Crust contended that if the American could fool them once, he would do so again,--in fact, he went so far as to say that he had been doing it all the time.

There was nothing open and above board about the methods of Manuel Crust. He proceeded about the business of fomenting dissatisfaction and strife with an artfulness surprising in one of his type. At no time did he openly denounce the "government." He was very careful about that.

A jesting word here, a derisive smile there, a shrug of the shoulders,--and in good time others less politic than himself began to do the talking. Others began to complain of the high-handed, dictatorial manner in which Percival and his friends ruled the community.

The secret, stealthy opposition grew apace; it a.s.sumed sinister proportions,--all the more sinister because it was masked by every outward sign of submission. Crust had won friends right and left among the very people who would have killed him not so many months before but for the very man he was planning to destroy.

Outwardly he had changed,--not subtly, it is true,--from a sullen, threatening bully into a hearty, smiling, sympathetic comrade who laid himself out to be obliging. Even Percival was puzzled, if not deceived, by this surprising transformation.

CHAPTER III.

It was Olga Obosky who discovered and exposed the plot. A young Spaniard had fallen hopelessly, madly in love with her. He was a good-looking, hard-eyed boy from the pampas,--a herder who was on his way to visit his mother in from Rio. He was a "gun-slinger" bearing close relationship to the type of cowboy that existed in the old days of the Far West but who is now extinct save for pictorial perpetuation on the moving-picture screens.

Down in his wild young heart smouldered a furious jealousy of Percival.

Crust played upon this jealousy to fine effect. He did not hesitate to feed the flame with sly speculations, innuendos and even tales concerning Percival and Olga.

One day the Spaniard, in the midst of his violent protestations and pleadings, became reckless with promises to Olga. He swore that if she would have him he would make her the first lady of the land in place of the stupid American girl who now held the honour. Then, having loosed his tongue, he poured out the whole of the ugly scheme which was to alter every existing condition on the island. The wiping out of the dictator and his swell-headed gang of "intellectuals"; the seizure of all firearms, ammunition and stores; the complete subjugation of the people, even to the point of slavery; the elevation of Manuel Crust and his followers to a state of absolute power; the confiscation of all property,--including women! He naively advised her to jump at the chance offered her,--the chance to avoid the most unpleasant feature of the new regime.

"As my woman," he said, "you will be safe. It is understood. It is all arranged. If you belong to me, nothing can happen to you. We shall be of the elect. I am to be of the council. I am to be one of the masters, the--"

"But," she cried, scarcely able to believe her ears, "how is all this to be accomplished? How will the few overcome the many? You say there are scarcely more than a dozen of you, my friend. What can a dozen men do to--"

"It will be simple," cried he, his eyes flaming. "How is it that Percival and his little gang hold all of us in bondage? It is because they have the guns, the revolvers, the bullets. Well, we shall have the guns, and everything. When the time comes, when the people have voted in the election and a new party is in control, then we will have our chance. We will have the upper hand. To h.e.l.l with the people, Olga. They will count for nothing once we have charge of the guns and stores. This Percival he has ordered the election. He insists that the people be given a chance to vote once a year, to elect some one to take his place if they feel like it. He says it is only fair. Faugh! He laughs in his sleeve. Come! Your promise! I love you. I must have you for my woman.

I cannot live without you. I will give you power to spit in the face of that woman down there--that American aristocrat! We will be rich, we will be happy, we will have everything. Diamonds and pearls and rubies and all the gold there is on this island. We will be the ones to go away in the ship, and we will have jewels to shame the richest of them."

"We--you and Manuel and the rest--are to go away in the ship?" she cried, cold to the marrow of her bones.

"Sure. Why not? Are we not to be the owners of that ship? It is your chance to go back to the world again,--with me! Oh, and I agree to this also: If you do not want me any longer after you are in Rio or Buenos Aires or anywhere out there,--if you would rather be free again,--I promise to release you. What could be fairer than that? Nothing! I shall kill myself, of course, when you leave me,--but still I promise, and I never break a promise. But I shall love you so much that you will never leave me. You are my queen. h.e.l.l, how I love you--how I love you!" His face darkened, then slowly paled. He realized that he had gone too far.

Leaning close to her, his frightened eyes not a foot from hers, he said: "You cannot deny me now. I have told you everything. I do not know why I have told you. I must be crazy with love of you. Ah,--the look in your beautiful eyes! G.o.d, how it takes the weight off my mind. You will love me,--you will be mine,--I see it in your eyes. When? When?"

She affected a bantering smile. She knew how to play with such fools as he.

"Do you think I am a fool? How do I know you are not lying to me about all this? It may be a trick to influence me. No, no! I am not such a simpleton. You promise me diamonds, and gold, and much love. You promise to take me away from this dreadful place on a ship, back to the world I worship. But you may be lying. I must have something better than your word, my friend."

"But I am telling you the truth. I swear it!" he cried eagerly.

"Keep your hands off of me,--do you hear! Don't touch me! Not yet, not yet. I must have some proof that you can give me all these things you offer. Will you have Manuel Crust guarantee that--"

"My G.o.d,--Manuel,--he must not know I have spoken to you. He must never know," he gasped. "Take my word,--believe me, beloved one. It is the G.o.d's truth I tell you. Within the month I will lay diamonds, pearls,--everything,--at your feet. I--"

"Leave me now. Come again,--tomorrow. I must think. I must--"

"But you will love me? You will come to me? You--"

"You are a very handsome boy," she said softly, "and I should like to believe you."

He followed her for a few steps, trouble in his eyes.

"It is not enough. I must have your promise," he said.

She looked at him coldly. "You will have it when I am ready to give it,"

she said, and his face lightened for a moment, only to darken again.

"I will cut your heart out if you breathe a word of this to any one," he whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

"Is that the way for a lover to speak?" she returned.

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "It is the way,--with me."

"Come to me tomorrow and tell me exactly what my share of the treasure is to be,--and then I will let you know whether it is to be you--or Manuel Crust, my friend. Oh, you see, I am greedy,--and I can love Manuel quite as easily as I can love--"

"I will cut his heart out if you--"

"There--there! It will not be necessary. Come tomorrow."

That same afternoon she went to Percival with the Spaniard's story.

"Well, we'll nip that in the bud," said he, setting his jaw. "The first thing to do is to warn Landover."

"Warn Landover!" cried the Russian. "He is all mix up in it,--he is one of ze ringleaders."

"No, he isn't. He's not that kind of a man. He doesn't know a thing about all this, I'll stake my life on it."

"But, Olga," cried Ruth, white-faced and troubled; "Fernandez will kill you. He will,--Good heaven, girl, did he not swear to cut your heart out if you--"

"Poof!" cried the other, snapping her fingers. "He will not do zat, my dear. I am not afraid. Do you know what happens to informers in my country? They vanish. No one ever sees them again, and no one ever asks where they have gone. They are here today--tomorrow they are not. It is the same the world over."

"You mean,--Manuel's men will make way with him? How horrible!"

"Do not waste your sympathy on zat Fernandez. He is no good. You would see what kind of man he is if this plot should succeed."

"But you will have to give him your answer tomorrow," cried Ruth.

Olga shot a keen glance at Percival's face.

"It is for you to say, Percivail, what my answer shall be," said she, after, a slight pause. A queer pallor spread over her face.

"For me to say?" he exclaimed.

"Are you not the governor? If it suits your plans for me to give myself to zat man--"

"My G.o.d, Olga! What the devil are you driving at?"