She did not glance about or speak.
CHAPTER VI
THE WEB OF THE PLOTTER
Three days of waiting was the utmost I could force myself to endure. On the afternoon of the fourth I called at the house on the side street. The door was opened by the Irishwoman, who met me with a broad grin.
"Oi looked for ye sooner, sor!" was her greeting.
"Señorita Vallois—?"
"Flown, sor—more's th' pity! Ye're a loikely lad, sor, if ye'll oxcuse th' liberty."
"Gone?" I muttered. "Her uncle—?"
"Came an' packed her off, bag an' baggage, two days gone."
"Two days!—Where?"
"'Tis yersilf, sor, is to foind out th' same," she chuckled.
I held out a piece of silver. "Will that jog your memory, mistress?"
"Divil take ye!" she cried, and she struck the quarter dollar from my hand. "Am Oi a black traitor to sell a fellay Christian to a heretic?"
After that there was nothing to do but turn on my heel and leave the virago. By one false move I had lost her friendship beyond recall.
For weeks I sought to trace the señorita and her uncle. All I could discover was that the don had come from Philadelphia in his private coach, called at the British Legation, and carried away his niece by a route unknown.
Left with no more than that doubtful mention of New Orleans, I plunged back into the social swim of the Federal City; not to forget her—that I could not have done had I wished—but to wear away the months of waiting and to perfect myself in the social graces so far as lay within my capacity.
At the same time I did not forget to press my application with Secretary Dearborn and other members of the Government, who, I found, were all too ready to forget me. It was a hopeless quest, and I was well assured of the fact before midwinter. Yet it served its part as a time-killer; and the season being too far advanced for the descent of the Ohio by boat, it was far more agreeable as well as advantageous for me to while away my enforced holiday in Washington than needlessly to punish myself by the long and wearisome horseback journey to the Mississippi.
So I lingered on, dancing attendance on officials who frowned, and dancing the minuet with ladies who smiled. Each served its purpose in carrying me over what would otherwise have been a most tedious winter.
March came and dragged along more than the due number of weeks of foul weather. Yet with the approach of the vernal equinox I began to overhaul my buckskins. Being well able to imagine the state of the roads, I had started a chest with the bulk of my wardrobe by wagon to Pittsburg ten days in advance, and all my preparations had been made to follow after, when the post from Philadelphia brought me a letter which caused me to change my plans in a twinkling. I should rather have termed the missive a note. It was without date, and ran thus:
"If Dr. Robinson is interested in learning of a project contemplated by two parties whom he met at dinner—to wit, a certain foreign gentleman and the writer—he will, on his return West, come by way of Philadelphia, and call upon the writer.
A. B."
Much as this language smacked of intrigue, I had no hesitancy in changing my route to comply with the note. It was not that I felt any interest in the projects of Colonel Burr or his associates. The point was that to my mind "foreign gentleman" spelled "señor," and I had met but one señor at dinner in the company of Aaron Burr. If señor, why not señorita? The rest follows as a matter of course.
My faithful nag had not gone unridden through the winter. A man does not always give over the habit of a daily outing because of balls and routs and tea-sippings. Yet the roads north might have been better—which is not saying much—and there are limits to the endurance of a beast, though not to the miriness of a seaboard road in the spring rains. I did not make the trip to Philadelphia in record time.
Upon my arrival I found that even the beast's master would be the better for a night's rest. Directed to the Plow Tavern, I demanded food and drink for man and horse, and having washed and supped, soon found myself pressing the clean linen of my Quaker host.
Business justifies calls at early hours, and I did not breakfast late. It was as well, perhaps, that I missed my way in the square-laid but narrow Quaker streets, and did not find myself upon the doorstep of Colonel Burr until midmorning. Even as it was, I had a wait of several minutes in the drawing-room before the Colonel entered, wigless, unshaven, and loosely attired in nightgown and slippers.
While waiting, a casual survey of the room had surprised me with its evidences of a lavish establishment. Gossip had reported that the Colonel was not meeting all his extensive indebtednesses when due.
He greeted me with bland cordiality, notwithstanding the inapt hour of my call.
"Welcome, doctor, welcome!" he exclaimed. "Better late than never, eh?"
"You are kind," I replied. "I fancied that I had come too early."
He glanced at his dress with a shrug. "Wine and late hours carry through many a successful conference. You will join me in a cup of coffee and a roll?"
Though I had no wish for food, I assented, for I saw that he had not yet breakfasted. We were soon seated in a snug little den of a room, sipping as good coffee as I had ever tasted at any other than a creole table.
Few men whom I have met have greater command of their features than has Colonel Burr. On the other hand, few are as over-sanguine. He must have inferred that my speedy response to his note meant outright eagerness to share in the projects at which he had hinted. Scarcely pausing for a few civil inquiries as to mutual acquaintances in the Federal City, he interrupted my answers in the midst.
"Let that wait, let it wait, doctor!" he exclaimed, with an ingratiating smile. "There is something of greater moment to us both. I take it from this personal response to my note that you are not uninterested in the plans of Señor Vallois and myself."
The mention of the señor's name drew from me a sharp nod of assent. The plans of Señor Vallois could not but concern his niece, and consequently myself. The Colonel nodded back, and his smile deepened.
"You are aware," he began, "that I have contemplated the purchase of a large tract of land beyond the Mississippi, within the Spanish boundary, on a tributary of the Red River."
"The project was mentioned by you at the President's house," I replied.
"But the ulterior purpose of the scheme—"
"It is reported that you have planned for a colony."
"As a move necessary to the advancement of the real project," he explained.
My look of interest was not assumed. For months past many hundreds of persons, enemies no less than well-wishers of the astute Colonel, had been guessing at the real object behind his rumored schemes.
He nodded shrewdly, and went on, almost in the words of Senator Adair: "Have you considered, doctor, the fortune in store for whoever opens an overland trade with Santa Fe?"
"Granted, sir. No less have I considered the improbability of obtaining such trade concessions from the Spanish authorities. It is only too well known that their policy is set upon jealous exclusion. Their desire for contact with our Western borderers is as slight as their racial and religious aversions are deep-seated and abiding."
"Say rather, their political aversion. Better still, say the political aversion