great uneasiness. He now became infused with the kidnapping idea, not fearing that she had been taken away to Corea, but believing that the Japanese were holding her prisoner, perhaps with the idea of a ransom later on. Finally Mr. Hemster determined to visit the House of the Million Blossoms himself, and he insisted on Hilda’s accompanying us, which she did with some reluctance. Never did she believe that this was other than one of the girl’s prolonged caprices to make us all anxious, hoping to laugh at us later on for being so.

At the gateway we were met by the same imperturbable guardian, who was as obdurate as ever. He would take in any message, he said, but would not permit us to enter even the grounds. Mr. Hemster sent a letter he had written at the hotel, and in due time the keeper came out with a signed note, somewhat similar to the one I had received. It said:

“Dear Father:

“Do not worry about me; I am perfectly happy and wish to remain here a few days longer.

“Your affectionate daughter,

“G.”

After reading this he passed it on to Hilda and me in silence. He got into his ’rickshaw without a word, and we entered ours. The men tottered along until we were out of sight of the lodge, and then Mr. Hemster called a halt. He sprang out, and, approaching me, said:

“Well, Tremorne, what do you make of it?”

The voice in which his question was put quivered with anguish, and, glancing at his face, I saw it drawn and haggard with an expression that betokened terror.

“Oh, there’s nothing to make of it, Mr. Hemster, except that the young lady, for some reason unknown to me, desires to make you anxious and has succeeded.”

“Tremorne,” he said, unheeding this attempted consolation, “look at this note. It was not written to-day, but weeks ago. It was written on board the yacht, and so was the one you received, although I did not notice that at the time. This was written with a stub pen, the same that she used in sending me the first letter; but this pen she did not take away with her, nor the ink. My poor girl has been deluded into writing those letters by some one who had a subtle end to serve. I cannot fathom the mystery, but I am certain she is not in that house.”

I sprang down from my ’rickshaw.

“I’ll soon settle that point,” I cried, “I will crush through the boundary hedge, and break in the door of the house. If there are any ladies within they will soon make an outcry, which will reveal their presence. You wait for me here.”

To this he at once agreed, and with some difficulty I got into the thick plantation, through which I made my way until I came to the house, the first look at which convinced me it was empty. There is something of desolate loneliness about a deserted house which instantly strikes a beholder.

There was no need for me to break in, for one of the windows was open, and, tip-toeing up on the broad veranda, so that there would be no chance of the custodian hearing me, I entered a room through this window, and the whole silent house was at my disposal.

The interior would have struck a European unacquainted with Japan as being unfurnished, but I saw that it remained just as the Countess had left it. On a small table, standing about a foot from the floor, I saw a note similar to the one that had been handed to me when I first inquired at the gate, also three long slips of Japanese paper on which were written instructions in the Japanese language. I read them with amazement. The first said:

“This letter is to be given to a young man who calls, and who speaks Japanese and English.”

On the next slip:

“This letter is to be given to an old man who speaks nothing but English.”

The third slip bore:

“This is to be given to a young woman who speaks nothing but English.”

There was also a minute description of Mr. Hemster, Miss Stretton, and myself, so that the man at the gate could make no mistake, which indeed he had not done. Hilda had not asked for a letter, therefore the remaining note had not been delivered.

Whoever concocted the plot had expected a search to be made for the House of the Million Blossoms, and of course knew that its situation could easily be found. I put all the documents into my pocket, and now went out by the public exit, greatly to the amazement of my urbane friend at the gate. I fear I may be accused of adopting Western methods, but the occasion seemed to me too serious for dilly-dallying. I pulled Mr. Hemster’s revolver from my pocket and pointed it at the man’s head.

“Now, you scoundrel,” I said in his own tongue, “when did those women leave here? Answer me truly, or I shall take you prisoner to Nagasaki, where you will have to face the authorities.”

I showed him the written instructions I had captured inside the house, and he saw at once that the game was up.

“Excellency!” said he, still politely enough, “I am but a poor man and a hireling. Many days ago a messenger brought me these instructions and three letters. No lady has been in this house for some years; the instructions were written by my mistress, the Countess, and I was compelled to follow them.”

I saw that the man spoke the truth, and proceeded to cross-examine him on the motives which he imagined actuated this extraordinary complication; but he had told me all he knew, and was apparently as much in the dark regarding the motive as I was myself. I left him there, and hurried along the road over the hill to the spot where I had left Mr. Hemster and Hilda. Here I explained the conspiracy so far as I had discovered it, but the record of my investigation naturally did nothing to calm the fears of my employer, whose shrewdness had given a clue to the real situation at the House of the Million Blossoms. There was nothing to do but get back to Nagasaki as speedily as possible, and lay the case before the authorities. Hemster seemed suddenly to have become in truth an old man. We went directly to the hotel, and the clerk met us in the passage-way.

“Mr. Hemster,” he said, “this telegram came for you about two hours ago.”

The old gentleman tore open the envelope, read the dispatch, then crushed the paper in his hand.

“Just as I thought,” he said. “She is in Seoul and has found some way of communicating with me. Poor little girl, poor little girl.”

The father’s voice broke momentarily, but he at once pulled himself together again.

“Tremorne, tell the captain to get the yacht under way. We will go on board immediately. We shall want an escort from Chemulpo to Seoul; can we depend on getting them at the port as we did before, or had we better bring them from Nagasaki?”

“I think, sir,” said I, “that it would be well to take a dozen from here. They are men I can trust, and I shall have them aboard the yacht before steam is up.”

“Very well,” he said, decisively, “see to it.”

I sent a messenger to the captain, then devoted all my energies to the selecting of my twelve men, taking care that they were properly armed and provided with rations. I sent them aboard one by one or two by two in sampans, so that too much attention might not be attracted toward our expedition.

This task accomplished, I hurried back to the hotel, and found Mr. Hemster and Hilda waiting for me. Cammerford was there also, talking in a low voice very earnestly with the old gentleman, who stood with his eyes bent on the ground, making no reply to the other’s expostulations beyond shaking his head now and then. Hilda and I went on ahead to the landing, the two men following us. To my surprise Cammerford stepped into the launch and continued talking to the silent man beside him. When we reached the yacht Mr. Hemster without a word mounted the steps to the deck. Hilda followed, and Cammerford stood in the launch, a puzzled expression on his face. After a momentary hesitation he pushed past me, and ran up the steps. I also went on deck, and by the time I reached there my chief was already in his wicker chair with his feet on the rail, and a fresh unlit cigar in his mouth. Cammerford went jauntily up to him and said with a laugh that seemed somewhat forced:

“Well, Mr. Hemster, I propose to continue this discussion to Corea.”

“Just as you please,” replied the old man nonchalantly. “I think we can make you very comfortable on board.”

CHAPTER XXIV

Now it was full speed ahead and a direct line for Corea. Once in the open sea, we struck straight through the Archipelago and took our chances of running down an island, as the captain had said. There was no dawdling this time, for the engines were run to the top of their power. As was the case with our former voyages in these waters, the weather was perfect and the sea smooth.

Our dinner that night was on the whole a silent festival. The jovial captain did not come down, and Mr. Hemster sat moodily at the head of the table, absorbed in thought and doubtless tortured with anxiety. Cammerford was the only member of the party who endeavoured to make a show of cheerful demeanour. His manner with women was one of deferential urbanity, and, as he never ventured to joke with them, he was justly popular with the sex. I quite envied him his power of pleasing, which was so spontaneous that it seemed a natural and not an acquired gift. The man appeared to possess an almost hypnotic power over his fellow-creatures, and although I believed him to be one of the most untrustworthy rascals alive, yet I felt this belief crumbling away under the magnetic charm of his conversation.

The old gentleman at the head of the table was evidently immune so far as Cammerford’s fascination was concerned. I surmised that there had come a hitch in the negotiations between them. There was no trace of uneasiness in Cammerford’s attitude, and his voice was as mildly confident as ever. No one would guess that he was practically a self-invited guest at this board. Our host was completely taciturn, but the unbidden guest never risked a snub by addressing a direct question to him, although he airily included Mr. Hemster with the rest of us within the area of his polite discourse. Hilda was scarcely more responsive than Mr. Hemster and seemed troubled because he was troubled, and as I possessed an instinctive dislike for Cammerford it will be seen that he had a most difficult rôle to play, which he enacted with a success that would have done credit to Sir Henry Irving himself. If there was indeed, as I suspected, a conflict between the elder man and the younger, I found myself wondering which would win, but such a quiet atmosphere of confidence enwrapped the latter that I began to fear Mr. Hemster had met his match, in spite of the fact that he held all the trump cards. Cammerford represented the new school of financiers, who juggled with billions as a former generation had played with millions. My sympathies were entirely with Mr. Hemster, but if I had been a sporting man my bet would have been laid on Cammerford. I mention this as an instance of the hypnotic power I have referred to. I knew that Cammerford could not form his gigantic trust and leave Mr. Hemster out; therefore, as I say, the elder man held the trumps. Nevertheless the bearing of Cammerford indicated such reserved assurance that I felt certain he would ultimately bend the old man to his will, and I watched for the result of this opposition of forces with the eagerness with which one awaits the climax of an exciting play on the stage.

After dinner Hilda came on deck for half an hour or thereabouts, and we walked up and down together. The excitement of the day and the uncertainty that lay ahead of us had told heavily on the poor girl, and I had not the heart to persuade her to remain longer on deck. She was rather depressed and admittedly weary of the life we were leading. So I took cowardly advantage of this and proposed we should get married at the American Consulate as soon as the yacht returned to Nagasaki. Then, I said, we could make our way to Yokohama and take passage on a regular liner for San Francisco.

To this proposal she made no reply, but walked demurely by my side with downcast eyes.

“Think of the glories of Chicago at this moment!” I cried enthusiastically, wishing to appeal to the home feeling. “Dinner finished; the roar of the traffic in the streets; the brilliancy of the electric light; the theatres open, and the gay crowds entering therein. Let us make for Chicago.”

She looked up at me with a wan little smile, and laughed quietly.

“You do need a guardian, as Papa Hemster says. I suppose it is about noon in Chicago at the present moment, and I don’t see why the theatres should be open at that hour. It is the roar of the wheat pit, and not of the traffic you are hearing. I fear your visit to Chicago was of the briefest, for your picture is not very convincing. Still, I confess I wish I were there now, if you were with me.” Then with a slight sigh she added, “I’ll accept that guardianship at Nagasaki. Good-night, my dear,” and with that she whisked away and disappeared before I was aware of her meditated escape.

I lit a fresh cigar and continued my promenade alone. As I walked aft I caught snatches of the musical monotone of Cammerford’s voice. Ever since dinner time he had been in earnest conversation with Mr. Hemster, who sat in his usual chair at the stern of the boat. So far as I am aware, Mr. Hemster was leaving the burden of the talk to the younger man, who, from the tone of his voice, seemed in deadly earnest. At last Mr. Hemster got up and threw his cigar overboard. I heard him say:

“I told you, Mr. Cammerford, that I would not discuss this matter further until I reached Nagasaki. The papers are all in my desk under lock and key in the room at the hotel, and that room is closed and sealed. I’ll say no more about this scheme until I am back there.”

“And when you are back there, Mr. Hemster, what action are you going to take?”

“Whatever action seems to be best for my own interests, Mr. Cammerford.”

“Well, from most men that reply would be very unsatisfactory. However, I am glad to say I trust you completely, Mr. Hemster, and I know you will do the square thing in the end.”

“I’m glad you think so,” said the old man curtly, as he went down the stairway. Cammerford stood there for a few moments, then strode forward and joined me.

“May I beg a light of you?” he asked, as if he were conferring a favour.

I don’t care to light one cigar from another, so I struck a match and held it while he took advantage of the flame.

“Thanks. Now, Tremorne, I want to talk with you as to a friend. We were friends once, you know.”

“True; the kind of friend the celebrated phrase refers to, perhaps.”

“What phrase?”

“‘God protect me from my friends,’ or words to that effect.”

He laughed most genially.

“That’s one on me,” he said. “However, I look on our score as being wiped out. Can’t you let bygones be bygones?”

“Oh, yes.”

“You see you are in a way responsible. I have turned over the money to you. Granted I was forced to do so. I claim no merit in the matter, but I do say a bargain is a bargain. I showed you the old man’s letter to me, in which he said if I did thus and so by you, he would join me in the big beef combine. You remember that, don’t you?”

“Naturally, I shouldn’t soon forget it, or forget the generosity of Mr. Hemster in writing it.”

“Oh, generosity is cheap when you are doing it at somebody else’s expense. Still, I don’t complain of that at all. What I say is this: I’ve kept my part of the contract strictly and honestly, but now the old man is trying to euchre me.”

“I remember also, Mr. Cammerford, that you said Mr. Hemster was a rogue or dishonest, or something of like effect.”

“Well, so he is.”

“In that case, why do you object to being euchred by him?”

“Well, you see, I had his promise in writing, and I thought I was safe.”

“You have it in writing still, I presume. If he does not live up to what he has written, you probably have your recourse at law, for they say there is no wrong without a remedy.”

“Oh, that’s all talking through your hat. It isn’t a lawsuit I’m after, but the co-operation of Mr. Hemster. What chance would I have against a man of his wealth?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. What is it you wish from me? Advice?”

“I wanted to explain the situation that has arisen, and I wish to know if you have anything to suggest that will lead the old man to do the square thing?”

“I have no suggestion to make, Mr. Cammerford.”

“Supposing he does not keep his promise, don’t you think it would be fair that the money I expended on the strength of it should be returned to me?”

“It does seem reasonable, I admit.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, and to tell the truth, Mr. Tremorne, it is just the action I should expect of you.”

“What action?”

“The returning of the money, of course.”

“Bless my soul, you don’t suppose I’m going to return a penny of it, do you?”

“Ah, your honesty is theory then, not practice.”

“My dear sir, my honesty is both theory and practice. The money is mine. I made you no promises regarding it. In fact, I refused to make any promise when you offered me half the amount. If I had made any engagements I should have kept them.”

“I see. I take it then you do not regard yourself as bound by any promises the old man made on your behalf?”

“Certainly not. I knew nothing of the matter until you showed me his letter.”

“Your position is perfectly sound, Mr. Tremorne, and I unreservedly withdraw the imputation I put upon your honesty a moment since. But the truth is that this amount represents a very serious loss to me. It was a sprat thrown out to catch a whale, or, rather, a whale thrown out to catch a shoal of whales. But if I lose the whale and do not catch my shoal, then I have done a very bad piece of business by coming East. Through this proposed combine I expected to make several millions. Now, if you will join in with me, and put your half-million into the pool, I’ll guarantee that before a month you have doubled it.”

“You gave me a chance like that once before, Mr. Cammerford.”

The man laughed heartily as if I had perpetrated a very amusing joke.

“Oh, yes, but that was years ago. We have both learned a good deal since.”

“I certainly have, Mr. Cammerford. I have learned so much that I will not part with a penny of the money; not a red cent of it, as we say out West. That sum is going to be safely salted down, and it’s not going to be salted in a corned-beef tub either. I don’t mind telling you that I intend to get married upon it at the American Consulate at Nagasaki before a week is past.”

“Really? Allow me to congratulate you, my boy. I surmised that was the way the land lay, and I quite envy you your charming young lady.”

“Thanks!”

“But you see, Mr. Tremorne, that makes your money doubly safe. I noticed that Mr. Hemster is as fond of Miss Stretton as he is of his own daughter, and if you give me the half million, he’ll see to it that you make a hundred per cent on it.”

“I don’t at all agree with you, Mr. Cammerford. To speak with brutal frankness, if I trusted you with the money which you once succeeded in detaching from me, – if I trusted you with it again, – he would merely look upon me as a hopeless fool, and I must say I think he would be right.”

John C. Cammerford was a man whom you couldn’t insult: it was not business to take offence, so he took none, but merely laughed again in his free-hearted way.

“The old man thinks I don’t see what his game is, but I do. He is playing for time. He expects to hold me out here in the East, dangling this bait before me, until it is too late for me to do anything with my options. Now, he is going to get left at that game. I have more cards up my sleeve than he imagines, but I don’t want to have any trouble with him: I want to deal with him in a friendly manner for our mutual benefit. I’ll play fair if he plays fair. It isn’t too much to ask a man to keep his word, is it!”

“No, the demand doesn’t appear excessive.”

“Very good. Now, I wish you would have a quiet talk with him. I can see that he reposes great confidence in you. You have admitted that my request is an honest one, so I hope you won’t mind just presenting my side of the case to him.”

“It is none of my business, Mr. Cammerford. I could not venture to take such a liberty with Mr. Hemster.”

“But you admit the old man isn’t playing fair?”

“I admit nothing of the sort: I don’t know his side of the story at all. He may have reasons for declining to deal with you, which seem to him conclusive.”

“Granted. But nevertheless, don’t you think he should return the money given on the strength of his promise?”

“Really I would rather not discuss the matter any further, Mr. Cammerford, if you don’t mind. I overheard you telling him at the head of the companion-way that you trusted him completely. Very well, then, why not continue to do so?”

Cammerford gave a short laugh that had little of mirth in it: his politeness was evidently becoming worn threadbare, and I imagine he was inwardly cursing my obstinacy. There was silence between us for several minutes, then he said sharply:

“Is this yarn about the kidnapping of his daughter all guff?”

“Who told you about it?” I asked.

“Oh, he did: gave that as the reason he didn’t wish to talk business.”

“The story is true, and I think the reason is valid. If you take my advice, you will not talk business with him in the face of his prohibition until his mind is at rest regarding his daughter.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take your advice; it seems to be the only thing I’m going to get out of you. I thought the daughter story was only a yarn to bluff me from coming aboard the yacht.”

“It wasn’t, and furthermore, I don’t think you showed your usual perspicacity in not accepting Mr. Hemster’s intimation that he didn’t want to be bothered at this particular time.”

“Oh, well, as to that,” said Cammerford, confidently, “the old man has been making a monkey of me for some weeks now, and the whole matter might have been settled in as many hours if he had cared to do so. He isn’t going to shake me off so easily as he thinks. I’ll stick to him till he keeps his promise, and don’t you forget it.”

“All right, I’ll endeavour to keep it in mind.”

“You won’t be persuaded to try and lure him on to the straight and narrow path of honesty, Mr. Tremorne?”

“No, I’m not sure that he’s off it. I have always found him treading that path.”

“I see. Well, good-night. When do we reach that outlandish place, – whatever its name is?”

“We ought to arrive at Chemulpo some time to-morrow night.”

“Chemulpo, is it? Well, I wish it was Chicago. So long.”

“Good-night,” I responded, and with that he left the world to darkness and to me.