The pedestrians1 in the streets taken by Clif and Joy little thought as they glanced carelessly at the two cadets that the sturdy youth with the intelligent, manly2 face was he who had saved their beloved ruler, Dom Carlos the First, from death that day.
It was well for Clif’s peace of mind and comfort that this was true, and he inwardly rejoiced thereat.
The city was in an uproar3. All Lisbon seemed to be hunting for the fugitive4 and hoping against hope that he had escaped from the river.
The large reward was not the sole cause of this feverish5 activity. The people far and wide respected and loved their ruler and they thirsted more for the assassin’s blood than for the fortune his body represented.
The streets and plazas6 were filled with excited groups discussing the event. Platoons of mounted police and companies of soldiers kept the air ringing with the tread of galloping7 hoofs8.
“It takes something like an attack on the king to stir up these people,” said Joy. He added, with a sigh: “Isn’t it enough to make a peaceful man sorrow to see so much strife9 and contention10 and—and pomp of war? Woe11!—woe!”
“Oh, shut up, you fraud,” laughed Clif. “There isn’t a plebe in the academy, nor a cadet, who likes fighting more than you do. You would rather fight than eat.”
The two cadets spent some time looking about the city, then they engaged a carriage and ordered the driver to take them to the suburb in which lived the Windoms.
“This has been a day of events, chum,” remarked Clif as he leaned back in the vehicle. “Who would ever take that blooming ‘haw’ Englishman to be an anarchist12, and one of the very worst type, too. Why, I guyed him for half an hour this morning and thought all the time he was a fool.”
“He was a fool,” replied Joy, grimly.
“Yes, otherwise he would never have tried such a preposterous13 trick. I wonder if he came here to make the attempt on Dom Carlos’ life?”
“Like as not. I read in a paper the other day that considerable activity existed in anarchistic14 circles. Sort[Pg 268] of getting ready to slay15 a few monarchs16, I suppose. They drove a lot of ’em from Paris and London. Perhaps this J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate was one of them.”
“No doubt,” yawned Clif, stretching his arms.
“D’ye think he was drowned?”
“Yes. He remained under water too long. Small loss to the community at large. I guess Miss Windom won’t wear mourning. She couldn’t bear the sight of him.”
“I don’t blame her. Was he a friend of the old man?”
“No. Merely a business acquaintance, I believe. Said he was looking for a certain-sized pearl to finish a necklace. Mr. Windom is a collector of pearls, you know. He has a fortune in them.”
Joy sighed.
“Wonder if the pearls go with the girl,” he sighed.
“Let’s talk on some sensible subject,” retorted Clif, shortly.
It was within an hour of dusk when they finally reached the pretty villa18 occupied by the Windoms.
The house was situated19 in the center of an extensive park, well-kept, and shaded by fine old trees. There was a small lodge20 at the gate, presided over by an elderly native, who admitted the cadets with every mark of respect.
He had evidently learned of Clif’s gallant21 deed that morning.
Juanita and her girl friend were awaiting them when they reached the house, and the cordial welcome the two lads received mad............