The Unspeakable Perk

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"Tell Sir Willet that he's very ungallant," pouted Miss Polly.
"When I sat next to him at dinner last week he offered to
establish woman suffrage here and elect me next president if I'd
stay."

Sherwen hardly paid this the tribute of a smile.

"That was before he found out certain things. The Hochwald
Legation"--he lowered his voice--"is undoubtedly stirring up anti-
American sentiment."

"But why?" inquired Mr. Brewster. "There's enough trade for them
and for us?"

"For one thing, they don't like your concessions, Mr. Brewster.
Then they have heard that Dr. Pruyn is on his way, and they want
to make all the trouble they can for him, and make it impossible
for him to get actual information of the presence of plague. I
happen to know that their consul is officially declaring fake all
the plague rumors."

"That suits me," declared the magnate. "We don't want to have to
run Dutch and quarantine blockade both."

"Meantime, there are two or three cheap but dangerous demagogues
who have been making anti-'Yanki,' as they call us, speeches in
the slums. Sir Willet doesn't like the looks of it. If there were
any way in which you could get through, and to sea, it would be
well to take it at once. Am I correct in supposing that you've
taken steps to clear the yacht, Mr. Brewster?"

"Yes. That is, I've sent a message. Or, at least, so my daughter,
to whose management I left it, believes."

"Don't tell me how," said Sherwen quickly. "There is reason to
believe that it has been dispatched."

"You've heard something?"

"I have a message from our consul at Puerto del Norte, Mr.
Wisner."

"For me?" asked the concessionaire.

"Why, no," was the hesitant reply. "It isn't quite clear, but it
seems to be for Miss Brewster."

"Why not?" inquired that young lady coolly. "What is it?"

"The best I could make of it over the phone--Wisner had to be
guarded--was that people planning to take Dutch leave would better
pay their parting calls by to-morrow at the latest."

"That would mean day after to-morrow, wouldn't it?" mused the
girl.

"If it means anything at all," substituted her father testily.

"Meantime, how do you like the Gran Hotel Kast, Miss Brewster?"
asked Sherwen.

"It's awful beyond words! I've done nothing but wish for a brigade
of Biddies, with good stout mops, and a government permit to clean
up. I'd give it a bath!"

"Yes, it's pretty bad. I'm glad you don't like it."

"Glad? Is every one ag'in' poor me?"

"Because--well, the American Legation is a very lonely place. Now,
the presence of an American lady--"

"Are you offering a proposal of marriage, Mr. Sherwen?" twinkled
the girl. "If so--Dad, please leave the room."

"Knock twenty years off my battle-scarred life and you wouldn't be
safe a minute," he retorted. "But, no. This is a measure of
safety. Sir Willet thinks that your party ought to be ready to
move into the American Legation on instant notice, if you can't
get away to sea to-morrow."

"What's the use, if the legation has no official existence?" asked
Mr. Brewster.

"In a sense it has. It would probably be respected by a mob. And,
at the worst, it adjoins the British Legation, which would be
quite safe. If it weren't that Sir Willet's boy has typhoid, you'd
be formally invited to go there."

"It's very good of you," said Miss Polly warmly. "But surely it
would be an awful nuisance to you."

"On the contrary, you'd brace up my far-too-casual old housekeeper
and get the machinery running. She constantly takes advantage of
my bachelor ignorance. If you say you'll come, I'll almost pray
for the outbreak."

"Certainly we'll come, at any time you notify us," said Mr.
Brewster. "And we're very grateful. Shall you have room for Mr.
Carroll, too?"

"By all means. And I've notified Mr. Cluff. You won't mind his
being there? He's a rough diamond, but a thoroughly decent
fellow."

"Useful, too, in case of trouble, I should judge," said the
magnate. "Then I'll wait for further word from you."

"Yes. I've got my men out on watch."

"Wouldn't it be--er--advisable for us to arm ourselves?"

"By no means! There's just one course to follow; keep the peace at
any price, and give the Hochwaldians not the slightest peg on
which to hang a charge that Americans have been responsible for
any trouble that might arise. May I ask you," he added
significantly, "to make this clear to Mr. Carroll?"

"Leave that to me," said Miss Brewster, with superb confidence.

"Content, indeed! You'll find our locality very pleasant, Miss
Brewster. Three of the other legations are on the same block, not
including the Hochwaldian, which is a quarter of a mile down the
hill. On our corner is a house where several of the English
railroad men live, and across is the Club Amicitia, made up
largely of the jeunesse doree, who are mostly pro-American. So
you'll be quite surrounded by friends, not to say adherents."

"Call on me to housekeep for you at any time," cried Polly gayly.
"I'll begin to roll up my sleeves as soon as I get dressed to-
morrow."

IX

THE BLACK WARNING

That weird three-part drama in the plaza which had so puzzled Miss
Polly Brewster had developed in this wise:--

Coincidently with the departure of Preston Fairfax Fitzhugh
Carroll from the hotel in his cab, the Unspeakable Perk emerged
from a store near the far corner of the square, which exploited
itself in the purest Castilian as offering the last word in the
matter of gentlemen's apparel. "Articulos para Caballeros" was the
representation held forth upon its signboard.

If it had articled Mr. Perkins, it must be confessed that it had
done its job unevenly, not to say fantastically. His linen was
fresh and new, quite conspicuously so, and, therefore, in sharp
contrast to the frayed and patched, but scrupulously clean and
neatly pressed khaki suit, which set forth rather bumpily his
solid figure. A serviceable pith helmet barely overhung the
protrusive goggles. His hands were encased in white cotton gloves,
a size or two too large. Dismal buff spots on the palms impaired
their otherwise virgin purity. As the wearer carried his hands
stiffly splayed, the blemishes were obtrusive. Altogether, one
might have said that, if he were going in for farce, he was
appropriately made up for it.

At the corner above the beggar's niche he was turning toward a
pharmacist's entrance, when the mirth of the departing crowd that
had been enjoying the free oratory attracted his attention. He
glanced across at the beggar, now rocking rhythmically on his
stumps, hesitated a moment, then ran down the steps.

At the same moment Carroll's cab stopped on the other angle of the
curb. The occupant put forth his head, saw the goggled freak
descending to the legless freak, and sat back again.

"Hola, Pancho! Are you ill?" asked the newcomer.

The beggar only swung back and forth, muttering with frenzied
rapidity. With one hand the Unspeakable Perk stopped him, as one
might intercept the runaway pendulum of a clock, setting the other
on his forehead. Then he bent and brought his goblin eyes to bear
on the dark face. The features were distorted, the eyelids
tremulous over suffused eyes, and the teeth set. Opening the man's
loose shirt, Perkins thrust his hand within. It might have been
supposed that he was feeling for the heart action, were it not
that his hand slid past the breast and around under the arm. When
he drew it out, he stood for a moment with chin dropped, in
consideration.

Midday heat had all but cleared the plaza. As he looked about, the
helper saw no aid, until his eye fell upon the waiting cab. He
fairly bounded up the stairs, calling something to the coachman.

"No," grunted that toiler, with the characteristic discourtesy of
the Caracunan lower class, and jerked his head backward toward his
fare.

"I beg your pardon," said the Unspeakable Perk eagerly, in
Spanish, turning to the dim recess of the victoria. "Might I--Oh,
it's you!" He seized Carroll by the arm. "I want your cab."

"Indeed!" said Carroll. "Well, you're cool enough about it."

"And your help," added the other.

"What for?"

"Do you have to ask questions? The man may be dying--is dying, I
think."

"All right," said Carroll promptly. "What's to be done?"

"Get him home. Help me carry him to the cab."

Between them, the two men lifted the heavy, mumbling cripple,
carried him up the steps with a rush, and deposited him in the
cab, while the driver was still angrily expostulating. The beggar
was shivering now, and the cold sweat rolled down his face. His
bearers placed themselves on each side of him. Perkins gave an
order to the driver, who seemed to object, and a rapid-fire
argument ensued.

"What's wrong?" asked Carroll.

"Says he won't go there. Says he was hired by you for shopping."

Carroll took one look at the agony-wrung face of the beggar, who
was being held on the seat by his companion.

"Won't he?" said he grimly. "We'll see."

Rising, he threw a pair of long arms around those of the driver,
pinning him, caught the reins, and turned the horses.

"Now ask him if he'll drive," he directed Perkins.

"Si, senor!" gasped the coachman, whose breath had been squeezed
almost through his crackling ribs.

"See that you do," the Southerner bade him, in accents that needed
no interpretation.

Presently Perkins looked up from his charge.

"Got a cigar?" he asked abruptly.

"No," replied the other, a little disgusted by this levity in the
presence of imminent death.

Perkins bade the driver stop at the corner.

"Don't let him fall off the seat," he admonished Carroll, and
jumped out.

In the course of a minute he reappeared, smoking a cheroot that
appeared to be writhing and twisting in the effort to escape from
its own noxious fumes.

"Have one," he said, extending a handful to his companion.

"I don't care for it," returned the other superciliously. While
willing to aid in a good work, he did not in the least approve
either of the Unspeakable Perk or of his offhand manners.

Before they had gone much farther, his resentment was heated to
the point of offense.

"Is it necessary for you to puff every puff of that infernal smoke
in my face?" he demanded ominously.

"Well, you wouldn't smoke, yourself."

"If it weren't for this poor devil of a sick man--" began Carroll,
when a second thought about the smoke diverted his line of
thought. "Is it contagious?" he asked.

"It's so regarded," observed the other dryly.

"I'll take one of those, thank you."

Perkins handed him one of the rejected spirals. In silence, except
for the outrageous rattling of the wheels on the cobbles, they
drove through mean streets that grew ever meaner, until they drew
up at the blind front of a building abutting on an arroyo of the
foothills. Here they stopped, and Carroll threw his jehu a five-
bolivar piece, which the driver caught, driving away at once,
without the demand for more which usually follows overpayment in
Caracuna. Convenient to hand lay a small rock. Perkins used it for
a knocker, hammering on the guarded wooden door with such
vehemence as to still the clamor that arose from within.

Through the opening, as the barrier was removed by a leather-
skinned old crone, Carroll gazed into a passageway, beyond which
stretched a foul mule yard, bordered by what the visitor at first
supposed to be stalls, until he saw bedding and utensils in them.
The two men lifted the cripple in, amid the outcries and
lamentations of the aged woman, who had looked at his face and
then covered her own. At once they were surrounded by a swarm of
women and children, who pressed upon them, hampering their
movements, until a shrill voice cried:--

"La muerte negra!"

The swarm fell into silence, scattered, vanished, leaving only the
moaning woman to help. At her direction they settled the patient
on a straw pallet in a side room.

"That's all you can do," said the Unspeakable Perk to his
companion. "And thank you."

"I'll stay."

The goggles gloomed upon him in the dim room.

"I thought probably you would," commented Perkins, and busied
himself over the cripple with a knife and some cloths. He had
stuffed his ludicrous white gloves into his pocket, and was
tearing strips from his handkerchief with skillful fingers.

"Oughtn't he to have a doctor?" asked Carroll. "Shall I go for
one?"

"His mother has sent. No use, though."

"He can't be saved?"

"Not a chance on earth. I should say he was in the last stages."

"What is it?" said Carroll hesitantly.

"La muerte negra. The black death."

"Plague?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure? Are you an expert?"

"One doesn't have to be to recognize a case like that. The lump in
the armpit is as big as a pigeon's egg."

"Why have you interested yourself in the man to such an extent?"
asked Carroll curiously.

"He's a friend of mine. Why did you?"

"Oh, that's quite different. One can't disregard a call for help
such as yours."

"A certain kind of 'one' can't," returned the Unspeakable Perk,
with his half-smile. "You don't mind my saying, Mr. Carroll,
you're a brave man."

"And I'd have said that you weren't," replied the other bluntly.
"I give it up. But I know this: I'm going to be pretty wretchedly
frightened until I know that I haven't got it. I'm frightened
now."

"Then you're a braver man than I thought. But the danger may be
less than you think. Stick to that cigar--here are two more--and
wait for me outside. Here's the doctor."

Profound and solemn under a silk hat, the local physician entered,
bowing to Carroll as they passed in the hallway. Almost
immediately Perkins emerged. On his face was a sardonic grin.

"Malaria," he observed. "The learned professor assures me that
it's a typical malaria."

"Then it isn't the plague," said Carroll, relieved.

His relief was of brief duration.

"Of course it's plague. But if Professor Silk Hat, in there,
officially declared it such, he'd have bracelets on his arms in
twelve hours. The present Government of Caracuia doesn't believe
in bubonic plague. I fancy our unfortunate friend in there will
presently disappear, either just before or just after death. It
doesn't greatly matter."

"What is to be done now?" asked Carroll.

"See that brush fire up there?" The hermit pointed to the
hillside. "If we steep ourselves in that smoke until we choke, I
think it will discourage any fleas that may have harbored on us.
The flea is the only agent of communication."

Soot-begrimed, strangling, and with streaming eyes, they emerged,
five minutes later, from the cloud of smoke. From his pocket the
Unspeakable Perk dragged forth his white gloves. The action
attracted his companion's attention.

"Good Lord!" he cried. "What has happened to your hands?"

"They're blistered."

"Stripped, rather. They look as if you'd fallen into a fire, or
rowed a fifty-mile race. That message of Mr. Brewster's--See here,
Perkins, you didn't row that over to the mainland? No, you
couldn't. That's absurd. It's too far."

"No; I didn't row it to the mainland."

"But you've been rowing. I'd swear to those hands. Where? The
blockading Dutch warship?"

The other nodded.

"Last night. Yah-h-h!" he yawned. "It makes me sleepy to think of
it."

"Why didn't they blow you out of the water?" "Oh, I was
semiofficially expected. Message from our consul. They transferred
the message by wireless. I'm telling you all this, Mr. Carroll,
because I think you'll get your release within forty-eight hours,
and I want you to see that some of your party keeps constantly in
touch with Mr. Sherwen. It's mighty important that your party
should get out before plague is officially declared."

"Are you going to report this case?"

"All that I know about it."

"But, of course, you can't report officially, not being a
physician," mused the other. "Still, when Dr. Pruyn comes, it will
be evidence for him, won't it?"

"Undoubtedly. I should consider any delay after twenty-four hours
risky for your party."

"What shall you do? Stay?"

"Oh, I've my place in the mountains. That's remote enough to be
safe. Thank Heaven, there's a cloud over the sun! Let's sit down
by this tree for a minute."

Unthinkingly, as he stretched himself out, the Unspeakable Perk
pushed his goggles back and presently slipped them off. Thus, when
Carroll, who had been gazing at the mist-capped peak of the
mountain in front, turned and met his companion's eyes, he
underwent something of the same shock that Polly Brewster had
experienced, though the nature of his sensation was profoundly
different. But his impression of the suddenly revealed face was
the same. Ribbed-in though his mind was with tradition, and
distorted with falsely focused ideals and prejudices, Preston
Fairfax Fitzhugh Carroll possessed a sound underlying judgment of
his fellow man, and was at bottom a frank and honorable gentleman.
In his belief, the suddenly revealed face of the man beside him
came near to being its own guaranty of honor and good faith.

"By Heavens, I don't believe it!" he blurted out, his gaze direct
upon the Unspeakable Perk.

"What don't you believe?"

"That rotten club gossip."

"About me?"

"Yes," said Carroll, reddening.

The hermit pushed his glasses down, settled into place the white
gloves, with their soothing contents of emollient greases, and got
to his feet.

"We'd best be moving. I've got much to do," he said.

"Not yet," retorted Carroll. "Perkins, is there a woman up there
on the mountains with you?"

"That is purely my own business."

"You told Miss Brewster there wasn't. If you tell me--"

"I never told her any such thing. She misunderstood."

"Who is the woman?"

"If you want it even more frankly, that is none of your concern."

"You have been letting Miss Brewster--"

"Are you engaged to marry Miss Brewster?"

"No."

"Then you have no authority to question me. But," he added
wearily, "if it will ease your mind, and because of what you've
done to-day, I 'll tell you this--that I do not expect ever to see
Miss Brewster again."

"That isn't enough," insisted Carroll, his face darkening. "Her
name has already been connected with yours, and I intend to follow
this through. I am going to find out who the woman is at your
place."

"How do you propose to do it?"

"By coming to see."

"You'll be welcome," said the other grimly. "By the way, here's a
map." He made a quick sketch on the back of an envelope. "I'll be
there at work most of to-morrow. Au revoir." He rose and started
down the hill. "Better keep to yourself this evening," he warned.
"Take a dilute carbolic bath. You'll be all right, I think."

Slowly and thoughtfully the Southerner made his way back to the
hotel. After dining in his own room, he found time heavy on his
hands; so, dispatching a note of excuse to Miss Brewster on the
plea of personal business, he slipped out into the city. Wandering
idly toward the hills, he presently found himself in a familiar
street, and, impelled by human curiosity, proceeded to turn up the
hill and stop opposite the blank door.

Here he was puzzled. To go in and inquire, even if he cared to and
could make himself understood, would perhaps involve further risk
of infection. While he was considering, the door slowly opened,
and the leather-skinned crone appeared. Her eyes were swollen. In
her hand she carried a travesty of a wreath, done in whitish
metal, which she had interwoven with her own black mantilla, the
best substitute for crape at hand. This she undertook to hang on
the door. As Carroll crossed to address her, a powerful, sullen-
faced man, with a scarred forehead and the insignia of some
official status, apparently civic, on his coat, emerged from a
doorway and addressed her harshly. She raised her reddened eyes to
him and seemed to be pleading for permission to set up the little
tribute to her dead. There was the exchange of a few more words.
Then, with an angry exclamation, the official snatched the wreath
from her. Carroll's hand fell on his shoulder. The man swung and
saw a stranger of barely half his bulk, who addressed him in what
seemed to be politely remonstrant tones. He shook himself loose
and threw the wreath in the crone's face. Then he went down like a
log under the impact of a swinging blow behind the ear. With a
roar he leaped up and rushed. The foreigner met him with right and
left, and this time he lay still.

Hanging the tragically unsightly wreath on the door, through which
the terrified mourner had vanished, Carroll returned to the Gran
Hotel Kast, his perturbed and confused thoughts and emotions
notably relieved by that one comforting moment of action.

X

THE FOLLY OF PERK

Of the comprehensive superiority of the American Legation over the
Gran Hotel Kast there could be no shadow of a doubt. From the
moment of their arrival at noon of the day after the British
Minister's warning, the refugees found themselves comfortable and
content, Miss Brewster having quietly and tactfully taken over the
management of internal affairs and reigning, at Sherwen's request,
as generalissima. No disturbance had marked the transfer to their
new abode. In fact, so wholly lacking was any evidence of
hostility to the foreigners on the part of the crowds on the
streets that the Brewsters rather felt themselves to be extorting
hospitality on false pretenses. Sherwen, however, exhibited signal
relief upon seeing them safely housed.

"Please stay that way, too," he requested.

"But it seems so unnecessary, and I want to market," protested
Miss Polly.

"By no means! The market is the last place where any of us should
be seen. It is in that section that Urgante has been doing his
work."

"Who is he?"

"A wandering demagogue and cheap politician. Abuse of the 'Yankis'
is his stock in trade. Somebody has been furnishing him money
lately. That's the sole fuel to his fires of oratory."

"Bet the bills smelled of sauerkraut when they reached him,"
grunted Cluff, striding over to the window of the drawing-room,
where the informal conference was being held.

"They may have had a Hochwaldian origin," admitted Sherwen. "But
it would be difficult to prove."

"At least the Hochwald Legation wouldn't shed any tears over a
demonstration against us," said Carroll.

"Well within the limits of diplomatic truth," smiled the American
official.

"Pooh!" Mr. Brewster puffed the whole matter out of consideration.
"I don't believe a word of it. Some of my acquaintances at the
club, men in high governmental positions, assure me that there is
no anti-American feeling here."

"Very likely they do. Frankness and plain-speaking being, as you
doubtless know, the distinguishing mark of the Caracunan
statesman."

The sarcasm was not lost upon Mr. Brewster, but it failed to shake
his skepticism.

"There are some business matters that require that I should go to
the office of the Ferro carril del Norte this afternoon," he said.

"I beg that you do nothing of the sort," cried Sherwen sharply.

The magnate hesitated. He glanced out of the window and along the
street, close bounded by blank-walled houses, each with its eyes
closed against the sun. A solitary figure strode rapidly across
it.

"There's that bug-hunting fellow again," said Mr. Brewster. "He's
an American, I guess,--God save the mark! Nobody seems to be
interfering with HIM, and he's freaky enough looking to start a
riot on Broadway."

Further comment was checked by the voice of the scientist at the
door, asking to see Mr. Sherwen at once. Miss Polly immediately
slipped out of the room to the patio, followed by Carroll and
Cluff.

"My business, probably," remarked Mr. Brewster. "I'll just stay
and see." And he stayed.

So far as the newcomer was concerned, however, he might as well
not have been there; so he felt, with unwonted injury. The
scientist, disregarding him wholly, shook hands with Sherwen.

"Have you heard from Wisner yet?"

"Yes. An hour ago."

"What was his message?"

"All right, any time to-day."

"Good! Better get them down to-night, then, so they can start to-
morrow morning."

"Will Stark pass them?"

"Under restrictions. That's all been seen to."

At this point it appeared to Mr. Brewster that he had figured as a
cipher quite long enough.

"Am I right in assuming that you are talking of my party's
departure?" he inquired.

"Yes," said Sherwen. "The Dutch will let you through the
blockade."

"Then my cablegram reached the proper parties at Washington," said
the magnate, with an I-knew-it-would-be-that-way air.

"Thanks to Mr. Perkins."

"Of course, of course. That will be--er--suitably attended to
later."

The Unspeakable Perk turned and regarded him fixedly; but, owing
to the goggles, the expression was indeterminable.

"The fact is it would be more convenient for me to go day after
to-morrow than to-morrow."

"Then you'd better rent a house," was the begoggled one's sharp
and brief advice.

"Why so?" queried the great man, startled.

"Because if you don't get out to-morrow, you may not get out for
months."

"As I understand the Dutch permit, it specifies AFTER to-day."

"It isn't a question of the Dutch. Caracuna City goes under
quarantine to-night, and Puerto del Norte to-morrow, as soon as
proper official notification can be given."

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