The Ghost BreakerCharles Williams Goddard, Paul Dickey, Hearst's International Library Co


- - * *
* * * * * *
s


//A O





THE GHOST BREAKER





††
(BRARY
., t_rnox AND
. . . NDA TIQNS
- - - I-
------


“Warren—don't call me Highness! .
is Maria"
... my name


‘Gie
GHOST BREAKER
A NOVEL BASED
UPON THE PLAY
By , e.
CHARLES GODDARD
AN
PAUL DICKEY
V. º
HEARST'S INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY COMPANY
NEW YORK - - - - 1915
* -


THE NEW YORK
PFBLIC Liºn Aity
53968B
Astok. It's ºr .* Nt)
TILLEN Fo * DAF, oxs
1940 L
Copyright, 1915, by
HEARST's INTERNATIONAL LIBRARY Co., INC.
All rights reserved, including that of translation into the foreign
Alanguages, including the Scandinavian


i
CHAPTER
II.
III.
IV.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
CONTENTS
JARVIs of KENTUCKY
THE BLIND PURSUIT
IN THE ROYAL SUITE .
AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE .
ExIT JARVIS, LAUGHING
Over THE SEA AND FAR AWAY .
THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE .
THE NEW PROFESSION .
CHECKMATE THE FIRST
A WAGER witH THE DUKE .
WHEN THE SHIP CoMES IN .
WELCOME TO SEGURo! .
“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!”
MORE OBSTACLES .
MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCES
As IN DAYS of OLD
CoNCLUSION
Page
I8
35
47
59
74
IO5
I25
I40
I6I
I8I
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
X
V.
XVI.
XVII.
217
239
250
267





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
“Warren—don't call me Highness! . . .
my name is Maria " . . Frontispiece
It was Jarvis of Kentucky . - - -
—“and to faithfully fight in my lady's
cause ’’ - - - - - -
“Just a minute. How did that lock get
broken?” - - - - -
“I am known from Bowling Green to the
Golden Gate, as Warren the Ghost
Breaker’” - - - - -
“Gentlemen—a man" - -
“So, you are the brave American, are
you?” . - - - - - -
“Ah, señor, in all my experience I
have never seen such an adventurous
palm . . .” . - - - - -
“Ah, Mr. Warren, looking for an honest
man, like old Socrates?” -
Rusty caught him by the arm .
His next weapon was a chair .
“Don’t shoot!”
Facing
pace
38
56
7o
. Ioff
. 2 I 2
2 I4.
22.2
. 232
. 262
. 270
. 278





I
JARVIS OF KENTUCKY
OWN the winding roadway came the
thunder of hoofbeats!
As the two horsemen approached
through the deepening twilight a sobbing negro
woman peered timidly through the doorway of
the old Southern manor house. There was a call
from within.
“Put out this light, Mandy,” were the words
of the weak voice. “Hurry, Mandy. Maybe it's
the Marcums coming back.”
“Yas, Cunnel; yassir.” She obediently re-
treated, and the dim light within was suddenly ex-
tinguished.
The two riders turned in from the thorough-
fare, speeding past the half-swung gate up the
drive toward the broad portico. The foremost


2 THE GHOST BREAKER
slid from his saddle before his horse had come
to a stop.
“Hold her, Rusty' " And then he leaped up
the steps, to dash into the dark entry.
“Who is it? Stop!”
There was no weakness of spirit in the tremu-
lous tones from the room within.
“Dad! dad I’ve come!”
“Oh, my boy! You're just in time,” and the
speech ended in a sigh which sent a thrill of
horror through the newcomer. “Just . . . in
. . . time!”
“Lawd be praised, Marse Warren,” sobbed the
negress, as she sank to her knees before the
table, where she fumbled with the lamp.
“Light the lamp . . . why, it's Mandy
the young man ran a nervous hand across his fore-
head as the wick caught the flame. “Dad!
What's the trouble? Where's mother? Why
were the lights all out?”
In the corner of the room, on an antique “set-
tle,” was stretched the form of old Colonel Jarvis
of Meadow Green.
35
!
and


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY 3
“It's the end, Warren. I stood off Yankee
charges and artillery, but a sneaking hound from
the hills has put the finish on it all—and sent it
in a bullet through my back, without giving me
the chance to fight back, as the Yanks did.”
Warren Jarvis dropped to his knees beside his
father. His pleasant, youthful face was drawn
to mummy-like wanness. His eyes glowed with
curious intensity, as they devoured the beloved
features of the old man. The rays from the oil
lamp cast a melancholy glow over the furniture
of a bygone society, in this characteristic parlor
of an old Southern mansion. But their effect
upon the ghastly features of Colonel Henderson
Jarvis presaged only too well the tragedy which
was to COme.
The aged man raised a weak arm, to encircle
the shoulders of his son. His eyes closed in ex-
haustion, and for a full moment the lips moved
without the emanation of a word.
Warren Jarvis turned toward the panic-stricken
Mandy.
“Quick! What is the trouble? Where is


4. THE GHOST BREAKER
mother? Speak up, Mandy. . . . I've come all
the way from New York in answer to father's
telegram. What's the trouble?”
Mandy became more disconsolate, and, with
the hysterical sorrow of a Southern family serv-
ant, the more incapable of expression.
“Warren . . . Warren, my boy!” were the
words which at last came from the white lips of
his father. “I am going to leave you soon. . . .
I kept up until you arrived, for I must give the
honor of the family into your keeping, before it
is all over. . . . Are you prepared to take it up
where I stand now?”
The young man nodded He beckoned to the
servant woman, with an eloquent pantomimic
command, to bring his sire a drink. The girl si-
lently obeyed, leaving the room for the moment.
“Father, I’ve come back from the East to do
anything, everything. Tell me—what happened,
and where is mother? I am frantic!” His
shoulders shook as though from a chill. His face
was close to his father's, as the colonel's gray
eyes opened upon him.


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY 5
“Your mother passed away last night—it was
too much for her poor weak, aching heart,
Warren,” and his voice sank again to a whisper,
as he added, “Your first duty will be to lay us
away together, and then to avenge this double
murder.” -
Warren Jarvis lost his worldly-wise self-con-
trol, acquired through the adventurous years since
he had journeyed forth from the quaint old Ken-
tucky home. A sob broke from his lips, and his
face sank on the arm of the old aristocrat, he
was instinctively boyish in his grief, returning
once more to the shelter of that paternal shoul-
der. -
Mandy had returned with a glass of stimulant,
which she held to the colonel's lips. The draught
refreshed him immensely. He gently patted the
shoulders of his son, and continued with firmer
tones : -
“There, Warren boy, pull yourself together.
The doctor will be along in his buggy soon. He
dressed my wound, two days ago, and he sat
with your dear mother ever since she received


6 THE GHOST BREAKER
the shock of the shooting. I sent the Marlowe
girls back to their house just an hour ago to rest,
because they were worn out. . . . Everyone has
been good and tried to help, but it is no use. . . .
Leave us alone, Mandy,”
The woman stepped unsteadily through the
door, her hands covering her twitching face.
There she bumped into a fat, coal-black darky, he
who had accompanied the son on the long ride.
She drew him into the shelter of the corridor,
leaving father and son together for the final con-
fidences.
“But, father, it was all so sudden? Are you
comfortable now? Where is your wound?”
Warren rose more upright on his knees. He
now observed the swathings about the elder's
breast, beneath the crumpled soft shirt. He
caressed the shattered frame with affectionate
simplicity.
“I must speak quickly, Warren, for although
I suffer no more pain, Dr. Grayson told me the
truth—my strength is going every hour. Your
mother had been in poor health, and I had rid-


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY 7
den down to the village to see the doctor, for
a tonic for her. On the way out again, I passed
Henley's poolroom, where the cheap gamblers
are still running their crooked betting on the
Louisville and Lexington races. Jim Marcum
crossed from the front of the saloon, and I had
to rein in quickly to keep from running him down.
He looked up at me, with his hand on his hip.
“Trying the same old trick on me that you did
with my brother Ed?’ he called. I had nothing
to say to Jim Marcum—you know, Warren, that
old feud was over these thirty years, as far as I
was concerned. I looked him in the eye, and he
dropped his gaze, like a wolf which daren't stare
back at you. Then I rode on. As I turned the
corner, past the little church, I heard a shot and
tumbled forward in the saddle.”
Warren's hands clenched until the nails cut his
palms.
“The cowardly hound!” he muttered.
“Just as my father was shot by Marcum's
father, right after the War—in the back, Warren.
The horse knew enough to stop, and I rolled


8 THE GHOST BREAKER
down to the ground. Dr. Grayson ran down the
street, carried me into the church vestibule, and
dressed my back. They wanted to keep me in the
parson's house—but I told them to bring me on
home, for I wanted to be near your mother. It
was a mistake . . . a grave mistake. For when
they brought me back in the doctor's buggy and
called her to the portico, she fainted, and never
regained consciousness. That's all, Warren. The
end came last night for her—to-night I will join
her.”
He opened his eyes with ghastly intensity of
expression. Then, to the surprise of the younger
man, he half raised himself on his elbow.
“Warren!” and the tones were almost shrill,
“you must get Jim Marcum if it's the last act of
your life. He broke the feud law when he killed
a woman, as he did with the death of your mother.
My dying command is that you end this old fight
between our families: he is the last of his line,
and you the last of yours. The feud began nearly
eighty years ago. It is a different world then in
that old Kentucky. I have tried to live upright,


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY 9
God-fearing, and had supposed that time would
efface the old hatred. At least I ignored it. But
Jim Marcum never forgot that your Uncle War-
ren had killed his father in that stand-up battle
in the old tobacco warehouse; it is the curse of
the Blue Grass State, this feud law. But you
must carry out the vengeance, Warren. When
you scotch that snake, there will be no more.”
“Didn't they try to get Marcum, dad?”
asked Warren slowly, trying to realize it all.
“No. He disappeared—helped by some of
those touts and gamblers. They say he has gone
to the mountains. But you follow him, after . . .
after I . . .” He sank back again, groaning.
“God bless you, boy. When you end this bitter
debt, you will have done everything in the world
I ever wanted,—what a fine son you have been
through all the years!”
Warren rose to his feet, and with hands clasped
tensely behind him walked to the window. He
heard a sound of buggy wheels and the trotting
of a horse; it neared the house.
“It must be the doctor, dad. I'm glad he is


IO THE GHOST BREAKER
here again.” He turned about to look at the
clear-cut face. He was horror-stricken: the eyes
were closed, the hand had dropped limply, and
already the fine firm mouth had opened weakly,
with a piteous weakness. He rushed forward,
dropping again by the side of the couch.
A step behind him did not interrupt the soft
pleadings of the tearful voice.
“Dad, dad! Won't you speak to me? You
must hold out. The doctor has come. Dad, old
daddie mine. Speak! Speak!”
The eyes opened, but there was no expression
in them. The mouth closed convulsively, and as
he leaned close he heard the last message: “God
bless you, boy! . . . Take . . . care . . . of
. . . yourself.”
Warren's face was buried on the bosom as it
ceased to breathe. A kindly touch on his shoulder
brought him to a knowledge of the doctor's pres-
ence.
“It's so good that you arrived in time, War-
ren,” was the soft-voiced comment. “Your
father passed away happy, I know—he had held


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY II
himself to this life by a marvelous will-power
until you came. Steady yourself now.”
The doctor knelt by the couch and, with the
manly tenderness of an old family friend, crossed
the tired patrician hands above that valiant heart.
Warren Jarvis answered not. He walked to-
ward the window again. He peered out into the
great, black, miserable, lonely void stretching
away toward the southeast. In those distant hills,
beyond his vision but familiar as the landmarks of
his boyhood, he knew the cowardly assassin of his
parents was exulting over the cruel success.
Not a tear came to his relief. His pleasant face
hardened to the rigidity of a stone image. The
sinews of his athletic frame thrilled with a new
emotion—the feud hatred inherited through gen-
erations of Kentucky fighters. He would have
gladly given his own life for the sublime pleasure
of throttling with his bare hands the scoundrel
who had wiped out all that was fine and sweet in
his life.
Behind him the doctor gave whispered orders
to Mandy and two tearful women neighbors who


12 THE GHOST BREAKER
had quietly slipped into the house. Warren did
not notice them in his abstraction; they respected
his suffering by leaving the room without a
greeting.
As he stood there the soft spring breeze flut-
tered the curtains of the broad parlor windows,
bearing in the fragrance of the vines on the por-
tico outside. It was all so silent and different
from the brilliant social life he had left behind
in New York. Warren's whole life seemed to
flit past him, as he stood there now, with the im-
personality of a kaleidoscope.
He remembered the early years on this beauti-
ful Blue Grass estate of his father’s . . . the ro-
mantic boyhood of the South, enlivened by horse-
back rides, hunting trips, boating, fishing—those
elemental country sports so sadly lacking in the
life of the city youth, . . . the faithful, admiring
negro servants to whom young “Marse Warren’’
had been a veritable Sir Galahad—the flower of
the neighborhood chivalry. Indeed, in this por-
tion of the States still glows the tradition of the
ancient knighthood: the gallantry to women, the
º:


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY I3
reverence for family honor, the bravery in men,
the loyalty to neighborhood, commonwealth, and
nation,-in verity, the spirit of ideal citizenship.
Warren saw saw once more the gentle face of
his mother, as she worked in her old-fashioned
garden of rosemary, hollyhocks, larkspur, iris, rue
. . . heard the soft dialect of quaint old ladies
gossiping on the broad, shaded portico . . . lis-
tened again to the laughter of neighboring judges,
colonels, majors—his father's old cronies—as
they good-naturedly wrangled and bantered over
the battles of the War, the merits of their respec-
tive thoroughbreds, or the correct manner in
which to concoct that nectarian classic of the
Southland, the mint julep!
To Warren's retrospection came the vision of
his departure for the famous college in the East,
the joyful vacation times, and finally his decision
to seek adventure far, far to the south—in Brazil,
Guatemala, Panama, where he had developed his
own executive caliber as a commander of men,
in the great construction work on the Big Ditch.
. . . Then came the sorrowful day when he had


I4 THE GHOST BREAKER
returned from his travels, to behold the ravages
of time on his mother's aging face and his father's
stooping shoulders. Even the servants were
changed, and it had been to keep a closer bond
with the dear old estate that he had taken faith-
ful Rusty Snow as his manservant when he went
on to New York again to pursue his profession.
Warren's mind burrowed in the memories of
the feudism of the countryside, the sole blot on its
simple yet aristocratic modes. He remembered
the fragmentary stories of the ancient Marcum-
Jarvis quarrel . . . this had cost the lives of men
for three generations, in an equity of vengeful
settlement based strictly on the Mosaic law of
“an eye for an eye—a tooth for a tooth.” The
Marcum family fortunes had been dissipated,
those of the Jarvis clan ascending—yet still the
feud continued, until the men of both families had
paid for the bitterness with their lives. Now his
father had been the last Jarvis to go—after a lull
of many years.
The sweetness of the old memories was swept
by the maelstrom of hate which surged through


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY I5
his heart. As a boy he hardly knew the meaning
of the word—the grim looks of the kinsmen, the
tear-stained face of his mother, had been little
explanation—little had been said. But now the
iron of vengeance had entered his soul; and he
turned about suddenly, facing the body of the
colonel. t
Advancing toward the settle, he knelt by the
body, even as a knight of old, to take his vows.
He raised his clenched right hand.
“Father! I swear by my love for you and my
mother that I will wipe out the Marcums, cost
what it may. I will devote my life to settling the
score Jim Marcum has made. I swear it to you,
father | ?”
It seemed to him as though a faint smile of
approbation flitted across the face despite the seal
of the Great Calm. Even as he knelt there, his
quick brain began to lay the plans—and then . . .
then he remembered what he must see upstairs!
His brief moments in the old home had been so
absorbed by the dying words of his sire, by the
engulfing flame of hate which had burned away


I6 THE GHOST BREAKER
all the sweetness of the environment, that he had
selfishly forgotten everything but his own grief.
He staggered to his feet and walked slowly
from the room.
Outside the door, on an old-fashioned chair in
the long corridor running from portico to kitchen,
he found faithful Rusty, sobbing with his face in
his hands.
“Oh, Marse Warren | Oh, Marse Warren l’”
“Rusty, call Mandy,” was the simple answer.
Rusty hastened to obey. The woman was as-
sisting the two neighbors in some preparations
on the floor above. She came down the stairs
tremulously, catching his outstretched hand and
kissing it impetuously. -
“Where is she, Mandy?” he asked, in a stifled
voice.
Mandy spoke not, but ascended the stairway,
as Warren followed with bowed head. Each
broad step seemed steeper than the one below.
At last he raised his eyes before the doorway of
his parents' bedroom. Mandy stepped aside.
Within, on a little mahogany sewing-table,


JARVIS OF KENTUCKY 17
burned a dozen candles in his great-grandmother's
Colonial candelabra. He turned unsteadily to the
right, and saw her!
“O mother, mother! .
That was all.
xx
-


II
THE BLIND PURSUIT
HE sad days immediately following the
double funeral were so filled with visits
from relatives and old friends, legal
transactions necessary for the transfer of the es-
tate of the old colonel, a successful tobacco factor
in his time, and a hundred and one other engross-
ments, that in the months afterward they were
hazy as an unpleasant dream.
With the newly acquired calm which surprised
him, Warren Jarvis left no stone unturned to
ascertain, with quiet inquiries, the location of
Jim Marcum.
There was no clew. The man had mounted a
horse on the day of the shooting, to disappear
down the dusty Kentucky road, leaving the vil-
lage far behind and ignoring the possible escape
by railroad. His simplicity was cunning, for the
I8


THE BLIND PURSUIT I9
blue hills offered more avenues of disappearance
than the iron roadbed of the local transportation.
Equally cunning, however, was his determined
pursuer. Warren Jarvis, after burying his par-
ents, and making the conventional round of re-
spectful ceremonies, started again for his neg-
lected business in New York. Here he planned
to adjust his affairs, then to return to the moun-
tain country, by a roundabout route, to begin his
man-hunt, incognito and unsuspected.
“I’ll cover every mountain trail, every valley
path until I find Jim Marcum,” he confided to
Major Selby, his father's closest friend, as they
stood on the train platform waiting for the final
minute of departure. “When it happens I will
let you know, Major. Until that time, good-by,
and God bless you.”
The train had come, and unaccompanied by
Rusty Snow this time, Jarvis clambered up the
steps to wave to the old Kentuckian. As the
major turned away, he stroked his snowy mus-
tache with a shrewd twinkle in his blue eyes, to
soliloquize:


2O THE GHOST BREAKER
“I calculate the boy will make his father proud.
The old feud blood runs in the Jarvis veins, and
even the North can't spoil him. I wonder why
Rusty didn't go along—that darky will be broken-
hearted to be left behind on the old place.”
But Rusty knew very well why he had been left
behind |
And with all his jolly laughter, plump com-
placency, and characteristic African simplicity,
Rusty Snow possessed an inherent faculty of
subtle concentration which had served the family
of Jarvis since the days when he had been a slave
pickanninny.
A week or more he spent in the peaceful South-
ern hamlet of Meadow Green, imbibing gin and
ginger “pop” in the saloons frequented by those
walking bureaus of information, the negro bar-
bers. He consorted with darky jockeys and
horse-trainers—this was the center of the great
thoroughbred breeding district—and everywhere
he went, with glistening smiles, laughing eyes, and
infectious amiability, he bore one query in his
mind. Where was Jim Marcum?


THE BLIND PURSUIT 2I
The query seemed unanswerable.
Rusty confided his failure to Major Selby, who
in turn sent a letter to Warren Jarvis at his New
York club. There the latter was hastening his
preparations for the great trek through the moun-
tains. Warren had closed his office, where, profit-
ing by his experiences in South and Central
America, he had maintained a successful export-
ing agency: all his affairs were in hand, and that
hand closed. All his outstanding investments had
been hypothecated, with shrewd advantage. At
last he was ready, certain that should he lose his
life in the vengeful venture, his kinsfolk would
be taken care of, without legal complications: with
all his inherited romanticism, Jarvis of Kentucky
was a man of astuteness.
He was sitting in the grill of his club, brooding
over a solitary glass, unmindful of the friendly
chatter of the members about him, when a uni-
formed page brought him a yellow envelope. He
tore open the telegram, sensing important news.
It was only from Meadow Green that he received
his club mail. And it was from Louisville that the


22 THE GHOST BREAKER
message came. It was simple, and yet it left him
bewildered.
“WARREN JARVIs,
Export Club, N. Y.
Coming with Marcum. Buy supplies.
RUSTY.”
At first Warren smiled, then he swore, as only a
chivalrous Southron can! Why should Rusty be
coming with Marcum? He could not have ar-
rested or imprisoned him. What were the sup-
plies? Evidently this was some attempt at code
which was beyond his ability to guess.
He spent the night and the next day in a per-
plexed mood.
A wire sent to Major Selby, inquiring as to
the whereabouts of the negro, brought back the
simple reply, “Missing—no one knows.”
Toward evening, after much perturbation,
Warren decided upon a measure of preparedness
for whatever might happen. He had given up
his bachelor quarters on Madison Avenue two
mornings previous, in expectation of the long trip


\----
THE BLIND PURSUIT 23.
through Kentucky. One night he had spent at
his club. Yet, if Marcum were coming to New
York, it were best to be located in some place
where he could cover his own identity without
attracting attention. Such a place would naturally
be a large hotel. Accordingly he registered at
the Hotel Belmont under an alias. This was
close to the Grand Central Station—handy for a
quick departure from town, if such were neces-
sary.
Jarvis packed two suitcases with his modest
needs for the Southern trip, and donned his even-
ing clothes for dinner at the club. Several tele-
phone calls convinced him that Rusty had not
made an appearance as yet.
When he reached the club, the big building was
swarming with men of his acquaintance, yet he
seemed curiously apart from them. Since his
father's murder and the death of his mother, he
had proceeded under what engineers call “forced
draught.” His nerves, like iron, had been drawn
tight—to the snapping point: only some great
climax of relief would disentangle the tense feel-


24. THE GHOST BREAKER
ings which he now controlled with external calm-
ness, and sub-surface tremors which warned him
of an approaching catastrophe. -
For an hour he sat brooding in the quiet library
of the club. He had tried to eat; but all the
artistry of the famous French chef could not con-
jure up an appetite. Men passed by him, glancing
curiously at the usually jovial companion; the
twisted, drawn expression surprised them. He
tried to read a magazine; the printed lines “pied"
themselves before his twitching eyes, blurring into
a vision of that last bitter scene in the room with
his dying father. And even the vision had faded
now, to dissolve into one dull mass of color—a
wavering, throbbing field of red!
“Mr. Warren Jarvis! Mr. Warren Jarvis!”
The page stood by the library door, calling. He
sprang to his feet, brought back to a consciousness
of the present with galvanic suddenness. He
turned, bewildered for an instant, and then
walked slowly toward the boy.
“What is it?” he asked.


THE BLIND PURSUIT 25
“A man wants to see you, sir, down at the
front door. A colored man. . . .”
Jarvis waited for no more. He hurried down
the oaken stairway, out through the vestibule, and
hatless, breathless—relieved to a great extent
from his tension—he caught the hand of faithful
Rusty Snow.
“Lawd be praised" murmured that jubilant
henchman. “I done thought he might beat me
to it!”
“What do you mean, Rusty? Why didn't you
come inside?”
“Dat cop at de door wouldn't let no darky
come in. I want to talk to you right away, Marse
Warren. Right away quick.”
Jarvis turned about, with a direction to await
him. -
He hurried to the coat-room, caught up his
, light overcoat and hat, and rushed out through
the door. Rusty helped him into the garment,
with fingers tremulous with joy at the renewal of
this familiar and loving task. .
“Come, we'll go down the side street. I've


26 THE GHOST BREAKER
given up my apartment, and there's no place to
talk but the sidewalk. What did your telegram
mean, Rusty?”
“Well, sah, jest what it said. I done followed
dat man all de way from Meadow Green to de
Manhattan Hotel, dat’s what it mean.”
Jarvis stopped and, with eyes dilating, looked
Rusty full in the face.
“Jim Marcum in New York? What can he be
doing here?”
Rusty chuckled.
“Me—oh—my, boss, but dat's jest what I
thought at fust. But now I knows. I spent all
my time an’ all de money I could beg offen de
major tryin' to snoop aroun’ dem gin-mills down
home to l'arn. An’ it wasn't ontel yestiddy after-
noon dat I seen dis yere Marcum come galloping
down on hossback, wid some poh white trash
moonshiner ridin' wid 'im. Dey goes right to de
depoh an' jumps offen de hosses. I wuz in Eph
Black's saloon, but dar ain't nuffin missin' me. I
walks over to de station agent's winder an' I
sees dis Marcum wid a roll o' bills dat would


THE BLIND PURSUIT 27
choke a hoss. He buys a ticket, an’ den he goes
down de patform. I axes Hen Barrows, de agent,
where dat man goin’. He says Noo York. Den
I is satisfied. I jest walks down de track to de
junction, by de water tank.”
“Hurry up, Rusty. What about Marcum?”
was Warren's impatient interjection.
“Wall, I sees dis yere man with 'im watchin'
de platform—an’ wen de train pull in, inter it
Marcum goes. She alluz slows up at de sidin'—
cause dere's a junction, an' so I jumps 'er, at
de hind platform. Well, Marse Warren, dat man
he's on de train. It's only day coaches ontel we
gets to Lueyville, an' I'walks from de Jim Crow
car through de train just onct. Dis Marcum he
don't recollect me, I'm just a darky to him.
But I sees 'im a-workin' in his seat wid som’pin
dat shows he recollects you, sah.”
“What was that, Rusty?”
“He was a-oilin' a gun—an' you know who
dat gun is for. He'll be a-lookin' for you, Marse
Warren.”


28 THE GHOST BREAKER
“What did you do then? How did you man-
age to stay on the train?”
“Oh, I jest stuck dere, Marse Warren. Dis
nigger has had enough 'sperience in dis world to
know dat he spends all he has w'en he has it.
So de day you left I takes de money you gives
me for a railroad ticket, an’ buys one an' puts it
inside my pocket. So, I was ready for dis Mar-
cum. I follows 'im to Lueyville, whar I telegram
to you, and keeps right on ‘is trail w'en he
changes cars for Cincinnati. He keeps on comin'
to Noo York, an’ I am in de day coach all dat
time. Den I follows right to de Manhattan
Hotel. He ain’t nebber been in Noo York be-
foh, because he walks all de way to de hotel in-
stid o' takin' a taxicab. Dat man ain't no
quality!”
Warren was lost in thought. He stopped at
the next corner.
“Listen, Rusty. You did good work. I
wanted to have you find him, and instead he came
right to me. Now, we must end this whole thing
to-night.” For an instant the Kentuckian was


30 THE GHOST BREAKER
The darky chuckled.
“Lawsee, Marse Warren, I knows dat you is
a reg’lar Noo Yorker by dis time and don't carry
de supplies of a gentlemen. I mean a .38-caliber!
Has you got one?”
Warren Smiled for the first time since their
surprising meeting.
“No, I guess I have become a victim of New
York. The worst weapon I have on me, Rusty, is
a fountain pen—and I'm afraid Jim Marcum
couldn't read the ammunition!” -
Rusty looked slyly about him. They were in
a dark spot on Fifth Avenue, the shop fronts de-
serted and not a pedestrian within a block. The
darky slipped his hand into his pocket, and sur-
reptitiously handed his master a heavy, portentous
automatic which would have sent joy into the
heart of a Texas Ranger. There was a vibration
of honest pride in his voice as he explained:
“Dere, Marse Warren. I went widout po'k
chops an’ chicken all de way to Noo York jest to
lay in supplies while I was waitin' betwixt trains
at Lueyville ! I'lowed you all 'd be too wrapped


THE BLIND PURSUIT 3I
up in yoh troubles ter bother about dis, an' I
recomembered dis here Noo York Sullivan Law
w'ich makes it a crime fer a decent citerzen ter
carry a gun, so dat the burglars kin work in
peace. Take it, Marse Warren, an' plant every
seed in de right place!”
The tears came into the eyes of the Kentuck-
ian.
“Rusty, you're a jewell ”
“Yassir, in a ebony settin'! But, now, please
git back to dat club place, an’ wait fer Jim Mar-
cum. Dat man's mind was on his bizness when
I seen him in de smokin' cyar, an' he ain't thinkin'
of nothin’ else!”
They strolled down toward the club again.
Warren gave a few parting directions and handed
Rusty a roll of bills for emergency.
“Remember, Rusty, when you hear from me
by any message at all, you're to come at once,—
I'll just mention my first name. I’m registered at
the Belmont as John Kelly of New Orleans—I
couldn't hide my Southern accent. Tell them
you're my valet, and show the key—I can trust


32 THE GHOST BREAKER
you to get up to the room. If I call for you, pay
the bill from that change, and don't let the grass
grow under those number twelves!”
Rusty smirked happily.
“Hallelujah, Marse Warren, you'se jokin'
agin—de fightin' blood of de Jarvises is bilin’—
I knows de signs. Why, Marse Warren, I recol-
lects yoh father when . . .”
But his master's face changed.
“Not now, Rusty. I'm thinking too much
about my father. No more talk for either of us.
Just action.”
He turned into the side street toward the Ex-
port Club. Rusty—fresh from Kentucky psy-
chology—doffed his cap and disappeared as War-
ren entered the Grecian portal.
Inside the clubhouse he found a letter await-
ing him. It was scrawled in the bold, ungram-
mared style which might have been expected. He
read it standing tensely by the doorway, as dozens
of men walked in and out, little dreaming of the
tragedy attached to that casual fragment of white
note-paper. It was written on the stationery of


THE BLIND PURSUIT 33
the Hotel Manhattan—diagonally across the
street from the hostelry where Warren had in-
advertently registered for his brief stay in the
city.
He read the words again and again.
“DEAR JARVIs; export Club, new York.
am visiting in New York and would like to
see you and call off our kwarrel youre fathers
death was misunderstandin and were last of our
families will be at Above hotel all evenin and
tomorrow come Around when you get chance and
shake hands i Will prove I aint meant no harm.
Friend JIM MARCUM.”
The Kentuckian crumpled the note in his hand,
and then walked toward the fireplace of the grill.
It had been weeks since any logs had been burned
there, but the flakes of soot still clung to the
stone casement. Warren struck a match, and a
curious smile illumined his face as he ignited the
paper, holding its flaming fabric between his fin-
gers until the last half-inch had burned. He
dropped the tiny fragment after lighting his
cigar with its flame.


34 THE GHOST BREAKER
One of his friends, a Brazilian coffee merchant,
adressed him in the native tongue, which Warren
spoke as fluently as English.
“Ah, señor, you care not for your letter?”
“Oh, it's just a little invitation to a party to-
night,” laughed Jarvis of Kentucky. “If anyone
found it on my person, he might think I kept late
hours and associated with bad company. Let us
have a drink to our friendship in the club, for I
may take a long journey to-night, and never see
you again!”


III
IN THE ROYAL SUITE
BEAUTIFUL young woman stirred un-
easily in the early slumber of the evening.
Eleven floors below her, in the foyer of
the Hotel Manhattan, the after-theater crowd of
visitors thronged and buzzed happily. But the
girl, after an unusual day of anxiety in a strange
land, was ill at ease, with fitful dreams.
The Paris clock of her Highness delicately
struck two musical notes upon the chimes, to indi-
cate the half-hour; at the same instant, as though
by echo and vehement confirmation, two revolver
shots resounded in the corridor.
The girl shuddered as she opened her large
dark eyes, sitting bolt upright in bed. She heard
a slamming of doors, a growing hubbub in the
usually decorous hallway outside, and her fem-
inine curiosity almost conquered the artistocratic
35


36 THE GHOST BREAKER
reserve, to impel her to rise and discover the
origin of the hubbub.
She was spared the trouble, for suddenly the
door of her boudoir received a vigorous thump.
The lock crashed and it swung open, admitting the
rays of a red electric lamp in the corridor out-
side. The portal swung shut with even greater
promptitude, as a dark body leaped over the
threshold.
“Madre de Dios!” she screamed. Then, after
a gasp, “Who's there!”
The intruder backed against the door, working
with the top bolt, which was still intact. She
could see the vague outline by the dim glow of
the moonlight which streamed into her room.
Then, as she seemed preparing for another cry,
he turned toward her.
“Ssssh ' Don't make any noise,” he whispered
vibrantly, audaciously.
The girl slipped from her bed and drew a
flimsy dressing-gown about her.
“What do you want?”
* Silence | *


IN THE ROYAL SUITE 37
She had reached the lamp on the small boudoir
table near the bed. She switched on the electric
light. They stared at each other wide-eyed—but
stirred by different feelings. Hers was the fright
of a woman finding herself in the power of a
strange and desperate man; his the battling alert-
ness of a man fighting for his own life against
odds.
It was Jarvis of Kentucky!
Despite his immaculate evening clothes, the
blanched face, drawn mouth, and the revolver in
his hand made him appear to her as the per-
sonification of that vague terror of the unfamiliar
dark which all women and children know so well.
He crouched there, reading the character in her
haughtily tossed head and imperious eyes. The
details of her beauty he ignored, rememebring
only three important facts: “She is young, she
is frightened but has not lost control of herself.”
He reached forward and touched the switch of
the lamp. Again the moon was the sole illumina-
tion of the room!
A voice outside in the corridor came to them.


38 THE GHOST BREAKER
“What’s the row P’’
“Somebody's shooting up the hotel!” was the
reply, from another throat.
“Not a sound . . . do you understand?”
whispered Jarvis, as he backed toward the door
again.
“What right. . .” she began.
“Quiet!”
The voices in the corridor were closer now.
“Where'd he go? Look on the fire-escape.”
“No use—he's on this floor, I tell you.”
The girl advanced toward him, her own spirit
asserting itself, as she realized that help was
within calling distance. Yet she did not call!
“What is it? What do you want? What have
you done?”
Warren slipped the revolver into his pocket to
reassure her.
“It's all right now. I'm not going to harm
you, if you will just keep quiet. Is that clear to
you?” -
“Is it money you want? All the money I have
is on that dressing-table. Take it and go.”


It was Jarvis of Kentucky


THE N F W ) . K.K
PUBLIC [ IRRA RY
As ſo º, - a N - a .V. N. L.
ti L Dr N rºt s : v to x +
r |-


IN THE ROYAL SUITE 39
He shook his head, now observing the wealth of
hair, the healthy, aristocratic poise of shoulders
and arms, and the depths of her eyes.
“I’m not a burglar. I don't want your money.”
“Well, then, what do you want?” She was
beginning to be impatient.
There was a sound of rapid steps down the
corridor. Jarvis sprang toward the door, his
eyes still intent on hers.
“Listen . . . they're coming! . . . They mustn't
search this room—do you understand—you must
put them off.” He assured himself that the upper
bolt was intact and shot tightly. “I’m not what
you think I am. . . . Is there no way out that
way, through the door over there behind you?”
She shook her head.
“No, that is my maid's room.”
“The fire-escape—where is that?”
“In the hall opposite.”
Jarvis snapped a finger, angry at his own mis-
take.
“I thought that red meant it was in this room.
Oh, hell! . . . I beg your pardon!”


IN THE ROYAL SUITE 4I
born—the fearless confidence, despite his predica-
ment, of a man confident of his own justification.
She was puzzled—her curiosity gradually over-
coming her outraged feelings and her natural re-
sentment against his assured usurpation of the
situation. -
This was a new experience for the lady of the
lacy filaments and regal poise; yet it was far from
unpleasant to meet such calm masculinity. She
switched on the light once more, to feel a sur-
prising satisfaction in the impersonal, unabashed
honesty of those steady blue eyes.
Jarvis became conscious of a twinge in his
hand, and looking down at his left hand, observed
a little rivulet of blood dripping down to his fin-
ger-tips. He quickly drew his handkerchief from
his pocket, as though to cover the wound before
she saw it. The action and its motive did not
escape the observant dark eyes. Her sex asserted
itself; she advanced, nervous once more.
“You are wounded? What has really hap-
pened? You must dress that hand . . .”
“I almost stopped one of the bullets—that's


42 THE GHOST BREAKER
all. You see it was not one-sided. But I am
afraid it will be, if they get me now. I don't
see how the devil ” here he ran to the shaded
window to peer at the twinkling street lamps far
below, “Oh, damn!”
The girl's manner froze again. She stepped
back instinctively; and yet that bandaged hand
compelled her eyes. She spoke slowly.
“You have evidently shot someone, and are
making me shield you from justice.”
Warren Jarvis shook his head, with that
straightforward look which was so convincing.
“Not from justice, but from the law?”
“I thought they were the same.”
His smile was bitter, as he retorted: “No, not
always. There would be no justice for me at the
hands of the law: justice was not accomplished by
the law in all these years.”
She dropped a white hand to the table by which
she stood.
“Well, that is not for me to decide. I must
only . . .”
“You must only listen—you shall decide. At


IN THE ROYAL SUITE 43
least you shall listen, in order that you may for-
give my intrusion, my selfishness in compromising
you as I have done.” He hesitated, and for the
first time color came into the drawn cheeks; a
softening echo was observable in her own. “If
you find me guilty, when I tell you, I'll—well—
I'll take that door or anything you say.”
“Your presumption is ridiculous,” were her
words, and yet she did not call for assistance.
Jarvis realized that he had at least won a foot-
hold for his plea. And he had not given up
his dogged hope.
“I wouldn't call it ridiculous—a man has a
right to argue for his life.”
“But,” she parried, “could any decision be
more unjust than mine must be, when delivered
at the point of a pistol?”
Jarvis took the challenge. He laid the weapon
upon the dressing-table by her side and crossed
the room, leaving her between himself and the
door.
“Now, my dear lady, there's nothing to pre-
vent you from covering me, calling for help, and


44 THE GHOST BREAKER
solving the riddle as you please. After all, what
does it matter, whether the end comes to-day or
to-morrow, for it would be impossible to elude
the police. You don't understand, I know—but
I am not flying from justice: it was a case of
shoot or be shot. You will notice that only one
cartridge in that revolver has been used. But,
listen—they're on the right trail at last.”
He noiselessly crossed to the door and listened
to the renewed excitement without. There was
a triple knock, and the voice of a man, evidently
of authority, rang out.
“Open up here. Is there anybody in here?
Open, I tell you.”
Jarvis turned toward the girl, whose face re-
flected a dozen curious emotions as she watched
him. He made his last appeal.
“It's up to you to do with me as you like,” he
murmured.
Her mind was made up quickly, and she pointed
toward a door to the left—it led to her bath.
Jarvis disappeared behind its shelter. At the same
instant the door of the maid's room opened, and


IN THE ROYAL SUITE 45
a chic little servant ran out chattering, clinging
to her mistress' arm for protection.
“Be silent,” was the cool command. The
knocking continued, with more voices joining in
the exhortations. The girl pointed to the door,
and the silent command was obeyed. Trembling
like an aspen, the little maid opened it, and the
burly form of a house detective appeared at the
entrance.
“Are you all right in here?” he asked, and
then observing the two white-robed figures he
doffed the conventional derby hat without which
no professional hotel detective would seem nat-
ural. “I beg your pardon, ma'am. I just came
to see if you had had any trouble.”
“No,” replied the mistress calmly. “What
is the matter?”
“Mighty sorry to trouble you, but we're look-
ing for a party and we ain't goin' to stop till
we find him. We just thought he might have beat
it into this room for a getaway. If you want
anything, just call us, for we'll be up and down
these halls all night now.”


48 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Would you mind bolting the door again?
He might return. And thank you very much for
delaying the death sentence—now I can explain.”
The girl glided to the door and tested the lock.
It was secure, and she turned about to return
that infectious smile of the eyes, albeit grudgingly.
Warren, finally realizing that he was weak
from strain, and aching in every muscle from the
ordeal of the past twenty-four hours, looked ap-
pealing at the comfortable armchair.
“May I sit down for just a minute?” he
pleaded. “I have not slept since the night before
last. I have not rested for a fortnight.”
The girl nodded. He relaxed, and dropped into
a blessed position of comfort. He buried his face
in his hands—how many times had he struck this
same atitude since the bitter days at Meadow
Green, without realizing the repetition!
For two minutes or an hour he sat there—he
knew not which. His companion, with sudden
renewal of consciousness of the déshabille of her
dressing-gown, retreated to the corner of the brass
bed. She sat down, to scrutinize the better this


AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE 49
strange intruder. The moonlight which fell in
pale green bars across the Bokhara beneath her
slippered feet; the melodramatic situation which
had brought them together; the unmistakable gen-
tility of this compelling intruder of her maidenly
domain; the curious collapse of his aggressiveness
—all these things united to cast a sympathetic
spell over her. She was foolish—to the extreme
of placing herself in a ridiculous situation! She
was culpable—in protecting a self-confessed
butcher! She was weak—in yielding to girlish
sentiment by permitting this man to shatter the
conventionalities, she who had been accustomed,
throughout her twenty years of adulation and
awe-inspiring respect, to a servile respect from
every man, woman, and child! And, worst of all
to an essentially feminine mind, she had allowed
this presumptuous, calculating stranger to over-
ride her better judgment, to subjugate her resist-
ance, without a visible tribute to the charms which
had stirred the masculine souls of a continent!
And yet, in spite of perhaps, because of all
these illogical, provoking, equilibrium-shattering


50 THE GHOST BREAKER
irritants—she sat there, patiently, eagerly await-
ing an explanation. Consistency, thy name is not
Maidenhood |
Suddenly he looked at her.
“Do you know what a feud is?” was the
curious prologue.
Her answer was apt and surprising.
“Feud? Spain is the garden of feuds.”
“So is Kentucky. That's where I’m from.
You're Spanish, then?”
“Yes!”
“Then you'll understand and sympathize. . . .
Those shots you heard ended a feud which has
lived through three or four generations. They
brought me back to earth, to life, to a realization
of things about me, after the most horrible night-
mare through which I've ever passed. I know my
own name now, and I had almost forgotten it
since I went back home—so short a time, so many
centuries ago!”
Then Warren Jarvis told her the story; his eyes
were half closed, and with his fingers clasped and
intertwined beneath his square-chiseled chin he re-


AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE 5.I
counted the steps of the recent event with the
monotone of one who chants a mechanically
memorized tale. She understood at last.
“But what did he do when you went to his
room in the hotel?”
“Just what I expected—in fact, what I
prayed for As the door opened he fired his re-
volver—and I carry the witness inside this crim-
son handkerchief. I had my own weapon in my
coat pocket . . . it's a trick I learned in Cen-
tral American revolutions. I fired from my
waist, burned a hole in my overcoat—and burned
a hole in the heart of that murderous hound.”
Suddenly he sprang to his feet and walked to
the window, just as he had done back in Meadow
Green so short a time before.
“Dad, dear old dad! I know you're satisfied.
I let him take the first chance, and it was his
last.”
He was silent. The girl twisted the dressing-
gown in her slender, nervous fingers. She waited
for him to speak. He turned about, and dropped
his hands, palm outward, as he quietly ended it


52 THE GHOST BREAKER
all with the question: “Now, can you understand
why the law would not give me justice?”
“Is he dead—are you sure?”
“I didn't wait—I came . . . to . . . visit you.
Now are you going to drive me out? . . . You
don't know what it is to fight single-handed
against fearful odds. That's how I planned to
spend my summer. To fight the endless fight
alone. . . .”
She leaned forward eagerly as she answered:
“Oh, yes, I do! I know what it means. . . . I,
too, have been fighting against fearful odds!”
Jarvis looked at her sharply.
“There is no man to fight for you?”
“No man who dares.”
“Oh, God! If there had only been a woman
left for me to fight for! . . . But with my
mother gone it was simply a hopeless, desperate
determination to square the score at any cost,
and then cry ‘Quits!’ and care nothing.”
She drew back, studying the outline of his
agile body, as he stood silhouetted against the
moonlight.


AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE 53
“And are you alone?”
“Alone.”
“And if you're caught,” there was a curious
eagerness in her low voice, “it means payment
with your life?”
“Yes!”
“Suppose that I decided to help you—to do
more than I have done?”
Jarvis discarded his fatalism, as he caught at
this loophole.
“What do you mean?”
“You have no fear of death? You are not
afraid of ghosts?”
“Ghosts? Don't joke with me. I am an
American.”
“Yes—ghosts—they are not confined to
America, or China, or Africa. I mean Spanish
ghosts.”
Jarvis' laugh was almost bitter, as he responded
with a tense earnestness:
“After to-night I am not afraid of the living
or the dead. What are you thinking about?”
After a hesitation, poignant in its baffling


54 THE GHOST BREAKER
anxiety, she rose and walked toward him, abso-
lutely forgetful of their curious meeting and their
lack of a common ground of interest.
“If you escape from here, it will be because
I helped you. We might say, I saved your life,
if what you tell me is true and if I do it from
a selfish motive entirely, I am justified. I have
work for you . . . hard, dangerous work, and as
I am frank, it may mean your life in the end.
It's a chance, and you have nothing to lose.”
“And if I agree?”
“You will begin by taking the ancient feudal
oath of my country.”
“Isn't my word enough? I'm a Kentuckian,
you know.”
“But I insist.”
Jarvis smiled indulgently.
“Very well—I’ll swear the blackest oath you
can utter.” His eyes twinkled. “Let's hear it
all now.”
The girl drew back her shoulders haughtily.
It was apparent that she took this curious idea
more seriously than the prelude would suggest.


AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE 55
“What is your name?”
“Jarvis.”
“All of it?”
“Warren Jarvis.”
She raised her hands, to the Kentuckian's sur-
prise.
“Kneel then, Warren of Jarvis! . . . No, not
that way,+On one knee only!”
“I beg your pardon.” Jarvis began to feel
ridiculous, in spite of himself. But there were
reasons for humoring this curious beauty. The
footsteps were still audible in the hall.
“Now repeat this oath: I, Warren of Jarvis”
(he followed word for word), “Señor of all the
domains, fiefs, keeps, and marches of Warren of
Kentucky . . .”
“Whew l’ and he stifled a laugh as he echoed
the words.
The girl continued: “Do convey to Maria
Theresa, of Aragon, all my worldly titles and
possessions . . .”
“Sounds like I were marrying her—I beg your
pardon. “Do convey to Maria Theresa, of


56 THE GHOST BREAKER
| , , ,
Aragon, all my worldly titles and possessions
The shade of a smile played over his fea-
tures.
The girl caught his hand in hers, placed her
left in both of his, and then continued:
“And receive them back as vassal and retainer
and to faithfully fight in my lady's cause, accord-
ing to the feudal laws of Castile and Aragon l’”
As he finished the repetition, she added:
“Arise, vassall ” -
With the spirit of the ceremony, he jestingly
caught her hand and kissed it, as he arose. She
drew back sharply.
“That is part of the ceremony, but I meant to
omit it.”
Warren Jarvis laughed provokingly.
“That seemed to me the only sensible part of
it—again I beg your pardon. But who on earth
is this Maria Theresa of Aragon person whose
hired man I have become?”
The girl drew herself up with a hauteur which
could never have been imitated upon the stage.
Her dark eyes glinted coldly as she replied: “I


‘and to faithfully fight in my lady's cause,”
g
-


THE N F A l (; f. I
PUBLIC [ (RRA RW
Astor - A Nº. 1 A * *
r1Los w rºt N P 
io” “
R *
-*"


AN OATH OF ALLEGIANCE 57
—I am her Serene Highness—Maria Theresa—
Princess of Aragon!”
Jarvis looked at her, waiting for the cue to the
joke. She was serious. It was all so unreal, so
ridiculous—and yet back there on the floor of the
room down the corridor lay Jim Marcum. This
mad, sad, heartrending adventure must have
driven him to insanity. He rubbed his brow,
looked out of the window, heard the unromantic
honk-honk of a piratical night-owl taxicab on the
street so far below. He steadied his mental
equilibrium, and looked again at the self-possessed
young woman, whose regal Inanner Was as COIl-
vincing as all the other detail were unconvincing.
On the table lay a fortune in jewels and rings
and a necklace. He had not noticed them before.
He remembered the Spanish conversation which
he had heard through the bathroom door. He
realized from the size and elegance of the rooms
that this must indeed be a regal suite in the great
hotel.
And the girl's steady look never wavered.
American humor, in the presence of royalty,


58 THE GHOST BREAKER
came to his aid in this staggering blow to his
credence.
“Good-night! You a Princess. . . . and I’ve
been ordering you around with a gun' Great
Scott . . . what next?”


V
EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING
HE Princess turned toward the door, for
T a step could be heard in the corridor.
“Before that official returns we must
have a plan. I thought it out while you were
behind the door. But, perhaps, it will be too hard
a task for you.”
“I’ll try it. Anything to get out of here!
And I would like to know what it is you want me
to do for you—what about the ghost?”
“I will tell you in good time. Just now for
your escape. It is getting late, and the hours are
speeding past. You are in a hopeless trap here.
Now, my trunk . xy
“What about it?”
“I am sending it on board the Mauretania at
six o'clock, and no one could possibly suspect.”
59


60 THE GHOST BREAKER
Jarvis turned to study this curious vehicle of
transportation. It was a strong, well-built piece
of baggage, indeed; but to be cooped up in it,
at the mercy of baggageman and truckman,
hoisters and stewards—the thought was stagger-
ing.
“You’re joking,” he began, but she resolutely
shook her wealth of hair.
“It’s the only chance, and a daring one at that.
I am jeopardizing my own safety by assisting you.
Surely, if life is so uncertain for you at best, you
cannot lose by a trial.”
Jarvis stooped over it, and began lifting out
the trays, to study the questionable roominess of
the interior.
“What about these?” he asked, and as he spoke
a locket dropped to the floor. The girl darted
forward to pick it up, and Jarvis observed it for
the first time. Her solicitude seemed unusual to
the Kentuckian. -
“Did I break something?”
“No. It's nothing. I mean, it's all right.
It's just a locket. I broke it myself yesterday, on


EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING 6I
purpose. It means a great deal to me, and per-
haps to you. Some day you may know the rea-
son why. . . . Shall we send the trays to the
steamer by messenger?”
Jarvis thought for an instant. Here was such
an utterly improbable method of escape, such a
strange new twirl in his whirlpool of adventure,
that he had to find his bearings.
“I have it now,” he explained. “You had
better telephone—we must have someone we can
trust implicitly.”
The Princess crossed toward the desk telephone
on the small table by her bed, and looked at him
inquiringly.
“Ask the operator to connect you with the
Hotel Belmont. That's just across the street.
My room is 417. Rusty, my servant, is there.
He is waiting for some word from me, as he knew
the possibilities when I met Jim Marcum. He
can be counted on till Judgment Day and then a
few hours afterwards! Tell him to come here at
once—mention my first name only, with no other -
explanation—that will bring him and give no


62 THE GHOST BREAKER
other clew to an outsider. You never can tell
about a telephone. But fortunately, I registered
there under a different name. Try it now.”
The girl had the receiver off the hook. After
a short delay she was talking directly with the
faithful servitor, whose trembling voice betokened
his anxiety. But Rusty was too sage to ask too
many questions—he had served in affairs of deli-
cacy before this.
“Hello—is this Mr. Rusty 2 . . . Yes? Well,
listen carefully. You are to come right over to
the Manhattan Hotel across the street and a bell-
boy will be waiting for you at the desk. He is to
bring you up to room II.2.1.”
Jarvis interrupted: “Tell him to keep his mouth
Shut!”
The Princess balked at the colloquialism.
“And—and—don't talk to anyone -
What's that? . . . Oh, yes. ‘ Warren.” . . .
There, he'll be coming over immediately.”
Jarvis, the executive, was now in action.
He had emptied the trunk as she was talking,
tossing out fascinating feminine mysteries of lace


64 THE GHOST BREAKER
The Princess brought him her shears from the
dresser. In a few minutes he had made two
openings which seemed to satisfy him, but it had
been no easy task.
“What time does the boat sail?”
“Nine o'clock.”
“Good. That will give Rusty time to get
aboard with these trays and my baggage. Let me
see, it is a quarter of six now—how quickly the
dawn has slipped in l’”
There was a knock on the outer door, and Jarvis
again disappeared behind the bathroom portal,
with instinctive caution.
At a call from the Princess, the door opened
after she had slid back the upper bolt. The girl
stepped back abashed at the appearance of the
excited negro. Rusty rolled his eyes, suspiciously
taking in the contents of the room.
“Whar's Marse Warren?” and his voice was
hoarse. Jarvis stepped into view. “Lawd bless
you, Marse Warren. I done thought dat Marcum
got you dis time.”
“Never mind what you thought. Help me


EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING 65
wrap up these trays. We sail for Europe in two
hours.”
Rusty gasped, shot another big-eyed look at the
beautiful girl and then at his master.
“Two hours—good Lawd!—you mean we?”
The Princess was holding out a steamer rug
in silence.
“Yes, Rusty, you and I. Here, give me a
hand with this rug,” and with the aid of his
servant he made a quick job of the bundling.
“Now, take these—with our baggage from the
Belmont—to the steamship Mauretania of the
Cunard line. Buy accommodations. . . . Mind,
you won't see me until after we get out to sea.
You stay in your stateroom and sit tight until
you hear from me.”
He took out his wallet.
“You understand now P Cunard line. You
can find it some way—just take a taxi, and get
there as fast as you can. The clerk at the hotel
will get the tickets over the telephone, and you can
pay him when you settle for the whole bill, with
that other money I gave you. Now, get hold of


66 THE GHOST BREAKER
this money, and keep hold of it. No gin now,
Rusty!”
He turned around, and observed the amused
surprise on the face of his fair companion.
“I beg your pardon. . . . This is Rusty;-
Rusty, this is the Princess of Aragon . . .”
Rusty bowed.
“Howdy do, Mrs. Princess!”
“There, that will do. Is it all clear for you
now P”
“Yassir. I takes everything to the steamboat
—gets accommo–accommo–wall, I knows what
you means, Marse Warren, if I cain't spell it. I
gets them things for us and Mrs. Princess.”
The girl reddened under the beaming smile,
but Jarvis quickly interceded.
“Not for the Princess; just for us two.
What's the name of the boat?”
“The Mary Tania!”
“That'll do. Now be off, and don't get left
behind.”
As Rusty made his exit with the bulky bundle,
the Princess smiled: “Good-by, Rusty,” and he


EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING 67
bobbed his head with a broader grin than ever
as he disappeared down the corridor toward the
elevator.
“Time nearly up,” muttered Warren, as he
took off his coat. “Pardon the disrobing—but
I’ll be more at ease in my shirt-sleeves. It's a
stingy little room to spend three hours in. I’ll lie
this way, with my head toward this corner. Re-
member, this trunk must not go into the hold of
the ship—have it marked ‘Wanted ' and “This
End Up.” I’ll take the shears along and cut an-
other hole from the inside if it gets too suffocat-
ing.”
The girl walked to the table and picked up the
revolver, which she held out.
“You’d better take this, too.”
“How do you know you can trust me now?”
There was a veiled irony in her retort, although
it was accompanied by a smile: “I don't. I have
to take that chance. I have no other choice at
this late hour.”
“You must have a pretty good reason for it in
the back of your head. But what about this


68 THE GHOST BREAKER
ghost? I may never hear the sequel. At least
give me some food for thought during my travels
in the dark.”
“Are you afraid?”
“Lord, no! I merely wanted to know. Well,
I'll wait. But, now, honest Injun, as we say
down in Kentucky, are you a really, sure-enough
princess?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Oh, I don't know. Somehow you are not
quite like what I thought a princess would be.
I mean, you're different from the popular
conception of a royal person. Your English is so
perfect.”
“I learned it in an English boarding-school.”
“Your informality—for it has been put to a
severe test these last few hours, your adaptabil-
ity, you have more understanding, more sym-
pathy, more heart.”
She turned away and tilted a haughty chin.
“In that last respect, sir, you will find me quite
like the popular conception.”
A knocking on the door interrupted further in-


EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING 69
terchanges on the peculiarities of royalty. Jarvis
clambered inside the vehicle of his escape, and
drew down the lid, with a farewell smile.
“Trunks, lady, for the steamer!” came the
voice of the porter, as he resumed his thumping
on the door panel.
“Just a minute.” The Princess hurriedly
bundled up the scattered garments, jumbling them
upon the bed. She turned the key in the trunk
and, with a quick feminine survey of the field for
damaging, overlooked evidence, called to her maid.
“Nita, admit the porter.”
The servant appeared with surprising prompt-
ness. The man pushed in his truck, with the ob-
sequious manner which is a prelude to the smirk-
ing appreciation of a handsome gratuity.
“Have the other trunks gone, my good man?”
queried her Serene Highness.
“Yes'm. Last night, mum.”
“This trunk goes on a special wagon.”
“Yes'm.”
At this juncture the house detective appeared at
the doorway. He stopped and looked question-


7o THE GHOST BREAKER
ingly at the broken lock. He was alert as a
weasel despite his ponderous physique: he fingered
it, and studied the evidence of fresh splinters.
The Princess continued calmly.
“Have it marked ‘Wanted ” (and as she in-
dicated with a jeweled finger), “‘This End up
with Care.’”
The porter nodded.
“I’ll put special stickers on it, mum. You'll
find it in your stateroom when you get to the
steamer. Is that all, mum?”
“Handle it gently, porter.”
“Shure, lady and I never smashed one in me
life! I'll handle it as rivirintly as if it held the
relics of a saint, mum. I'm that careful in me
worruk. So don't worry one little bit, mum.”
As he started out with the heavy piece of lug-
gage on his truck, the detective stopped him
sternly.
“Just a minute. How did that lock get
proken?”
The Princess felt herself changing color, yet
she shrugged her shoulders as she turned away.


„ guașouq 126 ſooſ ſvųı pıp moH ‘omnuſu w isn't „


Th; 8 N P { *K
PUB C ſt; RA RY
as Q r. º. f. Nº 1 AN 2
ri Lp s w rºt's a virton s
r k


EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING 7I
Nita suddenly chattered in Spanish to her, and
the detective shot a sharp glance at the girl.
“What does she say?” he cried. “She knows
something about it.”
“She says the other porter banged the door
before we came in, for it was that way when
she entered to arrange my clothes. I have had
my sleep interrupted all night long, and I do not
care for any insolence now.”
The detective looked a bit sheepish, but stuck
to his inquest.
“When did you come?”
“Yesterday.”
“And when do you go away?”
“We sail this morning for Europe.”
“Huh,” and there was a suggestion of doubt
in his grunt. “The police are making an investi-
gation in the hotel. They would like to have a
look at these rooms. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. My maid will show them
around.”
“What time do you sail? Does this trunk go
On board P”


72 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Yes, I want it sent on a special wagon, for
I fear we will be late. The steamer sails at nine
o'clock.” -
The detective nodded to the porter, who
brushed close by the Princess with his cargo.
“Bon voyage!” she said with a smile.
“What's that?” asked the detective.
“I merely called my maid. You're an unusu-
ally impertinent and inquisitive man. In my
country gentlewomen are shown some degree of
courtesy, even by hotel servants,” she remarked
icily. -
The detective's ruddy face grew redder.
“Well, I dunno about your country, whatever
that is. But in this country, and in this hotel
there don't nothin' get by me. That's all. Come
on in, boys.”
Two bluecoats entered the room, gazed awk-
wardly about, and walked to the window to peer
down at the street. Then they passed out, not
without, it must be admitted, an envious glance at
the collection of jewels on the table.
As the door closed behind them, her Serene


EXIT JARVIS, LAUGHING 73
Highness turned toward Nita, as she relaxed in
the chair by the dressing-table.
“You may dress my hair, child. I wonder
how the door was broken?”
“Ah, madame,” was the guileless response.
“Quién sabe?”


OVER THE SEA AND FAR AWAY 75
tion into the college fraternity, he felt himself be-
ing dragged up the side of the great ocean grey-
hound.
More jolts, more rolls and bangs, and at last,
with muscles wrenched, a swollen forehead and
nerves aquiver, there was rest.
“I’m in her cabin at last—and now for a grace-
ful exit!” he told himself, with an enforced jocu-
larity. But this was no easy task. He spent a
full half-hour, working and prying with the shears
against the lock which imprisoned him with in-
domitable force from the outside of the iron-and-
leathern prison.
Upon the outer deck of the great turbiner, the
Princess nervously fought her way through the
great throng of voyagers and their friends. Nita
was close by her side. It seemed impossible to cap-
ture a steward who was not busy with the bearing
of bouquets and wine baskets. In other circum-
stances this young personage would have been
furious at the lack of respect which she had been
educated to expect from the throngs of her own
country.


76 THE GHOST BREAKER
But to-day her only anxiety was to find her
elusive quarters for the strange cruise, to learn
whether or not her new knight-errant were alive
or dead from the rigors of his escape.
At last, with the aid of an extravagant lar-
gesse, she was conducted to her staterooms.
As she entered the parlor of her luxurious suite,
the first sight which caught her eye was the trunk,
inverted . The printed sign of direction, “This
End up with Care,” were upside down!
She gasped, and looked nervously about to note
the expression upon the face of Nita. That
young woman was busy studying the handsome
features of the ingratiating bedroom-steward.
So engrossed was she that she stumbled over the
elevated sill of the door from the promenade deck.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, miss!” apologized the
steward. “Did you hurt yourself? These doors
are always troublesome until you get used to them.
But they are necessary to keep out the water in
rough weather.”
The Princess was thinking only of the oppor-
tunity to open the fateful trunk.


OVER THE SEA AND FAR AWAY 77
“You don't anticipate a bad passage, steward?”
“Rather uncertain, ma'am, at this time of the
year,” and he busied himself adjusting the hand
luggage and arranging the chairs. “But your
location is good. You'll find the Mauretania as
steady as a parish church. Here is the clothes
press, ma'am, and the other rooms are off there.
It's quite the finest suite on the boat, ma'am.”
The steward looked about ingratiatingly, then
he turned toward the door.
“If you want anything, ma'am—there is the
telephone. . . . I'll place your trunk, if you
please, ma'am!”
He started to drag the trunk to the side of the
cabin, but the Princess intervened.
“That's all right; you may place it later. But
you might fix it right side up!”
The steward turned it, as the girl breathed a
sigh of relief.
“I’m so sorry, ma'am. I hope the contents are
not upset.”
“I hope not.”
“Anything else, ma'am?”


78 THE GHOST BREAKER
“No, not now, steward? How soon do we
Sail?”
“Very soon,” and as he spoke there came the
stentorian warning: “All ashore that's going
ashore!” The call was repeated four times, and
the voice died away in the distance of the long
promenade deck.
With a bow, and a significant glance at the at-
tractive maid, the steward finally dragged him-
self out of the attractive cabin. The Princess
sank nervously into a chair.
“That is all, now, Nita. I have the key to the
trunk. I will call you when I need you.”
“Yes, your Highness. But, will your High-
ness excuse me if I am mistaken in thinking that
I recognized his Excellency the Duke, your
exalted cousin, among the passengers as we came
up the gangplank . . . P.”
Her Highness was distinctly startled, but she
showed no trace of her emotion to the servant.
“My cousin—it is impossible. He is at Ma-
drid, where his Majesty the King is holding
Court.”


OVER THE SEA AND FAR AWAY 79
“Yes, your Highness,” and she went, but her
inflection showed that she knew herself to be in
the right. Nita was too good a servant to argue
with her betters.
“Carlos here? How could he be, I wonder?”
and the Princess fumbled with her keys, until she
found the right one. She opened the trunk with a
trembling hand, and began to raise the cover, a
quiver in her voice.
“Are you all right . . . Mr. Jarvis?”
It was the voice of a nervous, frightened girl—
not of a royal personage—this time.
Just then she heard a knock on the cabin door.
There was no time for a response. “Quiet! Be
careful!” she cautioned, sotto voce.
As she hurried to the door, she pulled her taut
nerves together. There on the threshold was her
kinsman: Nita had been right as usual, in her
sharp way.
Carlos, Duke of Alva, with smiling lips and sin-
ister eyes, greeted her with the suave courtesy
which is so characteristic of his race and class.
He typified the worst of the Spanish folk, even as


8O THE GHOST BREAKER
the young girl did the best. To a keen student of
physiognomy the mental attitude of the Duke of
Alva would have been an open book. To Maria
Theresa, loyal to family and countrymen, he was
the symbol of her own strata in Spain—yet, be-
neath her gracious forgiveness of and enforced
indifference to many things, there lurked a latent
mistrust, which she had never yet defined in prac-
tical, applicable terms.
With white teeth, crisp-curling black hair, and
eyes of sparkling coal-shade, the Duke of Alva
bowed with that polished grace which had broken
many a heart and carried him over many a stretch
of thin ice, in the courtly adventuring on the
Continent.
“Carlos " '' exclaimed the Princess.
“Fair cousin—if I but knew you were as
pleased, as you are surprised, at seeing me!”
With the words he advanced and kissed her cold
finger-tips with Old-World punctiliousness.
“What are you doing on the Mauretania?
Why did you leave Spain, Carlos?”
As he shut the door he smiled, and now her in-


OVER THE SEA AND FAR AWAY 81
tuition warned her of the cunning which lurked
behind those pleasantly curving lips.
“First tell me that you are glad to see me! I
have come many leagues to hear those words,
Maria | *
“Why . . . Why, . . . of course, I am al-
ways glad to see you, cousin.”
He simulated a pathetic irony. “You say you
are always glad to see me—and yet, I fear it is
not always since my unfortunate quarrel with
your brother. Alas, and that has hardened your
heart against me.”
The Duke was a suitor of the romantic school:
each phrase was studied, each attitude as obvi-
ously planned as a military campaign. It was a
method which had invariably succeeded, until his
efforts with the Princess of Aragon. Yet, he was
too satisfied with bygone results to abandon the
time-tried artistries of former victories.
The Princess dropped her eyes before the un-
deniable questioning of his burning glances. As
she looked away, he assured himself that he had
scored.


82 THE GHOST BREAKER
“My brother . . . what do you know of him,
Carlos? When did you see him last? Have you
been in Seguro?”
Two long whistles, and the vibration of the
great steamship evidenced the beginning of the
long voyage. The answer to the questions was
still more pathetic in cadence.
“Ah, how I dread telling you! . . . I was there
a few days before leaving for America. I
learned, unfortunately, that despite my very
friendly advice, he had been prowling about that
ridiculous old castle again, in search of the myth-
ical treasure your grandfather is supposed to have
secreted there.”
He laughed, and the girl instinctively shud-
dered with a newborn distrust. There was no
mirth in the sound.
“You heard nothing more? Was he well and
safe when you left the town?”
“He was as well and safe as I would consider
any man who was prowling about that castle in
a foolhardy way.” -
She wished to get rid of him: that ominous


OVER THE SEA AND FAR AWAY 83
trunk might contain a dead man, for all she
knew.
“How did you find me? Why did you come
to America?”
“What could have brought me here but love
and anxiety for you?”
She turned away impatiently and walked to-
ward the cabin porthole.
“Oh, come, Carlos. The ship is almost in mid-
stream. Let us go out on deck, for one last look
at America.”
“Thank you; I can do very well without it!”
he retorted, as he sat down upon the trunk. “My
dear Maria, why do you not desist from this silly
pursuit of an imaginary treasure? What is the
value of money—we are Spaniards, not shirt-
sleeved, mercenary pigs of Americans ! We strive
for it, only to obtain the happiness and luxury
which it brings. Can it bring any greater happi-
ness than that which I have so many times laid
at your feet—the love and honored name of a
man who would protect and worship you? You
have wonderful beauty and family rank. I have


OVER THE SEA AND FAR AWAY 85
the ship. She advanced to the cabin door, and im-
periously called to him to follow.
“I insist. I need fresh air. . . . We'll be
gone ten minutes!”
And grudgingly the Duke of Alva followed her,
with a vicious swish of his cane at the unoffend-
ing trunk.
As the door slammed, the top of the trunk was
slowly lifted, and the battered, bleeding face of
Warren Jarvis might have been visible above the
iron ridge of its lock bar.
Stiffly he drew himself out of the trunk, to
blink in the unaccustomed light.
“O . . . O . . . O . . . Oh! Lord! . .
If I only had that last baggageman by the neck!”
He bent forward and back to limber an ap-
parently paralzed spinal column.
“Well, I'm all here!”
He stumbled across the cabin, where he helped
himself to a welcome drink of water. He ten-
derly caressed the bruised elbows, and breathed
hard.
“I’m most all here!”


86 THE GHOST BREAKER
He looked down at his twisted, cracked patent-
leather shoes.
“My feet are bent—they'll never get well!”
He sat limply down on the top of the trunk,
and fumbling in his hip pocket drew forth a bent
and battered cigarette case. As he struck a light
to inhale a few welcome, cheering puffs, he looked
about his strange surroundings with the old, un-
conquerable Jarvis spirit.
“A Princess—a Duke—a castle—a treasure!
Well, well! But the problem is: Where the devil
do I fit in?”


VII
THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE
ARREN hobbled painfully to the tele-
V V phone on the wall. This connected
with a central switchboard from which
he knew he could reach his own stateroom—pro-
vided Rusty had not failed in his trust.
“Great Scott! Suppose it is impossible to get
accommodations! I'll have to ride as a stowaway
in the hold, after all!” he thought.
At any rate he knew that the ten minutes were
rapidly dissipating, and from what he had learned
by eavesdropping through the trunk, the Duke
was not the kindliest person in the world for a
man in such a predicament.
“Hello!” he called. “Hello, there. . . .
Yes. I want the stateroom of Mr. Jarvis. . . .
Yes, Warren Jarvis. . . . No, I don't know the
number of the room. . . . All right.”
87


88 THE GHOST BREAKER
There was a pause, and he improved the oppor-
tunity to unlimber his arms and legs, while wait-
ing by the instrument. At last came the welcome
voice with the African accents: “Yassir, hello.
Who do you want?” - , -
“Hello, Rusty' . . . Good boy. . . . Lis-
ten, come up to this stateroom, and bring me an
overcoat and a scarf. Yes, and bring me a damp
towel with some soap on it. Yes, and stick a
comb into the coat pocket.”
“Law, boss, I dunno whar you-all is?”
“That's right. Wait a minute.” He opened
the door to the cabin passageway, and squinted at
the number plate. Back again to the telephone
he continued: “Stateroom A, Promenade deck.
. . And bring up that big bundle in the
steamer rug. Quick now.”
Jarvis hung up the receiver and walked stiffly
to the window, peering out at the disappearing
shores.
“Well, good-by, Uncle Sam. I don't know
when I'll see you again. And as for you, Miss
Liberty—I don't believe there will be any of your


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE 89
sisters or cousins around this precious castle
where Fate is taking me. I don't know which of
us two is the craziest—this Duke or myself.”
Then, after a pause, he added, “Well, his taste
is not to be sneered at; that's certain.”
There was a knock at the door. Warren was
uncertain as to the wisest thing to do. He
called: “Go away—we're all very ill!” Then he
darted for one of the side staterooms.
But the door opened slowly, and the plump
physiognomy of Rusty Snow appeared. Rusty
stumbled awkwardly over the elevated threshold,
dropping the large bundle, landing prone on the
deck.
“Wha'f-f-foh they want to build a dern fool
door like that?” complained Rusty, scrambling up
with a bruised shin, the tenderest spot of a negro.
His master worked feverishly, untying the trays
and fitting them into the trunk from which he had
tardily removed his dress coat, and the revolver.
Then he smiled at Rusty.
“How in de name of Moses did you-all git on
de steamboat, Marse Warren?” was his servant's


90 THE GHOST BREAKER
next remark, as he helped on with the coat over
the painful shoulders.
“I came in the trunk—and it was almost as
good traveling as some of those mountain rail-
roads back in Kentucky. Quick, hand me that
towel—my face is bleeding.”
A few quick movements, the use of the comb,
and he looked more presentable, resembling Jarvis
the clubman once again.
“Did you see any signs of the police, Rusty?”
“No, sir. Nary a sign.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dead sartin, Marse Warren.”
“Did you look?”
“No, sir. I cain't say as I did. I wasn't an-
xious to look.” -
The door opened, with a suddenness which
caused both men to jump. It was the Princess.
She smiled with relief as she saw the rehabilita-
tion.
“How de do, Mrs. Princess?” was Rusty's
polite greeting, with a bow. His formality was
growing more impressive, as the acquaintance ex-


92 THE GHOST BREAKER
He turned toward Rusty, who was making a
mental comparison of the room with the steam-
boat cabins back on the Ohio River. Rusty de-
cided that even the old Gallia Queen, in her palm-
iest days, could not have been much more re-
splendent than this “foreign" boat!
“You can go back and rest yourself, Rusty,”
suggested Jarvis. “And, listen—what's the
number of the stateroom?”
“Seven-twenty-nine, sir.”
“How did you get the tickets, in my name?
I was registered differently at the other hotel.”
“Oh, I jest told 'em dey was for Mr. R. Snow,
a rich Southern gentleman. When I gits down
here, I tells Mr. Snow has decided to send his
repersentative Den I had de name changed—
dat's all, Marse Warren.”
Maria Theresa smiled again, and Rusty ac-
cepted it as a Supreme compliment.
“You are a diplomat, Rusty,” she said.
“No, lady—I mean, Mrs. Princess. . . . I'm
a Republican,” and Rusty started for the door.
“Go lock yourself in there, and don't talk to


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE 93
anyone. Remember you are deaf and dumb.
Understand, deaf and dumb l’’
“Yassir—dumb's de word ' "
As the door closed behind him, the girl turned
toward Jarvis, a troubled cloud overshadowing
her pleasant features.
“There is something I must tell you . . . my
cousin, the Duke of Alva, is on board of the Mau-
retania.”
He smiled whimsically as he replied, “Yes, and
he professes to love you devotedly.”
She flushed furiously, and looked at the pattern
of the rug. -
“You overheard?”
“I underheard. The trunk was not my idea
but yours, you know. . . . You're afraid of
that man, too. What's the trouble? He's very
sure of himself, isn't he?”
The girl hesitated, and then replied almost
timidly:
“Carlos is very powerful. . . . I may be
driven into his hands.”
“You mean he may make you marry him?”


94 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Yes . . . if you fail,” and she cast an ap-
prehensive glance toward the door to the prome-
nade deck.
“If I fail,” and Warren was dumfounded,
even after the unreal scenes which had prologued
this situation. “If I fail. What do you mean?
Wait a minute—let me get my bearings: things
are coming too fast and furious for my poor in-
telligence. . . . I—you—the Duke—how do I
fit in P”
The girl tried to regain her composure.
“You mustn't ask now: take things for granted
until we can explain them together, alone. He
may come in any minute. I can tell you before
we get to the castle.”
Warren lost his patience.
“I think I should know about this castle non-
sense now. I admit you saved me from the
police last night—although undoubtedly they may
be on board the ship now, for we have not passed
the three-mile limit yet. Can't you be frank with
me, in spite of that ridiculous oath of allegiance
which I took?”


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE 95
“It was not ridiculous, Mr. Jarvis. It was in
life-and-death earnestness. I would not have felt
that I could truly trust you unless you had gone
through that. Remember, I am a product of a
different civilization from your own: I am still
superstitious, if you please to term it so, in the
Old-World sense. I speak your language, and in-
deed think in it with you. But back in the inner
shrine of my being I am a Spanish woman, true
to my heredity. You are essentially an American
—droll, well-balanced, cynical—and oblivious to
any other national psychology than your own.”
The girl's earnestness was droll.
“I am a bit hard and unsympathetic,” agreed
Warren softly. “I did not mean to be so. You
and I came into each other's lives in a wild unreal
way which an outsider would hardly believe possi-
ble. The truest thing in real life is its melo-
dramatic, unbelievable unrealism. That's where
the novelists, the poets, and the play-makers have
a terrific handicap against them. Things which
happen every day would be ridiculed in print.
The great rule of actual existence is: ‘It can't


96 THE GHOST BREAKER
be possible, but it is!' But, while we have time,
tell me my cues, for I share your opinion of the
Duke of Alva. I would never nominate him for
President!”
The girl wrung her hands nervously—the first
signs he had seen of a spiritual weakening.
“I am completely in the dark,” added Jarvis;
“I’m just a plain man, not a mindreader. Let's
get down to brass tacks!”
She did not understand the local idiom. But
she realized that at last she had found a sym-
pathetic confessor.
“I hardly know where to begin. It seems ab-
surd—in this pleasant day-lit stateroom—to talk
of ghosts. But the fact is that my family castle
is haunted.”
Jarvis was lighting another cigarette from the
battered silver case; he burned his fingers, as he
studied her, in surprise. Then he laughed provok-
ingly. “So I gathered from your amiable cousin.
What kind of specters? Of the Hamlet variety
or the old maid brand?”
She answered very seriously.


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE 97.
“Call it anything you like. But my castle is
haunted, just the same. This is absolutely a case
of facts, which mean so much to me that I would
not exaggerate now! My grandfather was one of
the wealthiest nobles in Spain. When he died my
father went to take possession of the family
estates in Seguro. The little town—as you count
populations in America—was buzzing with weird
stories of uncanny things and supernatural hap-
penings in the old castle on the hill. It was
deserted, after centuries of loyal occupancy. All
the retainers had deserted their posts and fled.
All told of a weird, horrible thing in armor which
stalked the ancestral halls at night—of agonized
groans, clanking chains, infernal fumes of sul-
phur—you know how ghost stories run?”
“I know the ghost stories, and most of the
people who tell them run because of their own
yellow streaks!” retorted Warren. “But, go on,
your Highness. It's fascinating—I haven't heard
a good ‘hant’ yarn since old Mammy Chloe died,
back at Meadow Green.”
She pouted, for his cynicism struck home. Yet


98 THE GHOST BREAKER
was she earnest, and again she endeavored to im-
press him. -
“Laugh, sir, as much as you please. My father
laughed the same way. He called them silly, ig-
norant peasant tales. He said he would show
them that it was now the twentieth century, and
teach them how foolish were their fears.”
She hesitated. Her dark eyes burned as she
continued slowly: “He went there, Mr. Jarvis.
He went there! He was never seen again!”
The Kentuckian leaned forward, engrossed.
“What happened?”
“No one knows. He disappeared—vanished
utterly, without the slightest clew. Grandfather's
treasure was never found !”
“Oh, what treasure?” Jarvis was almost rude
in his impatient interest.
“The fortune he left. You know, grandfather
converted all his wealth into Spanish gold to
finance a Spanish colonization scheme in the West
Indies. It amounted to about a million dollars
in your American money.”
Warren whistled, and twisted his intertwined


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE 99
fingers about an elevated knee—whose ache had
been forgotten.
“That's a ripping good yarn. When did all
this happen?”
“Fifteen years ago. Since then, two other
men disappeared in the same horrible manner as
my father did. Not a trace of their leaving: it
is so horrible that it makes my heart creep to tell
it. And yet you scoff!”
“I’m sorry,” he said penitently. “But what's
the latest news from the trenches?”
“Now the Duke tells me that my brother has
entered the fatal castle . . . you see that daring
runs in the blood! Up to a week ago he had sent
me a cable every day. Everything was well until
Sunday. Then his messages stopped. All this
week there has not been a word, not even an-
swering my cables!”
Warren digested this in silence for a moment.
“Why did your Highness leave Spain, knowing
all this?”
“Well, Mr. Jarvis, a part of the legend tells
that my grandfather had drawn a secret map.
53968W


IOO THE GHOST BREAKER
showing exactly where his treasure was located.
It was not safe to let the public know where
wealth was located, fifteen years ago, in Spain.”
“From the extremely businesslike devotion of
that ghost, it doesn't seem that conditions have
improved in the district of your exalted estates!”
“Oh, Mr. Jarvis, can't you be serious? I
learned from an old letter to my grandmother,
from her husband the Prince, that this plan had
been hidden in the back-clasp of a locket contain-
ing her miniature. Without letting my brother
know of the secret, for fear that he would fool-
ishly tell it, I engaged a secret-service man from
Paris to look the matter up. When my grand-
parents died, much of the estate was sold—for the
Spanish-American War had wrought havoc with
the family income. That locket had been sold to
an American collector, and I came to America
just in time to save it from being sold to some
museum. I pawned my mother's jewels to buy it.
That was the locket which dropped from the
trunk, in my bedroom last night.”
“And you have the locket?”


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE IoI'
“Yes—but not my brother!”
“Ah, then, my particular chore as vassal to
this haunted family is to find your brother and
solve the mystery P. In other words, you want
me to put this infernal, tin-plated, panhandling
ghost out of his misery?”
“Yes . . . Mr. Jarvis!” and the Princess was
more humble than he had noticed her during the
hours of their acquaintance. “Are you fright-
ened by the ghost?”
“You asked that question before. Where I
came from only negroes and poor whites fear the
departed spirits. Perhaps this spirit is not as
departed as circumstances would indicate. But,
how about the Duke? What is his interest in the
ghost?”
“He fears it, too. He has begged me to stay
away from the wretched castle altogether. If it
were not for my brother's future, and the for-
tune of the family—his family, and perhaps . . .
my family . . . some day . . . I would shun the
place. We are not completely destitute, you
know !”


IO2 THE GHOST BREAKER
Jarvis studied the luxurious furnishings of the
cabin, the jewels and aristocratic modishness of
the girl's attire, and nodded.
“I imagine you're not! But this high, exalted,
and altogether superior cousin of yours is far
from being a fool. He will want to know how,
where, why you met me. And what he doesn't
know, contrary to the usual theory, is apt to in-
terfere with his sleep. Beware, your Highness,
of men who cannot sleep o'night—they think al-
together too shrewdly!”
The girl was worried.
“He will ask dreadful questions. I know him,
Mr. Jarvis!”
“So do I. Will you tell him you have made
of me a . . . perfectly good vassal?”
“I think not—just yet" and there was a shy-
ness in her manner.
Jarvis looked adown his nose, and there was a
smile on the firm lips below it!
“By the way, Mrs. Princess—as Rusty so beau-
tifully phrases it—just how should a vassal, a
fine A-number-One vassal, address his liege-lady


THE ROMANCE OF THE CASTLE 103
and the owner of his soul? What is the au fait
procedure in this case? You know I am only an
ignorant pig of an American!”
She hesitated, embarrassed, and then answered:
“Highness—is correct!”
“Highness! I had imagined so—incidentally
we were introduced by Fate on the eleventh floor,
as I recollect. Tell me, Highness: a vassal doesn't
amount to much, does he? I always considered
him a piker!”
She was mystified. These phrases had not been
in the curriculum of the exclusively proper Eng-
lish boarding-school.
“A piker—a soldier who carries a pike?”
“No, just a pawn in this human game of chess
—along with the queens, and kings, and castles
—and knights! . . . But I have known of a pawn
saving a game, in the hands of an expert. By
the way, and apropos of nothing-whatever-at-all,
could a good, hard-working, reliable, moral,
union-labeled vassal work his way up to a good
job—such as a Duke or a Lord, or something
like that?” *


IO4 THE GHOST BREAKER
She caught the drift of his quizzical humor,
and retorted in kind.
“You’re an ambitious vassal. Such men have
occasionally lost their heads—literally speaking.
I'm afraid you wouldn't be content with anything
less than a kingship.”
The Kentuckian spoke with meaning behind
his jest.
“A king—a prince—or a bandit!”
“A bandit—why a bandit? That is essentially
Spanish!”
Jarvis lit another cigarette.
“A king could command—a prince might re-
quest—a bandit generally seizes' "
“What?” and the woman emerged from the
hauteur of the royal personality.
“That which a vassal can only admire!”


VIII
THE NEW PROFESSION
KNOCK on the door brought them both
A back to-the deck of the Mauretania, with
terra firma not so far distant below !
“There he is now,” she whispered nervously.
‘‘Who shall I say you are? And what?”
“Oh, any old thing—Warren, Mr. Warren.
Leave the classification to me. Self-identification
is an American trait!”
She crossed the cabin, and after a timid pause
opened the door.
“Come in,” she murmured.
“Ah, I'm intruding,” exclaimed Carlos, Duke
of Alva, with an intonation which expressed an
invitation for Warren Jarvis to make a graceful
exit. -
“Not at all,” blankly observed Jarvis. “I’ve
just been discussing my professional task at the
IO5


IO6 THE GHOST BREAKER
castle; as a member of the family you can give
me some good working material.”
“I don't understand,” spluttered Carlos, taken
aback.
“Pardon me, cousin. This is Mr. Warren, of
America, who has consented to help me. My
cousin, the Duke of Alva,” She walked behind
the two men, comparing them keenly: the deadly
parallel column was not at all unfavorable to the
insouciant Kentuckian.
“Glad to know you,” volunteered Jarvis.
“Have a cigarette?”
“I never smoke in the presence of ladies,” re-
torted the Duke. Then with a patronizing air
he added: “I am honored to meet you, sir, if you
are in my royal cousin's employ. So, you are
interested in the castle?”
“Oh, not so much in the castle as in the ghost.
I'll attend to him.”
“And is that your regular profession?”
“You are a good guesser, my dear Duke. That
is my business—solving mysteries—locking up
family skeletons—chasing spooks and putting salt


„ 19&vºluq 1soqÐ 2ų, uºuup A/
so '21b5) uºp105) ºù, ou u2ºu O 6 utſamog uouſ umouſ tuo I ,,


THE N F W YORK
PUBLIC [IRRARY
A s : C → . * * * * * Li
r; L T, r v × - ' ' '.' * * * : C w a
f -


THE NEW PROFESSION Io?
on their tails. We have a professional name for
it in the United States.” -
“And what is that, sir?” asked Carlos, uncer-
tain whether to be affronted or to draw out this
strange bird to a confidence. A quick glance at
his cousin's immobile face gave him no hint.
Jarvis continued amiably.
“We are living in an age of specialists. You
have doubtless heard of Farley the Strike Breaker,
of Roosevelt the Trust Breaker. I forgot to bring
my business cards with me; but if I may be so
immodest as to tell the truth, I am known from
Bowling Green to the Golden Gate as Warren.
the Ghost Breaker!”
This astounding news fairly took the Duke
off his feet. He mentally clawed the air for his
equilibrium.
“Madre de Dios!” ejaculated the Duke, drop-
ping his sword-cane. As he recovered from his
astonishment, the Princess interceded: “I am so
glad you came. I promised the Ghost Breaker
that you would join us shortly. You will be able
to tell him, so much better than I, of all the


Io8 THE GHOST BREAKER
strange circumstances. I have only given him a
rough outline of what happened up to the time
I left my brother on his way to the castle.”
Carlos sank into a chair, irritated at the Ameri-
can's disinterested lack of courtesy: Jarvis had
not even risen from his seat on the trunk. Some-
how or other Carlos despised that trunk!
“I will be delighted to throw any possible light
on the mystery of the castle. But first let us leave
your brother in peace, to let me know why you
came to America?”
Maria Theresa drew the locket from her reti-
cule.
“This is what brought me.”
“May I see it?” and the Duke held out his
hand, ingratiatingly. “What a charming old an-
tique!”
“No, Carlos. Rather you may see the locket,
but not the memorandum in the back.”
The Duke registered an expression of polite
surprise.
“Memorandum P”
“Yes,” and the Princess removed a small bit


I IO THE GHOST BREAKER
Here, the Princess shot a sharp look into the
half-closed eyes of the Duke.
“Who do you suppose could have wanted that
locket but myself, Carlos?”
“I suppose,” and it was the assumed indiffer-
ence of a cornered schemer, “it has already
occurred to you that I am the ‘distinguished-
looking gentleman.’ Has it, cousin?”
The girl's curiosity piqued her.
“But how did you learn about the memoran-
dum, Carlos?”
“I didn't, cousin. I had not the slightest sus-
picion that the locket contained an important
secret; I doubt it now. I was merely following
my pet hobby, in addition to a little family senti-
ment. I wanted to recover some of those precious
heirlooms which had been scattered to the four
winds.”
“When did you know that this one had been
scattered to New York,+on your last visit to
the boulevards of Paris?” And Jarvis’ smile was
as ingenuous as that of a babe of two.
The Duke of Alva Scowled. There seemed


THE NEW PROFESSION III
something uncanny in the sharpness of this
American; but he prided himself upon the power
of diplomacy.
“I have seldom been in Paris: they are not so
much interested in antiques as in very lively mod-
erns, Mr. Ghost Breaker! . . . But there, you in-
terrupted my thought! You would be surprised
to see the collection which I have already rescued,
and which, Maria, will some day be yours. You
Americans are not noted as really astute collect-
ors, Mr. Jarvis.”
“Well, our collectors who don't worry over
millions are frequently stung by clever counter-
feits. But we laboring men, who must devote
all our time to our work, are usually able to tell
imitations from the real thing. We are not im-
pressed by ‘four-flushing,' your Excellency!”
The Duke scowled at Warren, vainly attempt-
ing to divine the meaning of the Yankee slang.
But the Kentuckian was impatient: he knew that
debates were seldom as productive as labor in a
workshop, when it came down to fundamentals.
Carlos was impatiently interrupted.


II2 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Well, so much for the treasure—let's hear
about the ghost. Of course I'm certain that
there's no connection between the two, in such
an aristocratic land as Spain, which scoffs at the
American pursuit of the miserable, despised dol-
lar. . . . What's your private opinion of this
ghost? Is he a real, dependable, hell-bent spook,
deserving all this press stuff which has been given
to him? I’ve had so much experience with spirits
—being a native Kentuckian—that they must be
1oo-proof to interest me! . . . Do you really put
any stock in ghosts, Duke?”
“Yes, Mr. Warren, I am convinced that there
are such things. This world is filled with evi-
dences of the supernatural.”
“Then you honestly believe this castle is
haunted P”
“I know it!” And the Duke's black eyes
sparkled with an intensity which had its effect
even upon the cynical Warren Jarvis.
“So you think this ghost is dangerous to en-
counter—that it is the cause of the mysterious
deaths and disappearances in the old castle?”


THE NEW PROFESSION II5
“Oh, there is always money when the ghost
walks,” was the mysterious reply of the Ameri-
can, wasted on the untheatrical Spaniards.
“That is the first premise upon which a reliable
scientific Ghost Breaker begins his task of in-
vestigation.”
“I don't know what your experience may have
been, Mr. Warren. You are evidently a brave
man, but you have yet to encounter a ghost like
this supernatural spirit. Things are different in
the Old World !”
Warren Jarvis sniffed.
“Huh! Brave? It takes no bravery to fight a
coward—that is what the ghost is. It's a coward
like every other stealthy, sneaking spirit, afraid
to show itself by daylight, in the glare of the
sun. I can tell you now that men are not half
so afraid of spirits as the spirits are afraid of
men. If you face the supernatural, it is more
than half beaten to a frazzle, before the fight be-
gins. In my professional career I have learned
that ghosts, horse thieves, and peevish wildcats
can all be tamed by the same little charm.”


II6 THE GHOST BREAKER
The Princess was mystified.
“Charm? What do you mean—a relic?”
The Duke leaned forward, his eyes sparkling
with interest.
“What is it?”
“I’d hate to tell you,” responded Warren
Jarvis. “It’s part of my system.”
And he forthwith drew out the revolver, ca-
ressing it with an unmistakable confidence.
“I had been hoping, Mr. Warren,” remarked
the Duke, “that you had some subtle method
worthy of handling this problem, and justifying
the reputation for such work which you say you
maintain through America. You evidently pro-
pose to meet the forces of the supernatural with
firearms. . . . I may as well tell you that this
specter has been shot at before without the slight-
est effect.”
The Kentuckian smiled gently.
“Quite likely, your Excellency. I have seen
rifle-fire that had not the slightest effect on a
wildcat for the simple reason that the firing was
wilder than the cat!”


THE NEW PROFESSION 117
The Duke of Alva bestowed a pitying glance
upon the weapon and its owner.
“I’m sorry for you, Mr. Warren. You will
find that the ghost is more real than the treasure.”
The Princess arose indignantly. She inter-
rupted, with feminine betrayal of her own hand.
“But the treasure is real, Carlos. Would I
have crossed the ocean for this locket unless I
knew P”
Carlos looked at her sharply.
“I know I am right, now, Carlos. With the
memorandum which I found inside the old locket,
anyone, a total stranger, could walk right up to
the very stone that hides it.”
There was a meaning tone in Jarvis’ voice, as
he added: “A pretty dangerous paper to have
around—look out that somebody else doesn't get
there ahead of you,”
The Duke shot back a quick answer to the
message between the words: “Yes, it is a dan-
gerous paper—if it leads anyone into the castle.”
“Well, despite the danger and the threats of
—the ghost—I’d go a long way for the fun of


THE NEW PROFESSION II9
hour this morning in a revolver battle in his hotel
room . . .’”
He glanced down the column and continued:
“‘Even at a late hour the police had no clew
to the identity of his assailant, except the re-
markable fact that the person is still hiding some-
where in the hotel . . .”.”
The Kentuckian interrupted:
“The villain is probably a long way from the
hotel by this time if he knows what's what!”
“But they say he couldn't have gotten out
without being seen,” continued the Duke, still
studying the printed column.
“Oh, that's the theory of the reporters.
They'd lose their jobs if they ever told the real
truth in a criminal case,” remarked Jarvis coolly.
“Don’t believe what the papers say—unless it's
nice and about yourself!”
“Well, Mr. Ghost Breaker, what is your own
opinion? You are an expert in these matters,”
insisted the Duke. “This affair interests me.”
Jarvis was more than nonchalant.
“He might have escaped in a thousand ways.


I2O THE GHOST BREAKER
But such work is not in my line: that's gum-
shoe' stuff—for plain common or garden detec-
tives.”
Nita entered the cabin, and Maria Theresa
arose uncertainly.
“I’ll call you when I need you, Nita.” There
was some hidden portent in her tone which Jarvis
failed to divine. He decided that discretion was
the better part of valor. He rose, and walked
toward the door to the promenade deck.
“We are keeping you from getting settled, I
fear,” he declared. “So, if you'll excuse me at
this time, I’ll hope to see you at luncheon. . .
And as for you, Duke, it's a great pleasure to meet
your Excellency.”
Carlos bowed with military grace.
“Thank you, Mr. Warren. I find you most
interesting. I shall be glad to hear more of your
remarkable profession. Good-morning, sir.”
The Kentuckian turned away.
As Warren reached the deck door there was a
knock upon the portal to the cabin passage.
Nita followed him, and then turned to open


THE NEW PROFESSION I2I
the second entrance. Two pompous, red-cheeked,
red-necked individuals stepped forward, without
so much as a “by-your-leave!”
The first one spoke, reading from a smudgy
memorandum book.
“You are Miss M. T. Ar-r-ragan?”
The Princess acquiesced.
“You was at the Hotel Manhattan last
night?”
“Yes.”
“The lock on your bedroom door was
broken?”
“Yes?”
The speaker jerked back the left lapel of his
coat, displaying a silver badge with great satisfac-
tion.
“I am from headquarters, madame, and I have
orders to clear up one or two little matters con-
nected with that affair at the hotel last night.”
The speaker glared at them suspiciously.
The chivalry of Spain asserted itself. The
Duke stepped forward with spirit, gripping the
cane as though it were a cavalry Saber.


I22 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Orders—orders—what orders? To break
into this lady's private cabin? What headquar-
terSP”
“It seems to me, bo, that you're in a lady's
private cabin yourself. I’m from police head-
quarters, bo!”
“Do you know whom you are addressing, fel-
low P”
“Say, nix on this fellow stuff. That'll be about
all from you.”
Maria Theresa interceded with her winsome
grace and irresistible smile.
“Yes, Carlos, let me attend to the matter.
Won't you come into the cabin, gentlemen, and be
seated?”
The two detectives beamed, their bosoms
heaved with pride at this unexpected recognition
of their importance. They entered, waving away
the steward and closing the cabin door behind
them.
“We’re just been discussing that mystery, In-
spector!” observed Jarvis, coming nearer and
taking his seat upon the trunk once more. This


I24 THE GHOST BREAKER
cutey-cutey for any use? Say, I’m used to these
dooks and counts—I’ve been around Peacock Al-
ley at the Waldorf too long not to know 'em by
their checkered pants and them canes! Say,
Dook! If you was the Archbishop of Canterbury
I'd run yer in and take yer ashore, if yer give
me any more of yer lip.”
Jarvis, bumping his heels against the trunk,
smiled with diabolical enjoyment in the face of
his Excellency!


IX
CHECKMATE THE FIRST
HE detective glared at the nobleman, with
fingers obviously itching for action. He
- sucked his teeth contemptuously, and then
turned his back squarely upon the noble counte-
nance. Over his face spread the beatific smile
which strong, rough men deem overpowering
with a member of the weaker sex.
“As you was saying, lady, before we was so
impolitely interrupted, you was in the hotel when
this gunplay went on. Did you hear it?”
“Yes, sir, I heard two shots.”
“Did you hear anything else?”
“Yes, indeed. I heard a great many people
running up and down the corridor, outside my
door.”
The detective scribbled away in his notebook.
Jarvis winked again at the Princess, over the
I25


I26 THE GHOST BREAKER
doughty shoulders which were backed toward
him. The Duke caught the wink, and pondered
over it.
“Did anyone come in your room, miss P”
“Yes. My maid was frightened, poor child.
She came in, and begged me to protect her.”
“Ah-ha! A-hum! And how did your lock get
broken?”
“It was broken when we came to the room. I
was foolish not to complain to the management
at once, for I might have been robbed by some
sneak-thief. I explained all that at the hotel.”
“Um . . . All right. What about the colored
man who came to your room afterwards and car-
ried away a large bundle?”
The Duke's eyes were sparkling now. He was
biding his chance to intervene. Jarvis watched
him without the flicker of an eyelash.
“That was my servant,” explained the Prin-
cess, easily. “I sent for him, because I had
made a number of purchases too late to get them
into my trunk. They are here unopened; you
may examine them if you wish.”


CHECKMATE THE FIRST 127
The detective waved aside the offer: he was
nothing if not gallant—if the questioned one were
fair enough
“Oh, that's all right. But what do you know
about this, miss?”
He produced a pocket-knife, and walked to-
ward her slowly, examining it with care. The
Duke of Alva leaned over his shoulder with ab-
sorbed interest.
“This knife has the initial ‘’W.” How about
it?”
The girl reached forward, with a graceful hand.
“Oh, I’m so glad you found it! Thank you
for bringing it to me.”
“Then it's yours? Who is this party W’?
Your name is Aragon, I believe.”
The Princess laughed.
“I am Maria Theresa of Aragon, you see.”
“I don't see. Where does the ‘ W’ come in?
I know how to spell, you know, even if I'm only
a bull.” And he glared pugnaciously at the duke.
“Why . . . it isn't W’—can't you un-
derstand? You're holding it upside down. It is


I28 THE GHOST BREAKER
º 2
—standing for my first name: Maria
Theresa.”
The detective grudgingly handed her the trin-
ket. He looked into his memorandum book
again, chewing the end of his pencil.
“Now, there's just one more thing, Miss
Carlos could control himself no longer. He
caught the officer's arm in a feverish grip, which
was as promptly thrown off.
“You will pardon me, but I wish to inform
you that this man's name is Warren . . .” he be-
gan. -
The detective spun about, and protruded his
heavy chin at the Duke.
“Say, who's running this ‘Third Degree '—
you or me?”
The Duke tried to temporize.
“But, my dear man . . .”
“Say, cull, I ain't your dear man. Cut that
guff—don't dearie me. I'm a big rough fellow,
but I’ve got some gumption. You get out of
here.”


130 THE GHOST BREAKER
ren Jarvis, who published his third wink, this
time in the direction of the big sleuth.
“King! Huh ! Roosevelt wasn't elected'
Did yer get that, Jim? Well, what do you know
about that?”
Jarvis leaned forward, with a sibilant whisper
of secrecy:
“Sssh! Gentlemen. Don’t be disturbed. He
is quite harmless. You heard him raving about
a king? He suffers from pernicious megaloma-
nia. That's all—nothing more. He has grand-
iose ideas.”
Jim coughed apologetically as his superior offi-
cer blinked.
“What does them words mean, Jim?”
“Wheels—bats in his belfry—just plain nutty,
Mike.”
“You mean he is crazy, mister?”
Jarvis nodded.
“Yes, he is at times. But don't be cross with
him, for he has a beautiful nature, except when
the ravages of the disease are upon him. You
know, he doesn't even like me when he has a


CHECKMATE THE FIRST I31
spell like this. But he's not at all dangerous.
It is just necessary to humor him—he's not to
blame—it's the way he was raised.”
“Then you're looking out for him?” and
the detective looked furtively toward the door,
as he reassured himself by fumbling with the
revolver in his own hip-pocket.
“Yes, that's my job.”
The big sleuth shook his head sadly.
“I’m sorry I had to be rough with him, like
that, miss. But you seen as well as I did that
he was gumming the game. Why, with some
boob detectives that I know, a feller like that
might queer the crowd of you—making it look
as though you was implicated.” He looked into
the ubiquitous notebook. “One question more.
How do you acount for the blood on the knob
of the door—from the inside, too?”
The girl was honestly surprised this time.
“Blood on my door? Why—I ?”
“I can explain that, Inspector.”
“Go ahead, then, Doctor.”
“Do you mind?” and the Kentuckian turned


I32 THE GHOST BREAKER
politely toward the girl. She shook her head,
wondering what could be in his mind.
“You see, that colored man—the one you were
talking about—brought the bundle there. He
tied it up and, cutting the string carelessly, broke
the blade of the knife and cut his hand. That
was it, wasn't it? You see the long blade
snapped off near the handle.”
The detective nodded—not completely con-
vinced.
“Where is this colored man now P” was his
question.
It seemed to Maria Thresa that they were get-
ting hopelessly into the toils. She was discour-
aged, as she glanced at the imperturbable Jarvis.
He nodded ever so slightly, and she caught her
Cue.
“He is in stateroom 729,” she said.
“All right. I’ll look at him. 729? Thanks,
miss. You know, this ain't personal at all. I’m
just taking the chief's orders. I’m sorry to
bother you.”
He walked toward the door with the dignified


CHECKMATE THE FIRST 133
flat-footed gait which distinguishes the Manhat-
tan sleuth and all others in the world.
“Good-by, miss. Watch that maniac, do! He
looks like a bad actor to me.”
They were gone, and Maria Theresa sank into
a chair weakly. Jarvis energetically sprang to
the telephone,
“Hello! Give me room 729.”
After a pause he continued: “Hello, hello,
hello, Rusty | Yes, Rusty. Damn it all, answer
me, do you hear me?”
There was another pause, and the girl began
to lose her control again.
“Yes, I know I told you to keep mum, but I’m
telling you to talk now.” Jarvis knew that every
second was precious. “Do just what I tell you
and do it quick. Take your knife and cut your
left hand. . . . What? . . . No, don't cut it off,
you damn fool. Just enough to make it bleed a
little, and then tie it up with a handkerchief. . . .
Never mind . . . That's none of your business!
Remember don't answer questions! You're deaf
and dumb again.”


I34 THE GHOST BREAKER
He hung up the receiver and turned toward the
Princess with a newborn laugh.
“By George, blood will tell! You're game.
You certainly handled the detective with Euro-
pean statecraft. Then your cousin Carlos broke
in at the psychological moment to scatter their
gum-shoe wits. It was beautiful comedy.”
“Now they believe him crazy!” she answered.
“How will that turn out?”
“Nothing could be better. They won't believe
a word he says. He'll be crazy before he gets
through with it. Could you handle him all right
now P’’
She nodded abstractedly. She was looking at
his hand, which had gone without attention all
this time, and which had been adroitly snuggled
inside his pocket during the visit of the New
York detectives.
“Yes. You must hurry and have your hand
dressed before it develops into something seri-
ous.”
“All right. The ship's surgeon will dress it,
with collodion so that you can't even see that it's


CHECKMATE THE FIRST I35
hurt. . . . Crazy! Hum! That's funny!” And
he left by the door to the promenade deck, with
a merry laugh which showed how the nervous
strain had lightened, after all these solitary, bitter
hours.
There was a knocking on the entry from the
saloon, and at her word it opened. The Duke
entered, glaring savagely.
“Well!”
“Well!”
“Well—I’m waiting!” he exclaimed.
“Waiting for what, Carlos?”
“For some explanation of all this deceit.
Who is this man Warren? Alone with you here
in your cabin l’”
She raised her eyebrows in beautiful surprise,
as she asked:
“Must I tell you all over again? He is a
professional ghost breaker, just as he said.”
“How did you find such a creature?”
“I met him quite by accident. I knew at once
that he was a man in a thousand.”
“What do you know about him, Maria?”


136 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Why . . . that he is as well known in
America as you are in Spain.”
The Duke Sniffed.
“Indeed! Well, he will be better known when
I turn him over to the police. He will get much
of that free advertising which Americans love so
well.”
“Why, Carlos, what do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean,” and there
was a threat in his manner. Just then the large
detective thrust his red face into the door.
“It's all right, miss. We're going ashore
now in the pilot boat. But you should have told
us that your nigger was a dummy!”
Here was the last chance for the Duke. He
grasped it, hurrying toward the door.
“One moment, gentlemen, one moment!” and
he laughed in Maria's face, confident of his suc-
cess. “If this person is famous, these gentle-
men should know him. . . . Do you know War-
ren, the Ghost Breaker?”
“The what?” asked the detective.
“The Ghost Breaker!”


CHECKMATE THE FIRST 137
Both men now entered the room, grinning at
each other.
“He’s off his trolleys again, Jim,” said the
big fellow to the other.
Jarvis stepped in through the deck door.
“Is this man Warren, the famous Ghost
Breaker? This man right here!”
“The guy's dippy all right, cull,” remarked
the nearest sleuth to Jarvis, who nodded most
seriously.
“Agree with anything he says. You know!”
he muttered.
The Duke was beside himself with rage.
“Answer my question! Is this man Warren
the Ghost Breaker?”
“Aw, Dook, old top, that's all right. Don't
worry about it! . . . Sure he's a ghost breaker,
ain't he, Jim?”
“Best bet you know,” replied obliging Jim.
“He’s the prince of all ghost breakers!”
The Duke smote his breast furiously, while the
detectives smiled sympathetically into Jarvis'
serious face.


138 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Sacristil Am I Carlos Hernando, Duke of
Alva, to be mocked at by two grinning bull-
necked scullions?”
“Whatever you say goes, Dook!” amiably re-
plied the first detective.
A ship's officer appeared on the promenade
deck and called through the open door at them.
“Hurry up, if you're going ashore with the
pilot, officers.”
The two men bowed with their best imitation
of gallantry, to the Princess Maria Theresa of
Aragon. Nita, standing in the vestibule, sent a
melting glance at the faithful Jim, who stumbled
over the treacherous cabin threshold.
The superior of the two shook hands pomp-
ously with Jarvis, whose left hand was still in
his pocket.
“Be kind to the little rascal, Doc. He might
not get such good treatment from them Scotland
Yard bulls, on the other side. They don't under-
stand human nature like us fellers—they ain't got
no education over there. Good-by, Doc' Don't
let your foot slip !”


CHECKMATE THE FIRST I39
He turned toward the Duke, as he passed
through the door.
“You’re all right, Dook, old boy, if you do
have fits! Ghost Breaker—ha, ha!”
Carlos started toward the other door, with a
bound.
“It's not too late. I’ll see the captain.”
Jarvis, sitting on the trunk, whistled with typi-
cal American lack of reverence. As the noble-
man turned about, he found himself looking into
the barrel of the revolver. A quizzical smile
played about the firm lines of the Kentuckian's
mouth.
“Don’t be in too big a hurry, your Excellency.
The captain is apt to be busy just now. And
besides, he may not believe in ghosts!”


X
A WAGER WITH THE DUKE
HAT a curious sea voyage!
V V The Duke's attempt to warn the
captain of the nature of this one par-
ticular passenger never eventualized. When the
Mauretania had finally left behind all sight of
America, Jarvis relaxed his severity.
“You may enjoy yourself, Excellency,” he
said, as he put away the revolver. “But I would
like to speak to you alone. As the representative
of the Princess, on a most important mission, I
am compelled to look after her inerests in a
definite manner.”
He faced the girl meaningly.
“Will you excuse us for a moment's inter-
change of pleasantries?” -
She nodded, and retired to her bedroom with
Nita.
140


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 141
“What do you want, you scoundrel? I know
that you are an impostor—a make-believe, and
worse!”
“Take it easy, Duke. I’m really not too en-
thusiastic over you. But this Colt revolver is
not a make-believe. I am only going to bother
your aristocratic memory with this one little
idea—that if there is any reporting to the cap-
tain or ship's officers, to interfere with my serv-
ices as Ghost Breaker for the royal house of
Aragon, there is going to be a nice band concert
in the public square of your native town—and the
special number on the programme will be the
“Dead March from Saul,’ with pretty black crêpe
on the ducal doorknob! Do you catch my mean-
ing?”
“You Yankee pig!”
“I’m not a Yankee—I’m a Johnny Reb, by
birth and education. But both Yankees and
Rebels acquired a reputation for marksmanship
about fifty years ago.” The jest died out of his
voice. “One whimper from you, damn you, and
I'll shoot you as I would a mad dog!”


I42 THE GHOST BREAKER
There was such a savage rasp in that mellow
Southern voice that the Duke instinctively
dodged backward, as though expecting the first
volley.
“We shall see what we shall see!” were his
final words. “And if I see you about the cabin
of my cousin again,_well, perhaps the officers
of this ship may take a hand.”
Warren pursed his lips into an ironical grin.
“You know, a member of my profession
doesn't take a solemn oath to wait until the re-
mains are resting in pieces: it might not be a
difficult task to take up an avocation as well as
a vocation. I wonder if I couldn't be a pretty
good Ghost Maker? Think it over.”
Jarvis, with a simple word of good-bye to the
Princess, returned to his own cabin, where he
lost himself in slumber. The tortures of his
trunk trip were still with him, in aching muscles
and strained ligaments.
The girl wondered what had become of him,
for it was not until late in the evening that he
telephoned to her at the suite.


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 143
She was on the deck, listening to the orchestra
concert. Nita responded at the 'phone. Jarvis
surprised the girl by a voluble discourse in Span-
ish. He had mastered it in his tropical travels.
It was to come in as a life-saving accomplishment
before the end of the adventure.
“Tell me, Nita. Have you good eyes?” he
curiously inquired.
“Ah, señor, so I am told,” was the ingenuous
reply.
“Well, in that sense I have my doubts about
their goodness . . . but what I want you to do,
for the sake of your Princess and her brother,
is to keep those black eyes eternally watchful. I
am expecting some curious tricks from one we
know. Let her know what you see—and she will
tell me. Remember—keep looking, listening all
the time.”
Nita promised, and Warren repaired to the
lounge, where he observed the Duke nursing his
ill-humor over a lonesome absinthe frappé.
Warren did not seek companionship either,
upon this journey. He knew too many men in


I44 THE GHOST BREAKER
the ranks of the international traders, to dare
risk recognition. The great roadway between
New York and the European ports has now be-
come a veritable promenade, thronged with trav-
elers: it is no longer a lonely passage.
The great steamship was crowded on this trip,
Rusty being in good luck to obtain a stateroom
relinquished just before sailing time. With
nearly two thousand people on board, it was a
floating town—and more than once in the
crowded decks and saloons he caught glimpses
of men he knew in club, college, or business.
He would invariably beat a precipitate retreat.
His daily procedure was hermit-like. With the
exception of an early morning stroll, alone, on
the promenade deck, he took no more chances
after that first morning. His meals were served
in his stateroom. From the splendid library of
the ship he secured ample reading material to
while away the time.
At night he spent an hour in walking with the
Princess—and they were wonderful moments.
Each evening he seemed to grow better acquainted


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 145
with this unusual woman—finding beneath the
surface of courtly reserve a depth of feeling, a
breadth of humanity which would hardly have
been believable from her calm, almost indiffer-
ent manner.
Her education in an English school had inter-
nationalized her—her wide knowledge of books,
in all the literatures of Europe, her familiarity
with the best of art, poetry, the drama and
music—had made of her a delightful, ever sur-
prising traveling companion.
The girl was interested in everything Ameri-
can. She plied him with questions about the
city, the country, the customs. Her brief stay in
New York had been all too limited—her curiosity
was only whetted by the brief survey of externals
which is all that a stranger may get, without the
guidance of an initiate.
To her, America represented a great new uni-
verse, teeming with vitality. Compared with the
mediaevalism of her own country, the modernity
of the States was a wonderful poetic drama of
ideals, accomplishment, and goals worth while.


146 THE GHOST BREAKER
“What do you think of titles, Mr. Jarvis?”
asked the girl, one evening. “When you made
your recessional into the Middle Ages by taking
the feudal oath to me, you were flippant, almost
sarcastic: yet by my standards, I could not feel
that any man could defend my interests with
propriety unless he were of my own people—so,
you were adopted with more seriousness than you
supposed.”
Jarvis flicked a cigarette into the swirling
waters far beneath them, as he answered.
“Titles do not appeal to Americans, as a
general thing. To the simpler folk, they rep-
resent the yoke of the ancient Lion whose mane
was cropped in 1776. To the broader folk, they
are no more than the marks of family: although
I must confess that your worthy cousin would
create much fluttering of hearts and waving of
ivory fans around Newport and Lennox,−
where American hearts, of a sort, and American
fortunes of questionable worth are bartered for
a tin-plated coronet. But that's the revenge of
the Great God of Misfits.”


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 147
He turned toward her, resting his hand upon
the rail.
“You are no different physically, mentally,
socially from many of the Southern, Northern,
and Western girls I have met in my own coun-
try. You are dependent upon the fashions, to
bring your charms to the utmost effectiveness.”
The Princess blushed in the dark. “But, dif-
fering from many of them, you do succeed!”
he added.
“You are just as human as the fine girls I
have met back home—your titled classes cor-
respond with the fine old families of the United
States—and we have the advantage over you
that by our own endeavor we can change the
titles, by our own efforts, without waiting for the
death of our loved ones.”
His mind turned to his own mother, to whom
his successes had been a source of increasing
happiness.
“I was only a little knight back home in
Kentucky—when I was a tiny chap. As I went
into the world, and fought the battles, and won


I48 THE GHOST BREAKER
some (after losing more), to my dad and the
mother I became a prince. . . . And the great
thing about being a prince—to your family—in
a republic, as compared with being a prince in a
monarchy, is that a chap must keep on making
good in the job, or he'll fail of election, just in
the years when he wants it most!
“To tell you the truth, your Highness,
America is crowded with ‘wealthy families,’
‘socially prominent,’ ‘old Colonial families,” two
or three million Mayflower blossoms, and similar
Philistines | There are hundreds of clever peo-
ple who make good annual incomes in our coun-
try with their ingenuity in connecting the Joneses
and the Browns and the Smiths with Richard the
Lion-Heart and Bill the Conqueror, by mar-
riage. In my native State, Kentucky, there are
enough majors, colonels, and generals to officer
the armies of Europe—and as for judges! . . .
There are enough badges, fraternity pins,
cockades, and association medals to keep second-
hand jewelers busy for their lifetimes! My
countrymen are the most passionate collectors of


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 149
heraldic certificates and genealogical maps in the
world. The instinct for decoration is prevalent—
the more obscure the family, the more plentiful
the framed diplomas of aristocratic origin on
the walls!”
The Princess was unable to follow the cynicism
of the speech, but a growing admiration for
Jarvis' analytical powers led her to put confidence
in his opinions.
“And what harm does it do?” he concluded.
“They are titles of universal brotherhood, and
peace breeds more American colonels and majors
than an international Armageddon. And it is
all in the game!”
“And then, you do not have such a disgust for
titles and the marks of good family, after all?”
She was almost eager in her inquisition of
the vassal.
“Your Serene Highness has no cause for
worry: although you will doubtless never need
care for any American opinion’ (and Warren
studied her face, as the fine silhouette was il-
lumined by the nearby deck light), “for in my


I50 THE GHOST BREAKER
country a princess is recognized whether she
wear ermine robes, or a calico shirtwaist and
a ragged skirt. You see,_a republic is at least
well illuminated. We're not afraid of the
light!... However, I imagine that your title will
be changed before another year, and in that case
you will have no cause for curiosity' "
The girl's eyes burned as she questioned him.
“What do you mean, Mr. Jarvis? For a
vassal, you are decidedly presumptuous. You
need not come to court again until you are sum-
moned. Good-night.”
And then she turned, as Jarvis maintained a
discreet silence, walking rapidly toward the
promenade door of her suite. He bade her
good-night, without response.
Jarvis remembered an old verse of the great-
est balladist of the century:
“For Julia O’Grady and the Colonel's lady,
Were both the same, under the skin—
And I learned about women from 'er!”
Maria Theresa was not in a mood to see Jarvis


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 151
for two more days. Instead of trying to win
her forgiveness for a wrong—he had not com-
mitted—he stuck the closer to his stateroom,
where, with the solicitous attention of Rusty, he
lived a drone-like and peaceful existence, poring
over books. They were not fiction or philosophy
—the Kentuckian's interest was in Baedeker and
other books on Spain. With the same application
which had carried him over the thin ice of col-
lege examinations, he had grasped a valuable
understanding of the customs and peculiarities
of Spain. He gave especial attention to the rail-
road maps, for Warren was not trusting too im-
plicitly to the permanent humility of the Duke.
That worthy was passing a most disagreeable
voyage.
He was naturally of an irascible, dictatorial tem-
perament—accustomed to flattery and adulation.
On this return trip to the Continent, the ship's
list comprised Americans for the most part.
They were in little humor to cajole the swarthy,
sarcastic, and unsociable Spaniard. Their minds
were too full of the pleasures of the months to


I52 THE GHOST BREAKER
come, of plans and frolics in contemplation, to
sacrifice their time to this dour personage.
The Duke endeavored to mellow his own dis-
comfiture at Maria Theresa's coldness with nu-
merous visits to the grill. The result was a morn-
ing “grouch,” an afternoon headache, and a
twilight bitterness which kept him permanently
aloof from all companionship.
On two occasions he had observed Warren
in earnest and apparently friendly conversation
with the captain and first officer. He was not
aware that it was intended for his own benefit—
and that nothing more intimate than the weather
was under discussion. But it presaged a prompt
3.
information to the “Ghost Breaker” in case he
registered his complaint. The Duke's methods
of warfare were not of the gallant-charge-against-
intrenchments variety. He specialized in the ex-
ecutive ability which directs the activities of
other men; and so he bided his time.
The fifth evening out from New York harbor
—they were due some time the following day in
the Mersey, dependent largely upon the tide and


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 153
weather—he could stand no longer the evident
growth of friendliness between his cousin and
her “employed ” assistant.
Maria Theresa had forgiven the Kentuckian
for his jest—without the formality of an apology,
because she was a woman. She had once more
yielded to her loneliness, and walked the wind-
swept promenade deck to discuss their common
subjects.
As Jarvis bade her good-night and stepped into
the shadow of the deck, he observed the aristo-
crat knocking angrily upon the cabin door.
“Let me in, Maria,” cried the Duke, in Cas-
tilian. “I must talk to you, for your own
good.”
“I suppose that means my bad,” muttered
Jarvis. “I’ll just smoke another cigarette in the
neighborhood, to see how things go.”
The Duke was admitted—his conversation in
the parlor of the suite seemed to last for half
an hour. At last the door opened, and he re-
appeared. He was talking excitedly at the door-
way.


I54 THE GHOST BREAKER
“What I have said to you, I would say before
him, were he not skulking in his cabin, afraid
of justice. He is a pig of a poltroon!” cried his
Excellency. “I wish he were here now, and I
would tell it to his face.”
The girl replied calmly—so quietly indeed that
Jarvis could not distinguish the words.
But he stepped forward, and laid a hand upon
the nobleman's arm. Carlos jumped nervously,
as though bitten by a snake.
“Here I am, your Excellency. Let's hear
what it is you have to say?”
The other swallowed his choler, speaking with
difficulty.
“I . . . I . . . cannot speak on the deck of
the ship!” he exclaimed.
“Then come into my cabin again,” said the
Princess with pardonable asperity. “You may
tell Mr. Jarvis your opinion of him now.”
Jarvis gave the Duke an ungentle shove, with
the result that the troublesome door threshold
again intercepted to demonstrate the laws of
gravity. The Duke sprawled most unromanti-


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 155
cally upon the deck inside. He scrambled to his
feet, muttering Spanish oaths.
“Dog! If you were my equal socially I would
challenge you!” he spluttered.
“If you were my equal physically I would
punch your head,” was the apt reply of the
American. “Now, let's hear this opinion which
you were so anxious to tell to my face.”
There was a humorous twinkle in the dark
eyes of the Princess, and Warren observed, down
the passageway to the private stateroom, the
smiling face of Nita, the maid.
“Well, Mr. Warren . . . I . . . merely . . .
said that I know you to be what you Yankees
call a humbug' For some purposes of your own
—perhaps to attempt a theft of this imaginary
fortune, you are trying to get to Seguro . . .
However,” and at the quiet interest on the face
of Jarvis he was emboldened to make his state-
ments more emphatic, “I have my doubts about
your honesty in the whole matter.”
“And that means what, your Excellency?”
“I don't believe you even intend to risk the


I56 THE GHOST BREAKER
chances in Spain. You have duped my cousin,
a helpless, innocent girl—ignorant of the sharp
ways of American adventurers. You have se-
cured a free passage on this ship, and doubtless
an advance payment, to engage you. I would
wager anything that you will never see Spain, in
this case.”
Jarvis smiled ingratiatingly.
“You are a clever student of character. Such
men make good gamblers. How much are you
willing to wager on this little affair? How
much will you bet that I do not appear in
Spain?” -
The Duke of Alva bit his lip. He had lost too
much in recent gamings to afford greater risks
just now. But he was a sportsman—particularly
did he wish to impress his kinswoman.
“I will wager a thousand pounds of English
money, five thousand dollars in your American
rags, that you will not appear at Seguro in time
to help the Princess.”
“That's a great deal of money, especially for
a hard-working business man like myself,” an-


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 157
swered Warren. “What are the exact stipula-
tions of this wager? I might borrow the money
from the Princess, as an advance payment for
breaking the ghost?”
Carlos sneered exultantly.
“Yes, you might borrow it—but there is not
so much ready money around Seguro. My terms,
if you care to know them, are these: I wager the
thousand pounds that you will not be at Seguro
three nights from to-morrow—the time when we
will arrive, according to the train schedule.
However, why should I waste talk, with a man,
on a bet which is not for tradesmen but for
gentlemen P”
“Who would hold the stakes?”
The Duke smiled, and waved a gallant hand
toward his cousin.
“Who better than my kinswoman, the Princess
of Aragon P”
“Who better?” echoed Jarvis.
He was fumbling with his waistcoat, his back
to the Princess and her cousin. Suddenly with
a jerk, he brought forth a leather money belt


158 THE GHOST BREAKER
which had been tightly bound about his body,
diagonally over one and under another shoulder.
The Duke's eyes protruded. Jarvis dropped the
treasure “chest" upon the table, while even the
Princess evidenced her surprise. Opening the
little pockets, which joined each other along its
entire length, he began to pile up gold pieces.
“I believe I have the amount handy, your Ex-
cellency!” he remarked amiably. “May I trou-
ble you to invite you to produce the money for
your own side of the bet? We have a vulgar
custom among us in America, of requesting the
other man to either ‘put up or shut up.’”
It happened that this cash had been carefully
drawn from his resources before the eventful last
evening at the club. Jarvis had prepared himself
for all exigencies: he had not imagined that the
first use would be a reversal to the ancient custom
of his ancestors in the Blue Grass State, a bet
upon a race. But blood will tell, and here he was
in the time-honored custom of the family!
The Duke had not seen so much cash since his
last ill-fated pilgrimage to Monte Carlo. He was


A WAGER WITH THE DUKE 159
staggered. But the musical laugh of the Princess
brought back the haughty savoir faire for which
he was noted!
“Ah . . . well . . . I understand you,
sir,” he stammered, with improving volubility.
“Very good. As the Duke of Alva, it is not
necessary for me to produce the exact cash on the
spot. The word of a Spanish nobleman is as
good as his bond. It is a wager, and the terms
stand.” -
His black eyes studied the pile of gold coins
with sparkling interest.
“Very good, twice in the same place. The
word of a Kentuckian is as good as his bond.
I agreed to let the Princess be the stakeholder—
she may hold your word, and my money-belt.
Your Serene Highness—will you do me the
honor?”
And he turned toward the blushing girl, as he
handed over the treasure. The insult was not
lost on the Duke. But, as Jarvis reached for his
hat, he could not resist a final slap!
“Good-night, your Highness. I advise you to


I6o THE GHOST BREAKER
be very careful with the lock on the door. The
ship lands to-morrow evening, and some villain
may break into your stateroom, rob you of the
Duke's word of honor and sell it to some enter-
prising Liverpool pawnbroker. Pleasant dreams!
I hope to welcome you to Seguro, your Excel-
lency. Don't spend the five thousand until you
get there—remember, the home industries need
encouragement.”
And he walked out to the promenade deck.
The Duke looked at his cousin, flushed a swarthy
red at the cynical laugh on her pretty face. Then
he, too, hurried out—through the saloon passage.
He was anxious to get to his own stateroom to
think things over.


XI
WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN
ACK in his stateroom Warren was poring
with renewed interest over the time-tables
between Liverpool, London, Paris, and
Madrid. Seguro was on the main line from the
French capital to the principal one of Spain.
As he made various penciled memoranda upon
a page of his leather notebook, the telephone bell
tinkled.
He answered and heard the voice of the Prin-
CeSS.
“Can you see me at once,—on the promenade
deck, by my door?”
“Yes. Good-by.”
In a few moments he was talking to her in the
dark; all the lights of her suite were out. The
girl was very nervous.
“I have a paper which Nita found upon the
I61


I62 THE GHOST BREAKER
floor—it was crumpled and must have fallen from
the pocket of my cousin when he fell. I want
to give you back that belt, Mr. Jarvis: for I have
heard before of some of the wager-debts of Car-
los. It is safer with you. Let me know what
you think about this paper, and tell me to-morrow
morning. We are due in port late in the evening,
you know.”
“I will. There may be something in which
I wish your help, as well, your Highness. I have
made up my mind to reach Seguro before the
Duke—for many reasons.”
The girl caught his hand impetuously.
“You don't fear for your life before you get
there, do you?” she asked softly. “I want you
to help me in my castle. That is our bargain—
but I know you better than I did when we met
in New York. I don't want you to run too big
a risk for me until the great trial comes. Do be
careful, now.”
A thrill sent the Kentuckian's head reeling for
an instant at the unexpected touch of those warm,
electric fingers. Then he caught himself.


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 163
“Your vassal is still ambitious for promotion.
But he will not fight the windmills of Spain on
an old mule like Don Quixote. He prefers mod-
ern methods—such as dynamite, and other pleas-
ant little novelties.”
He pressed her hand with a returning warmth,
slipped the belt about him, and started down the
promenade deck again. Something prompted
him to step into the black shadow of a companion-
way as a figure crossed beneath an electric over-
head lamp far forward on the deck.
He waited.
The figure approached noiselessly.
It was the Duke' He was wearing slippers,
with felt soles apparently, for his steps caused no
sound. Jarvis watched him with a strange mis-
giving—a fear not for himself. Yet he deemed
it wiser to wait for developments.
Up and down the deck paced the nervous, noise-
less figure. At last the Duke returned and disap-
peared from view, through the door by which he
had entered the Kentuckian's view.
“I wonder what that meant?” thought Jarvis.


I64 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Perhaps he is having a fight with his conscience
—just as I have been doing.”
And he watched the speeding waves, racing
past the great vessel as it seemed—for so steady
was the swift advance of the ship that it seemed
they were on dry land, rather than the boundless
expanse of the depths.
“Here I am—after all my education, all the
work of years, to advance myself, running away
from my own country—an escaped gun-man, just
like an East Side thug.”
In the comfortable calm of the shipboard life,
with unfamiliar scenes, away from the reminders
of his tragedy at Meadow Green, it did not now
seem a fine thing that he had done.
Man is not normally a destroyer of his own
kind—and his fine instincts were asserting them-
selves. Yet, after all, despite his vow to his
father, this had been actual self-defense.
The other had fired the first shot: he had
planned to trap him with a decoy, and in the end
it was survival of the fittest.
These thoughts had been frequently in his


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 165
mind, but he had resolutely driven them from
him. Now they were nearing another port, a
great commercial cross-ways of the travel world.
Here again he was coming within the grasp of
the law.
He was not too certain that all had been
given up, in that questioning pursuit of the Prin-
cess and her party. That broken door lock might
yet admit the hand of legal vengeance.
“And that Duke? He'll try to earn that five
thousand dollars surely enough now. Well, I'd
better be worrying over my own future instead
of the dead past. They've said “let the dead past
bury itself, and don't climb the graveyard fence.’
That's good logic. But I’d better be looking to-
ward some of the fences ahead. I wonder what
is on the paper?”
He returned to his stateroom, where Rusty was
dozing in a chair, waiting for the good-night in-
structions.
Jarvis sat down and studied the fragment. He
sat bolt upright, at first with rage and then a
growing amusement.


I66 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Look here, Rusty. This Duke is trying to
put one over on me,” he declared, waking his
Servant.
“Huh? What's dat, Marse Warren?” and
Rusty rubbed his eyes drowsily.
“Do you see what this paper is?”
“Looks like a telegram letter, boss.”
“That's a wireless blank, Rusty. It has never
been sent. It is the first draft. See—the words
are crossed out here, and a sentence changed
there. The person who wrote this message tried
to save money, by cutting it down, just as we,
back home, waste a dollar's worth of time, trying
to shorten a telegraph message into ten words.
Isn’t that reasonable?”
“Yassir. But what does it mean? I don't
read no sich langwidge.”
Jarvis smiled.
“It's in Spanish. It's addressed to Scotland
Yard, in London.”
“What's dat? Is it some schoolhouse lot?”
“It’s detective headquarters, Rusty. And it is
about me.”


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 167
“About you-all!” Rusty was wide awake by
this time, in all truth. He had an instinctive sus-
picion of anything connected with brass buttons
and detectives.
“Yes. It warns Scotland Yard that a man
named Warren, on this steamship, is wanted by
the New York police, and that I should be ar-
rested before the passengers can leave.”
“Who signed dat mizzable contraption?”
“It isn't signed, Rusty. The only person who
writes Spanish and who could be so deeply in-
terested in my wickedness is that high and mighty
relative of the Princess. He wrote it in Spanish
so the wireless operator probably wouldn't notice
or understand the message.”
“Well, Marse Warren, dis is a ship—dey alluz
has ropes. Can't you climb overboard when she
is hitched to de wharfboat?”
Jarvis was thinking rapidly. He looked at his
watch.
“The detectives will come on with the pilot
boat, Rusty, which I understand meets the Mau-
retania about eight or ten miles offshore. There


I68 THE GHOST BREAKER
won't be any chance on the wharfboat. But that
gives me a good idea—however, it doesn't seem
right to make the Duke of Alva waste his hard-
earned coin on wireless messages. There's no
free list with Marconi, you know.”
Jarvis was walking up and down the stateroom
nervously by this time.
“Rusty, in my suitcase is an old suit of clothes
which I put in to use, if I had to jump the town
on account of Marcum. I thought I might go to
the mountains when I went over to the Belmont
Hotel. Now, get it out, and those old tennis
shoes, and that cap.”
“Whaffor, Marse Warren?” The big whites
of his eyes were rolling—an indication that Rusty
Snow's mind was not as much at ease as usual.
“You ain't gonta do nothin’ dangerous, is you,
Marse Warren? Remember you-all is de oney
one left in de fam’ly an' you's got to look after
yohself.”
Warren placed a kindly hand on the negro's
shoulder.
“Rusty, I remember that once when Meadow


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 169
Green got too small for you, years ago, you
started out with a minstrel show—" The Dark-
town Merrymakers,’ they called it.”
This leap over the chasm of years was too
much for Rusty.
“Yassir,” he agreed, after recovering from his
surprise. “But, I had to walk back home.”
“The thing I want to know, Rusty, is whether
you learned how to act when you were with that
troupe. Did you?”
“Did I? Marse Warren, dere wasn't no amo-
tion dat wasn't developed in me on dat trip—I
started off laughin' and came back like a weepin'
angel.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Jarvis. “That's splendid.
Now, Rusty, I want to have you do some more
play-acting—only turn it around. This time I
want you to go away weeping, and we'll come
back laughing!”
Rusty was actually offended.
“Ah, Marse Warren. You's pickin' on de ole
nigger. Dat was w'en I was a young an’ Sassy
coon. No moh actin’ fermine.”


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 171
through the open porthole, for this was an outside
stateroom. At last he had finished it.
He smiled over it more than once, finally sealed
it, and laid it carefully in the center of the little
folding writing-desk, where it was in plain view
from the door.
Then he began to disrobe, changing to the
rough old suit and the tennis shoes. He dis-
pensed with undergarments and hose.
“Now, Rusty, I want you to go down to the
steward of the second cabin and tell him you are
very hungry. Get some good sliced meat, some
biscuits, and some fruit. Wrap it up in paper—I
know it's late, but there's always someone on
watch in the pantry. A little American money
will go a long way with these British stewards.
Hurry back.”
As soon as Rusty was out of the room, Jarvis
wrapped the money-belt firmly about his body,
under the flannel shirt. He placed some gold
coins in a handkerchief, which he tied into a knot.
Then he slipped out to the promenade deck, walk-
ing along its deserted length to the room of the


172 THE GHOST BREAKER
Princess. He tapped on the window of the par-
lor of the suite until the door opened slightly.
Nita's frightened voice came to him. He an-
swered reassuringly.
“It is Warren. I want to speak to the Prin-
cess.”
The maid hurried back, and brought her mis-
tress. Warren spoke to her in a whisper.
“I understand the treachery,” he said. “Have
no fear. I will meet you at Seguro when you
arrive. Be surprised at nothing—and take care
of Rusty, if he needs it. I intend winning that
five thousand dollars even if the Duke's note
goes to protest! Good-by!”
She felt his warm, strong hand clasping hers.
A great dread came over her—an unusual sensa-
tion it was. Yet she said nothing, for some
strange reason inexplicable to herself.
She passed a sleepless night.
Next morning the news spread over the ship
like wildfire that a first cabin passenger was miss-
ing!
All his belongings were in order; his clothes


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 173
hung up carefully in the wardrobe, just as he had
undressed, assisted by his faithful valet.
And that poor unfortunate—how he sobbed
and beat his portly bosom over the grief which
was racking the loyal African heart. The Duke
of Alva went to the captain to inquire about the
terrible affair.
“Yes, sir. He is gone. A pleasant, courteous
fellow, too. Always minded his own business,
never complained. It's too bad. Too bad. And
that letter he left—it nearly broke my heart—
and I’m a gruff old sea-dog, and have seen many
a tragedy in my years as a master!”
The captain wiped his eye with the back of his
hand.
The Duke fingered his cane nervously.
“But the note, sir. What did that say? As
the cousin of her exalted Highness, Princess
Maria Theresa of Aragon, I insist on knowing
about this strange person. He was in my cousin's
employ. She is entitled to know what sort of a
person he was.”
The captain glared angrily at the Duke.


I74 THE GHOST BREAKER
“I am the commander of this vessel, sir. On
the high sea, I am in supreme control, and know
how to run the Mauretania without advice from a
bloody Spanish popinjay! I will turn that letter
over to the authorities when we land.” The cap-
tain spluttered indignantly.
“They will meet the boat as the pilot comes
on board. I sent them a wireless!” cried the
Duke.
“How dare you go over my head, in any matter
of discipline on this vessel?” cried the raging
commander. “What do you mean by such a
thing? I am the one to warn.”
The Duke was embarrassed, for he felt the
helplessness of his position before this legalized
tyrant of the deep.
“I’ve a mind to think all was not well with
this unfortunate young man, from the tone of his
letter before he jumped overboard. Not a thing
was missing from his wardrobe, but the pajamas
he wore—when he ran out on the deck. At
least, we find no clothes missing! I'll have some-
thing to say to Scotland Yard myself!”


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 175
“But the man threatened to shoot me if I
spoke to you or any of the officers about him.
Now that he is dead I don't fear him.”
“Huh !” snorted the captain. “You look
about the type of man who wouldn't fear the
dead. But what about ghosts, young man!
What about ghosts? Did you stop to think of
ghosts after people are dead?”
This perfectly innocent question of the sea-
faring, superstitious mind had a curious effect
upon the nobleman.
“Carrambal" he muttered between his teeth,
and turned away with a white face. “I wonder
what could have been in that letter?”
And the captain glowered at him as he walked
nervously down the companionway to his lonely
stateroom, to brood in a state of miserable appre-
hension.
Toward dinner-time the pilot boat was sighted.
Several men clambered on board, as well as that
official. They sought the captain, and then visited
the Princess. Carlos took good care to be in her
suite when they came.


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 177
glance was of the sparkling kind which would
kill
“Tell me, my dear Maria Theresa,” began
Carlos, after some stammering, “ did you inform
the detectives about the money-belt which he gave
to you?”
“Naturally not. That was his affair, and the
property passed out of his possession when I be-
came stakeholder, according to the laws of
wagers, did it not?”
“Ah, yes. You are a brilliant girl. And a
logical one, too. Well, give it to me, then, as the
affair is settled. I have several debts which I
would like to pay as we pass through London.”
The Princess' eyes blazed but her voice was
smooth.
“So, my cousin, you claim your wager thus
promptly. Are you aware that it would look
bad for you if the detectives knew you had bet
this enormous sum—and now were the gainer
because of his disappearance? Tell me, Carlos,
do you know any more than the rest of us about
the Ghost Breaker?”


WHEN THE SHIP COMES IN 179
scoured all the cabins, from steerage up; they
even quizzed the engineers, the stokers, the cooks,
the multitude of men and passengers. No clew
could alter the sad deduction which they had
drawn.
“Well, Captain,” said the detective in charge
of the case, “it’s a sad affair. But he's better off.
We'll take this letter to headquarters, sir, with
your written report of the circumstances. What
will be done about the negro servant?”
The captain shook his head.
“Poor fellow, he is heartbroken. The Prin-
cess has very kindly offered to take him into her
service. The letter asked that all the baggage,
clothes, and personal property in the stateroom be
given as a farewell gift to the faithful fellow.
If you have no objection I will let him take the
luggage along, when he leaves the ship with the
party of her Highness.”
And that is how it was, that evening, that out
through the dismal drizzle of an interminably long
day Rusty Snow marched down the dock, carry-
ing Warren Jarvis' luggage and two satchels of


18O THE GHOST BREAKER
the Princess of Aragon—another loyal retainer
in her service.
It was a curious ending to an unusual voyage.
And Carlos, Duke of Alva, breathed a sigh of
relief as he passed the last dock policeman, to as-
sist his cousin into a waiting taxicab. They were
to take the night train for London.


XII
WELCOME TO SEGURO !
HE Princess and her party were delayed in
T Liverpool by the queries of the authorities
just long enough to make them miss con-
nections with the boat train at London. The trip
had been carefully planned; this one provoking
delay cost them another close connection at the
station in Paris.
“Confound it,” declared the Duke of Alva;
“after all this long trip it seems to take us longer
still to get back to Seguro. Maledictions on that
miserable American pig. He brought bad luck
from start to finish.”
His cousin's face had not its usual color, but
now a rosy tint flushed up for a moment as she
answered sharply.
“I will not permit you to speak so of the man
who at least volunteered to risk his life for me and
181


182 THE GHOST BREAKER
for my brother. He proved himself more the
gentleman, Carlos, than you—with all the boasted
advantage which we believe accompanies a title.”
The Duke was silent, morose and uncertain
himself, for the remainder of the tiresome ride.
Rusty was humble as ever, but there was an
expectant look in his rotund face. He inquired
many times as to the exact time for the arrival
of the train at San Fernandez, the nearest rail-
road station to Seguro.
From here the party would travel by motor to
the old estate of the Princess and her family. It
was a twenty-five-mile ride. The country
through which the train was passing grew
rougher with every mile.
After irritating delays and interminable waits
at stations—for train service in Spain is the worst
in Europe—San Fernandez was reached. Here
they were compelled to wait in the semi-modern
hotel until an automobile could be obtained. The
long ride was begun, over rough roads, no roads
at all, and through mud-holes which seemed relics
of the Flood. -


WELCOME TO SEGURO ! 185
job I ever did. On shore I bought new clothes,
and took the first train. Q. E. D.”
“How did you get here ahead of us?” asked
the Princess, still misbelieving her senses. “I
knew you would make it—but how so fast?”
“I had a good day's start of you—even with-
out this automobile. But let's get on up to that
castle of yours, for I want to finish up my job
and get back to America.”
The Duke had been watching the expression of
the American, trying in vain to fathom the mys-
tery.”
“This has been a wretched hoax—you have all
been in league to trick me!” he began.
But Jarvis interrupted menacingly.
“Now, listen. No whining. I stood for a
good deal—I knew about that wireless, and I
guess tricks can be played both ways. May
I ride with your chauffeur, your Highness?”
She nodded, and, the obstruction in the road re-
moved, they journeyed on, slowly but more or
less surely, toward the distant castle.
“We will stop at old Pedro's inn to-night, for


WELCOME TO SEGURO ! 187
floor from an adjoining room, to answer a knock
at the door. -
From the room she had left came the sound of
singing and mandolines.
“Hello, Vardos—any more news?” she asked
of the peasant who entered the portal bearing a
basket of food.
“Still no word or sign of the Prince,” he said
apologetically, avoiding her scornful look.
“Here's yesterday's basket untouched as usual.”
“And you left to-day's basket at the castle
gate?” she asked sharply.
“Yes, this is the fifteenth night,” he replied,
looking back at the door.
“You haven't given up hope yet?”
The man shook his head sadly.
“I gave up hope when he went in. I waited
to-night until dark before I came away from the
moat.”
“Once to-night I thought I saw a light in the
tower, Vardos.”
“If you did, Señorita Dolores, it was an un-
blessed flame.” He sank into a chair weakly.


I88 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Once when I called to-night a wail came back to
me. It sounded like a sigh of the damned. It
may have been only the wind through the grated
window. But it chilled my heart.”
“You are a silly coward,” retorted Dolores.
“But what then, Vardos?”
“When I called the second time something
moved in the turret of the keep, and my soul was
joyful. Then, with a harsh cry, a black ugly
bird flew from the turret, straight toward where
the sun had set. . . . On my left, mind you,
the sinister side,-the left—the left!”
The castanets and music in the other room
grew louder. -
“Oh, if the good Princess were only here!”
moaned the girl. “She could help. She could
do something.”
“She's on her way,” he told her hopelessly,
“but what can she do—what can anyone do, with
the imps of darkness all about her?”
“She would go straight into that castle after
her brother. Ah, she is a great lady, with a
great heart. Then will the villagers have it said


190 THE GHOST BREAKER
his tavern their rendezvous. He was dark-
skinned as the rest of the crew, red-faced as old
Pedro (from the same faithful indulgence in
vintages), not younger than forty, yet aggressive,
vibrating with physical power, elasticity, and an
overweening insolence. His manner of approach
—and he entered this tavern with the same studied
grace with which he swaggered into half a hun-
dred others—seemed to indicate that he delighted
in disorganizing and terrorizing whatever he
might find established and orderly—wherever he
might find it!
Beholding the somnolent proprietor, he ad-
vanced quietly to the middle of the big room.
Then, with malicious enjoyment of the effect, he
banged his riding-crop violently upon the table,
close to the tavern keeper's ear.
“Hey, you Pedro!” he roared. “Wake up,
you blockhead—wake up, I say!”
There was only a response of snores.
“You, Pedro, attention! What's the matter
here? Where are you? Wake up and stop your
dreaming!”


I92 THE GHOST BREAKER
to him. I've had a hard ride over these miserable
province roads. As for me—I want a flask of
... well . . . of something decent. I know
that's not in your line. Step lively now; and
mind you, draw it from your private cask. My
temper is no better than it should be, to-night.”
The old man bowed and started to leave the big
TOO111.
The blustering guest howled at him once more,
punctuating his remarks with the butt of the
whip.
“Where's your daughter?”
The old man trembled and bowed once more.
“I’ll call her,” Pedro said apologetically.
“She’ll be right here, sir.”
He went to the door at the right, and shouted
quaveringly: “Dolores! Dolores! Dolores! . . .
There, señor, she will come at once.”
“And, Pedro—if that rat-infested larder of
yours is empty, get it filled before the Duke ar-
rives,” added Robledo. “Yes . . . the Duke.
He is coming to-night. Don't stand and stare,
but hurry up and see to my horse.”


WELCOME TO SEGURO ! I93
“Yes, señor! . . . Yes, yes!”
And he tottered away on his errands.
Dolores had entered in response to the call. At
first she did not observe the newcomer, whose
back was toward her.
“Yes, father,” she began. “Why do you wish
me?”
“Dolores,” Robledo turned toward her impa-
tiently. “Did you not know I had come?”
“Oh, it's you?” and there was a scornful sniff
from the girl.
“Well, well, can't you say you're glad to see
me?”
The jade was hard to impress, where others
showed abjection before the terrorist.
“I can, but I won't. Where's my father?”
“Never mind your father—I want to talk to
you.”
“Is it so, Señor Robledo? Well, you won't in
that tone.”
He intercepted her in the center of the room,
catching her wrist and turning her about to face
him.


WELCOME TO SEGURO ! I95
you to go into the castle and rescue your Prince.
I ask you now to answer the signal that I just saw
in the tower window, where he can see our lights.
Perhaps he has burned something, a scrap of
paper, in the hope that some of you, his retainers,
would notice it and come to his assistance. But
—he doesn't know what a pack of cowards you all
are, or he would have saved his matches. So,
it's Don Robledo—coward!”
The big man snarled.
“Coward—never a coward in a fair fight in the
open, and I'll meet the best man that walks the
earth.” Here he faced the inquisitive and thor-
oughly awed villagers. “Any two or three!”
He banged the table with his riding-crop to
punctuate the emphasis.
“I don't ask you to kill one or two or three
of these poor whimpering sheep of Seguro. I
ask you to dare something, at risk to yourself.
To go to the aid of your Prince. . . . There
isn't a man among you—who dares! Dios!
How I could love such a man!”
They had not heard the thrum of the motors


196 THE GHOST BREAKER
on the roadway outside. The door opened, and
the first of the party to enter was the Duke. He
walked quietly into the room, overhearing the
words of Dolores.
“A pretty little speech!” he observed sarcas-
tically.
“Your Excellency!” cried Robledo, taking off
his hat. “Welcome back to Seguro.”
“Yes, I am well come to Seguro.”
The natives doffed their hats, and like Pedro
bowed and howled in the time-honored peasant
way.
“The Duke | The Duke 1 ''
“ Pedro, go out and help the Princess and her
servants with the luggage. I want to speak to
you alone, Robledo. Hurry, while the others are
delayed with that execrable car. I walked a hun-
dred yards to get here first.”
He turned toward Dolores with a scowl.
“Those are charming sentiments for your
fellow-townsmen, whose healthy common sense
prevents them from rushing to a fool's death.
Still, all fools are not dead yet. One of them will


“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!” I99
“Well then, Robledo, I am satisfied as far as
that goes. But you have work before you of a
new character.”
The swordsman struck a chair with his riding-
crop. It seemed a favorite stage effect with him;
the Duke was not slow in catching its significance.
“Just forget these little affectations, my good
man,” he said haughtily. “None of this bluster-
ing around me. I know that you do your work
well, and at other times there is much to be de-
sired. Now, in this case, you have a dangerous
man to combat. And the combat must be final,
no matter how difficult.”
“How is he dangerous?” and there was a new
note in Robledo's blustering voice.
“ Unless he is stopped he may cause trouble
for the traditions of Seguro. He is crafty as a
contrabandisto, cunning as the snakes of the Pyre-
nees! He has been brought here by my cousin
the Princess to make some special investigations.”
He laughed, with that cruel, mirthless inflection so
characteristic. “She should have left that to me
—and she will be sorry ere it is all over. This


2OO THE GHOST BREAKER
man has thwarted me twice already. Coming
over on the steamer from America the scoundrel
disappeared from the ship most remarkably, just
when I had all arranged to put him into duress
in Liverpool. I have yet to learn the secret of
it. He must be discouraged . . . you under-
stand, Robledo?”
“Excellency, I can assure you that the Yankee
pig will be convinced, in a language which he will
understand, that his presence in the castle to-night
is quite unnecessary. Have you any particular
instructions?”
The Duke shook his head and grimaced sug-
gestively.
“Any way you please, Robledo. You under-
stand my general ideas on such subjects. Means
are of no consequence to a born statesman. Re-
sults are the only permanent things in this world.
However—I warn you. Don't underestimate
your man. He will shoot; I imagine that he can
shoot quickly and without a tremor.”
“Ha, ha! Good opposition. I welcome such
an antagonist—these fat-brained peasants about


“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!” 2OI
here are too simple to stimulate me to good work.
I have been growing dull and commonplace—I
am almost out of training, as they call it in the
bull-ring.” -
“Come then, and I will give Pedro some money
to buy drinks for the stupid dolts, they can
drink my health: it is none of the best these days,
Robledo. My American trip was wearing. It
is a wretched, unromantic hole—not a country,
just a great mob of people.”
“I can well believe your Excellency. This
way, sir.”
They returned to the big room of the tavern,
and Dolores retired from the temporary confes-
sional box. Her face showed mixed emotions—
but predominating over any other influence was
the great desire to serve the rulers of her family.
Curiously loyal are these humble peasants of
the inland Latin districts. Their lives follow the
monotonous example of the generations before
them: as their grandsires, their fathers were
tradesmen of a certain calling, so do they follow
the strata, contented to exist with the conven-


2O2 THE GHOST BREAKER
tional beginning, moderately happy middle era,
and inevitably stupid ending of their lives.
It is this which is so pleasing to the European
aristocrats: no matter how bankrupt, incompetent,
disreputable, the class theory which is recognized
by the masses is, “Once a gentleman, always a
gentleman.”
It is inconceivable upon the Continent for a
peasant's or even a tradesman's son or daughter
to aspire to a higher level than that of the family.
Exceptions to the rule are looked upon with dis-
trust by superiors as well as the lowly equals:
too much ambition is a temptation to the gods
which is hardly respectable.
There is a smug contentment, then, in the feu-
dal countries which is the surest bulwark of the
“divine right of kings”—and courtiers! A
pleasantly distended belly, a mellow thrill from
cheap wine, a certainty about the repetition of
regular meals and drinks, with enough clothes
and shelter to maintain relative positions with
the neighbors—this year, next year, and twenty
years from now . . . these things are the mess


2O4 THE GHOST BREAKER
—but with the prospect of the beautiful Princess
going into the place as well: life had become a
horrible thing to him.
He sought the wayside shrine down the crooked
village street. He threw himself upon his knees
before it, vowing candles to every saint who had
granted petty favors to him in the past!
He faced the great cathedral, rearing its pale
crest in the dim light from the stars, vast and
exalted above the miserable squalor of those
whose ancestors had created its grandeur with
their inspired devotion. He told the Holy Fam-
ily and the saints, with tear-choked voice, the
quandary of his noble master, and begged that,
though they should never grant him another re-
quest, somehow, somewhere, they find and bring
a gallant adventurer who could turn defeat into
victory, one more willing and competent than
himself, to die!
And the answer to this prayer was unburden-
in his own soul with semi-religious phrases, in a
Kentucky accent, addressed with unwonted and
even picturesque fluency at the stumbling, stodgy


2O6 THE GHOST BREAKER
“The man is no idiot, unfortunately. He has
completely won the confidence of the Princess,
despite his obvious trickeries. Now, however, I
would like to attend to a few little tasks of clean-
ing up after that miserable trip.”
Pedro was aproaching them subserviently, a
humble, bobbing head betokening his anxiety to
please the fine folk.
“Anything else, your Excellency?” he stam-
mered, overcome with the pomp and majesty of
the situation.
“Here, my good man, take this coin and have
the brave lads in the taproom drink to my health
and that of her Exalted Highness, the Princess
Maria Theresa.”
With studied carelessness, he dropped the coin
upon the floor, and Pedro chased the rolling
golden disk with surprising agility.
“Then bring me up some hot water, soap, and
towels. You may prepare a hasty supper, as well
—but let it be fit for a gentleman to eat!”
“Yes, yes! Your Excellency!” and Pedro
nearly brought back his rheumatic spell by the


“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!” 207
renewed bobbing of the stiff old back, as he
retreated to the barroom.
He returned promptly after breaking the glad-
some tidings of the treat, and led the nobleman
up the stairway, as a chorus of cheers rang out
from the alcoholic ward.
“The Duke! The Duke! His Excellency the
Duke of Alva!”
Robledo walked to the door, with his charac-
teristic swashbuckler rhythm, and stirred them
up to more enthusiasm.
“Louder, you beggars, or I'll give you some-
thing to yell about—louder, I say!”
Dolores had slipped through the doorway, fac-
ing the road.
Suddenly she danced in through the entry
again, happy and exultant.
“Her Highness has come, father. Her High-
mess!”
Old Pedro stumbled toward the balcony and
peered over at her querulously.
“Father, father!”
“What is it, Dolores?”


“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!” 209
villager at the door. “Tell my chauffeur that
when he repairs the car I shall want it kept in
readiness to use again.”
Nita advanced anxiously.
“Your Highness is not thinking of going to
the castle to-night, surely?” Her voice was po-
litely remonstrative, with a note of apprehensive-
ness for the welfare of her mistress.
“But I must have news,” declared the young
woman impatiently. “I am frantic with worry,
and the things which José has told me. Come
to a room, Nita.”
“Ah, your Highness, you are too brave, too
determined. You are all worn out with this long
trip. Better to wait until daylight, if I may be so
bold as to suggest to your ladyship. You are all
unstrung just now.”
Maria Theresa did indeed show the strain of
the nerve-racking trip, but she valiantly shook her
head.
“Show me up, Dolores. When Mr. Warren,
my representative, arrives inform him that I will
be down very soon. Come, Nita, for I know


“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!” 2 II
“Yes, yes, señor. Come in, señor, we are ex-
pecting you,” replied the girl.
The villagers were still grouped about the door
to the taproom. Dolores stepped back, as War-
ren Jarvis and Rusty Snow entered the big front
hallway, and blinked in the unaccustomed glare
of light. -
They were both burdened with suitcases, and
two of the Princess' hatboxes. These they
dropped unceremoniously on the floor, with sighs
of relief.
“We’re here, Rusty, with both feet!”
“Yassir,” and the negro groaned with exhaus-
tion, “and I’d jest as lieve be back in Meadow
Green. Dis don't look very scrumptious for a
Mrs. Princessess' plantation house.”
“This is no castle, Rusty. This is only the
halfway house.”
Dolores could not understand their low con-
versation in English—and Afro-Americanese!
But she had studied the clear features, the non-
chalant bearing of the tall American. She turned
toward the sheep-like, staring villagers, and with


upu v-uºuºſtu20 ,,
، ،


-
THE N F wº Y CR K
| PUB; IC [ ſ BRA RY
As ſo * * = N + 1 -* * *
I LD & w '*''> 0 
ton's
* k
T--------


“GENTLEMEN, A MAN!” 2I3
he cried, surveying Jarvis, with hands on hips
and stocky legs well spread.
Jarvis puffed cigarette smoke at him and an-
swered with ingenuous modesty.
“I’m an American. And here” (he waved his
hand to Rusty, who saluted with divination of the
tenor of the interchange) “I present to your
notice another American. In fact, we're both
Americans !”
“And you both want to die?” cried Don
Robledo, drawing a stiff forefinger suggestively
across his brawny throat. Rusty was reading the
pantomime with perfect understanding. He made
a wry face and rolled his eyes at Jarvis, who
responded with a droll wink.
“Well, now that you mention it, I’m in no
hurry about it. I'm not at all anxious on the
subject.”
He sat down in one of the carven chairs and
continued to puff his cigarette with provoking
amiability.
Robeldo leaned forward toward him and
snarled:


2I4 THE GHOST BREAKER
“You had better keep out of the castle then.
It has a fatal climate.”
Warren laughed, and flicked the ashes of the
cigarette upon the sleeve of his interviewer.
“Oh, you mean the castle ghost—this old
rummy who can't sleep in his grave of nights?
Ha, ha! I'm not afraid of a little trifle like that,
señor.”
Robledo stepped back threateningly, and yet
with hesitation caused by the perplexing sim-
plicity of this foreigner.
“No? . . . Well, señorita, we gentlemen of
Seguro will gladly drink to your American hero!
Here, lads, is a toast to the maddest fool that
ever came to Spain!”
He turned contemptuously on his heel, with
military precision. Then he chuckled Dolores,
under the chin with a leer, to have his hand in-
dignantly pushed aside. As the girl glared at
him with a flash of hatred in her eyes, he stalked
into the taproom, followed by the ready topers.
“Pile these bags on the table, Rusty,” ordered
Warren, as he smiled winningly at the girl.


“So, you are the brave American,
are you?”


|
THE N F w York
PUBLIC LIBRARY
As Tos, L = No 1 A tº id
TIL C. E. N. rºº Nº Arto N s
R
1.
"-- -


216 THE GHOST BREAKER
they chattered in their alien tongue. She had
never seen a man unafraid of Don Robledo but
his distinguished Excellency, the Duke, before.
It gave her a new thrill.
“He’s a mighty nice man, he is. Mighty nice,
Marse Warren. He's almos’ too nice, ain't he?”
Warren shook his head, with a serious look
on the usually laughing face.
“No, Rusty, not too nice—yet! He'll be a
lot nicer before he's ten years older. I think his
education has been neglected. You and I must
begin to keep school around this township.
There's nothing so nice as education, especially
when the school-teacher has a nice long rattan
concealed up his sleevel”


XIV
MORE OBSTACLES
OLORES approached the Kentuckian po-
D litely, yet eagerly.
“Pardon, señor, but I have a message
for you from her Highness.”
“What is it?”
“She instructed me to tell you that she would
see you very soon.”
“Thanks, señorita. And may I ask—who was
the cheerful, frolicsome individual who flattered
me with that polite toast? Is he one of the royal
family, taking a little vacation in this neighbor-
hood P’’
The girl reddened, then laughed.
“No, señor. He is well known in this part
of our country. His name is Don Robledo.”
Warren lit another cigarette, and studied her
attractive face with the gallant interest of a
217


218 THE GHOST BREAKER
Southerner, who is always prone to admire
beauty. She was embarrassed, yet pleased, under
the unmistakable scrutiny.
“Don Robledo. He seems to be well ac-
quainted with you, señorita. Is he one of the
family?”
“No, but he wishes to be!” she snapped out.
“And he shall never be until he changes his
manners and . . .”
“And his face? I don't really care for his
face. If I were a girl I would never leave home
and mother for that face. But of course, that’s
none of my business.”
He stopped for an instant to absorb the rowdy
racket from the taproom.
“Either he's a wonderful spender or he has
unlimited credit with the bar cashier. Maybe
he eats his checks . . . it has been done. But I
don't like that name. It sounds dangerous—and
yet it doesn't seem to mean much, after all, to
me.”
The girl looked at him earnestly.
“It may mean much before you reach the cas-


22O THE GHOST BREAKER
not happen, for the sins of bygone people? Not
that I would think anything but love and respect
for the Prince and his wonderful sister, her
Highness! But, señor, I feel the same as do the
other dwellers of Seguro.”
“And how is that?”
“I feel that strange things have gone on in
that castle. Even a great gentleman like the
Duke says so. Surely if educated noblemen put
faith in such things, we simple folk are not far
wrong to 'believe what we are taught. But
still . . .”
“Yes, there you are, my good girl. You have a
“but still '—and that means a doubt. The doubts
of the world have been the foundation stones of
modern freedom—it was the doubts of the old
farmers and traders back in America which threw
off the yoke of the old kingdom, and made a
great free country. If you have a doubt you may
be saved. As for the Duke—the only god he
pays allegiance to is himself—and he's not been
so sure of that divinity during these last icono-
clastic ten days.”


MORE OBSTACLES 22I
“I don't understand, Señor Warren?” she re-
plied, in bewilderment.
“Of course you don't, or you wouldn't be kow-
towing to this royalty stuff, and you would hand
a bottle to that Don Roughhouse or whatever his
name is, right on his classic brow, with a classic
smash. You ought to see how an American girl
would treat one of these big bullies! Well, what
about my danger? It never worries me when I
know where and when and how to expect it.
Whatever you tell will be absolutely our secret.”
Dolores looked at Rusty, who was struggling
with a cigarette—he was more accustomed to
Pittsburgh stogies, but his motto in life was based
on the famous advice concerning Roman imita-
tion' -
“How about the Señor Moor, señor? May
you trust him?” she asked nervously.
“Rusty is no Moor—he's an Afro-Methodist,
my girl. He can't understand Spanish anyway,
even though he's the best little guesser this side
of the Ohio River. But I'd trust Rusty with my
life. Go ahead with the danger signals.” -


“Ah, señor, in all my experience I have never seen
such an adventurous palm . . .”





MORE OBSTACLES 225
little square. Thanks for your occult wisdom,”
were Warren's smiling words, as he looked at
the Duke.
“Well, Mr. Warren. Looking into the fu-
ture?”
“Yes, Duke, and the immediate future prom-
ises to be very interesting. That little fortune-
teller has occult powers, indeed. A dark man is
to cross my path soon.”
Carlos had crossed the room to a position from
where he could look into the taproom. He
seemed to be satisfied with what he saw there.
He turned toward the American.
“Do you believe in such foolery, Mr. Warren?
I had thought you too intelligent to believe in
superstitious things like fortune-reading.”
“I like to believe some of these things on this
occasion, for I hope it means someone I very
much want to meet.”
The Duke now approached him very earnestly.
“Mr. Warren, I feel a certain responsibility
for her Highness, and all that pertains to my
cousin. The prospect of your death to-night is


MORE OBSTACLES 227
“Your Excellency, I am overwhelmed at the
generosity, but the price was paid, the receipt
given, and the bookkeeper has closed up the office.
I'm on the job, and I'm certainly going to stay.”
The Duke snarled, as he inquired: “I sup-
pose that means that you are foolish enough to
keep faith with her Highness?”
“Yes.”
“I never saw a man quite so anxious to be
killed, Mr. Jarvis; but such is sometimes the case
where, as it has been said: “Fools rush in where
angels fear to tread.’”
Jarvis laughed provokingly.
“I’d rather be an energetic fool than an angel
with cold feet.”
“I don't understand you, sir.”
“Well, I understand you, your Excellency.”
The Duke turned toward the fireplace.
“I am sorry for you,” he remarked.
Jarvis walked over close to the nobleman and
looked him straight in the eyes, as he spoke with
unusual meaning vibrant in his voice.
“Your Excellency, your sympathy, your offer,


230 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Oh, lawsee, Marse Warren, I'se powerful
hungry! It ain't human to be so hungry!”
“What—again?”
“No, sir; it's de same old hunger. No matter
how fast de train go I jes' cain't leave it behin'.
Oh my, if I only had some po’k chops an' a little
real gin!” -
Jarvis started on toward the steps.
“Well, you come on now, Rusty—you don't
eat a thing until we finish this job.”
Rusty shook his head despairingly.
“Good Lawd, does I have to wait ontel you is
dead—before I kin eat my vittles?” .
He followed his master across the room, just
as the Princess came to the balcony and started
down the stairs.
“Well, Mr. Warren,” added the Duke, “all
Seguro will be buzzing with your ghost-hunt to-
night. The whole town will sit up to hear the
outcome.”
The Kentuckian turned to look at the speaker.
“And where are you going to hear the returns
of the battle, your Excellency?”


232 THE GHOST BREAKER
percha bows. “This way, sirs, to your rooms,”
and he led them up the stairs.
Jarvis turned on the step and faced her.
“Your Highness, I would like to have a couple
of good horses, and two lanterns. I don't want to
let any grass grow under my feet on the trip to
the castle to-night.”
She gave the order to Pedro, and he promised
to bring the required objects with sturdy steeds.
“ Ah, Mr. Warren, looking for an honest man,
like old Socrates?” inquired the Duke of Alva.
“Not in this neck of the woods, your Excel-
lency!” and Jarvis disappeared in the balcony
entrance to the old line of bedrooms.
Maria Theresa turned anxiously to her cousin.
“Carlos, what news of my brother? Have you
heard anything yet?”
“Not a thing, Maria. I am very sorry.”
“And yet I heard you say that you were leav-
ing for Madrid?” she questioned. -
“Yes. The message is from his Gracious
Majesty the King. You know how important a
summons that is.”


“Ah, Mr. Warren, looking for an honest man
old Socrates?”


MORE OBSTACLES 233
“But why must you go so soon? Why not
wait overnight at Pedro's tavern, here?”
“Ah, my dear cousin, you know how long the
ride before I connect with the railroad to
Madrid.”
The girl wrung her hands, nervous at last, and
her appealing eyes would have softened a gentler
heart than that of the steely Carlos.
“But, Carlos, my brother—your princely
cousin—may be dying, he may be dead. Here am
I alone with no kinsman at my side if you leave.”
The Duke protested, dramatically.
“Maria, I must obey my King!”
“To leave me, after all your protestations!
You have not the time nor courage to stay and
help me in this hour.”
Carlos laughed bitterly, pointing toward the
distant room of Warren's.
“What need of me, my dear? You have this
marvel of Sir Galahads, the Ghost Breaker!”
She dropped her head and answered slowly,
“So, that is your excuse?”
He caught eagerly at what he deemed his op-


MORE OBSTACLES 235
“Very well; then, Carlos—you force me to
make a choice. I choose a real man.”
Carlos caught her by the arm.
“You are too interested in this worthless pre-
tender, Maria! I love you myself, and with
the keenness of love I have watched you follow
him with your eyes, have seen the growing
warmth in your voice—all through those days on
the ocean, aboard the Mauretania. I warn you
—royal princesses must aim higher than the com-
mon herd.”
“Go, Carlos Hernando! It is I who am the
superior—I the one to abjure!”
Jarvis was sauntering down the steps, and he
was greeted by a confused look in the girl's eyes.
Carlos took his hat and coat from the table.
Maliciously he hoped that the American had been
eavesdropping, for thus he might be encouraged
to presumption—and the Duke was certain that
of all women in the world the least susceptible to
presumption was his haughty kinswoman.
“Well, Maria, you are sending him to his
death—and as for you, Mr. Ghost Breaker, I


236 THE GHOST BREAKER
wish you success, when you beard the specter in
his den | *
With mock dignity at first, Jarvis's voice grew
more menacing as he completed the words of re-
tort:
“Thanks, your Gracious Excellency! . . . I'll
do my best to tie a can to the specter's tail—and
the can will be loaded with fireworks!”
As he left, Warren turned with a cheery grin,
to face Maria.
“We must start at once, Mr. Warren,” she
urged, “for any moment may be my brother's
last.”
“Courage! If your brother is there, I’ll find
him. You must be patient and remain here,
where you are safe, try to rest up from that
blood-curdling trip from Paris.”
“But, Mr. Warren, I cannot rest or even sit
still until I know what has become of him. I
shall go mad if I am left alone!”
The womanly tears began to stream down her
face. They melted a hitherto calm portion of
Warren Jarvis' heart.


MORE OBSTACLES 237
“Now, my dear child,” and he paused timidly,
as though to learn whether or not the familiarity
had offended her. Instead, she looked up through
the long wet lashes with anything but an angry
glance. “My dear child, I must insist on one
condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Let me go ahead and look over the ground.
I will signal when it is safe to follow. I have
reasons of my own for wanting to get there with-
out losing a minute; otherwise, I would wait
until to-morrow, to look it over by daylight and
lay my own trap. But I will surely let you know
if I have found him.”
“How can you signal, Mr. Warren Jarvis?
We have no telephones in Seguro.” Jarvis
walked over toward the old paneled window.
“With a light. See over here—there is the
castle; you can of course see it through the win-
dow. I was asking all sorts of questions of old
Pedro when he was in my room. He knows
every foot of that land, even if he has been afraid
to go near it for fifteen years or so.”


238 THE GHOST BREAKER
“Well, what will you do?”
“Just as Paul Revere's friend did in the early
days in my country: I’ll put a light somewhere in
one of those towers, and you can see it from this
room or through one of the windows upstairs
here. It will shine in an hour at the most. You
won't have long to wait!”
“But if it does not shine?” and she paled at
the thought.
“I’ll be too busy swapping lead for brimstone
with Mr. Spook to stop and hang a lantern l’’


XV
MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCES
HE Princess of Aragon gazed into the
republican eyes of the Kentuckian with a
glowing fire which was contrary to all
rules and conventions of the divine right of
kings. No common man should have been given
such a glimpse of empire; but, in justice to the
magic of such glances which come once from the
eyes of every good woman, for some good man, in
each lifetime, it must be acknowledged that their
potent wizardry turns the commonplace, even the
tawdry surroundings of a thousand million every-
day lives, into dazzling kingdoms of love.
Warren Jarvis felt the thrill, and he lost his
humorous poise: the heart-breaking seriousness
of it all now came to his realization. How he
wanted to draw her to him, forgetting all the
differences in nativity, the social and political
239


24O THE GHOST BREAKER
conditions which separated them so insufferably
Back in New York she had been to him as any
other sweet, well-bred girl; but here, in the Land
of the Middle Ages, there were centuries be-
tween them. -
He wished to touch her hand, and yet so deep
was his reverence—not for her family position,
but for her own proud poise of soul—that he
stifled his desire and dropped his eyes, ashamed
of his own weakness!
The girl divined his thoughts better than he
realized. -
She had stepped upon the low platform at the
base of the stairs, and thus her face was on a
level with his.
“Oh, Mr. Jarvis—you are brave, so brave!
I never can tell you how you have sustained me,
in my fears and grief. I can never let you realize
how gallant I believe you to be for what you are
doing to-night for my sake.”
Jarvis shook his head in deprecation.
“Are we not merely honest traders, your
Highness? We made a compact, risking your life


244 THE GHOST BREAKER
“The hosses, boss? whar is dey?”
“Outside! Go get the girths tight. Have
you got that extra supply of cannon?”
“Yassir! I'll go. I got enough to fight de
Spanish War over agin. An' dis time I’m goin'
up San Juan Hill myself.”
“Shut up, and get out—do what I tell you.”
He turned to her nervously, but the battle-
light was in the blue eyes this time.
“Your Highness,” and she stopped on the step
above, “I’ve struck the first trail of the spook
that is haunting your castle; he made a mistake
by poaching on other preserves!”
The girl ran her hand through her hair, ex-
citedly, bewildered.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you any idea of who could take it?”
“Why—no! I hid it in the corner of my grip,
and was sure no one could find it.”
Jarvis laughed grimly.
“Your castle ghost is no slouch at finding
things. He is no ignoramus, either, for he must
be able to read and write and understand geog-


MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCES 245
raphy to get any good out of that memorandum.
Does it give the exact details of the treasure
trove P”
“As plain as ABC1" she answered.
“You think . . . P '’
“Yes, I've been thinking ever since you first
told me the story. Now I’m going to load my
revolver with those thoughts, and earn the title of
my profession. Time is everything. I take the
northern road, don't I?”
“Yes, and the second turn to the right, through
a broken wall.”
“Yes, you've told me all this a dozen times
before. But it's life and death, and I want to
make sure. What then?”
“That road leads to the postern gate at the
top of the hill,” she added.
The outer door had opened softly.
Its position, sheltered under the long sweep of
the old balcony, was out of their immediate
view.
They had been speaking in rapid English, but
the man who slouched noiselessly through the


246 THE GHOST BREAKER
entrance, toward the arch under the stairs, sur-
mised the gist of the conversation.
He drew a revolver, well hidden in the shadow,
and waited.
“I understand. I have my bearings, too.”
Warren stepped down, to the level of the
floor.
“Wait,” said Maria Theresa softly. “This
little cross—it is a token which I wish my knight
to wear in the tourney—to-night!”
She slipped the golden chain, and the simple
religious emblem, over his head and about his
neck, with a movement which was a wireless
touchless caress.
“Only for to-night?” asked the Kentuckian,
as he looked squarely into the crimson face above
him;-how the roses and lilies played hide-and-
seek beneath the soft skin of those clear fea-
tures |
“You may never see to-morrow,” she mur-
mured, and she drew up the cross, from its
pendent position, pressing it to her red lips with
reverence.


248 THE GHOST BREAKER
done on the memorable night so far across the
waters. But this time the fingers were burning,
and the slim flower of a hand was not drawn
away!
“God be with you!” she answered softly, and
crossed herself. The Kentuckian watched her
silently, a thousand mad thoughts whirling be-
hind the calm and resolute brow. She slowly
ascended the stairs and returned to her room.
He murmured tenderly under his breath:
“Highness . . . Highness . . . now, I under-
stand how titles fit!”
A new noise came to his ears, and he listened
without a tremor or movement of his body.
It was the click of a revolver cock!
The Kentuckian knew this sound too well to be
deceived. Slowly he turned about, toward the
large table on which stood the solitary oil lamp
of the room.
He began to unfold his overcoat, which had
been hanging over his left arm. Then he started
whistling the first rippling bars of that good old
Southern battle-song “Dixie.”


MYSTERIOUS INFLUENCES 249
Slowly he walked toward the lamp, apparently
examining his overcoat. -
The man drew out from the shelter of the
arch, and the revolver was pointed straight at his
back.
Suddenly the overcoat flew from the Ameri-
can's hands, covering and extinguishing the glass
lamp, which fell with a crash in the darkness.
There was a portentous pause—it seemed
hours; its length was the bare fraction of a
second.
Two shots rang out, and scurrying feet were
the only indication of life within the room.
Another shot sent its tongue of blood-thirsty
flame into the black void. There was a groan
of anguish.
Then footsteps advanced to the door.
The cheery tune of “Dixie" was continued in
the moonlight!


AS IN DAYS OF OLD 25 I
that sort of thing to these “spigotties'—that's all
they have to think about over here. It was just
a question of being ‘pinked or ‘pinking' a cer-
tain gentleman who was working beyond union
hours.” -
“Huh !” snorted Rusty. “I’ll bet de razor
I has in my jeans dat he was moh red dan pink
when you-all got finished wid dat cannon o'
yourn, Marse Warren. It runs in de fambly ter
shoot straight!”
“Well, Rusty, let's ride straight for a while.
We must go up this road to the turn.”
They passed dark cottages, and finally reached
the fateful angle of the road. Rusty groaned
apprehensively.
“Say, Marse Warren, I wouldn't mind dis all
in de meanest moonshine district in Kaintuck,
but I don't like for to ride in dis yere foreign
district. W’y didn't you-all pick out some place
were dey speaks human talk, instead of dis on-
Christian lingo? It don't seem releegious to me,
Marse Warren.”
“Rusty, I'm beginning to think you've got a


252 THE GHOST BREAKER
yellow streak in you, with all this talk about ob-
jections. You used to have a name for not even
being afraid of your weight in wildcats,” said
Warren.
Rusty nodded, as he clung tightly to the sad-
dle, on the increasingly rough trail.
“Marse Warren, dat was right. But wildcats
is purty heavy, an' you-all can hit 'em with a
shotgun. De trouble wid ghosts is dat dey don't
weigh nuffin' "
“Lookout, Rusty. Here's a brook,” and sud-
denly Jarvis' horse stumbled to its feet, after
sliding down a sharp declivity which had been
hidden by the shadows of the big moonlit trees.
Rusty was not so fortunate, he was rolled off
despite his efforts, to receive a ducking.
Then did his teeth have reason to chatter, as
he mounted again to follow his master up the
declivity with dripping clothes.
“Whaffor dey want a crick like dat just be-
low de doors of a castle, Marse Warren?” he
complained.
“That's how they got their water supply—I


AS IN DAYS OF OLD 253
wouldn't be surprised if the old place weren't
built right on top of that spring. You know
when this place was built they didn't have any
faucets or taps in these old places.—Except on
the heads!”
They mounted higher, ever higher, swinging on
their saddlebows the unlighted, antique lanterns.
Rusty was unmistakably becoming more and
more nervous.
The road took a sharp turn to the right now,
and the clattered over the wooden bridge of the
moat.
They faced the great doorway of the old castle
now. In the moonlight it was an eerie sight in-
deed. The castle stood on a broad rocky shelf.
A cold wind swept over the mountain top, rattling
the naked branches near by the dismal walls.
“Ooooh! ”
“What's that?” grunted Rusty in terror.
“Just the wind trying to get out through those
barred windows up there, you fool.”
“Laws-a-massy, I don't blame it fer gittin'
out. I wish I wasn't goin' in.”


256 THE GHOST BREAKER
ploration. They trod along weirdly echoing cor-
ridors, through spacious chambers, where ancient
tapestries hung from the walls, while strange
débris lay about amidst the curious carved furni-
ture. Everything was covered by a pall of dust.
Squealing and scurrying, the shining eyes and
ghastly noises betrayed the presence of myriad
rats.
“What can they find to live on?” wondered
Warren.
From the high battlements they peered into
the valley, and could see a few faint lights in the
distant inn. Warren felt sure that one of those
lights was in the room of her Highness.
They explored the bedchambers of the lords
and ladies of the castle, the little pigeonholes in
which the men-at-arms must have slept. Strange
subtle odors met them like an actual presence as
they peered into dungeons, stone chambers, and
horrid vaults.
“I don't even see why a ghost would want ter
hang around dis misserable place, Marse War-
ren,” ventured Rusty, as for the second time they


26o THE GHOST BREAKER
“Don’t you do scoutin' outsiden dis room.”
Rusty crossed to the fireplace, with the pieces
of easily-smashed table legs, and began to light
the fire.
“This was probably the banquet hall, Rusty.”
“Yes, and say, Marse Warren, when we-all
goin' ter eat?” -
“When we get through with this job.” He
turned thoughtfully toward the big windows on
the south of the room, and mused aloud: “That's
the way through the two long rooms to the post-
ern gate. Umm.”
“That's where that black thing followed me.”
“Yes, and a black thing followed me, walking
on my heels every step I took. I couldn't see
where I was stepping.”
“That goes to the armory.”
“I seen eyes in dere and a cold grimy, green
smell in dere. Ain't dat where dat broad-faced
bird flew at me, an' I slipped down de stairs?”
“Don’t you know an owl, Rusty? That's all
it was.”
Jarvis was walking across the room to another


AS IN DAYS OF OLD 261
door. Rusty was close behind him, following by
habit now.
“I wonder if that door is . . .
He did not finish the sentence! His foot had
touched a swiveled rock, so delicately balanced
that he had noiselessly fallen half through the
large opening in the rock floor when Rusty
caught him by the collar and under the arm.
“Here, I'm holding on now better, Rusty.
Give me your hand.” They both tugged, and he
was soon safe, peering into the black opening to-
»,
gether.
“That was a close call. Give me that lantern,
Rusty 1"
He dropped an old pewter cup, left on a side
table, down the opening. There was a delayed,
faint splash.
“Lord!—water and a long drop. No wonder
people disappear in this castle. Great Scott!
What if her brother fell in there? Rusty, what-
ever happens, keep clear of this. Get me a burned
stick, and I'll mark a cross on it, so we can tell—
it makes me nervous to see that open mouth of


262 THE GHOST BREAKER
death gaping for us. If you step on this you’ll
never see Kentucky again, for sure.”
Rusty obeyed.
“Did you hear that groan, Marse Warren?”
“Groan—that's the wind' . . . There it is
again—it does sound like a moan.”
“Ough!” and Rusty's teeth chattered in per-
fect rhythm with his shaking knees. “Ough!”
“Shut up! Listen . . . I guess it's the wind,
at that. But this place is getting on our nerves
all right.”
Rusty controlled his teeth enough to talk now.
“Marse Warren, dat warn’t no wind. Ah
hope to die if dat warn’t a shore 'nuff human
groan.” He turned and looked toward the big
oil portrait of an ancient Spanish hidalgo over the
fireplace. “An' I wants to tell you somepin else.
Has you ever been in church or somew'ere an’
all of a suddent a feelin' comes over you dat
dere's someone's eyes a-starin' at de back of your
haid . . . you jest knowed it—until you couldn't
stand it no longer, an' jest had to turn 'round
an’ see who it was?”


uuo æq1 ſq uțų 1ų6.mp3 (1sny
-
--------
º


|TTTTTF-1
PUBLIC [ IRRARY
AS : or - * * ... ." N L,
|
f : L.C, ºr w ^^" X 7 f{Q}, i
r 1.


264 THE GHOST BREAKER
top of the stairs with a long gun, and I’m no book
hero.”
“Suppose it might be dat dere Mrs. Prin-
cess’es brother?”
“Well, he might blow my head off because he
doesn't know what I came here for, and if it's
someone else they'd blow it off because they do
know why I'm here. There's somebody trying
to scare us, Rusty. They're probably watching
every move we make. . . . That's where that
pounding comes from—why don't they shoot?...
They're trying to scare us as they did the poor
boobs down in the village.”
Rusty crossed toward the fireplace. He picked
up an old mallet and chisel from the mantel,
which was brighter now from the fire. He cried
out in surprise:
“Look yere, Marse Warren. Look yere!”
He handed the tools over to the astounded
Jarvis. “I found 'em on dat mantelpiece!”
Jarvis ran to the mantelpiece and clambered
up on a chair, holding the lantern close to the
wall.


266 THE GHOST BREAKER
25
-
“It sure is, Marse Warren, it sure is .
He turned slowly, facing Warren Jarvis. He had
just time for one piercing howl—a veritable high-
pitched scream:
“My Gawd, look out!”


XVII
CONCLUSION
The great sword of the armored figure
was swinging swiftly up in air, and Jarvis
leaped with all the sinewy strength of his young
manhood.
It was none too soon.
The great Damascus blade struck fire from the
stone balustrade where he sat a second before.
R*. had dived under the table.
Jarvis spun about, and his automatic barked.
With the instinct of the born fighting man he
fired for the heart: this was his error.
The bullets spattered off the angle-braced
breastplate.
Down the steps came the horrid figure, raising
the great sword again. The leaden shower did
not halt the clanging monster, as the iron-clad
advanced.
267


268 THE GHOST BREAKER
He remembered now that Rusty had two more
revolvers—but Rusty was scuttling on hands and
knees for the shelter of the turret entrance across
the room.
In desperation Jarvis threw his revolver at the
head of the assailant! It was a futile pebble toss.
The weapon clattered against the metal vizor
and bounced off, as the weird assailant ran within
striking distance. For the first time in his life
came the sensation of helplessness in a fight.
There was a numbing feeling of horror as he re-
coiled before this thing.
His back touched the stone wall, just as the
quick figure made a forward step and struck
again. The sword rang out against the rock, but
the hand that held that weapon knew how to
wield it with determination.
Jarvis had dropped to his knees, and imitated
Rusty's escape, until he was out of reach. He
might have grappled—but the thought came too
late. He saw the ancient weapons on the wall—
there was a great poleax.
This was the instrument made for the man-at-





CONCLUSION 27I
“Whar's yoh friend, Marse Warren?”
Jarvis' head was low upon his breast, as he
answered quietly: “Water—and a long drop!
There's a real ghost due to haunt castle now,
Rusty.”
“I knowed them battleship boogies was
spooks!”
Warren picked up the great sword which had
fallen by the trap as the man went through. He
walked up the stairs,
“Oh, Marse Warren, don't!”
“What's the matter?” and he snarled it. “Do
I scare you?”
“You can't scare me—I’m scared already!”
Jarvis made a fencing feint at the other figure.
There was no response; again he tried. Then
he rushed it, and knocked the armor over.
“I guess he's genuine—and harmless.”
“Oh, Marse Warren, you'se got gall, shore.
I'll jest finish dis battleship—so he won't jump
no moh.” He had grabbed the armor and started
toward the trapdoor. “I’m goin' to sink him
in de harbor!”


CONCLUSION 273
“I’m cool now—I'm ketchin' cold.” And he
sneezed.
“If you sneeze again, I’m going to use a gun
on you. Here, give me one of those two guns you
have. And whatever you do, don't sneeze. I'm
catching cold myself here—anyone would in this
musty old hole.”
He pocketed the weapon and ordered Rusty to
his place.
There came another sound—a repetition of the
earlier faint sound. He turned quickly, and
Princess Maria Theresa of Aragon rushed into
the room, followed by Dolores.
“Thank God you are safe, Mr. Warren! I
heard the shooting, down in the other court of
the castle.”
“Where have you been? Why didn't you wait
for my signal? The hour is not over yet.”
“We’ve been wandering through this dreadful
place an eternity—trying to find you, calling
everywhere, so that we could reach you before
it was too late—before something happened that
had always happened before l’”


CONCLUSION 275
The girl crossed herself, with the stoic calm-
ness of her religion, as she rose to face him.
“It is better so. He sinned—grievously, many
times, señor. My Prince is safe . . . my Prin-
cess is safe. And you are safe—you, the bravest
man in Seguro.”
Maria Theresa turned toward the door, where
stood a man whom Jarvis had not espied before.
“Take her back to the inn, Maximo, as quietly as
possible. Then send the chauffeur for me again
as soon as he can come up the rough road.”
“But, your Highness, you must go back as
well—it is dangerous for you to remain here. I
have found the clews for which you went to
America. Let me finish the job.”
“No, I will stay with you.”
He caught her hands, and looked down into
the dark eyes, so wondrously upturned to his.
“You must come by the fire, and get warm
. Here, sit in this chair. You have been
frightened to death, prowling through this horrid
place. . . . Your hands are icy. . . . There,
there! Go on and cry—forget that you're a


276 THE GHOST BREAKER
Princess and be a real girl. Cry all you want!
That's fine!”
He took off his coat and wrapped it around her
shoulders as she sat by the flaming remnants of
the old table.
He turned about and beckoned to Rusty, who
with a revolver in hand, his courage restored in
a way by the turn of events, disappeared from
view. Jarvis gently placed a hand upon the
heaving shoulder.
“I’ll round up this spook to-night for good
and all. Then the vassal's task is done. His
fate is in your hands, Highness; what's to become
of him? . . . Don't send me away. I loved
you from the first—not like a vassal either—and
will always love you.
“I know I’m just a plain American citizen
. and a man. All the man in me cries out,
“I love you!' Don't send me away.”
“You must go. You must leave Spain, for
your life would never be safe here: you know
what feuds are, and you have started one.”
Just then an audible, unmistakable, common-


/ /
’t shoot
“Don


| THE N F A C. F. K.
PUBLIC [ ſº R A R Y
.* > . Cº. º – = x . . ." N -
r; L. C. g. * * ºf w - A to N &
r *
*********r-sº-gº-


CONCLUSION 279
stanch nerves of his opponent. At heart, de-
spite his criminal, conceited weaknesses, the Duke
had thoroughbred blood beating and pulsing
through the veins.
“You play a good game, Mr. Warren. . . .
Are all Americans like you?”
“They all play the game in Kentucky,” snapped
Jarvis.
“And I thought all Americans were fools.”
He crossed to the door. “I think, my dear
Maria, that for the sake of the family name it
would do my health good to take a trip to Monte
Carlo and the Riviera—even Egypt might help.
Mr. Warren, take her advice and return to Ken-
tucky.”
He walked up the steps and smiled back with
his cynical appreciation of the situation, a me-
diaeval sport to the end, as Jarvis realized.
“Hey, Rusty, you just follow that Duke as
well as you did me. See him out of the castle
and on his way rejoicing. And don't let your
finger slip on that revolver.”
“Yassir—wid pleasure, sir.”


28O THE GHOST BREAKER
The footsteps died away, and Jarvis looked at
the Princess.
She smiled back at him.
“What kind of a place is Kentucky?”
“God’s country, lady. . . . Must I go back
alone, your Highness?”
She put her hands upon the tired shoulders, and
looked up with the ineffable look which passeth
all understanding, except between the one man
and the one woman. She held her lips up to him!
“Warren—don't call me Highness! . . . my
name is Maria!”
THE END