CHAPTER XIII.
THE MEETING AT GIBRALTAR.
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The passenger who had not been told whither the ship was bound that carried him would hardly guess in what part of the world he had set foot if he landed at Gibraltar.
First there is a quay, cut up into little docks for ships to be moored along, then a bastion and a wall with an insignificant gate, then an irregular square, bordered by high barracks, which rise one behind the other up a hill, then the long, narrow, winding thoroughfare known as Main Street.
At the end of this road, which is always sloppy and dirty, among the porters, smugglers, bootblacks, and sellers of cigar lights, among the trucks, trollies, and carts of vegetables and fruits, all on the move, there crowds a cosmopolitan mixture of Maltese and Moors, Spaniards and Italians, Arabs and Frenchmen, Portuguese and Germans—a little of everything, in fact, even of citizens of the United Kingdom, who are specially represented by infantrymen in red coats, and artillerymen in blue tunics, with their caps only kept above their ears by a miracle of equilibrium.
Main Street runs right through the town, from the Sea Gate to the Alameda Gate. Thence it runs on toward Europe, by the side of many-colored villas and verdant squares, shaded by large trees, through beds of flowers, green parks, batteries of cannons of all designs, and masses of plants of all countries for a length of four miles and three hundred yards. Such is the rock of Gibraltar, a sort of headless dromedary that crouches on the sands of San Roque, with its tail dragging in the Mediterranean Sea.
This enormous rock is nearly 1400 feet above the shore of the continent that it menaces with its guns—“the teeth of the old woman,” as the Spaniards call them—more than 700 pieces of artillery, whose throats stretch forth from the embrasures of its casements. Twenty thousand inhabitants and 6000 men of the garrison are housed on the lower spurs of the hill, without counting the quadrumana, the famous “monos,” the tailless apes, the descendants of the earlier families of the place, the real proprietors of the soil, who now occupy the heights of the ancient Calpe. From the summit of the rock the view extends across the straits; the Moorish coast can be seen; the Mediterranean is looked down upon from one side, the Atlantic from the other; and the English telescopes have a range of 124 miles, of which they can keep watch over every foot—and they do keep watch.
If happily the “Ferrato” had arrived two days sooner in the roadstead of Gibraltar, if between the rising and the setting of the sun Dr. Antekirtt and Pierre Bathory had landed on the little quay, entered by the Sea Gate, walked along Main Street, passed the Alameda Gate, and reached the lovely gardens that are planted half-way up the hill to the left, perhaps the events reported in this narrative would have advanced more rapidly, and had a different result. For on the afternoon of the 19th of September, on one of the wooden benches under the shade of the trees with their backs turned to the batteries commanding the roadstead, two persons were talking together, and carefully avoiding being overheard by the people around. They were Sarcany and Namir.
It may be remembered that Sarcany was to rejoin Namir in Sicily when the expedition took place against the Casa degli Inglesi, which resulted in Zirone's death. Warned in time Sarcany changed his plan of campaign; and consequently the doctor waited a week in vain at his moorings off Catania. Acting on the orders she received, Namir immediately left Sicily to return to Tetuan where she then lived. From Tetuan she returned to Gibraltar, where Sarcany had appointed to meet her. He had arrived the night before and intended to leave next day.
Sarcany's companion was devoted to him body and soul. She it was who had brought him up in the douars of Tripoli, as if she had been his mother. She had never left him, even when he was living as a broker in the Regency, where through his secret acquaintances he became one of the formidable sectaries of Senousism, whose schemes, as we have said above, were being directed against Antekirtta.
Namir in thought and deed treated Sarcany with almost maternal affection, and was even more attached to him than Zirone, the companion of his pleasures and miseries. At a sign from him she would have committed any crime; at a sign from him she would have walked to death without hesitation. Sarcany could thus have absolute confidence in Namir, and when he sent for her to Gibraltar it was to talk to her about Carpena, from whom he had now much to fear.
This interview was the first that had taken place between them since Sarcany's arrival at Gibraltar; it was to be the only one, and the conversation was carried on in Arabic.
Sarcany began with a question and received an answer which both probably regarded as of the utmost importance, for their future depended on it.
“Sava?” asked Sarcany.
“She is safe at Tetuan,” replied Namir, “and you can feel quite easy concerning her.”
“But during your absence?”
“During my absence the house is in charge of an old Jewess, who will not leave it for an instant! It is like a prison to which nobody goes or can go! Sava does not know she is at Tetuan, she does not know who I am, and she does not even know that she is in your power.”
“You are always talking to her about the wedding?”
“Yes, Sarcany,” replied Namir, “I never allow her to be free from the idea that she is to be your wife and she will be!”
“She must, Namir, she must; and all the more because Toronthal's money has nearly gone! Gambling does not agree with poor Silas!”
“You have no need of him, Sarcany; without him you can become richer than you have ever been.”
“I know it Namir, but tho latest date at which my marriage with Sava must take place is approaching! I must have a voluntary consent on her part, and if she refuses—”
“I will make her!” replied Namir. “Yes! I will tear her consent from her! You can trust me, Sarcany!”
And it would be difficult to imagine a more savage, determined-looking face than that of the Moor as she thus expressed herself.
“Good, Namir!” answered Sarcany. “Continue to keep good watch over her! and I will soon be with you.”
“Do you intend us to leave Tetuan soon?” asked the Moor.
“No, not till I am obliged, for no one there knows, or can know, Sava! If events oblige me to send you away, you will get notice in time.”
“And now, Sarcany,” continued Namir, “tell me why you have sent for me to Gibraltar.”
“Because I have certain things to say to you that are better said than written.”
“Say on then, Sarcany, and if it is in order I will obey it.”
“This is now the position,” answered Sarcany. “Madame Bathory has disappeared and her son is dead. From that family I have nothing further to fear. Madame Toronthal is dead and Sava is in my power! On that side I am also safe! Of the others who know my secret, one—Silas Toronthal, my accomplice—is under my thumb; the other, Zirone, died in Sicily. Of all those I have mentioned none can speak, and none will speak.”
“What are you afraid of, then?”
“I am afraid only of the interference of two individuals: one knows a part of my past life, and the other seems to mix himself up with my present more than is convenient.”
“One is Carpena?” asked Namir.
“Yes,” answered Sarcany; “and the other is that Dr. Antekirtt, whose communications with the Bathory family at Rugusa always seemed to me to be suspicious! Besides, I have heard from Benito, the innkeeper at Santa Grotta, that this personage, who is a millionaire, laid a trap for Zirone by introducing a certain Pescador into his service. If that is so, it was certainly to get possession of him—in default of me—and get my secret out of him!”
“Nothing can be clearer,” answered Namir, “than that you should be more careful than ever of Dr. Antekirtt.”
“And as much as possible we should know what he is doing, and above all things where he is.”
“That is not easy, Sarcany,” answered Namir, “for when I was at Ragusa, for instance, I heard that to-day he would be at one end of the Mediterranean and to-morrow at the other.”
“Yes. The man seems to have the gift of ubiquity,” growled Sarcany. “But it shall not be said that I let him interfere with my game without making a fight for it, and when I go to his home in his island of Antekirtta I know well—”
“That the wedding will have taken place,” answered Namir, “and you will have nothing to fear from him or any one.”
“That is so, Namir, and till then—”
“Till then we must mind what we are about! One way we shall always have the best of it, for we shall know where he is without his knowing where we are! Now about Carpena, Sarcany; what have you to fear from him?”
“Carpena knows my connection with Zirone! For many years he took part in expeditions in which I had a hand, and he might talk—”
“Agreed; but Carpena is now imprisoned for life at Ceuta.”
“And that is what makes me anxious, Namir! Carpena, to improve his position, may say something. If we know he has been sent to Ceuta, others know it as well; others know him personally. There is that Pescador that found him out at Malta. And through that man Dr. Antekirtt may be able to get at him. He can buy his secrets from him! He may even try to help him to escape. In fact, Namir, it is all so very obvious that I wonder why it has not yet happened.”
Sarcany, wide awake and keen-sighted, had thus guessed at the doctor's plans with regard to the Spaniard, and perceived the danger. Namir agreed that there was considerable cause for anxiety.
“Why,” said Sarcany, “why did we not lose him instead of Zirone?”
“But what did not happen in Sicily might happen in Ceuta,” said Namir coolly.
That, in short, was what the interview meant. Namir then explained to Sarcany that nothing could be easier than for her to go from Tetuan to Ceuta as often as she liked. It was only twenty miles from one town to the other. Tetuan was a little to the south of the penitentiary colony. As the convicts worked on the roads leading to the town, it would be easy to enter into communication with Carpena, whom she knew, to make him think that Sarcany was anxious for him to escape, and to give him a little money or even a little extra food. And if it did happen that one of the pieces of bread or fruit was poisoned, who would trouble himself about the death of the convict Carpena? Who would make any inquiries?
One scoundrel less would not seriously inconvenience the Governor of Ceuta. And Sarcany would have nothing further to fear from the Spaniard, nor from the attempts of Dr. Antekirtt to fathom his secrets.
And from this interview it resulted that while one side was busy scheming the escape of Carpena, the other was endeavoring to render it impossible by sending him prematurely to the penal colony in the other world from which there is no escape!
Having agreed on their plans, Sarcany and Namir returned to the town and separated. That evening Sarcany left Spain to join Silas Toronthal, and the next morning Namir, after crossing the Bay of Gibraltar, embarked at Algesiras on the steamer that runs regularly between Europe and Africa. As she left the harhor the steamer ran past a yacht which was steaming into the bay.
It was the “Ferrato.” Namir, who had seen her while she lay at Catania, recognized her immediately.
“Dr. Antekirtt here?” she murmured. “Sarcany was right. There is danger, and the danger is close at hand.”
A few hours afterward the Moor landed at Ceuta. But before returning to Tetuan she had taken steps to enter into communication with the Spaniard. Her plan was simple, and it was almost sure to succeed if she had sufficient time.
But a complication had arisen which Namir did not expect. Carpena, owing to the doctor's intervention at his first visit to Ceuta, had been put on the sick-list and been obliged to go into hospital for some days. Namir could only loiter round the hospital without being able to get at him. One thing she contented herself with, and that was, that if she could not see Carpena, neither could the doctor nor his agents. There was therefore no danger, she thought, and no fear of escape until the convict got back to his work on the roads. Namir was mistaken. Carpena's entrance into the hospitable favored the doctor's plans and would probably bring about their success.
The “Ferrato” anchored on the evening of September 22 in the Bay of Gibraltar, which is so frequently swept by the easterly and south-easterly winds. But she was only to remain there during the 23d. The doctor and Pierre landed on the Saturday morning and went for their letters to the post-office in Main Street.
One of these, addressed to the doctor from his Sicilian agent, informed him that since the departure of the “Ferrato” Sarcany had not appeared at Catania, Syracuse, or Messina. Another, addressed to Pierre, was from Point Pescade, and informed him that he was much better and felt none the worse for his wound; that Dr. Antekirtt could command his services as soon as he pleased, in addition to those of Cape Matifou, who also presented his respects. There was a third letter to Luigi from Maria. It was more than the letter of a sister—it was the letter of a mother.
If the doctor and Pierre had taken their walk in the gardens of Gibraltar thirty-six hours before, they would have come across Sarcany and Namir.
The day was spent in coaling the “Ferrato” from the lighters which carry the coals from the floating stores moored in the harbor. Fresh-water tanks were also replenished, and everything was in trim when the doctor and Pierre, who had dined at the hotel in Commercial Square, returned on board at gun-fire.
The “Ferrato” did not weigh anchor that evening. As it would only take her a couple of hours to cross the straits, she did not start till eight o'clock the next morning. Then, passing the English batteries, she went out under full steam toward Ceuta. At half past nine she was under Mount Hacho, but as the breeze was blowing from the north-west she could not bring up in the same position she had occupied three days before. The captain therefore took her to the other side of the town and anchored about two cable-lengths from the shore in a small well-sheltered creek.
A quarter of an hour later the doctor landed at the wharf. Namir was on the watch, and had followed all the yacht's maneuvers. The doctor did not recognize the Moor, whom he had only seen in the shadow of the bazaar at Cattaro. But she had often met him at Gravosa and Ragusa, and recognized him immediately; and she resolved to be more on her guard than ever during his stay at Ceuta.
As he landed the doctor found the governor and an aid-de-camp waiting for him on the wharf.
“Good morning, my dear friend, and welcome!” said the governor. “You are a man of your word, and now you belong to me for the rest of the day at least—”
“I do not belong to your excellency until you have been my guest! Don't forget that breakfast is waiting for you on board the ‘Ferrato.’”
“And if it is waiting, Dr. Antekirtt, it would not be polite to keep it waiting any longer.”
The gig took the doctor and his guests out to the yacht. The breakfast was luxuriously served, and all did it honor.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE DOCTOR'S EXPERIMENT.
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During the breakfast the conversation chiefly dwelt on the administration of the colony, on the manners and customs of the inhabitants, on the relations which had been established between the Spanish and native populations. Incidentally the doctor was led to speak of the convict whom he had awakened from the magnetic sleep two or three days before on the road into the town.
“He remembers nothing about it, probably?” asked the doctor.
“Nothing,” replied the governor; “but he is not now at work on the roads.”
“Where is he, then?” asked the doctor with a certain feeling of anxiety that Pierre was the only one to remark.
“He is in the hospital,” answered the governor. “It seems that the shock upset his precious health.”
“Who is he?”
“A Spaniard named Carpena, a vulgar murderer, not at all interesting, Dr. Antekirtt; and if he happened to die, I can assure you that he would be no loss to us!”
Then the conversation took another turn. Doubtless it did not suit the doctor to lay too much stress on the case of the convict, who would be quite recovered after a day or two in hospital.
Breakfast over, coffee was served on deck, and cigars and cigarettes vanished in smoke beneath the awning. Then the doctor suggested going ashore without delay. He now belonged to the governor and was ready to visit the Spanish colony in all its branches.
The suggestion was accepted, and up to dinner-time the governor devoted himself to doing the honors of the colony to his illustrious visitor. The doctor and Pierre were conscientiously taken all over the place, both town and country. They did not miss a single detail either in the prisons or the barracks. The day being Sunday the convicts were not at their ordinary tasks, and the doctor could observe them under different circumstances. Carpena he only saw as they passed through one of the wards in the hospital, and he did not appear to attract his attention.
The doctor intended to leave for Antekirtta that night, but not until he had given the greater part of the evening to the governor; and about six o'clock he returned to the house, where an elegantly served dinner awaited them—the reply to the morning's breakfast.
We need hardly say that during this walk through the colony the doctor was followed by Namir, and was quite unaware that he was so closely watched.
The dinner was a pleasant one. A few of the chief people in the colony, officers and their wives, and two or three rich merchants had been invited, and did not conceal the pleasure they experienced at seeing and hearing Dr. Antekirtt. The doctor spoke of his travels in the East, in Syria, in Arabia, in the north of Africa. Then leading the conversation round to Ceuta, he complimented the governor, who administered the Spanish colony with so much ability.
“But,” he added, “looking after the convicts must give you a great deal of trouble.”
“And why, my dear doctor?”
“Because they must try to escape; and as the prisoner must think more of getting away than the warders think of stopping him, it follows that the advantage is on the side of the prisoner; and I should not be surprised if there is sometimes one or two missing at roll-call.”
“Never,” answered the governor. “Never! Where would the fugitives go? By sea escape is impossible! By land, among the savage people of Morocco, flight would be dangerous. And so the convicts remain here, if not from pleasure, from prudence.”
“Well,” answered the doctor, “I must congratulate you; for it is to be feared that guarding the prisoners will become more and more difficult in the future.”
“And why, if you please?” asked one of the guests, who was much interested in the conversation owing to his being the director of the penitentiary.
“Because, sir,” replied the doctor, “the study of magnetic phenomena has made great progress; because their action can be applied to everything in the world; because the effects of suggestion are becoming more and more frequent and tend so much toward substituting one personality for another.”
“And in that case?” asked the governor.
“In that case I think that if it is wise to watch your prisoners, it is just as wise to watch your warders. During my travels I have witnessed some extraordinary things, that I would not have believed possible, with regard to these phenomena. And in your own interest do not forget that if a prisoner can unconsciously escape under the influence of a stranger's will, a warder subject to the same influence can none the less unconsciously allow him to escape.”
“Will you explain to us of what these phenomena consist?” asked the director of the penitentiary.
“Yes, sir, and 1 will give yon an example to make them clear to you. Suppose a warder has a natural disposition to submit to magnetic or hypnotic influence; and admit that a prisoner can exercise such influence over him. Well, from that moment the prisoner has become the warder's master and can do what he likes with him. He can make him go where he pleases, and can make him open the prison doors whenever he likes to suggest the idea to him.”
“Doubtless,” replied the director, “but on condition that he has first sent him to sleep—”
“That is where you make a mistake,” said the doctor. “He can do all these things when he is awake, and yet he will know nothing about them.”
“What, do you mean to say—”
“I mean to say, and I affirm, that under the influence the prisoner can say to the warder, ‘On such a day at such an hour you will do such a thing,’ and he will do it. ‘On such a day you will bring me the keys of my cell,’ and he will bring them. ‘On such a day you will open the gate of the prison,’ and he will open it. ‘On such a day I will pass by you,’ and he will not see him pass.”
“Not when he is awake?”
“Quite wide awake!”
To this affirmation of the doctor a shrug of incredulity passed round the company.
“Nothing can be truer, nevertheless,” said Pierre, “for I myself have seen such things.”
“And so,” said the governor, “the materiality of one person can be suppressed at the look of another?”
“Entirely,” said the doctor; “and in some people in such a way as to cause such changes in their senses that they will take salt for sugar, milk for vinegar, and wine for physic. Nothing is impossible in the way of illusion or hallucination while the brain is under the influence.”
“It seems to me, Dr. Antekirtt,” said the governor, “that the general feeling of the company is that those things must be seen to be believed!”
“And more than once!” said one of the guests.
“It is a pity,” said the governor, “that the short time you have to give us will not allow you to convince us by an experiment.”
“But I can!” replied the doctor.
“Now?”
“Yes, now, if you like!”
“How?”
“Your excellency has not forgotten that three days ago one of the convicts was found asleep on the road, and I told yon that it was a magnetic sleep?”
“Yes,” said the director of the penitentiary, “and the man is now in the hospital.”
“You remember I awakened him, for none of your warders could.”
“Quite so.”
“Well, that was enough to create between me and this convict—what is his name?”
“Carpena.”
“Between me and Carpena a bond of suggestion putting him completely in my power.”
“When he is in your presence.”
“And when we are apart.”
“Between you here and him in the hospital?” asked the governor.
“Yes; and if you will give orders for them to leave the doors open, do you know what he will do?”
“Run away!” said the governor, with a laugh, in which all joined.
“No, gentlemen,” replied the doctor, very seriously, “Carpena will not run away until I wish him to run away, and he will only do what I want him to do.”
“And what is that, if yon please?”
“For example, when he gets out of prison, I can order him to take the road here.”
“And will he come here?”
“Into this very room, if I please, and he will insist on speaking to you.”
“To me?”
“To you. And if you like, as he will have to obey all my suggestions, I will suggest the idea to him to take you for somebody else—say for his Majesty Alfonso XII.”
“For his Majesty the King of Spain?”
“Yes, your excellency, and he will ask you—”
“To pardon him?”
“Yes, to pardon him, and, if you like, to give him the Cross of Isabella into the bargain.”
Shouts of laughter greeted this last assertion.
“And the man wide awake all the time?” asked the director of the penitentiary.
“As wide awake as we are.”
“No, no! It is not credible, it is not possible,” exclaimed the governor.
“Then try the experiment! Give orders for Carpena to be allowed to do what he likes, and for security let one or two warders be told off to follow him at a distance. He shall do all I have just told you.”
“Very well, when would you like to begin?”
“It is now eight o'clock,” said the doctor, consulting his watch. “At nine o'clock?”
“Be it so; and after the experiment?”
“After the experiment Carpena will go quietly back to the hospital without the slightest remembrance of what has passed. I repeat—and it is the only explanation I can give you of the phenomenon—that Carpena will be under a suggestive influence coming from me, and in reality I shall be doing these things, not Carpena.”
The governor, whose incredulity was manifest, wrote a note to the chief warder, directing him to allow Carpena full liberty of action, and to follow him from a distance; and the note was immediately dispatched to the hospital.
The dinner at an end, the company at the governor's invitation adjourned to the drawing-room.
Naturally the conversation still dwelt on the different phenomena of magnetism or hypnotism, and controversy between the believers and unbelievers grew animated. Dr. Antekirtt, while the cups of coffee circulated amid the smoke of the cigars and cigarettes, which even the Spanish ladies did not despise, related a score of facts of which he had been the witness or the author during the practice of his profession, all to the point, all indisputable, but none of them, seemingly, convincing.
He added also that this faculty of suggestion would give serious trouble to legislators and magistrates, for it could be used for criminal purposes; and cases could arise in which crime could be committed without its being possible to discover its author.
Suddenly at twenty-seven minutes to nine the doctor interrupted himself, and said:
“Carpena is now leaving the hospital!”
And a minute afterward he added:
“He has just passed through the gate of the penitentiary!”
The tone with which the words were pronounced had a strange effect on those around him. The governor alone continued to shake his head.
Then the conversation for and against began again, each one saying but little at a time, until at five minutes to nine the doctor interrupted them for the last time:
“Carpena is at the front door.”
Almost immediately afterward, one of the servants entered the drawing-room and told the governor that a man dressed like a convict was waiting below, and insisted on seeing him.
“Let him come in!” replied the governor, whose incredulity began to vanish in the face of the facts.
As nine o'clock struck, Carpena appeared at the door of the drawing-room. Without appearing to see any of those present, although his eyes were wide open, he walked up to the governor, and kneeling before him, said:
“Sire, I ask you to pardon me.”
The governor absolutely dumfounded, as if he himself was under an hallucination, knew not what to say.
“You can pardon him,” said the doctor, with a smile; “he will have no recollection of all this.”
“I grant you your pardon,” said the governor, with all the dignity of the King of all the Spains.
“And to that pardon, sire,” said Carpena, still bending low, “will you add the Cross of Isabella?”
“I give it you.”
And then Carpena made as though to take something from the governor's hand and attach the imaginary cross to his breast. Then he rose, and walking backward quitted the room.
This time the whole company followed him to the front door.
“I will go with him, I will see him to the hospital,” said the governor, struggling with himself, as if loath to yield to the evidence of his senses.
“Come, then!” said the doctor.
And the governor, Pierre Bathory, Dr. Antekirtt, and the rest followed after Carpena as he went along the road toward the town. Namir, who had watched him since he left the penitentiary, glided along in the shadow and continued to watch.
The night was rather dark. The Spaniard walked along at a regular pace with no hesitation in his stride. The governor and his guests were twenty paces behind him with the two warders who had received orders to keep him. in sight.
The road as it approaches the town bends round a small creek, forming the second harbor on that side of the rock. On the black, motionless water flickered the reflections of two or three lights. They came from the ports and lanterns of the “Ferrato,” whose hull loomed large in the darkness.
As he reached this spot Carpena left the road and inclined to the right toward a heap of rocks which rose from the shore a dozen feet away. Doubtless a gesture from the doctor, unseen by any one—perhaps a simple suggestion of his will—had obliged the Spaniard to leave the path.
The warders prepared to close up so as to send him back, but the governor, knowing that no escape from that side was possible, ordered them to leave him to himself.
However, Carpena halted on one of the rocks as if he had been struck motionless and fixed there by some irresistible power. He tried to lift his feet, to move his arms, but he could not. The doctor's will within him nailed him to the ground.
The governor looked at him for a minute or so. Then he said to his guest—
“Well, doctor, whether he is awake or not, we must give in to the evidence!”
“You are convinced, quite convinced?”
“Yes, quite convinced that there are things we must believe in like the brutes! Now, Dr. Antekirtt. suggest to him to go back to the penitentiary! Alfonso XII. commands it!”
The governor had hardly finished the sentence before Carpena, without uttering a sound, threw himself into the water. Was it an accident? Was it a voluntary act on his part? Had some fortuitous circumstance intervened to snatch him out of the doctor's power? No one could say.
Immediately there was a general rush to the rocks, and the warders ran on to the beach. There was no trace of Carpena. Some fishing-boats came up, as did the boats from the yacht. All was useless. They did not even find the corpse, which the current would carry out to sea.
“I am very sorry, your excellency,” said the doctor, “that our experiment has had so tragical an end, which it was impossible to anticipate.”
“But how do you account for it?” asked the governor.
“The reason is that in the exercise of this suggestive power, of which you can not deny the effects, there are intermittences. That man escaped me for an instant, undoubtedly, and either from his being seized with vertigo or some other cause he fell off the rocks! It is a great pity, for we have lost such a splendid specimen!”
“We have lost a scamp—nothing more!” said the governor philosophically.
And that was Carpena's funeral oration!
The doctor and Pierre then took leave of the governor. They had to start before daybreak for Antekirtta, and they were profuse in their thanks to their host for the hospitable welcome he had given them in the Spanish colony.
The governor shook the doctor's hand, wished him a pleasant journey, and after promising to come and see him, returned to his house.
Perhaps it may be said that Dr. Antekirtt had somewhat abused the good faith of the Governor of Ceuta. His conduct under the circumstances is certainly open to criticism. But we should not forget the work to which Count Sandorf had consecrated his life. “A thousand roads—one end!” And this was one of the thousand roads he had to take.
A few minutes afterward one of the boats of the “Ferrato” had taken them on board. Luigi was waiting for them as they came up the side.
“That man?” asked the doctor.
“According to your orders,” said Luigi, “our boat was near the rocks and picked him up after his fall, and he is under lock and key in the fore-cabin.”
“He has said nothing?” asked Pierre.
“How could he say anything? He seems asleep and unconscious of his acts.”
“Good,” answered the doctor. “I willed that Carpena should fall from those rocks, and he fell. I willed that he should sleep, and he sleeps. When I will that he wakes, he shall wake. And now, Luigi, up anchor and away!”
The steam was up, and a few minutes afterward the “Ferrato” was off, heading out to sea, straight for Antekirtta.