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Page 26
A fold of her filmy house dress fluttered near him. Involuntarily he
moved closer. His eyes met hers. She could feel the passions surging
in the man beside her.
"I saw Drummond again, to-day," she began. "Captain Gordon--"
The intense look of hatred that blazed in the eyes of Santos
frightened her. What might have happened if he instead of Gordon had
met her at the Junta she could not have said. But now she must guard
against it. If flashed over her that there was only one thing to be
done.
She rose and laid her hand on his arm. As quickly the look changed.
There was only one way to do it; she must make this man think they
understood each other without saying so.
"You must get the counterfeiting plant down on the island--
immediately--alone. Don't tell any of the others until it is there
safely. You were going to send it down on the Arroyo next week. It
must not go from New York at all. It must be shipped by rail, and
then from New Orleans. You must--"
"But--Gordon?" His voice was hoarse.
She looked at Santos long and earnestly. "I will take care of him,"
she said in a tone that Santos could not mistake. "No--Ramon, no.
After the revolution--perhaps--who shall say? But now--to work!"
It was with a sigh of relief that she sank to rest at last when he
had gone. For the moment she had won.
Piece by piece, Santos and she secretly carried out the goods that
had already been collected at the Junta, during the next few days.
Without a word to a soul they were shipped south. The boxes and
barrels remained in the musty shop, apparently undisturbed.
Next the order for the arms and ammunition was quietly diverted so
that they, too, were on their way to New Orleans. Instead, cases
resembling them were sent to the Junta headquarters. Drummond, least
of all, must be allowed to think that there was any change in their
plans.
While Santos was at work gathering the parts, the stamping machine,
the press, the dies, the plates, and the rest of the counterfeiting
plant which had not yet been delivered, Constance, during the hours
that she was not collecting money from the concession-grabbers,
haunted the Junta. There was every evidence of activity there as the
week advanced.
She was between two fires, yet never had she enjoyed the tang of
adventure more than now. It was a keen pleasure to feel that she was
outwitting Drummond when, as some apparently insurmountable
difficulty arose, she would overcome it. More delicate was it,
however, to preserve the balance between Santos and Gordon. In fact
it seemed that the more she sought to avoid Gordon, the more
jealously did he pursue her. It was a tangled skein of romance and
intrigue that Constance was weaving.
At last all was ready. It was the night before the departure of
Santos for the south. Constance had decided on the last interview in
her own rooms where the first had been.
"I shall go ahead preparing as if to ship the things on the Arroyo,"
she said. "Let me know by the code the moment you are ready."
Santos was looking at her, oblivious of everything else.
He reached over and took her hand. She knew this was the moment
against which she had steeled herself.
"Come with me," he asked suddenly.
She could feel his breath, hotly, on her cheek.
It was the final struggle. If she let go of herself, all would be
lost.
"No, Ramon," she said softly, but without withdrawing her hand. "It
can never be--listen."
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