Money Maze

by O. Henry

The new administration of Anchuria entered upon its duties andprivileges with enthusiasm. Its first act was to send an agentto Coralio with imperative orders to recover, if possible, the sumof money ravished from the treasury by the ill-fated Miraflores. Colonel Emilio Falcon, the private secretary of Losada, the newpresident, was despatched from the capital upon this importantmission. The position of private secretary to a tropical president isa responsible one. He must be a diplomat, a spy, a ruler of men,a body-guard to his chief, and a smeller-out of plots and nascentrevolutions. Often he is the power behind the throne, the dictatorof policy; and a president chooses him with a dozen times the carewith which he selects a matrimonial mate. Colonel Falcon, a handsome and urbane gentleman of Castilian courtesyand debonnaire manners, came to Coralio with the task before him ofstriking upon the cold trail of the lost money. There he conferredwith the military authorities, who had received instructions tocooperate with him in the search. Colonel Falcon established his headquarters in one of the rooms ofthe Casa Morena. Here for a week he held informal sittings--much asif he were a kind of unified grand jury--and summoned before him allthose whose testimony might illumine the financial tragedy that hadaccompanied the less momentous one of the late president's death. Two or three who were thus examined, among whom was the barberEsteban, declared that they had identified the body of the presidentbefore its burial. "Of a truth," testified Esteban before the mighty secretary, "it washe, the president. Consider!--how could I shave a man and not see hisface? He sent for me to shave him in a small house. He had a beardvery black and thick. Had I ever seen the president before? Why not?I saw him once ride forth in a carriage from the ~vapor~ in Solitas.When I shaved him he gave me a gold piece, and said there was to be notalk. But I am a Liberal--I am devoted to my country--and I spake ofthese things to Senor Goodwin." "It is known," said Colonel Falcon, smoothly, "that the late Presidenttook with him an American leather valise, containing a large amount ofmoney. Did you see that?" "~De veras~--no," Esteban answered. "The light in the little housewas but a small lamp by which I could scarcely see to shave thePresident. Such a thing there may have been, but I did not see it.No. Also in the room was a young lady--a senorita of much beauty--that I could see even in so small a light. But the money, senor, orthe thing in which it was carried--that I did not see." The ~comandante~ and other officers gave testimony that they had beenawakened and alarmed by the noise of a pistol-shot in the Hotel delos Extranjeros. Hurrying thither to protect the peace and dignityof the republic, they found a man lying dead, with a pistol clutchedin his hand. Beside him was a young woman, weeping sorely. SenorGoodwin was also in the room when they entered it. But of the valiseof money they saw nothing. Madame Timotea Ortiz, the proprietress of the hotel in which the gameof Fox-in-the-Morning had been played out, told of the coming of thetwo guests to her house. "To my house they came," said she--"one ~senor~ not quite old, andone ~senorita~ of sufficient handsomeness. They desired not to eator to drink--not even of my ~aguardiente~, which is the best. Totheir rooms they ascended--~Numero Nueve~ and ~Numero Diez~. Latercame Senor Goodwin, who ascended to speak with them. Then I hearda great noise like that of a ~canon~, and they said that the ~pobrePresidente~ had shot himself. ~Esta bueno~. I saw nothing of moneyor of the thing you call ~veliz~ that you say he carried it in." Colonel Falcon soon came to the reasonable conclusion that if any onein Coralio could furnish a clue to the vanished money, Frank Goodwinmust be the man. But the wise secretary pursued a different coursein seeking information from the American. Goodwin was a powerfulfriend to the new administration, and one who was not to be carelesslydealt with in respect to either his honesty or his courage. Eventhe private secretary of His Excellency hesitated to have this rubberprince and mahogany baron haled before him as a common citizenof Anchuria. So he sent Goodwin a flowery epistle, each word-petaldripping with honey, requesting the favor of an interview. Goodwinreplied with an invitation to dinner at his own house. Before the hour named the American walked over to the Casa Morena,and greeted his guest frankly and friendly. Then the two strolled,in the cool of the afternoon, to Goodwin's home in the environs. The American left Colonel Falcon in a big, cool, shadowed roomwith a floor of inlaid and polished woods that any millionairein the States Would have envied, excusing himself for a few minutes.He crossed a ~patio~, shaded with deftly arranged awnings and plants,and entered a long room looking upon the sea in the opposite wingof the house. The broad jalousies were opened wide, and the oceanbreeze flowed in through the room, an invisible current of coolnessand health. Goodwin's wife sat near one of the windows, makinga water-color sketch of the afternoon seascape. Here was a woman who looked to be happy. And more--she looked tobe content. Had a poet been inspired to pen just similes concerningher favor, he would have likened her full, clear eyes, with theirwhite-encircled, gray irises, to moonflowers. With none of thegoddesses whose traditional charms have become coldly classicwould the discerning rhymester have compared her. She was purelyParadisaic, not Olympian. If you can imagine Eve, after the eviction,beguiling the flaming warriors and serenely reentering the Garden,you will have her. Just so human, and still so harmonious with Edenseemed Mrs. Goodwin. When her husband entered she looked up, and her lips curved andparted; her eyelids fluttered twice or thrice--a movement remindful(Proesy forgive us!) of the tail-wagging of a faithful dog--and alittle ripple went through her like the commotion set up in a weepingwillow by a puff of wind. Thus she ever acknowledged his coming,were it twenty times a day. If they who sometimes sat over their winein Coralio, reshaping old, diverting stories of the madcap careerof Isabel Guilbert, could have seen the wife of Frank Goodwin thatafternoon in the estimable aura of her happy wifehood, they mighthave disbelieved, or have agreed to forget, those graphic annals ofthe life of the one for whom their president gave up his country andhis honor. "I have brought a guest to dinner," said Goodwin. "One ColonelFalcon, from San Mateo. He is come on government business. I do notthink you will care to see him, so I prescribe for you one of thoseconvenient and indisputable feminine headaches." "He has come to inquire about the lost money, has he not?" askedMrs. Goodwin, going on with her sketch. "A good guess!" acknowledged Goodwin. "He has been holding aninquisition among the natives for three days. I am next on his listof witnesses, but as he feels shy about dragging one of Uncle Sam'ssubjects before him, he consents to give it the outward appearanceof a social function. He will apply the torture over my own wineand provender." "Has he found any one who saw the valise of money?" "Not a soul. Even Madama Ortiz, whose eyes are so sharp for the sightof a revenue official, does not remember that there was any baggage." Mrs. Goodwin laid down her brush and sighed. "I am so sorry, Frank," she said, "that they are giving you so muchtrouble about the money. But we can't let them know about it, canwe?" "Not without doing our intelligence a great injustice," said Goodwin,with a smile and a shrug that he had picked up from the natives."~Americano~, though I am, they would have me in the ~calaboza~ inhalf an hour if they knew we had appropriated that valise. No; wemust appear as ignorant about the money as the other ignoramuses inCoralio." "Do you think that this man they have sent suspects you?" she asked,with a little pucker of her brows. "He'd better not," said theAmerican, carelessly. "It's lucky that no one caught a sight of thevalise except myself. As I was in the rooms when the shot was fired,it is not surprising that they should want to investigate my partin the affair rather closely. But there's no cause for alarm.This colonel is down on the list of events for a good dinner, witha dessert of American 'bluff' that will end the matter, I think." Mrs. Goodwin rose and walked to the window. Goodwin followed andstood by her side. She leaned to him, and rested in the protectionof his strength, as she had always rested since that dark nighton which he had first made himself her tower of refuge. Thus theystood for a little while. Straight through the lavish growth of tropical branch and leaf andvine that confronted them had been cunningly trimmed a vista, thatended at the cleared environs of Coralio, on the banks of the mangroveswamp. At the other end of the aerial tunnel they could see the graveand wooden headpiece that bore the name of the unhappy PresidentMiraflores. From this window when the rains forbade the open,and from the green and shady slopes of Goodwin's fruitful lands whenthe skies were smiling, his wife was wont to look upon that gravewith a gentle sadness that was now scarcely a mar to her happiness. "I loved him so, Frank!" she said, "even after that terrible flightand its awful ending. And you have been so good to me, and have mademe so happy. It has all grown into such a strange puzzle. If theywere to find out that we got the money do you think they would forceyou to make the amount good to the government?" "They would undoubtedly try," answered Goodwin. "You are right aboutits being a puzzle. And it must remain a puzzle to Falcon and allhis countrymen until it solves itself. You and I, who know more thanany one else, only know half of the solution. We must not let evena hint about this money get abroad. Let them come to the theory thatthe president concealed it in the mountains during his journey, orthat he found means to ship it out of the country before he reachedCoralio. I don't think that Falcon suspects me. He is makinga closer investigation, according to his orders, but he will find outnothing." Thus they spake together. Had any one overheard or overseen themas they discussed the lost funds of Anchuria there would have beena second puzzle presented. For upon the faces and in the bearingof each of them was visible (if countenances are to be believed) Saxonhonesty and pride and honorable thoughts. In Goodwin's steady eyeand firm lineaments, molded into material shape by the inward spiritof kindness and generosity and courage, there was nothing reconcilablewith his words. As for his wife, physiognomy championed her even in the face of theiraccusive talk. Nobility was in her guise; purity was in her glance.The devotion that she manifested had not even the appearance of thatfeeling that now and then inspires a woman to share the guilt ofher partner out of the pathetic greatness other love. No, there wasa discrepancy here between what the eye would have seen and the earhave heard. Dinner was served to Goodwin and his guest in the patio, under coolfoliage and flowers. The American begged the illustrious secretaryto excuse the absence of Mrs. Goodwin, who was suffering, he said,from a headache brought on by a slight ~calentura~. After the meal they lingered, according to the custom, over theircoffee and cigars. Colonel Falcon, with true Castilian delicacy,waited for his host to open the question that they had met to discuss.He had not long to wait. As soon as the cigars were lighted,the American cleared the way by inquiring whether the secretary'sinvestigations in the town had furnished him with any clue tothe lost funds. "I have found no one yet," admitted Colonel Falcon, "who even hadsight of the valise or the money. Yet I have persisted. It hasbeen proven in the capital that President Miraflores set outfrom San Mateo with one hundred thousand dollars belonging to thegovernment, accompanied by Senorita Isabel Guilbert, the opera singer.The Government, officially and personally, is loathe to believe,"concluded Colonel Falcon, with a smile, "that our late President'stastes would have permitted him to abandon on the route, as excessbaggage, either of the desirable articles with which his flight wasburdened." "I suppose you would like to hear what I have to say about theaffair," said Goodwin, coming directly to the point. "It will notrequire many words." "On that night, with others of our friends here, I was keepinga lookout for the president, having been notified of his flightby a telegram in our national cipher from Englehart, one of ourleaders in the capital. About ten o'clock that night I saw a manand a woman hurrying along the streets. They went to the Hotel delos Extranjeros, and engaged rooms. I followed them upstairs, leavingEsteban, who had come up, to watch outside. The barber had told methat he had shaved the beard from the president's face that night;therefore I was prepared, when I entered the rooms, to find himwith a smooth face. When I apprehended him in the name of the peoplehe drew a pistol and shot himself instantly. In a few minutes manyofficers and citizens were on the spot. I suppose you have beeninformed of the subsequent facts." Goodwin paused. Losada's agent maintained an attitude of waiting,as if he expected a continuance. "And now," went on the American, looking steadily into the eyes ofthe other man, and giving each word a deliberate emphasis, "you willoblige me by attending carefully to what I have to add. I saw novalise or receptacle of any kind, or any money belonging to theRepublic of Anchuria. If President Miraflores decamped with any fundsbelonging to the treasury of this country, or to himself, or to anyone else, I saw no trace of it in the house or elsewhere, at that timeor at any other. Does that statement cover the ground of the inquiryyou wished to make of me?" Colonel Falcon bowed, and described a fluent curve with his cigar.His duty was performed. Goodwin was not to be disputed. He wasa loyal supporter of the government, and enjoyed the full confidenceof the new president. His rectitude had been the capital that hadbrought him fortune in Anchuria, just as it had formed the lucrative"graft" of Mellinger, the secretary of Miraflores. "I thank you, ~Senor~ Goodwin, " said Falcon, "for speaking plainly.But, ~Senor~ Goodwin, I am instructed to pursue every clue thatpresents itself in this matter. There is one that I have not yettouched upon. Our friends in France, senor, have a saying, '~Cherchezla femme~,' when there is a mystery without a clue. But here we donot have to search. The woman who accompanied the late Presidentin his flight must surely--" "I must interrupt you there," interposed Goodwin. "It is true thatwhen I entered the hotel for the purpose of intercepting PresidentMiraflores I found a lady there. I must beg of you to remember thatthat lady is now my wife. I speak for her as I do for myself. Sheknows nothing of the fate of the valise or of the money that youare seeking. You will say to his excellency that I guarantee herinnocence. I do not need to add to you, Colonel Falcon, that I donot care to have her questioned or disturbed." Colonel Falcon bowed again. "~Por supuesto~, no!" he cried. And to indicate that the inquirywas ended he added: "And now, senor, let me beg of you to show methat sea view from your galeria of which you spoke. I am a loverof the sea." In the early evening Goodwin walked back to the town with his guest,leaving him at the corner of the Calle Grande. As he was returninghomeward one "Beelzebub" Blythe, with the air of a courtier andthe outward aspect of a scarecrow, pounced upon him hopefully fromthe door of a ~pulperia~. Blythe had been re-christened "Beelzebub" as an acknowledgement ofthe greatness of his fall. Once in some distant Paradise Lost, he hadforegathered with the angels of the earth. But Fate had hurled himheadlong down to the tropics, where flamed in his bosom a fire thatwas seldom quenched. In Coralio they called him a beach-comber; buthe was, in reality, a categorical idealist who strove to anamorphosizethe dull verities of life by the means of brandy and rum. AsBeelzebub, himself, might have held in his clutch with unwittingtenacity his harp or crown during his tremendous fall, so his namesakehad clung to his gold-rimmed eyeglasses as the only souvenir of hislost estate. These he wore with impressiveness and distinction whilehe combed beaches and extracted toll from his friends. By somemysterious means he kept his drink-reddened face always smoothlyshaven. For the rest he sponged gracefully upon whomsoever he couldfor enough to keep him pretty drunk, and sheltered from the rains andnight dews. "Hallo, Goodwin!" called the derelict, airily. "I was hoping I'dstrike you. I wanted to see you particularly. Suppose we go wherewe can talk. Of course you know there's a chap down here looking upthe money old Miraflores lost." "Yes," said Goodwin, "I've been talking with him. Let's go intoEspada's place. I can spare you ten minutes." They went into the ~pulperia~ and sat at a little table upon stoolswith rawhide tops. "Have a drink?" said Goodwin. "They can't bring it too quickly," said Blythe. "I've been ina drought ever since morning. Hiel aguardiente poraca~." "Now, what do you want to see me about?" asked Goodwin, when thedrinks were before them. "Confound it, old man," drawled Blythe, "why do you spoil a goldenmoment like this with business? I wanted to see you--well, thishas the preference." He gulped down his brandy, and gazed longinglyinto the empty glass. "Have another?" suggested Goodwin. "Between gentlemen," said the fallen angel, "I don't quite likeyour use of that word 'another.' It isn't quite delicate. Butthe concrete idea that the word represents is not displeasing." The glasses were refilled. Blythe sipped blissfully from his, ashe began to enter the state of a true idealist. "I must trot along in a minute or two," hinted Goodwin. "Was thereanything in particular?" Blythe did not reply at once. "Old Losada would make it a hot country," he remarked at length, "forthe man who swiped that gripsack of treasury boodle, don't you think?" "Undoubtedly, he would," agreed Goodwin calmly, as he rose leisurelyto his feet. "I'll be running over to the house, now old man. Mrs.Goodwin is alone. There was nothing important you had to say, wasthere?" "That's all," said Blythe. "Unless you wouldn't mind sending inanother drink from the bar as you go out. Old Espada has closed myaccount to profit and loss. And pay for the lot, will you, like agood fellow?" "All right," said Goodwin. "~Buenas noches~." "Beezlebub" Blythe lingered over his cups, polishing his eyeglasseswith a disreputable handkerchief. "I thought I could do it, but I couldn't," he muttered to himselfafter a time. "A gentleman can't blackmail the man that he drinkswith."

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