The Courts of the Morning

This story begins, so far as I am concerned, in the August of 192‒, when I had for the second time a lease of the forest of Machray. Mary and Peter John and the household had gone north at the end of July, but I was detained for ten days in London over the business of a Rhodesian land company, of which I had recently become chairman. I was putting up at my club, and one morning I was rung up by Ellery Willis of the American Embassy, who had been wiring about me all over the country. He seemed to be in a hurry to see me, so I asked him to luncheon.

I had known Willis in the War, when he had had a field battery with the American 2nd Corps. After that he had been on the Headquarters Staff at Washington, and was now a military attaché at the London Embassy. He seemed to have a good many duties besides the study of military affairs, and when I met him he was always discoursing about world-politics and the need of England and America getting close to each other. I agreed with him about that, but used to tell him that the best way was not to talk too much, but to send Englishmen and Americans fishing together. He was an ardent, rather solemn young man, but with a quick sense of humour, and Mary said he was the best dancer in London.

He cut at once into business.

“My countrymen and yours fought each other for three hundred years,” said Don Luis, “but a Spaniard and an Englishman, when they meet, usually understand each other. I presume, with your permission, on that old sympathy, and I ask you boldly what are you doing here?”

The young man’s manner had changed from the debonair ease which had marked it at dinner. It had become at once confidential and authoritative.

“Fact is, I don’t know,” was Archie’s reply. “Principally, Janet and I are on a postponed honeymoon. I had a notion to pick up something about South American politics, which might be useful to me in Parliament.”

“And you find Olifa rather barren ground?”

“I did at first.⁠ ⁠… Now, I am not so sure.”

“Will you let me advise you? We are both young men and have served in war. Stay a little in Olifa if you have not yet exhausted the charm of the capital, and then take your delightful lady on board the first ship and go straight home.”

“Home? Why in the world?” Archie stared at the speaker.

“You can go to Valparaiso and Buenos Aires if they amuse you. But get out of Olifa.”

“But why?”

“I cannot tell you why. I am your friend, and a friend may venture to advise without reasons.”

“But what’s the trouble? Olifa is a great deal more peaceful than Europe. You don’t mean to say that there’s danger.⁠ ⁠…”

“Olifa is a mask⁠—you have not seen her face. Look in front of you. You see nothing but flat pastures. But beyond you know that there are wild mountains. So I tell you that behind the flatness of Olifa there are wild things.”

They were patently harmless, but deplorably silly. The Regina was turned by them into a cabaret. They danced every night in the restaurant to the disquiet of the diners, and they chaffed mercilessly an unsmiling staff. Bedroom riots seemed to be their speciality, and it was an unlucky official of the Company who had his quarters in their corridor. When they were entertained to luncheon by the Administration they asked questions so sublimely idiotic that the Vice-President, a heavy sallow man, called Rosas, of Mexican extraction, actually coloured, thinking that he was being made a fool of; and their visit to the smelting plant was attended by the same exasperating buffoonery. Presently it appeared that their idiocy was congenital and not a pose. Their jazz chatter and jazz manners were the natural expression of jazz minds, and must be endured because of the prestige of Mr. Burton Rawlinson. So “Baby” and “Bawby” and “Honey” and “Gerry” went their preposterous way, and the Gran Seco shrugged outraged shoulders and spat.

Nevertheless there were signs, had there been eyes to note them, that the yacht party was not quite what it seemed. In unguarded moments, as Janet had already observed, they could be betrayed into sanity and good breeding. At nights, too, when their ragging was over, there were odd discussions in the privacy of bedrooms. At least one of the young men would sit far into the dawn working at notes and plans.

Janet looked serious, and, as was her way in such a mood, she sat with her hands idle in her lap.

“Let’s get away from this place,” she said. “I hate it!”

“Why in the world⁠ ⁠… ?”

“I hate it. Those soft-spoken, solemn men have got on my nerves. I think there’s something inhuman about them. Most of the faces of the people at the smelting works and at the Mines were like masks.⁠ ⁠… And at that awful luncheon!⁠ ⁠… I believe that sometimes I saw the devil grinning out from behind them.⁠ ⁠… And in the streets. I saw one or two villainous ruffians, who should have been in rags, but were as spruce as bagmen. I felt as if I were in an orderly and well-policed Hell.⁠ ⁠… Why did they shepherd us away from the Mines, for remember we saw nothing there? Why won’t they let us go into the back country? I believe it is because they are concealing something, something so bad that the world must never know of it.”

Archie stared.

“I must say you’ve got a lively imagination,” he began, but Janet was not listening.

“Let us go away⁠—at once⁠—tomorrow morning. I should like to be going tonight.⁠ ⁠… Ring up the Administration and say we must get home in a hurry.⁠ ⁠… I think there’s something infernal about this big, noiseless machine. I want to be back at Veiro, where there are human beings. I want to be with the honest silly little Moplahs. I want something more peaceful.⁠ ⁠…”

“I should have thought that the Gran Seco was more peaceful than the Moplahs.”

“No, it isn’t, for there is death here and death is unsettling.”

“Well, we’ll go off tomorrow, if you wish it. We’re not likely to want for peace in the next few weeks.

Her fancy was toying pleasantly with the future, when suddenly she sat bolt upright. She had heard a sound which could not be the wind.

It was the sound of steps close to the hut, stealthy steps but unmistakable, as even a small noise can be in the midst of louder noises in a different key. She switched on the light. She had locked the door on going to bed, but had unlocked it when she looked out at the weather. To her horror she saw it gently open.

A man came swiftly into the room⁠—and then another. Both had white faces and their brows were damp with sweat. One was a tall man with a hatchet face and a scar above his right eyebrow, the other was squat and muscular with rabbit teeth and a broken nose. Their clothes were much torn, as if they had had a rough journey.

The eyes of both showed amazement and disappointment. They were looking for something other than a scared girl.

“The Gobernador?” the first one cried, and “Where in hell’s the boss?” came from the other.

Then Janet understood. She had her pistol under her pillow, and in a second had snatched it and fired. But it was wild shooting, the shot struck a rafter, and before she could fire again the men were upon her. They were men of quick decision and skilful at the job. A scarf was wound suffocatingly over her mouth and she was seized in a grip which seemed to crush the breath from her.