e 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 people who make good annual incomes in our country with their ingenuity in connecting the Joneses and the Browns and the Smiths with Richard the Lionheart and Bill Conqueror by marriage. In my native state, Kentucky, there are enough majors, colonels and generals to officer the armies of Europe and ask for judges. There are enough badges, fraternity pins, cockades and association medals to keep secondhand jewelers busy for their lifetimes. My countrymen are the most passionate collectors of 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's 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 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 illuminated by the nearby deck light. For my country a princess is recognized whether she wear ermine robes or a calico shirt waist 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 summoned. 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 greatest ballatist of the century. Where Julia O'Grady and the carols lady were both the same under the skin. And I learned about women from her. Maria Teresa was not in a mood to see Jarvis for two more days. Instead of trying to win her forgiveness for a wrong he had not committed he stuck the closer to his state room where with the solicitous attention of Rusty he lived a drone-like and peaceful existence whoring over books. They were not fiction or philosophy. The Kentuckians interest was in Battaker and other books on Spain. With the same application which had carried him over the thin ice of college examinations he had grasped a valuable understanding of the customs and peculiarities of Spain. He gave a special attention to the railroad maps for Warren was not trusting too implicitly to the permanent humility of the Duke. That worthy was passing a most disagreeable voyage. He was naturally of an irascible dictatorial temperament, accustomed to flattery and oscillation. On his return trip to the continent the ships list comprised Americans for the most part. They were in little humor to conjoal the swarthy, sarcastic and unsociable Spaniard. Their minds were too full of the pleasures of the months to come of plans and frolics in contemplation to sacrifice their time to this jor parsonage. The Duke endeavored to mellow his own discomfiture at Maria Teresa's coldness with numerous visits to the grill. The result was a morning grouch, an afternoon headache, and a twilight bitterness that kept him permanently aloof from all companionship. On two occasions he had observed Warren in earnest and apparently friendly conversation with the captain and the 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 information to the ghostbreaker in case he registered his complaint. The Duke's methods of warfare were not of the gallant charge against entrenchment's variety. He specialized in the executive 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 sometime the following day in the Mercy, dependent largely upon the tide and weather, he could stand no longer the evident growth of friendliness between his cousin and her employed assistant. Maria Teresa 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 windswept promenade deck to discuss their common subjects. As Jarvis bade her goodnight and stepped into the shadow of the deck he observed the aristocrat knocking angrily upon the cabin door. Let me in, Maria! cried the Duke in Castilian. 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 reappeared. He was talking excitedly at the doorway. What I have said to you I would say before him were he not skulking in his cabin afraid of justice.  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 collar, speaking with difficulty. I... I... cannot speak on the deck of the sheep. 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 unjuntal shove. With the result that the troublesome door threshold again intercepted to demonstrate the laws of gravity. The Duke sprawled, most unromantically 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.  Was the apt reply of the American.  There was a humorous twinkle in the dark eyes of the princess and worn observed down the passageway to the private state room, the smiling face of Nita, the maid. Well, Mr. Wadden, I merely said that I know you to be what you Yankees call a homebug 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 statements 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 chances in Spain. You have duped my cuisine, a helpless innocent girl ignorant of the sharp ways of American adventurers. You have secured 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 and gratingly.  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 kin's woman. 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 businessman like myself. Answered Warren. What are the exact stipulations 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 tomorrow, 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? Who would hold the stakes? The Duke smiled and waved a gallant hand toward his cousin. Who better than my kin's woman, the Princess of Aragon? 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, 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 Excellency. He remarked amiably. May I trouble 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 hood 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 extincencies. He had not imagined that the first use would be a reversal to the ancient custom of his ancestors in the bluegrass state, upon a race. But blood would 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 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.  Very good, twice in the same place. The word of a Kentuckian is as good as his bond. I agree to let the princess be the stakeholder. She may hold your word and my money belt.  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 be very careful with the lock on the door. The ship lands tomorrow evening, and some villain may break into your state room, rob you of the Duke's word of honor, and sell it to some enterprising Liverpool pawnbroker. Pleasant dreams. I hope to welcome you to Seguro, your excellency. Don't spend the five thousand until you get there. Remember, the home industry's need and encouragement. And he walked out to the promenade deck. The Duke looked at his cousin, flushed a swarly 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 state room to think things over. End of Chapter 10 The Ghostbreaker, a novel based upon the play by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickie. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 11 When the Ship Comes In Back in his state room, Warren was pouring with renewed interest over the timetables 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 in his leather notebook, the telephone bell tinkled. He answered and heard the voice of the princess. Can you see me at once on the promenade deck by my door? Yes. Goodbye. 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 floor. It was crumpled. It 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 Carlos. It is safer with you. Let me know what you think about this paper and tell me tomorrow 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 Kentuckians head reeling for an instant at the unexpected touch of those warm electric fingers. Then he caught himself. Your vassal is still ambitious for a promotion, but he will not fight the windmills of Spain on an old mule like Don Quixote. He prefers modern methods such as dynamite and other pleasant 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 overhead 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 misgiving, a fear not for himself. Yet he deemed it wiser to wait for developments. Up and down the deck paced the nervous noiseless figure. At last the Duke returned and disappeared from view through the door by which he had entered the Kentuckians' view. I wonder what that means? thought Jarvis. Perhaps he is having a fight with his conscience, just as I have been doing. As he watched the speeding waves, racing past the great vassal 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 gunman 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 Meadowgreen it did not now seem a fine thing that he had done. Man was not normally a destroyer of his own kind and his fine instincts were asserting themselves. 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 mind, but he had resolutely driven them from him. Now they were nearing another port, a great commercial crossways 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 princess 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 towards some of the fences ahead. I wonder what is on the paper. He returned to his state room where Rusty was dozing in a chair waiting for the good night instructions. Jarvis sat down and studied the fragment. He set bolt upright, at first with rage and then a growing amusement. Look here, Rusty. This Duke is trying to put one over on me. He declared, waking his servant. Huh? What's that, Moss 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 were 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 wasted dollars worth of time trying to shorten a telegram message into ten words. Isn't that reasonable? Yes, sir, but what does it mean? I don't read no such language. Jarvis smiled. It's in Spanish. It's addressed to Scotland Yard in London. Why is that? Is it some schoolhouse lot? It's Detective Headquarters, Rusty. And it is about me. About you all? Rusty was wide awake by this time in all truth. He had an instinctive suspicion of anything connected with brass buttons and detectives. Yes. Warren Scotland Yard that a man named Warren on this steamship is wanted by the New York police. And that I should be arrested before the passengers can leave. Who signed that miserable contraption? It isn't signed, Rusty. The only person who writes Spanish and who could be so deeply interested 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, Mars One, this is a ship. The Allah's has ropes. Can't you climb overboard when she is hitched to the wharf boat? Jarvis was thinking rapidly. He looked at his watch. The detectives will come on in the pilot boat, Rusty, which I understand meets the Mauritania about eight or ten miles offshore. There won't be any chance on the wharf boat. 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 state room 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 Marconi. I thought I might go to the mountains when I went over to the Belmont Hotel. Now, get it out in those old tennis shoes and that cap. Why fall, Marswan? The big whites of his eyes were rolling. An indication that Rusty Snow's mind was not as much at ease as usual.  Remember, you all is the only one left in the family and you's got to look after yourself. Worm placed a kindly hand on the Negro's shoulder. Rusty, I remember that once when Meadow Green got too small for you years ago, you started out with a minstrel show, the Dark Town Marymakers, they called it. This leap over the chasm of years was too much for Rusty. Yasha! 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, Marswan? There was no emotion that wasn't developing me on that trip. I started off laughing and came back like a weeb and angel. 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, Marswan, you was picking on the old nigger. That was when I was young and sassy-coon. No more acting for mine. That's just what you got to do, Rusty. Obey orders or walk back to New York. Rusty blinked and grumbled to himself. Then, as usual, he acquicessed with that famous grin. Oh, Marswan, I'm game for anything that you is. What is to play? I think we can call this one Why Dukes Leave Home, Rusty. Now, you get busy with those clothes and pack up the suitcases again so they won't be missed. I'm going on the boat deck over us for a little walk and some thinking. Jarvis was gone for about 15 minutes. Rusty was beginning to get nervous by the time he had returned. His hands and face were sooty. Where you all been, Marswan? Climbing up on the smokestack? No, just investigating things. Now, after I write this note, I will tell you about your acting and give you a rehearsal. I haven't any time to lose, Rusty. Warren wrote very carefully, tearing the paper up several times and throwing the fragments through the open porthole, where this was an outside state room. 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 dispensed with undergarments and hose. Now, Rusty, I want you to go down to the steward of the second cabin and tell him you're 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 and a handkerchief, which he tied into a knot. Then he slipped out to the promenade deck, walking along its deserted length to the room of the princess. He tapped on the window of the parlor of the suite until the door opened slightly. Nita's frightened voice came to him. He answered reassuringly. It is warrant. I want to speak to the princess. The maid hurried back and brought her mistress. Warrant 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 $5,000 even if the Duke's note goes to protest. Goodbye. She felt his warm, strong hand clasping hers. A great dread came over her. An unusual sensation 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 missing. All his belongings were in order. His clothes 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. 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 it say? As the cousin of her exalted highness, Princess Maria Theresa of Argonne, 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. I am the commander of this vessel, sir. On the high sea I am in supreme control and know how to run the Maritania without advice from a bloody Spanish pop and jay. I will turn the letter over to the authorities when we land. The captain splattered indignantly. They will meet the boat as the pilot comes on board. I sent them a wireless. Cried the Duke. 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 situation 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 although I have something to say to Scotland Yard myself. 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. Snorted the captain. You look about the type of man who wouldn't fear the dead but what about the ghosts young man? What about ghosts? Did you stop to think about ghosts after people are dead? This perfectly innocent question of the seafaring superstitious mind had a curious effect upon the nobleman. Haramba! 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 companion way to his lowly state room to brood in a state of miserable apprehension. Toward dinner time the pilot boat was sighted. Several men clamored 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. Rusty, weeping as though his heart were broken, detailed the sad conversation which he had held the previous night with his unfortunate employer. Oh, Marswan, I'll never see him again until the time for the ghost. At this speech Maria Teresa observed a nervous twitching about the mouth of her noble kinsman. Then Rusty became so incoherent in his sorrow that they could get no satisfaction out of him. They studied the circumstances of the case and made their notes with frequent whispered conferences. Next to Rusty the duke was the most unhappy person present, although the princess showed the strain of her uneasiness. After the men completed the first quizzing they repaired once more to warn state room to seek for other papers. When they had been gone a minute or so, Carlos waved Nita out of the room. That young person could look otherwise than melting with her black eyes when occasion demanded. This glance was of the sparkling pine which could kill. Tell me, my dear Maria Teresa. Again 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 became stakeholder according to the laws of wagers, did it not? Ah, yes.  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's 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? The man rose to his feet, his knees wavering, and then with a supreme effort he steadied himself against the back of the chair. His eyes were extended and the handsome mouth sagging. Madre de Dios! He cried appealingly. All nonchalants and scorn now missing from his mean. You don't mean to say that you, my blood relative, the woman I adore could believe such a thing? The girl looked away. He could not see the ironical smile on the scarlet lips. Carlos, I have said no such thing. But wouldn't it be better to wait until we reach Seguro as a matter of sportsmanship? Our family has had the reputation of being honourable, even in games and wagers. I am nervous, Carlos. This has upset me more than you can believe. I will never mention the wager again until you bring up the subject. And she returned to her stateroom where needed dressed the soft dark hair with her accustomed skill and a smile concealed with difficulty. The search was ended. The Scotland yard man scoured all the cabins from steerage up. They even quizzed the engineers, the stokers, the pooks, the multitude of men and passengers. No clue 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. Fellow, he was heartbroken. The princess was 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 the highness. And that is how it was that evening that out through the dismal drizzle of an interminable a long day Rusty snow marched down the dock carrying Warren Jarvis's luggage and two satchels of 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 assist his cousin into a waiting taxi. They were to take the night train for London. The princess and her party were delayed in Liverpool with the queries of the authorities just long enough to make the misconnections 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. Confounded, 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 tent flushed up at 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 for my brother. He proved himself more of the gentleman Carlos than you with all the boasted advantage which we believe accompanies a title. The Duke was silent, morose and uncertain himself but a 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 railroad station to Seguro. From here the party would travel by motor to the oldest state of the princess and her family. It was a 25 mile ride. The country through which the train was passing would differ with every mile. After irritating delays and interminable waits at stations for train service in Spain was 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. This makes me think of the Arkansas traveler. Muddered Rusty, but his reminiscence was unappreciated by his tired companions. A blowout, delay with the mending of the tire and the fall of darkness wore out what spirits were left among the four voyagers. At last the little town was reached and the machine was compelled to stop on the outskirts of the village by the old post-road house where a sleepy soldier was guarding the road for some government purposes. As the lights of the car threw their garish glare upon the portico of the dilapidated structure a man in English clothes carrying a small satchel stepped out and ran down toward the machine. Who be? How old Rusty snow with such sudden gusto as to frighten his companions. The Duke stood up trembling. He did not believe his eyes. Even Nita drew back with a scream of horror which turned into dumbfounded happiness as the unmistakable features of worn Jarvis appeared in the bright glow. The Ghost Breaker! exclaimed the Duke. The Princess merely held out her hands with a happy warmth which Jarvis could feel through her gloves. How did you spring out of the earth, just here? Well, I got to the town a bit late. The old carry-all that brought me broke down three miles back and I stumbled along knowing this was the only road which could bring you.  The food was older than the town. He tossed his grip to Rusty and turned toward the Duke. It strikes me that I won my bet, Your Excellency. Where did you come from? We thought you were drowned at sea. Well, I was nearly drowned when I slid down a rope outside the ship and flopped into the harbor as she lay at the dock. After hiding under the cover of a lifeboat for twelve hours I was so stiff that my quarter-mile swim was the hardest job I ever did. Onshore I bought new clothes and took the first train QED. 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 without 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 situation of the American trying in vain to fathom the mystery. These 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 harness? Well, that's not it. And the obstruction in the road removed. They journeyed on, slowly but more or less surely toward the distant castle. We will stop at Old Pedro's Inn tonight for I am frantic to hear of my brother. She said as they advanced Carlos was too deep in thought to speak again. And up at the same inn the usual nightly round of medieval revelry was going on. The most indeterminate in age and style of architecture was built upon uneven ground. To save expense and trouble in the distant days of its inception it had been built upon two levels without the excavating for foundations. Time and the weather had warped and twisted the old wooden floors and beams so that by this date it had numerous levels. Yet the remaining furniture was of substantial oak where could be seen evidence of the expenditure in days long past of good Spanish gold. A sleep with his head on the square table by the fireplace was Pedro, the old proprietor. Two villagers set at another table in the side of the big room playing cards with wordy arguments about their winnings and losses. A young woman of perhaps 23 dark skinned, dark eyed and dark trust crossed the floor from an adjoining room to answer a knock at the door. From the room she had left came the sound of singing and mandolins. 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 is yesterday's basket untouched as usual. And you left today'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, senior reader Dolores, it was an unblessed flame. He sank into a chair weekly. Once when I called tonight a wail came back to me. It sounded like a sigh of the damned. It may have been only the wind through the graded window, but it chilled my heart.  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.  On my left, mind you, the sinister side, the left, the left. The casanets 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. Aw, she is a great lady, with a great heart. Then will the villagers have it said that they let their own princess go in alone as they did their prince? God forbid that it should come to that. Muddered the prince's retainer as he handed her the basket. Good night, senorita. As he started for the door the girl called after him. Will you go again tomorrow, Vardos? Yes, senorita. I will go on forever until I know for sure that it is useless. Good night. His words as he passed through the old portal were drowned by the cheering and applause which followed some special favorite who had ended a song. Dolores looked sadly at the basket. The tears streaming down her face. She lifted the napkin showing the simple but nourishing food which had been untouched by the missing prince. She crossed herself with a whispered prayer for his safety crossing the room to the ancient pantry. The dreams of Pedro were rudely interrupted. The big door suddenly opened to admit a character very different from the weaklings who made this tavern their rendezvous. He was dark skinned as the rest of the crew red-faced his old Pedro from the same faithful indulgence of vintages. Not younger than 40 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 a half a hundred 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 advanced quietly in the middle of the big room. Then with malicious enjoyment of the effort 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. At this the startled landlord leaped to his feet bowing through force of habit. Ah, senorobledo. One thousand pardons. He gasped timorously. What can I do for you sir?  And the newcomer advanced upon the unhappy Pedro as though about to slay him for housing us. Yes, senor, you are always right. The man humbly endeavored to collect his wits. How may I serve your lordship? The bully swaggered, puffed his cheeks and feeling that his host was finally awake to the seriousness of the situation he cried once more. My horse stands outside by the post. He has been hard ridden for I have come on an important mission.  Dry him down and don't give him water until he has cooled off.  The tavern keeper gulped fearsomely and bowed his most fetching bow without result. My horse is almost dead on his legs. Be kind 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 tonight. The old man bowed and started to leave the big room. 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. We'll be right here, sir. He went to the door at the right and shouted quaveringly. Dolores! Dolores! Dolores! There, senor, she will come at once.  Yes, the Duke. He is coming tonight. Don't stand and serve but hurry up and see to my horse. Yes, senor, 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 impatiently. Did you not know I had come? 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 objection 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, senor 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. What do you want to say to me?  Come here. Don't try to get away. The girl was tugging to release herself. What's come over you these days? You are about as fond and sweet tempered as a Tigris. Anyone would think that you did not care for me at all. What have I done, Dolores? It is what you have not done. For fifteen days your prince has been in need of you and has not had the courage to go to him. Let go my wrist. Don Robledo laughed yet with a quaver in his voice. For there was a depth of passion here, intensified by the spirited resistance of the girl. Who's the little spitfire trying to tear to pieces now? You! she snapped back. Don Robledo! Swordfighter! Torridor! Fire-eater! Hero of a hundred duels! You! Don Robledo! Coward! He clumsily chuckled her under the chin. I asked you today. She continued as she threw his hand away from her face. I begged 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 had burned something, a scrap of paper in the hope that some of you, his retainers, would notice it and come to his assistance.  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 the odd 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 could I love such a man? They had not heard the thrum of the motors on the highway 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 sarcastically. Your Excellency. Cried Robledo, taking off his hat. Welcome back to Seguro. Yes, I am welcome to Seguro. The natives doffed their hats and, like Pedro, bowed and howled in the time-honored peasant way. The duke! The duke! Pedro, go out and help the princess and her servants with a luggage. I want to speak to you alone, Robledo. Hurry, while the others are delayed with that execrable car. I walked a hundred 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 be here tonight and you, senorita, will doubtless be pleased to look over him as he has come all the way from America for the privilege of entering the castle and playing your hero. Dolores looked at Robledo as she parried. And did her highness have to go all the way to America to find him? Yes, indeed. He's from America, where all the fools come from. And the villagers joined in a merry chorus of intelligent laughter. End of Chapter 12 The Ghostbreaker A novel based upon the play by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickey. This is a LibriBox recording. All LibriBox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriBox.org. Chapter 13 Gentlemen. A man. Dolores had hurried upstairs where she well knew there was a tiny attic in the rumbling old building which acted as an excellent whispering gallery. Every word spoken in the larger room below could be heard from this vantage. She was no sooner secreted there than she heard the voice of the Duke. You've received my telegram sent to San Fernandez? Yes, Excellency. Antonio brought it over with the mailbags. What about the prince? Ah, Excellency. Why ask? The same news as before.  It is most throatier, Excellency. Well then, Robledo, I am satisfied as far as that goes. But you have worked before you of a new character. The swordsman struck a chair with his riding-crop. It seemed a favourite stage effect with him. The Duke was not slow in catching its significance. Just forget about these little affections, my good man. He said hotingly. None of this blustering around me. I know that you do your work well and at other times there is much to be desired. 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 contrabandista, cunning as the snakes of the Pianonese. 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 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 the rest in Liverpool, I have yet to learn the secret of it. He must be discouraged. You understand, Robledo? Excellency, I can assure you that the Yankee pig will be convinced in a language which he will understand that his presence in this castle tonight is quite unnecessary. Have you any particular instructions? The Duke shook his head in grimace suggestively. Any way you please, Robledo, you understand my general ideas on such subjects. Means are of no consequence to a born statesman. Results 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 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 bullring.  They can drink my health. It is none the best these days, Robledo. My American trip was wearing. It is a wretched, unromantic whole. Not the contrary, 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 confessional 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 servants of the island Latin districts. Their lives follow the monotonous example of the generations before them. As their grandsires, their fathers were tradesmen of a certain calling.  It is this which is so pleasing to the European aristocrats, no matter how bankrupt, incompetent, unreputable, the class theory which is recognized by the masses as once 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 distrust by the 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 feudal countries which is the surest bulwark of the divine right of kings and courtiers. A pleasantly descended 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 of potage for which the Esau's of the kingdoms and principalities sell their birthrights and their souls. Vardos, for instance, body-servant and sole military retainer of a princely line which for generation after generation had considered itself in humiliating straits unless there were at least a thousand lances at beck and call. Old Vardos had been thrown into a mental maelstrom by the sudden change in the lifelong existence. Sure of his meals and a modicum of money for occasional visits to taprooms, he was now placed in a position of responsibility. One where executive and aggressiveness were demanded. Here Old Vardos failed because he was a peasant true to his type. The poor fellow had struggled with his grief these fifteen days. Now he felt with a helpless aching of the faithful heart that he must have been, in a sense, responsible for the death of his master. He had pleaded with the young prince not to enter the accursed place. Insanity and suicide, though it seemed to be to him, he could not help it. That was bad enough, 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 favours 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 family and the saints, with tear-choked voice, the quandary of his noble master, and begged that, though they should never grant him another request, 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 unburdening his own soul, with semi-religious phrases in a Kentucky accent, addressed with unwanted and even picturesque fluency at the stumbling, stodgy, rusty snow who trudged along loaded with luggage and an insatiate hatred of this cussed-born joint as he labelled it to himself. The princess and her maid had, at Jarvis' suggestion, left them with the automobile, in its latest quagmire, to reach the shelter of the inn. So it was that, as her vassal, and his vassal, struggled with the luggage in the dark, she reached the portal of the House of Pedro. Robledo was hearkening carefully to certain careful instructions from the Duke of Alva, nodding with a smile of malicious portent at the final words. I will not fall short of my former reputation, Your Excellency. Eclared the dawn. When a man reaches my time of life after a success in the bullring as Torero, in the army as a duelist and in the private retinue of so distinguished a nobleman as yourself, he has a certain pride in his ability.  Shaking his head, Carlos drew out his purse.  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 cleaning up after that miserable trip. Pedro was approaching them subservently, a humble, bobbing head betokening his anxiety to please the fine folk. Anything else, Your Excellency? He stammered, 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 Teresa. With studied carelessness, he dropped the coin upon the floor, and Pedro chased the rolling golden disc 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, Your Excellency. And Pedro nearly brought back his romantic spell by the renewed bobbing of the stiffled back as he retreated to the bar room. He returned promptly after breaking the gladsome tidings of the treat and led the noblemen up the stairway as a chorus of cheers rang out from the alcoholic ward. The Duke of Alba! Robledo walked to the door with his characteristic swashbuckler rhythm and stirred them up to more enthusiasm. Louder, you beggars, or I'll give you something to yell about. Louder, I say! Dolores had slipped through the doorway, facing the road. Suddenly she danced in through the entry again, happy and exultant. Her Highness has come, Father. Her Highness! Old Pedro stumbled toward the balcony and peered over at her quarrellessly. Father! Father! What is it, Dolores? Her Highness, the Princess. The old man bustled down the stairs, trembling with added excitement. Just as Maria Teresa and Nita were bowed into the tavern by a villager who had accompanied them from the delayed machine, the peasants trooped into the room from the tap, howling with medieval enthusiasm. Your gracious Highness does my humble in great honor. Began Pedro as his local guests imitated the clumsy curtsy with varying ability. Thank you, Pedro. Replied the Princess graciously, as one would address a polite child. She held out her hand to Dolores, who kissed it reverently, with a bow and a bend of the knee. Your Highness, we are poorly prepared for this great favor. I'll prepare it indeed. Apologize, Dolores. Your exultant cousin gave us but short warning of your coming. Our humble tavern is hardly fitting for a great lady. My child, any place to remove the dust of travel will do for me. She turned toward the 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 tonight, surely? Her voice was politely remonstrative with a note of apprehensiveness 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 Jose has told me. Come to a room, Nita.  Better to wait until daylight if I may be so bold as to suggest to your ladyship. You are all unstrung just now. Maria Teresa did indeed show the strain of the nerve-wracking 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 that your hands can rest me with their skillful massage. And she spoke warily. Pedro stepped forward, bowing. Allow me, the owner, Your Highness. I have the finest chamber in the tavern prepared for you. A fire to take the night-shell from the largest bedroom. She started up the steps, followed by her maid and the old man, still risking a strained back with his excited bows. Again she turned to Dolores with a strange nervousness to say. Do not forget to explain to Mr. Warren. He may think I have left the tavern. I will see him soon. I will give your commands to the Señor Americano, Your Highness. Promised the black-eyed Dolores with a heightened color. Then the princess disappeared across the end of the balcony. Dolores walked to the doorway and discerned two figures approaching with a strange slowness. Is this the end? cried a voice with a slight foreign accent in the Spanish. Yes, yes, Señor. Come in, Señor, we are expecting you. replied the girl. The villagers were still grouped about the door to the tap room. Dolores stepped back as Warren Jarvis and Rusty Snow entered the big front hallway and blinked at the unaccustomed glare of light. They were both burdened with suitcases and two of the princess's hat boxes. These they dropped unceremoniously on the floor with sighs of relief. We're here, Rusty, with both feet. Yes, Señor. And the negro ground with exhaustion. And I'd just as leave me back in meta-green. This don't look very scrumptious for our Mrs. Princess's plantation house. This is no castle, Rusty. This is only the halfway house. Dolores could not understand their low conversation in English and Afro-Americanese, but she had studied the clear features, the nonchalant bearing of the tall American. She turned toward the sheep-like staring villagers, and with an eloquent wave of her hand she cried out resonantly. Gentlemen. A man. Jarvis was lighting his cigarette and he laughed with a side remark to his valet. Rusty, as the Indian said to Columbus, we're discovered. He turned toward the girl. Did you, by any chance, address me, fair Señorita? I'm calling the attention of these valiant gentlemen of Segoro, to the only man with spirit and bravery enough to enter the haunted castle. She declared. How did you know? His eyes widened with surprise. This was a queer place. All Segoro knows by this time, Señor. At these words Don Robledo swaggered in through the door from the bar. He pushed the villagers aside with contemptuous roughness. He even thrust the girl out of his way as she tried to detain him. He laughed insultingly into the bland face of Jarvis. So you are the brave Americanario. He cried, surveying Jarvis, with hands on hips and stocky legs well-spread. Jarvis puffed cigarette smoke at him and answered with ingenuous modesty. I'm an American and here... He waved his hand to Rusty, who saluted with devination of the tenor of the interchange. I present to your notice another American. In fact, we're both Americans.  Rusty was reading the pantomime with perfect understanding. He made a writhe 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 on one of the carbon chairs and continued to puff his cigarette with provoking amiability. Robledo leaned forward toward him and snarled. You had better keep out of the castle than it has a fatal climate. Moran lapped 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. I'm not afraid of a little trifle like that, senor. Robledo stepped back threateningly and yet with hesitation caused by the perplexing simplicity of this foreigner. No. Well, señorita, we gentlemen of Seguro will gladly drink to your American hero. Here lads is a toast to the most 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 indignantly 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. Howl these bags on the table, Rusty. Orgard warring as he smiled winningly at the girl. Yes, sir. We can use them for one of these barricades if we has to. It looks as though we're booked for a warm reception in Seguro, Rusty, doesn't it? Rusty rolled those chalky optics with an expression of mingled rollery, apprehension, and confidence in his master's ability to lead the battle. It is wonderful how much expression can be condensed into a darkie's eyes. Yes, sir. It's some tropical that shore. But you all ain't no cold storage roost to yourself, maswan. A little Kentucky ammunition might make some echoes round this confabulation. From the taproom came loud howls of derision from the associated village sports of Seguro. That warred healer seems to be making a campaign speech, Rusty. He may be making a few promises that he can't fulfill after he gets elected. Observe the Kentuckian with pursed lips. Listen to them holler. Rusty looked over his shoulder while Dolores studied these two types with girlish curiosity as they chattered in their alien tongue. She had never seen a man unafraid of Don Robledo, but his distinguished excellence see the Duke before. It gave her a new thrill. He's a modernized man, he is. Modernized, maswan. He's almost too nice, ain't he?  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 schoolteacher has a nice long rat tan concealed up his sleeve. End of Chapter 13 The Ghostbreaker, a novel based upon the play by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickey. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 14 More Obstacles Delores approached the Kitakian politely, yet eagerly. Pardon, senior, 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, senorita, and may I ask, who was the cheerful, froxom individual who flattered me with that polite toast? Is he one of the royal family taking a little vacation in this neighborhood? The girl reddened, then laughed. No, senior, he is well known in this part of our country. His name is Dawn Robledo. Worn lit another cigarette and studied her attractive face with the gallant interest of a southerner who was always prone to admire beauty. She was embarrassed, yet pleased under the unmistakable scrutiny. Dawn Robledo, he seems to be well acquainted with you, senorita. 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.  But of course, that's none of my business. He stopped for an instant to absorb the rowdy racket from the tap room. Either he's a wonderful spender or he has unlimited credit with 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 castle. More than you suspect, senor. You have been the subject of much more serious talk in this tavern before you were ever seen here. And how was that? I'm really a very unimportant person, you know. Let me tell you something while I have the opportunity. You are in great danger here, senor. I wish to help you. I have tried for weeks to stir up some manhood in the hearts of these cowardly sheep in Seguro. The prince has been missing for days since he went into that castle. I want to save my beloved princess from the same fate which I fear overtook him when he braved the horrors of that castle. It is the place of Satan, senor. The Americans smiled at her as he asked, Now, do you really believe in all that superstitious trash, my good girl? You look intelligent. The girl crossed herself piously. Have we not been taught by the priest of the fiends who haunt the earth and wreck human happiness? How can I say such things could 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, senor, 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 iconoclastic ten days. I don't understand, senor Warren. She replied in bewilderment. Of course you don't, or you wouldn't be cowtowing to this royalty stuff. And you would have had to bottle to that Don Ruffhouse, 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 me will be absolutely our secret. Delors looked at Rusty, who was struggling with a cigarette. He was more accustomed to Pittsburgh's Stoges, but his motto in life was based on the famous advice concerning Roman imitation. How about the senor Moore? Senor? May you trust him? She asked nervously. Rusty is no more. 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. She heard a footfall on the balcony above them. Let me pretend to read your palm, senor. I know we are being watched. All right, read away. My palm will show you that after this trip through Spain my clothesline needs washing. But what's the fortune of the castle? It was the old Jarvis, now blithesome, devil-may-worry, shrewd, and recovered completely through the change of scene and a certain new interest in life, which the reader may have already defined. The girl led him away from beneath the balcony to the side of the big fireplace. She took up his hand and examined it carefully. Nor did her shrewd eyes miss the face on the balcony, that of the Duke of Alva. She exaggerated her studious examination and then in a low tone proceeded with the explanation of the lines of fate and life. Every one of these breaks in your lifeline shows a moment when you stood face to face with death. Ah, senor, in all my experience I have never seen such an adventurous poem. You have stood elbow to elbow with death, and yet those little squares about the breaks showing a guiding spirit of protection. Warren was beginning to be bored, yet something in the girl's furtive glances toward the balcony, which did not miss his own sharp eyes, convinced him that she was endeavoring to get a message to him. She continued, her own hand trembling a mistakeably. Ah, senor americano, there is one break which has not yet been reached by the line of time. The protecting square of your guardian saint is not perfect there, as with the others. The Kentuckian laughed incredulously. I guess I can build up a square when the time comes and let the break take care of itself. But the time is now. And her voice was tremulously low. Now? What do you mean now?  And are the fortune teller's eyes so brilliant and so keen that they can light up the future and behold the day and the hour? Query Jarvis. Not my eyes, senor. And her voice died down to a whisper. But my ears. The step of the duke was upon the resident's stairs. In all my experience I have seen but one hand like yours, senor. It speaks of danger. And that hand belongs to Don Robledo. To Don Robledo. The nobleman's voice cut short the seance. There was a warning note in it. Well, Dolores, and why are you not attending her hinders? You know the house and she needs assistance. Pardon, senor. She stepped back and curtsied to Carlos, who came down the stairs advancing toward Warren. I will go at once, Your Excellency. Goodbye, senorita. I'll take care of the little square. Thanks for your occult wisdom. Were Warren's smiling words as he looked at the duke? Well, Mr. Warren, looking into the future. Yes, duke, and the immediate future promises to be very interesting. That little fortune teller has occult powers indeed. A dark man used to cross my path soon. Carlos had crossed the room to a position from where he could look into the tap room. 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 tonight is most uncomfortable when it can be so easily avoided by your own common sense. I seriously advise you're waiting until the morning. So you don't think I'll come back? I think that if you go to the castle tonight, you take your life in your own hands. Warren opened and shut his sinewy fingers and laughed back. You've got a pretty good grip. Look here. Put in the nobleman. You Americans are noted as being shrewd traitors. You get dollar for dollar when you bargain and generally a few extra dollars. You are not going to give your life away for nothing, are you? Oh, it's not worth very much. Retorted Jarvis. The deal was made on a bargain day. My life happened to be a little below par and a good customer came along. There was a comprehensive sparkle in the dark Spanish eyes to meet the twinkle in the firm blue ones. Ah, I begin to see the light. Well, Mr. Wadden, I am willing to release you from your offer and the bargain and meet your terms now. 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. Duke snarled as he inquired. I suppose that means 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 appear to tread. Jarvis laughed provokingly.  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, and your advice are all declined without thanks. I once saw a gambler lay down four aces.  He looked the dealer straight in the eye as I am doing now with you. Then he said, the play ain't natural. Now, you have tried to have me arrested on the steamer. Then you tipped off Scotland Yard. And for all I know, the Paris police, too.  Suddenly you express the utmost anxiety as to what's going to happen to me in the castle. You generously offer to buy me off.  Shall I take the bait, hook, line, and sinker? Luke, the play ain't natural. The noble man clenched his fists in anger. You have intruded into a matter which you neither understand nor appreciate. If, as you say, the play seems unnatural, then throw down your cars and stay out of the game. Oh, no, no, no. And Jarvis' voice again had that provokingly teasing tone in it. I'll just stay right in the game and play my hand out and watch every deal. He turned toward Rusty. Come along and let's see if we can find the landlord. We'll have a look at our rooms. He said, hurry, Rusty, don't go to sleep. The bedrooms are upstairs. Rusty was very thoughtful as he picked up the bags and began to follow. The Duke watched the two with side-long glances. Both characters were mysteries to him, so different, nonchalant, and unaffected by the serious task. Europeans would have taken the case at least with greater seriousness. What's the matter with you, Rusty, in love? The Negro was lost in a deep study as he sniffed the air in a thoughtful, absent-minded fashion. Marswan, I'd like to find a piece of chicken. Great Scott, what put that into your head? Oh, la-zee, Marswan, I was powerful hungry.  What, again? No, sir, it's the same old hunger. No matter how fast the train go, I just can't leave it behind. Oh, my, if I only had some pork chops and a little real gin. Jarvis started on toward the steps.  You don't eat a thing until we finish this job. Rusty shook his head despairingly. Good Lord, does I have to wait until you is dead before I can eat my vitals? 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-hunting tonight. 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? Unfortunately, I must leave at once. I have an urgent summons from Madrid. Jarvis shook his head and mocked Sorrow. That's too bad, sure enough. I'm sorry where to lose the inspiration of your company. Won't you even be around at the finish? Surely you take that much interest in the little breaking party, your Excellency. I am sorry, Mr. Warren, but I must go. Answer the nobleman, writhing under the sarcasm, but never losing the smooth control of his words and studied reserve.  And Jarvis started again for the stairs. The beautiful girl was just coming down, and the Duke's eyes came together in an angry squint as he saw the warmth of the glance which she bestowed upon the American. Here, Pedro. This is Mr. Warren and his men attend to his once. Yes, your Highness. And Pedro once more strained the faithful spine with a series of get-a-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 tonight. 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 Excellency. And Jarvis disappeared in the balcony entrance to the old line of bedrooms. Maria Teresa turned anxiously to her cousin. Carlos, what news of my brother? Have you heard anything yet? I'm Maria. I am very sorry. And yet I heard you say that you were leaving for Madrid. She questioned. Yes. The message is from His Gracious Majesty the King. You know how important a summons that is. But why must you go so soon? Why not wait overnight at Pedro's tavern here? Ah, my dear Cosine. 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 I am alone with no kinsmen 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 rooms of Warren's. What need of me, my dear? You have this marvel of sagala heads, the ghost breaker.  So that is your excuse. He caught eagerly at what he deemed his opportunity. He snatched her hand, although it was as promptly pulled away. I make no excuses, my dear Maria. I need none. You know the truth. That Yankee adventurer stands between you and me. He is of common herd. You and I of the bluest blood in Spain. Send him away now. Tonight, and I will do anything for you. I will postpone my journey to the king at any sacrifice of displeasure. I'll send one of my men into the castle to find your brother.   Yet you ask me to send away this man, who of all of you is the only one willing to sacrifice his life for me? He snapped his tapering fingers angrily as he clutched his sword-cane. His swarthy face was chalky under the stress of the emotion as he replied savagely. If he stays, I go. Very well. Then, Carlos, you forced me to make a choice. I choose a real man. Carlos caught her by the arm. You are too interested in this worthless pretender, 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 Mauritania. I warn you, Troyer princesses must aim higher than the common 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. Ghostbreaker, I wish you success when you beard the specter in his den. With mock dignity at first, Jarvis' voice grew more menacing as he completed the words of retort. 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 laughed, 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. How 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. 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 without losing a minute. Otherwise, I would wait until tomorrow 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 there? There is the castle. You can, of course, see it through the window. 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. 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 more 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. End of Chapter 14 The Ghostbreaker A novel based upon the play by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickie. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 15 Mysterious Influences The 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 injustice to the magic of such glances which came 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 common place. Even the tawdry surroundings of a thousand million everyday lives into dazzling kingdoms of love. Warren Jarvis felt the thrill, and he lost his humorous poise. The heartbreaking 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 conditions which separated them so inseparably. 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 between 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 devined 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 tonight, for my sake. Jarvis shook his head in depreciation. Are we not merely honest traitors, Your Highness? We made a compact, risking your life at the start to save mine. Now is the completion. When I find your brother and solve the mystery of the fortune, I will know that our account is squared. Then I may be human. Her eyes dropped before his own ardent answer, and she turned to the stairs. I must go get the memorandum in the locket. Yes, of course. Where is it? You should have guarded that well. It is safe in my room, Mr. Jarvis. I won't be long. And up the steps she fled as though trying to escape from her own heart in some strange, new, yet not unpleasant panic.  The voice of the negro answered, choked and muffled in a mystifying way. Yes, sir, yes, sir. What are you doing up there? Hurry, we're starting. Yes, sir. Jarvis turned and walked toward the window, looking up at the dismal silhouette of the ancient castle. The moon had risen on the edge of the horizon, and already the place was beginning to look ghost-like with the pale iridescence. I wouldn't change places. He soliloquized between efforts to light a fresh cigarette with that darned old spook that she thinks is in that castle. For all the gold that she thinks is in that cussed old castle and all the rest of the moth-eaten castles in Spain. Rusty came down the stairs, his jaws working and his cheeks puffing vigorously. Jarvis spun around nervously at the sound. He was keyed up this evening, despite the humorous resolution, which had straightened the lines of that amiable mouth. What have you been doing, Rusty? What's in your mouth? He demanded impatiently. Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I was just slipping a little snack that young lady bring up to me. I was so hungry I could just feel my stomach slipping through my suspenders and climbing up my backbone on the other side. And some Spanish poke chopped at that. He rolled his eyes in ecstasy and licked his lips. But it weren't near enough. Just then Jarvis heard a scream from the elevation of the balcony. The princess was calling frantically. Mr. Warren, Mr. Warren Jarvis. He darted toward the steps and met her halfway up them. As she ran down, her face ghastly with fear. What is it? Tell me. Oh, Mr. Warren. Yes, yes. The locket. The locket is gone? Yes. And this was very weak. And the memorandum? Gone, too. She gasped. Jarvis called to Rusty, interrupting the finish of the running meal. Quick, Rusty, the horses. The horses, boss. Why are his day? Outside. Go get the girth tight. Have you got that extra supply of cannon? Yes, sir. I'll go. I've got enough to fight the Spanish war over again, and this time I'm going up San Juan Hill myself.   He turned to her nervously, but the battle-light was in the blue eyes this time.  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 excitedly, 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 geography to get any good out of that memorandum. Does it give the exact details of the treasure trove? As plain as ABC, she answered, You think? 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 is 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 entrance, toward the arch under the stairs, surmised the gist of the conversation. He drew a revolver, well hidden in the shadow, and waited. I understand. I have my bearings, too. Wore and stepped down to the level of the floor. Wait, said Maria Teresa Softley. This little cross. It is a token which I wish my knight to wear on the tourney. Tonight. 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 tonight? Asked the catechian, as he looked squarely into the crimson face above him. How the roses and lilies played hide-a-seek beneath the soft skin of those clear features. You may never see tomorrow. She murmured, as she drew up the cross from its pendant position, pressing it to her red lips with reverence. The American spirit cried out within for honest self-expression. Then if I never see tomorrow, forgive me for telling you tonight, that I love you. She would have spoken, but he raised his hand for silence. Beneath the archway the shadowed figure drew nearer, slipping into the sharp angle behind the stairs. Do not rebuke me tonight. Wait until tomorrow. If tomorrow ever comes. He paused, and still she was silent, except for the soft music of her breathing, that regal bosom so close to his own upturned face. And now your humble vassal goes forth in his liege-lady's name and cause, and while all saguro waits, ghost and ghost-breaker shall stalk those haunted melancholy halls. Again they looked into each other's eyes. Your Highness, within the hour I shall hang the signal of victory within the window of the castle. He carried her hand to his lips. Even as he had 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 behind 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 understand how titles fit. A new noise came to his ears, and he listened without a trimmer 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, a 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. 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 American's hands, covering and extinguishing the glass lamp, which fell with a crash in the darkness. There was a portentous pause. It seemed ours. 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 bloodthirsty flame into the black void. There was a groan of anguish. Footsteps advanced to the door. The cheery tune of Dixie was continued in the moonlight. End of Chapter 15 The Ghostbreaker, a novel based upon the play by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickie. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 16. As in days of old Rusty, you lazy coon, get on that horse of yours and hack along to the castle. See, the moon is helping us. Yes, sir. I was just finishing another hunk of pork chops that I forgot and put in my pocket. But won't you have a bite?  And Jarvis swung into the saddle with the lithe skill acquired from childhood days on the backs of bluegrass thoroughbreds. Go and play, Mas Warren. Asked Rusty after he had calculated that they had ridden a respectful distance for inquiries. Rusty had a certain inherited pride. Jarvis laughed, and the dull glow of his cigarette tip was discernible. Oh, Rusty, why worry over history? Leave that sort of thing to these spagotties. That's all they have to think about over here. It was just a question of being pinked or pinking a certain gentleman who was working beyond union hours. Huh. Snorted Rusty. I bet the reason I has in my jeans that he was more red than pink when you all got finished with that cannon of yours, Mas Warren. It runs into family to shoot street. Well, Rusty, let's ride straight for a while. We must go up this road to the turn. It passed dark cottages and finally reached the fateful angle of the road. Rusty groaned apprehensively. Say, Mas Warren, I wouldn't mind this all in the meanest moonshine district in Cane Tuck. But I don't like for the ride in this ya foreign district. Why didn't you all pick out someplace where they speaks human talk instead of this un-Christian lingo? It don't seem religious to me, Mas Warren. Rusty, I'm beginning to think you got a yellow streak in you with all this talk about objections. 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 saddle on the increasingly rough trail. Mas Warren, that was right. But Wildcats is pretty heavy and you all can hit them with a shotgun. The trouble with ghosts is that they don't weigh nothing. Look out, Rusty. Here's a brook. And suddenly Jarvis's 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 rolling off despite his efforts to receive a ducking. Then did his teeth have reason to clatter as he mounted again to follow his master up the declivity with dripping clothes. I thought they want a quick like that to follow the doles of a castle, Mas Warren. He complained. That's how they got their water supply. I 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 saddle-bows the unlighted antique lanterns. Rusty was unmistakably becoming more and more nervous. The road took a sharp turn to the right now and they 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 indeed. The castle stood on a broad, rocky shelf. A cold wind swept over the mountaintop rattling the naked branches nearby the dismal walls. What's that? Grunted Rusty in terror. Just the wind trying to get through those barred windows up there.  Lost the messy. I don't blame it for getting out. I wish I wasn't going in. A lone cloud took this occasion to cover the moon and the shadow darkened the outlines of the sinister structure. The castle, so Warren had judged on his trip up the hill, might have been built in the period of the Spanish moors. Later, perhaps when the moors had been driven out of the country, two dismal wings, several towers and torrents had been added, reminding one of the castles on the Rhine cliffs. The face of the structure which Jarvis scanned quickly was about 200 feet long and maybe 60 feet high with two staunch square towers at either end. Then slits in the wall and two round windows high up appeared to the mind of the Kentuckian humorous in the face of the unknown danger as architectural bung holes on either side of the great arched door jetted a turret slit with many smaller openings and possessing castellated tops. As they rumbled over the planking of the open drawbridge, Rusty's room and the open drawbridge, Rusty's chattering teeth were audible to the rider close at his side and Jarvis muttered angrily, drawing up his horse by the gate which led to the inner courtyard. If you're still too much of a coward to go on, you can ride back, Rusty. This is the first time you've ever failed me in a time of danger. The Negro remonstrated nervously. I'm not scared, Mosswarn. I'm just getting straight hair for the first time in my life. I'm going with you. I was just mighty unhappy. A doorway somewhere swung shut with an iron clang. Rusty's nerves were stronger now. He breathed hard, but said nothing. They used to hitch their horses here, I suppose. Said Jarvis as he slid from the saddle. The moonlight gave them a better illumination by this time. He hitched his horse and Rusty followed his example with trembling fingers. Now, light the lamps. Nah, but those lamps would sell for a fortune in a Fourth Avenue antique shop. Rusty obeyed silently. Then followed the most horrible experience of Rusty's life in what seemed an endless exploration. They trod along weirdly echoing corridors through spacious chambers where ancient tapestries hung from the walls, where strange debris lay about amidst the curious carved furniture. Everything was covered by a pall of dust. Squealing and scurrying the shiny eyes of 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 see why ghosts would want to hang around this miserable place, Mars Warren. Ventured Rusty, as for the second time they entered the largest room of all within the central keep. We've been here before, Rusty. Replied Warren, sitting down for a moment on an old bench. Rusty looked around with rolling eyes. Suddenly Jarvis jumped up and sniffed. Yes, and someone else has been here before.   I can't see nothing, hear nothing, except in moans and yowls and all those powerful big rooms we was in.  Jarvis walked about to make certain. Somebody's been carrying a smoky lantern. We're getting warmer with that ghost. A dull thud came to their ears from far within the building. Rusty jumped like a frightened fawn. Good, got him out of what's that? Jarvis quietly walked across the room to pier into the big stone fireplace. Oh, Mars Warren, I want to go home. Rusty had turned about and his eyes took in two figures of ancient armor at the top of the broad half flight of stairs on a balcony dais. He sank upon his knees and bobbed his head to the floor in obaience. What's the matter? And Jarvis whirled about with revolver drawn. His own nerves were beginning to get too taunt with the tension exaggerated by the superstition and fright of the negro. Look, look, look at them big black boogie standard there, Mars Warren. See them standard there? Jarvis laughed and put his gun into his side pocket.  Oh, I'm so scared, Boston, I can't remember nothing at all. Get up on your pins. There are nothing but old suits of armor and you're liable to get some moonlight through you, Rusty, if there's another rearing collision like that. You've been treading on my heels every step I take and when I stop you bump into me. But, Mars Warren pleaded the frightened darkie. I'm all afraid I might lose you. A fine chance. Snorted Jarvis, looking about. Well, Rusty, we've been through this old place pretty thoroughly and not a sign of a soul. Unless they pound or carry a smoky lantern. It's a clue, Rusty. It's a clue. We'll stick right here until we find out. This is the best room in the castle and the ghost may prefer it. Jarvis crossed to the fireplace again and striking a match held it into the opening. Its flicker indicated a good draft. There, Rusty, he said. It's a good chance for a fire. The chimney's clear. Now, break up that lopsided rickety table there and make a fire. You won't feel half so scared with a good blaze behind you. He turned toward the half flight of stairs with a studious expression as he mentally measured the heights and thickness of the walls and ceiling. I'll scout around a bit, Rusty. Don't you do scouting outside in this 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. As same as one, when we all going to eat. We get through with this job. He turned thoughtfully toward the big windows on the south side of the room and mused aloud. That's the way through the two long rooms to the postern gate. Um... That's where that black thing followed me.  I couldn't see where I was at the time. I could see my eyes in there and a cold grime of green smell in there. Ain't that where that broad-faced bird flew at me and I slipped down the stairs? Don't you know an owl, Rusty? That's all it was. Jarvis was walking across the room to another door. Rusty was close behind him, following by habit now. I wonder if that door is... My 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 together. That was a close call. Give me that lantern, Rusty. an old pewter cup, left on the 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, whatever happens, keep clear of this. Give me a burn stick and I'll mark a cross on it so we can tell. It makes me nervous to see that open mouth of death gaping for us. If you step on this, you'll never see Kentucky again, for sure. Rusty obeyed. Did you hear that groan, Moss-Wine? Grown, that's the wind. There it is again. It does sound like a moan. Oh! And Rusty's teeth chattered in perfect rhythm with his shaking knees. Oh!  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. Moss-Wine, that one, no wind. I hope to die if that wasn't a show of human groan. He turned and looked toward the big oil portrait of an ancient Spanish Hidalgo over this fireplace. And I want to tell you something, Mel. Has you ever been in church or somewhere and all or a sudden a feeling comes over you that there's someone's eyes are staring at the back of your head? You just know that, until you couldn't stand it no longer and just had to turn round and see who it was. Yes, Rusty, I've had that. Why? That's just the way I feel now. Like them eyes in that picture was looking right through me. Like he'd like to step right out in the frame or them two boogie battleship men would like to jump right down on me. And he pointed toward the two suits of armor on the landing above. It's been a good many hundred years since those boys jumped. But listen, there's someone running as sure as you're alive, Rusty. It was unmistakable. The steps came nearer and nearer. And then came a repetition of that dull thud in a distant room. I want to go home! moaned Rusty. Travis had drawn his revolver again and he was standing close to the stairs. Great, Scott, Rusty. The man with the smoky lantern has been up these stairs. They're oil-dripping, still fresh.  Not at all. Because this Mr. Ghost, or some of his spooky friends, are probably waiting at the top of the stairs with a long gun. And I'm no book hero.  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 mantle, which was brighter now from the fire. He cried out in surprise. Look here, Marswan. Look here. He handed the tools over to the astonished Jarvis. I found him on that metal piece. Jarvis ran to the mantle piece and clamored up on a chair, holding the lantern close to the wall. Good boy, Rusty. These are the ghost tools, all right. Someone was working in this room. But we've beaten him to it. Mortar on the floor, mortar on the mantle. Look here at these stones. That's where he was working, Rusty, and we've beaten him to it. He stopped, and both of them turned simultaneously to look at the big picture of the historical Spaniard. Rusty had drawn his own revolver, with Jarvis doing the same by a curious instinct. Did you feel that too, Marswan? Asked the frightened Negro. Jarvis said nothing. He went to the picture, and lighting a match past it all around the frame, examining it, without the discovery of a suspicious thing. He turned away, then faced it once more, as he backed toward the low balustrade of the steps over which stood one of the suits of armor. Ah, George, that's weird. You could feel that just as plain. Rusty was still looking with fascination at the picture. It sure is, Marswan. It sure is. He turned slowly, facing Warren Jarvis. He had just time for one piercing howl, a veritable high-pitched scream. My God, look out! End of Chapter 16 The Ghostbreaker, a novel based upon the play by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickey. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 17 Conclusion Rusty had dived under the table. The great sword of the armored figure was swinging swiftly up in the 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 had set a second before. 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. 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 visor and bounced off, as the weird assailant ran within striking distance. For the first time in his life came the sensation of helplessness and a fight. There was a numbing feeling of horror as he recoiled 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 poleaxe. This was the instrument made for the man at arms to withstand the noble knight in the days of old. He whirled it on high as the other came toward him. The double-edged sword rose high to parry the stroke, and the sharp weapon clove through the rotten wood-hell. Time had disarmed the American again. A deep chested laugh came from the human battleship. Warren laughed back in the face of death. The old Jarvis fighting laugh was a tradition in Kentucky. His next weapon was a chair. With this as a guard, he managed to swing the sword with a clever parry. He gave the metal breastplate a vigorous high kick. From the helmet there came a muffled, oof. Here was one point for the modern. Thus they dodged and fainted, striking, whirling, while the Kentuckian planned his campaign. Little by little he drew his implacable opponent toward the charcoal cross mark on the floor. The great sword rose high. He feigned weakness and dropped his chair. Then, as the toreador dodges the mad onslaught of the maddened bull, he leaped aside, and the sword struck the ground. Before it could be raised, he swung from his side position with the heavy antique chair against the visor. The equilibrium of the armored band was none too stable as he missed his stroke and his head went back. Again the Kentuckian charged. This time, with a bare-handed clinch, the chair dropped. Around the metal waist, his arms went and he forced the other back but half a foot. It was enough. Came from the helmet as the figure stumbled through the opening trap stone. There was a scream which suddenly ended at highest pitch. A splash. And silence. Jarvis staggered back with dilated eyes upon the fatal hole. He wiped the cold beads off his clammy brow and staggered toward the table for support. Rusty's head came out from the shelter of the stone coping and he smiled an ashen imitation of amusement. Where's your friend, Mus-1?  Water and a long drop. There's a real ghost due to haunt Castle now, Rusty. I know, dim battleship boogies with spooks. Warren picked up the great sword which had fallen by the trap as the man went through. He walked up the stairs. Oh, Mus-1, 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 faint 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, Mus-1, you's got galls show. I'll just finish this battleship so he won't jump no more. He had grabbed the armor and started toward the trap door. I'm going to sink him into Hava. Don't do that. It takes a thief to catch a thief. I'll make a ghost out of you, Rusty. Come here. Objecting, Timorous, and still overcome with his native superstition, Rusty was nevertheless forced to don the armor. A sad misfit he was at that. Somebody was working in this room, Rusty. It's a cinch that the treasure was here. It's a cinch that we interrupted and is still in its little safe deposit vault. It's a greater cinch that if we go out he'll come back. I want to have you stand up there where the other battleship was and watch. You'll be as safe as a church in this. No one would think of looking for one of us in this armor. So when he starts to work, whoever he is, you just yell and yell your best. God, Mus-1, I could yell loud enough for him to hit me back in Kentucky. You give me your best yell and I'll nail him. If you don't nail him, he'll nail me. Keep cool. That's all. I'm cool now. I'm catching cold. And he sneezed.   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 Teresa 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 in 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.  She was sobbing. Too late? What do you mean? This is madness for you to take this risk. The girl, forgetting royalty and convention, caught his hand in both of hers, and a light of joy came into her eyes. My brother is safe. Thank God. He is on his way to the King to get soldiers to search the castle. Where has he been? How do you know? He was imprisoned in this castle, since the day he entered. Tonight he tried to signal, but could not. Your bullet went straight home, Mr. Warren, and Robledo is dying. He has confessed all to the Holy Father. I must go back, for I promise to be with him at the end. The end? And Jarvis's voice grew husky. He understood by now the tears of Dolores. He turned toward her gently. Um, so sorry. You and he, I might have...  The girl crossed herself with the stoic calmness of her religion as she rose to face him. It is better so. He sinned, grievously, many times, Señor. My Prince is safe. My Princess is safe. And you are safe. You, the bravest man in Seguro. Maria Teresa turned toward the door, where stood a man whom Jarvis had not aspired 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 clues 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.  Here, sit in this chair. You've been frightened to death, prowling through this horrid place, your hands are icy. There, there.   Cry all you want. That's fine. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders as she set by the flaming remnants of the old table. He turned about and beckoned to Rusty, who, with revolver in hand, his courage restored and away by the turn of events, disappeared from view. Jarvis gently placed a hand upon the heaving shoulder. I'll round up this spook, tonight, 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, a mistakeable, commonplace sneeze interrupted this most wonderful of all conversations. Jarvis looked about. The sneeze was in the room. Rusty, are you outside? Yes, I am, but don't keep me here long, because I was freezing to death. Did you sneeze? No, sir, but I calculated I'll have to before long. Don't move, your highness. I've found the ghost at last. He walked toward the suspicious picture and pointed the revolver at it. There is somebody in that picture. Come out, or I'll shoot. Quick now. There was no response. He sent a bullet carefully aimed at the upper left-hand corner, where he planned that it would do no harm. There was a response. Don't shoot! And the canvas opened neatly to permit the elegant but dusty figure of Carlos Hernando, Duke of Alva, to step to the mantelpiece and leap clumsily to the floor. The princess had sprung to her feet. Your Excellency, you are a long way from Madrid. The Duke, brushing off his sleeves, snarled back.  You stepped right into the trap. I knew you were after the treasure. Oh no, your man at arms did that.  Then I'd throw you down after the other poor devil. You got a lot of souls to answer for. See here. Give me that locket. No. Give her that locket. Or by the living god I'll break your... Come on now. Carlos. And the girl held out a stiff arm. The Duke fumbled in an inner pocket and dropped the memorandum into her hand.  The Duke looked insolently into Jarvis's face. Yet there was an undisguised admiration for the staunch nerves of his opponent. At heart, despite his criminal conceited weaknesses, the Duke had thoroughbred blood beating and pulsing through the veins. You play a good game, Mr. Wadden. 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 Kentucky. He walked up the steps and smiled back with his cynical appreciation of the situation, a medieval 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 of rejoicing. And don't let your finger slip on that revolver. Yeah, sir. Weird pleasure, sir. 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. Most 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. End of Chapter 17. End of The Ghostbreaker by Charles Goddard and Paul Dickey.