“But, Don,” replied Chase, “I don’t see the necessity for so much secrecy.”
“My young friend, you don’t understand the matter at all,” said Don Casper with a smile. “But you are weary with travel, and we will say no more about it, until you have refreshed yourselves. We shall have ample time to make all the arrangements after you have drank a cup of chocolate and eaten a piece of toast.”
As the Don said this, he unlocked the door and went out, leaving the boys to themselves.
“Didn’t I tell you that this thing didn’t look just right?” demanded Chase, in an excited whisper. “That darkey has made a mistake, and brought us to the wrong house.”
“But how in the name of sense could he do that?” asked Wilson, utterly confounded. “He must have known where Walter was when he gave him that note. By the way, let me look at it a moment.”
Chase handed out the letter, and was more amazed and alarmed than ever by the expression that settled on his friend’s face as he ran his eye over the missive. “What’s the matter now?” he asked. “Anything else wrong?”
“Nothing much,” was the answer; “only that’s not Walter Gaylord’s writing—that’s all.”
“Eh!” exclaimed Chase, jumping from his chair.
“O, it is the truth, as you will find out when you meet Walter again. I can tell his writing as far as I can see it.”
“I wish I knew. Somebody has humbugged us very nicely, and I believe that Captain Conway and Mr. Bell are at the bottom of it.”
“Let’s jump out of this window and make the best of our way back to town,” exclaimed Chase, almost beside himself with excitement and terror. “There’s no knowing what this old Creole intends to do to us.”
“And there’s no knowing what may happen to the Banner in our absence. What if those deserters should run off with her? Here we are in Cuba, without a cent in our pockets, and if we should lose the yacht how would we ever get home?”
“I’ll jump out of the window and run if you will,” continued Wilson.
With a common impulse the two boys arose from their seats and moved across the floor on tiptoe; but just as Chase placed his hands on the window-sill preparatory to springing out, the door suddenly opened, and three negroes came in—one bringing a small table, and each of the others carrying a tray filled with dishes and eatables on his head. So sudden was their entrance that the boys did not have time to retreat to their chairs, and Chase remained standing with his hands on the window-sill, gazing steadily out into the sugar-field as if he saw something there that interested him very much, while Wilson, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his head turned on one side, appeared to be lost in admiration of a picture that hung on the wall.