Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

Don Miguel Lehumada
DISCOVERER OF LIQUID FROM THE SUN’S RAYS
AN OCCULT ROMANCE OF MEXICO AND THE UNITED STATES

BY

SUE GREENLEAF

NEW YORK

B. W. DODGE AND COMPANY

Copyright, 1906, by

B. W. DODGE AND COMPANY

WITH SORROW IN MY HEART

AND

MUCH PITY FOR THE WEAK

WHO PUT STUMBLING BLOCKS IN MY PATH

AND

WISHED MY LIFE A PERPETUAL

SLOUGH OF DESPOND,

I RESPECTFULLY DEDICATE THIS VOLUME.

THE AUTHOR.

CONTENTS.

DON MIGUEL LEHUMADA

Discoverer of Liquid from the Sun’s Rays.

CHAPTER I.
IN THE SCIENTIST’S STUDY.

The private study of Señor Guillermo Gonzales, in the State House of Chihuahua, always had an air conducive to study.

His fame as a scientist, as a man of great moral force, as a man who lived his daily life in a highly spiritual manner, was broadcast in the land.

His most casual acquaintances unconsciously grew thoughtful, studious, and better by knowing him.

He was of purely Mexican origin, and his friends delighted in calling him “Señor” Gonzales—as was the custom of the people when Chihuahua was one of the States of “The Republic of Mexico,” a nation long since only known as having existed by reading from the pages of history.

The great love and respect constantly shown him by his daily associates proved the exception to the rule that “A prophet is not without honor save in his own country and amongst his own kin.”

He was not honored as mankind was honored in the nineteenth century—for his social, political or financial position—but for his moral, intellectual, and spiritual development.

Julio Murillo, a fellow student who acted in the capacity of office-man, was a small but well-built typical Mexican, nearing the end of his fifth incarnation.

He spent no time regretting his past actions, nor fearing the future.

Every moment he lived the best in him, and studied to make “the best” better on the morrow.

On the morning our story opens he had finished his regular rounds of tidying the reception-chamber, and was at work in a small alcove room adjoining, on the properties extracted from the sun’s rays, by means of a glass chemical instrument. At the focus the rays were liquidized, separated, and blended into “Memory Fluid.”

Although the analysis under way was exceedingly interesting to him, he was not in the least disturbed, when a noise much resembling the faint tingling of a small silver bell announced that he must leave his pleasant occupation and receive some visitor.

When he reached the reception-room he stood with his hand upon the knob of the door, which he was about to open to admit a visitor, when a beautiful smile overspread his countenance and he murmured: “It is his Honor.”

The door opened noiselessly and a man in every way worthy the name of man stood before him.

“Your Honor,” he said, extending his hand in greeting, which was eagerly seized by the visitor, “pass, sir, and be seated; Señor Gonzales will receive you in a very short time. There—the clock is striking the half hour; in fifteen minutes he will be at your Honor’s service. The morning paper, your Honor? Wonderful discoveries in Science, in Art, in Man.”

The visitor thanked Julio Murillo as he took the paper, and seating himself in one of the many comfortable chairs in the room, he said:

“I have read the paper, sir; others than our kind are no doubt astonished at its contents. There will be more convincing statements made within thirty days. In fact, I believe our evidence will be so strong, that everyone will believe the history of the case and the matter will be forever settled soon.

“I am sure your investigations, Julio, will strengthen our case materially. Now, sir, I beg of you to continue your absorbing study, and I will remain here in meditation until Señor Gonzales grants me an interview. One cannot give too much time to thought, so do me the favor not to detain yourself longer.”

Julio Murillo shook hands with the distinguished visitor, and with much the same smile he had on entering the room, he left to resume his scientific investigations.

The large, handsome, princely looking visitor walked the richly covered floor thoroughly wrapped in pleasant and highly scientific meditations.

He was not long kept waiting for his host’s welcome.

He stooped to pick up a nosegay which dropped from his coat, and when he raised his head, Guillermo Gonzales stood before him, by the side of his writing-table, with outstretched hands.

The partition separating the two rooms had disappeared as if by magic, and they stood alone in one grand room.

A giant was not at hand, nor neither were the powers of a magician employed to make the partition disappear so quickly. It was constructed on the same plan as sliding-doors, but it moved with more rapidity and much less noise.

The two distinguished men greeted each other with the embrace and handshake characteristic of their ancient Mexican ancestors.

In the privacy of his study Guillermo Gonzales always addressed the friend of his youth,—and his friend during the other lives which they had lived generations ago in the Republic of Mexico, ay, in the same city where they now lived—the capital of Chihuahua—in the most familiar schoolboy fashion.

“Miguey, my boy, this is indeed a most pleasant surprise. You returned when?”

The friend of the scientist was none other than the renowned man of letters and the Governor of Chihuahua, Señor Don Miguel Lehumada.

“Last night, only, my friend. I have much to tell you,—much to tell you.”

The scientist drew a large, comfortable chair on either side of the table on which he had been conducting his most recent experiments, and motioning his friend to the seat, they sat down facing each other.

“I, too, have things of importance to relate. Your Honor, proceed; my whole attention is yours.”

The Governor leaned his handsome head on the back of his chair with a grace befitting the man he was, and said:

“What I have to tell will not startle you, nor did it surprise me when I learned it.

“A volcanic eruption could not have created more of a sensation over the entire United States, or in all Europe, than is now taking place on account of the knowledge they have of our scientific discoveries. However, to come to the point, I positively located, during my recent visit to the North, ‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”

Guillermo Gonzales arose from his chair and clasped his friend in his arms.

“Miguey, dear, dear Miguey, victory is ours! Pardon my enthusiasm! While I know we are working the right clue, I am overjoyed that you should have the pleasure of locating ‘The Plunger!’”

The scientist did not resume his seat; but instead walked somewhat nervously and in deep thought back and forth before his honored guest.

The Governor continued: “I met him on the streets of Kansas City. It was a mutual recognition. He even stopped, and said in a confused manner:

“‘Pardon me, sir, but are you not Governor of Chihuahua? You do not know me?’

“‘Yes,’ I replied, without a moment’s reflection: ‘You are the “Plunger from Kansas.”’

“He turned very white and shook like an aspen leaf.

“‘It is retribution,’ he exclaimed, ‘and it came after death. O God, is there no peace for me in this life or any future life? Am I to be an outcast and a wanderer as I was in my second physical state, because of the small offence I committed? There is no justice in torturing a man through several existences, because he took a few hundred thousand dollars from his fellowman, and did some other similar tricks, which were termed business shrewdness in those days. Governor, I will now say good-bye. Retribution seems to be following me; do not aid its progress, I pray you!’

“In a moment he was gone. With the assistance of two detectives, we searched for him the greater part of three days and nights. No clue whatever could we find of him.

“Were I not convinced of the truth of our scientific investigations, I would be annoyed by his sudden disappearance; but it is of no use to be disturbed, for we know it is only a question of time until he will revisit the city to which he fled, it being the capital of a State of a foreign nation then, to escape the wrath of his creditors.”

The scientist continued his walk back and forth, listening intently to every word his friend spoke, now and then smiling his approval and exclaiming: “True, Miguey; true.”

“For those in touch with the past and to whom the Hidden is revealed, there is no mystery connected with the appearance and sudden disappearance of the Plunger,” concluded the Governor.

Seating himself facing his visitor, the scientist said:

“Various lengths of time are necessary to teach people of different degrees of spiritual development that Nature demands her equilibrium restored, no matter at whose seeming expense.

“In your book, ‘Liquid from the Sun’s Rays,’ Restoration of Equilibrium is fully explained. True, my dear Miguey, we must give people time to grow. The poor little minds warped for centuries by credal teachings, abandon of morals, cannot be expected to grasp Truth at a glance.

“We must feed them ‘Memory Fluid.’ All knowledge of the Hidden must come through Self, and our discovery so wonderfully described in your work, now of international repute, is the only known means to that greatly desired end.

“Come, Miguey, tell me of your reception in the northern states. No such a wave of discovery has swept across the world since the time of Galileo, as that produced by our researches made known to the public by your works.”

“My reception,” began the distinguished author, and leader of his people, “was an ovation from my exit from this city until my return.

“In my lecture at K——, I hinted at the clue we were at work on to right the wrongs committed by ‘The Plunger from Kansas.’ Enthusiasm ran high, and at the end of my lecture I was carried from the assembly room in a white velvet chair, beautifully decorated with flowers and lace, supported on the shoulders of the mayor and three other prominent citizens.

“They wish to organize a society, under our supervision, to experiment with our ‘Memory Fluid.’ The masses are, I believe, intolerant with our discoveries, yet they read my work and the newspapers comments concerning it, no doubt out of curiosity alone.”

“It makes no difference,” added Guillermo Gonzales, “why they read it or by what means their attention is drawn to Truth; the result is the same,—investigations follow at no distant time.

“A desire to learn must be awakened in the mind of every creature before he is in a condition to develop.

“Come, look through this window. See those three men writing at that long table?”

“I certainly do,” replied the Governor; “what new clue is this that you are at work upon? Ah, some of those persons I certainly have seen before. Can it be that they took part in the Plunger’s drama, one hundred and fifty years ago?”

“It is quite true, your Honor. Julio recognized them on the street a few days after your departure for the States.”—(A term Mexicans occasionally use.)

“They are men of some learning, and at Julio’s invitation called here to take observation of our investigations. He gave them a few drops of ‘Memory Fluid’ every time they called, for one week, which was every day. At the end of the week, the tall man at the right of the other two, Mr. Niksab, called Julio aside and told him in the most confidential air that he had undergone a most wonderful experience.

“Scarcely able to control his joy at the information about to be imparted to him, Julio asked him to write his experience and give it to him for future reference. Niksab did so, and on the file in Julio’s study hangs the written statement of his first experience after taking ‘Memory Fluid.’

“Since that morning the other two have made a similar confession to Julio. Now they come here every morning and write their remembrances of the doings of ‘The Plunger from Kansas,’ which is put on our file of evidence to be used at the final reckoning.

“Niksab is the man who found a hiding place for the Plunger on the occasion of his flight from justice, to Chihuahua in the year 1898.”

“I remember the time well,” said the Governor. “I was then, as now, Governor of the State. How anxious we were then for advancement. How proud we were of our city. How eagerly our peons grasped the advantages given them then for education.

“Look at their descendants and some of our then most common menials, who are fortunate to be doing their third and fourth existence since that time; how they have developed!

“Who are they now? Our most noted judges, lawyers, teachers, men of science and letters.

“Come, Guillermo, I wish to pay a quiet visit to the den of our coworker, Julio. Join me; otherwise we will be delayed in bringing about the desired results from investigations which will take place here and elsewhere in the morning.”

Arm in arm the two great and noble men—working for the same cause, the spiritual elevation of man—left the studio of the Scientist Gonzales, and entered the lesser apartment of their coworker, Julio Murillo.

CHAPTER II.
HIS FIRST INCARNATION.

Early the next morning Julio Murillo was unlocking the side door which led into his quiet study adjoining the reception-room of the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales, when he was surprised to hear some one, evidently a stranger, call him by his given name. He pushed the door he had been unlocking open, and as he stepped inside, faced the person who addressed him.

A tall, fair-haired, rather masculine looking woman stood before him with extended hand.

“Good morning, Señor Julio; good morning. It is with much pleasure I find you so well and so famous. My card, señor.”

“Pass, señorita, pass. You do me great honor. Be seated. In what way can I be of service to you?”

He scanned the card closely, as he wheeled a comfortable armchair in front of a large window which he opened, and repeated: “Be seated.”

The fair visitor stood in front of the open window some minutes before taking the proffered chair, gazing with great admiration at the rare and costly flowers and foliage, growing in the patio.

She seemed to be in no hurry to tell the object of her visit, if she had an object, neither did she seem to be a stranger to the scene around her.

Julio Murillo stood a little at her back, his eyes riveted upon her card.

“Marriet Motuble! Marriet Motuble,” he mentally exclaimed. “The name means nothing to me; it does not even give me food for reflection. But the magnificent señorita fills me with unpleasant memories of the past. Can it be that she was in anyway associated in times gone by with—with——”

His mental comments were suddenly brought to an end by Miss Motuble seating herself, at the same moment drawing a chair close to the one she occupied, and saying: “Sit here by me, friend Julio. I want to study your face while I talk to you. I am impressed that we will not long be alone, and as there are many things I have to say that must be known to no one but yourself, I will delay no longer telling them.”

Julio felt the truth of her statements, and bent his head toward her, as he seated himself by her side, that he might not lose a word she spoke.

“You are the son of Señora Suzzan Carriles, of Colima. Your father was a priest, while the husband of your mother was Señor Carlos Carriles, a man of quiet manners, but strong feeling and ardent sentiment when convinced or aroused.

“Your strong resemblance to the priest, your father, was so noticeable when you reached the age of six years, that your mother’s guilt needed no accuser, and in a fit of religious enthusiasm she made a confession of her guilt to her husband.

“Señor Carriles’ sympathies in your behalf were greatly aroused. He sought the priest, a man of much wealth and prominence in the State, and told him of his knowledge of the great sin he and your mother had committed.

“Under the threat of publicly making known his sins to the clergy and State, he agreed to take you under his guidance and to rear you in a manner befitting his own son.

“This promise he religiously kept for five years. Up to that age you were in ignorance of your birth. The priest became very ill and fearing death near by, made a full confession to you.

“He afterward recovered, and seriously regretted having made you his confidant.

“Instead of treating you as a beloved son, his love had during his short illness turned to hate and he compelled you to act in the capacity of the most common menial. You rebelled at the change affairs had taken, but by so doing you only made your existence the more intolerable.

“A lady tourist came to your city one day, and visited the monastery where you lived, it being one of the many places of interest in the city.

“She overheard a conversation between yourself and the priest, wherein he threatened to murder you if you made known his treatment of you and the relation he bore to you.

“This same lady met you on the street some days later, and took you at once to the palace of the kind and high-minded Governor.

“To him she told what she knew concerning you, and besought the noble leader of the people to allow you to speak, which he did.

“In a very quiet way he had the priest arraigned before the Church and State, with the result of the priest’s condemnation and sentence of life.

“He was found dead the next day after he was acquainted with the court’s decision.

“Half of his large fortune was given to you by the Church and State, acknowledging you, thereby, his legal heir. Is there anything I have left out of this recital which you recall, Julio?”

Julio straightened himself in the chair, the first move he had made since Marriet Motuble began her recitation, and said:

“The gist of the subject you have told perfectly. A few minor things happened which I will later recount. How natural you seem to me now. How astonishingly clear you have related that incident which happened one hundred and fifty years ago, and which caused me to go abroad to study; with the result that I departed from the faith of my father.

“You caused much trouble then, but I have to thank you for getting me out of the dreadful mire of ignorance into which I was born and where the priest held me.

“I will repeat your own words at that time. You said: ‘I will make things warm for the person who commits crimes, and takes advantage of the inexperienced, young or aged.’ Crimes are various, however. Your success in that life was not without laurels; in this, I hope your mission is different and on a higher plane. You did much harm. You are now here to aid us in securing proof which will eventually bring the ‘Plunger from Kansas’ to meet justice—for spite. He went out of the other life like a flash—whether by his own hand or by the hand of some wrathy creditor, man never knew.

“The many homes made desolate by his dishonest schemes must eventually be compensated for their losses. Time is the great adjuster of all wrongs; and the Plunger’s time is not far distant.”

“Your statements are true, my friend Julio, in every detail. You have partially only guessed my mission to Chihuahua, however. Yes, I did harm. I am searching for one I loved in that life, who suffered much from the abuse of certain countrymen of her own, then residing in Chihuahua. Aye, from myself.”

“In truth,” said Julio, “I am certain you will locate her in this city before long.”

“The great circle in which Time moves shows our planet nearing its perihelion, and for the next ninety days the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales, and his able assistant, to whom I am now speaking, will be able to demonstrate to the world the effect of your great discovery, ‘The Liquid from the Sun’s Rays,’ or perhaps better known as ‘Memory Fluid,’” said Miss Motuble.

“Aye,” assented Julio. “No such means has ever been in the hands of man, by which he can effectually bring the perpetrators of crimes to justice.”

“And it matters not,” continued Miss Motuble, “of how long standing the crime is.”

“Not in the least; not in the least,” continued her host. “In fact, we are thinking of trying to run down every person who participated in that ancient and inhuman crime of silencing the musical voice of Lot’s wife.”

“If that is done,” laughed Miss Motuble, “the truth of the story will be proven; but to spend one’s time trying to prove such an absurd story is a sin. Besides I admit that the story is of too long standing, for you and me to interest ourselves in it. I am here for the sole purpose of making existence warm for the many I knew in other lives, who failed to get justice meted out to them then. Indirectly only am I connected with the punishment of the ‘Plunger from Kansas.’ Yet revenge prompts the motive.”

Further conversation between them was interrupted by the entrance of first, a little girl with beautiful flowers to sell, followed by Mr. Niksab, and two other men, one an elderly, bald-headed, dissipated looking man, who carried his hand on the side of his cheek. His face was spotted and his mouth stood open.

His surprise was very noticeable when he saw Miss Motuble. His lips quivered and tears began to flow from his eyes, like water from a fountain.

Julio Murillo shook hands with the three men, asked them to be seated, and then turned his attention to the little girl, who stood modestly by the door waiting to tell the object of her call.

“How many posies must I buy from my little flower girl this morning?” said Julio.

“One,” replied the child, “if it so pleases your honor, for it will please thy mother, Señora Suzzan Carriles, for you to do so.”

“Bless the dear one,” cried Marriet Motuble, “we will buy every posy she has. Come, gentlemen, now is the opportunity to show your gratitude to science through this child, who is the living proof of our friend’s investigations. Come, gentlemen, who will bid on this child’s posies? One dollar for each flower. One dollar once, one dollar twice——”

“Three dollars for each flower,” cried a voice from Guillermo Gonzales’ reception-room.

Julio Murillo greeted the bidder as he stepped into the little study, with great joy. He was accompanied by the scientist, Guillermo Gonzales, who was no stranger to the three men, they wasted no time to show their good will and great respect for him.

The flower-girl curtesied to the two distinguished men. She was something more than a simple child to them. She was the living proof of their scientific investigations.

The fair auctioneer continued crying: “Three dollars for each posy once; three dollars for each posy twice; three dollars for each posy——”

“Four dollars I bid!” cried the blear-eyed, spotted faced, bald-headed, dissipated looking man. “Four dollars, I say. Four dollars, I say.”

The pretty child made a curtesy to the fair auctioneer, and cried: “No, no, señorita, take not the money of so bad a man.”

Prostrating herself before the great benefactor of his people, she continued:

“Your Honor, shield me from so bad a man! I would go hungry and sleep en la calle sooner than live well, from the dinero of so bad a man. Tengo hambre, tengo hambre! But let me die for want of food; let me die. I cannot look in the face of so vile a man.” The child turned her face, so full of fright and abhorrence, toward the man she loathed, and as she cried in a voice full of agony: “Go, great demon, go!” she fainted away.

The great good man to whom she so piteously appealed, lifted her tenderly in his arms and laid her on the couch in Julio Murillo’s little study.

The fair auctioneer followed and devoted her time immediately to restoring the child, aided by Julio Murillo.

The Governor returned to the reception-room and placing himself in front of the repulsive stranger, said:

“Give an account of the strange actions of the little girl toward you. If you have done that fair child, who is modesty and purity itself, an injury, it must be repaired at once, and on your bended knees at that. Explain matters, sir!”

“I do not know the child,” began the man.

“That is not the case,” quickly responded Guillermo Gonzales and Mr. Niksab in one voice.

“I beg of your Honor, and you, my friends, to believe me. I, J. Ecarg, have never injured a child in my life. I never saw the girl until this moment. I beg of your Honor to have faith in my statements. I know nothing of this child whatever.”

“Remember,” said Mr. Niksab, as he handed him a glass of liquid, which he put to his lips and quickly drained. “Remember,” he again repeated, as he took the empty glass and placed it on the stand. “It is Memory we are cultivating. Memory, John; Memory.”

“With your Honor’s consent we will take this subject into the reflection-room,” said the great scientist. “He is one with whom we have been experimenting.”

Mr. Niksab and the scientist supported Mr. Ecarg on either side.

“‘Memory Fluid’ is beginning to do its work, and remorse of conscience makes him limp,” said Mr. Niksab.

“This is a great world—a wonderful age of scientific discovery. Pass, gentlemen, into the reflection-room. Pass at once. I am rejoiced to know that we have another clue which may in some way lead to valuable information concerning the one subject which is consuming the greater part of our present investigations,” concluded the Governor.

Mr. Ecarg very much resembled a man who, after years of dissipation was now entering upon one of his big monthly or weekly drunks.

As the trio was passing from the Governor’s presence, the scientist said:

“Does memory not recall this man, your Honor? I am sure of him. A glorious victory is close at hand.”

In a thoughtful mood the Governor followed them to the door, through which they disappeared from view, but he made no response to the scientist’s question.

CHAPTER III.
THE DEATH OF PRESIDENT DIAZ.

The two great scientists, Señor Don Miguel Lehumada and Señor Guillermo Gonzales, had been more successful in their treatment with “Liquid from the Sun’s Rays”—or “Memory Fluid,” as their wonderful discovery had become to be known—than their most sanguine hope for its success could have been in the start.

Their belief in the first place was that they had secured a fluid from the Sun, which would under proper conditions destroy every species of bacteria in man; that while the death of disease was taking place, each of the mental faculties and the spiritual nature of man as well, would begin taking on its normal condition, and when the body became freed from all depleting causes, these faculties would be in a condition to rise to a high degree of development. Further, they believed that the fluid they had discovered would have a particular effect upon the memory; not only in restoring it to its normal condition, but in causing it to bring to mind every incident in one’s life.

But strange to say, their wonderful fluid went further in its effect upon memory, than the present life of the person upon whom the experiments were being carried. It penetrated the sarcophagus of every previous existence and resurrected every thought and experience. It mirrored all the physical, social and spiritual environments, of each life of the person as plainly to him as if they were occurrences of yesterday instead of the remembrances of events in one’s other lives; which he had lived perhaps ages and ages ago.

It was not until many experiments had been performed successfully, and the remembrances of each subject faithfully recorded, that they let the public know of their wonderful achievements.

Then it received its first knowledge of the scientific investigations and the results, of the two scholarly men of Chihuahua through the medium of the work—“Liquid from the Sun’s Rays” by the distinguished Governor of the State.

The eyes of the entire world were centered upon them at this time, watching intently for their great test case to be concluded. A case which they claimed would furnish the world sufficient proof to convince it, that their great discovery, “Memory Fluid,” accomplished all they claimed for it and very much more.

On his return from “the States,” the Governor had said, that in twenty-four-hours’ time they would have sufficient proof collected to enable them to give the results of their test case to the public. And in truth, they did have; but complications had arisen which would result in them being able to give stronger proof of the effect of “Memory Fluid” upon mind and matter.

But these very complications would require time for arrangement, and the public must wait. The eager, avaricious public, tale-bearing public, panted with suspense, caused by the delay.

The two great men were in no hurry; they had reached their present plane of advancement by a succession of lives carefully planned during one hundred and fifty years.

Fifty years seems a long time for the single life of one man, and it is. But when a person with a mind so full of desire for knowledge is cut off at the end of fifty years, the time seems short. He is cut off at an age in which he is in a condition to begin to take on higher and better knowledge. It is the desire for a continuance, on a higher plane, in a physical life that causes one to return to earth and take up the new life where the old left off.

The press spoke of the two scientists as marvels of the day. It claimed that history did not record any great discovery to have been made by men so young as the discoverers of “Memory Fluid,” hence they were spoken of—not without satire, however—as being inspired—and their discovery—if it contained a grain of truth—as a miracle.

Ten years previous these two great men, living in the same city, meeting only occasionally and then as strangers, had for many years secretly recognized each other as a compatriot, a fellow-student; a friend in other lives, two other lives long since passed away. Yet for the want of more confidence in self; for the courage to confront his fellowman and avow his knowledge of a superior soul development, and physical advancement, each held aloof.

The occasion for mutual acknowledgment arrived. It was a supreme moment. They fell on each other’s necks and wept for pure joy. From that moment they spent hours each day reviewing events of their past; studying to develop the present, to bring about by scientific discoveries, a means which would show to the world that the sins committed in this body must be appeased on earth; if not in the life in which the sins were committed, then in another life. Perhaps the guilty one would pass through several lives unmolested; but the day of reckoning, however, certainly would come, retribution would surely overtake every evil doer.

The result of their investigations was the famous “Memory Fluid,” which accomplished for them more than they hoped.

It was with much amusement often, that the two wise men discussed the subject of their youth, at which the public marveled. How well they knew they were not young in experience, or years. It was laughable to read the statements of the credulous editors, credulous from a materialistic point of view; but wholly incredulous when it came to questions of spiritualistic discussion.

The age in which they now lived was more in sympathy with materialistic ideas than in any of their previous existences. They were not surprised, for it seemed prophetic that evil, that materialistic views, should reach the pinnacle of fame before a revolution would occur which would demolish their false ideas. And they had hoped that the revolution was near at hand—and they prayed that it might be brought about by their wonderful discovery. Victory was sure to follow. And what a glorious victory it would be! A victory of life over death; of health over disease; of spirit over flesh; of the righting of all wrong; of the assurance of everlasting life.

Events which pointed very plainly to materialistic and spiritualistic controversy were taking place on every hand, yet the masses adhered to materialistic views or to the dogmatic teachings of the churches.

A hundred and thirty-eight years had passed since the American Continent was convulsed by an internal revolution. This revolution took place immediately upon the death of President Diaz, of the Republic of Mexico.

It was a short and terrible conflict. At the earnest solicitation of all State officials; of the entire army; of a large majority of the professional fraternity; of prominent people of wealth and business, the United States interfered in behalf of the law-abiding citizens of the Republic; and quelled the internal revolt.

The mere presence of the army of the United States upon Mexican soil, the fact of the army of so great a nation occupying their soil, not by force, but by the earnest pleadings of many of the best citizens of Mexico, those who wished to see the republican form of government, established by General Diaz, continued, was enough within itself to keep the small parties of revolutionists in each state quelled.

Only a small number of fights occurred, and in each but very few lives were lost.

During the year the American army occupied Mexico, and many of her best war ships were anchored off the Mexican coast for further protection, the Mexican people convinced themselves thoroughly of their impossibility to maintain a republican form of government when there were so many small factions fighting for the rulership of the nation; and there was not a man in the army or in any other vocation of life, who had the confidence of the educated sufficiently to unite them, or the power to hold the peons and rabble in submission.

Toward the close of the year the state of their unsettled condition was awful to behold. Something must be done, and that quickly; or a fearful struggle, a long war would take place.

It was finally decided to ask, to petition the American government to annex the Mexican Republic to the United States of America, without any delay, provided three-fourths of the States of Mexico and a majority of voters in the Federal District desired it.

The day set on which votes for and against annexation should be cast was the same day of the month on which occurred the birth of General Porfirio Diaz—the greatest leader they had ever known; the maintainer of peace and progress in their land—the fifteenth of September.

The scenes enacted on the day of voting made another black page in the history of the Mexican people.

The combined effort of the Mexican army in favor of annexation and the army of occupation saved the country from a most fearful homicide.

The rabble set to work by the priesthood, who seemed to think the day especially set apart for them to gain prominence by helping to defeat the annexation question, caused the trouble. Their people plundered, murdered, set fire to the homes and business houses of prominent people whom they knew were in favor of annexation.

It certainly required months for the vast army of rabble to be organized and drilled, to be able to accomplish so much evil before their nefarious deeds became known, before they started out upon their grand parade of open revolt. Notwithstanding there was an organization of this kind in the capital of every state in the Republic, a very large majority of the States went for annexation.

A petition for immediate annexation was presented to the Government of the United States by a large and representative body of Mexican citizens, which pleaded for an extra session of Congress to convene, which occurred with results satisfactory to each nation. And Mexico became a part of the United States of America without further delay. More than one hundred years had passed since the memorable event, and Mexico had grown to be possibly the most important part of the United States.

There had been a long reign of peace and prosperity, and the fact that this part of the United States had been, long ago, a hot-bed for internal revolution, was only known to the present generation by reading from the pages of history an account of her brave people struggling for independence—struggling for enlightenment; for the maintenance of a republican form of government.

The two great scientists and their most able coworker were of purely Mexican origin; in no existence previous to this one had there ever been any mixing of blood.

Governor Lehumada took no especial pride in the fact that there was no Anglo-Saxon or other than his native Latin blood in his veins.

Neither did the other two great scientists—Guillermo Gonzales or Julio Murillo. They had no prejudices; they were too intelligent and learned. They advocated intermarriage of the races. They believed that it was necessary for a high degree of intelligence to be preserved.

However, their own existence—the very high degree of their intellectuality and spiritual development was an exception to the rule they advocated.

There are people who without apparent cause carry prejudices in families for hundreds of years, and while their real feeling may not have any publicity, is only due to the fact that no occasion presented itself for them to declare their opinions.

There are a few of this class of people living in the capital of Chihuahua, who pride themselves on the fact that they have never crossed the Rio Grande; that they do not speak the English language; that they have no associates amongst the Anglo-Saxon American people. These persons are not without influence, often being people of wealth and position; and they now believed their time had come to make known their views concerning the race question.

Many of the large newspapers were full of the absurd ideas of these people. They claimed that the wonderful discoveries of their two townsmen were due to the fact that through their veins coursed no foreign blood. They claimed they could see through the shadows events which foretold the complete extinction of the Anglo-Saxon race on American soil and the re-establishment of the Mexican Republic. Sensational papers published their articles, and wise people laughed at them over their morning meal.

When questioned about the opinions of their countrymen, the Governor and Señor Guillermo Gonzales impressed their interviewers with the fact that they were perfectly intolerant of such restricted ideas. That it was very embarrassing to them, being of purely Mexican descent, and striving to bring about a means for the improvement of man, to be held up for a target at which the known world would hurl its anathemas.

They now knew no nativity save the United States of America; they knew no Master but God.

They held in esteem only such people who were striving to improve their physical and spiritual state. They held no one in contempt because he was poor, ignorant, dissipated; full of disease and depravity. They knew the time was close at hand when a desire would be born within the soul of each for a knowledge of Truth; that the scales of disease which obscured the light from their soul would decay, and victory would cry out. These very people who secretly hated their foster-mother were the stumbling-blocks to every enterprise, headed by a person of Anglo-Saxon origin, particularly if the advocator be of American parentage and was born in the United States north of the Rio Grande.

They aided and abetted the clergy. They fought strenuously against any modern improvements in the Catholic Church. Their ancestors were so bold once, that they held a meeting of indignation, when some of their brethren of more modern ideas were determined that the poor of the church, as well as the rich, should have comfortable seats; they contended that it was a relic of slavery and heathenism for people to prostrate themselves on a dirty floor to worship.

The voluptuous, avaricious priests hated to see the innovation. They knew it meant a waning of their power. Yet when questioned by the advanced members of their flock, they could not refuse their consent.

The opposing party were petted and pampered by the priest, who consoled them by saying—and truthfully—that upon them the salvation of the church rested. It was a terrible, terrible day when the long, barren church, save for the candelabras, the paintings of the saints and images of Marie and Jesus, and its wonderful altar of purple and gold, was furnished with comfortable seats for the poor; the very poor, who with their centavos, centavos (which they obtained mostly by begging and plundering), helped to build the magnificent cathedrals, and entirely supported a vast army of parasitic creatures called priests, in idleness and voluptuousness.

The few in Chihuahua who were so unfortunate as to have for their ancestors a class of people wedded to catholicism as practiced in Mexico in 1899, and adhered to it, needed the sympathy of every enlightened person seeking for spiritual knowledge.

Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir was the most prominent member of the few who resented the present régime of things, simply because his forefathers did a hundred and thirty-eight years ago. He was a man of great wealth. He insisted on the “Don” before his name and invariably signed his mother’s name, Falomir, to his own, as was the custom then.

His family ate tortillas and frijoles three times a day; drank pulque, aqua miel, mescal, and aguar’diente—the latter two when they wished their troubles drowned; both of which are powerful intoxicants.

The male members of the family wore sombreros, short ornamental coats, sashes of many colors; and skin-tight trousers of light colors. The women and girls of the family wore black rebozos, and lace mantillas over their heads; the criada cooked on the brasero, and never failed to serve ensaladas and tomales on holidays and feast days as was the custom from time immemorial up to the date the Republic became a part of the United States. This family was spoken of by their townsmen as oddities and were rather liked for their old-fashioned ideas; they were hospitable to the extreme with their own countrymen, and generous to a fault to the poor of Mexican lineage who adhered to the religion of their fathers. They were unobtrusive in social affairs and political affairs, but interfered in everything commercial where it was possible.

Their interference was always in a quiet way, however, and attracted the attention of no one but those directly interested. They inherited the cunning and silence of their ancestors and acquired more unconsciously, by long contact with races which held them in submission. It required no effort to conceal their real feeling toward the country of which they were now a part, which took them under its protecting wing at the earnest solicitation of their best people at a time when the growing Republic was bereft of its main support; the great and noble leader, Diaz, who caused every avenue of progress to be opened up for his people. A man who loved the Mexican people, for whom he had fought and labored, next to his God. The American people claimed him as one of their heroes, and even the present generation honor his memory with as much fervor as if he had been one of them, as if the Republic he established and maintained had been a part of the States.

Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir’s ancestors belonged to the faction which strove to make the Church stronger; to the faction opposed to Diazism, to progress. He seemed to take an uncanny pride in nourishing the frightful skeleton he had inherited.

Little did he think that the very fact that he made bold to step out and hold an indignation meeting, like his ancestors, against the “powers that be,” that the cherished skeleton would be brought forth and aired with a result of disaster to his present life, that is, disaster in a certain way. As much as Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir hated, or pretended to hate, the Americans and their language, he had now in his employ a poor, but highly educated young American woman, Helen Hinckley. She spoke his language and understood it as perfectly as if it were her native tongue.

She had no prejudices against the race from which her employer claimed to have sprung. She rather admired the quaint, old-fashioned customs to which he and his family adhered.

She was evidently of strictly American origin. She had no relative, no home, and no money but what she earned. She described herself as a lost spirit roving over the world in search of friends and a permanent abiding-place. That was the only answer she gave herself or anyone else, when questioned why she was alone and in Chihuahua or any other place. She had been in Chihuahua only one night, when she read in the great daily, The Chihuahuan, the next morning, the advertisement of her present employer, which stated that he wanted an educated American who understood the Spanish as well as his own tongue, who was quiet and unobtrusive, to act as secretary. He preferred a person with no family ties; and one who would consent to live in his family for a year. Whatever salary such a person required for his services would be forthcoming at the end of each month.

When Helen Hinckley walked into the old-fashioned adobe house standing in the center of a large garden, around which was the old-time high adobe wall, and stood in the magnificent patio gazing at the rare flowers, beautiful birds and sparkling fountain, she felt as if she were not a stranger to these very scenes. She was startled and yet made very happy, neither of which feelings could she account for.

When shown into the long reception-room she showed her surprise, to see it full of applicants eager to get the position for which she had come to apply.

She was about to retire, for she was sorry for these earnest breadwinners, whose only happiness seemed to be in material existence. Besides, she felt intuitively that if she applied, all of those present, who needed the position worse than herself, would go away with a heavy heart, still she lingered in the patio.

To the left of the room where the many applicants breathlessly waited to know their fate, was the small but well-appointed office of Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, where, one at a time, he examined the applicants.

When he saw Helen, he stepped to the open door and said: “Oblige me, señorita, by passing into my private office.” He immediately dismissed the other applicants with the quiet and polite information that he had secured one whose recommendations were all he required. He further told them that he hoped they would soon secure employment, as no doubt they were all competent, and (with a ring of satire in his voice), being Americanos, were deserving. No great change had come over Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, yet judging by the great enthusiasm and cordiality with which he greeted Helen Hinckley, on his return to his private office, it seemed to indicate quite differently.

“Pardon me, señorita,” he said in greeting, “but I took the liberty to say to the other applicants that I had employed a competent person as my secretary, meaning you. I hope you will do me the honor to serve me in this capacity. In fact, you are the person whom I have had in mind. Your duties will be light; in fact, for some time to come, all the day will be yours. I have only one request to make, and that is, while in my house, you will have no social intercourse with my wife and children; that you will stay closely in your own room or in some quiet spot in the garden which my family do not frequent. When I want your services I will send the mozo for you. A mozo, saddle horse, and carriage are at your disposal. You are from this moment to be at no expense. Every comfort of home life we will supply you free, and your salary I will pay now. How much do you require? Will you stay?”

Helen Hinckley replied without any hesitation: “Sir, you are courteous and generous to the extreme. I thank you. I will enter into your employment at once. I want for my services, five hundred dollars a month.”

Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir stepped to his desk and handed her the first month’s salary in shining gold; directed a dreamy-eyed criada to show the señorita to her room, and sent un mozo de cordel to the hotel for all of her belongings.

CHAPTER IV.
THE PLUNGER FROM KANSAS.

Events of great importance were crowding themselves thick and fast upon the attention of more people in the capital of Chihuahua than the leader of his people, the Governor, and his able coworker, Guillermo Gonzales, and Julio Murillo, his assistant.

Governor Lehumada had long been practicing to make his personal desires subordinate to a very high standard of right. He had fixed his sole purpose of thought upon a desire to bring about a means for the recovery of memory.

He had received many impressions through the gift he had of placing the spiritual world first in his thoughts and his actions.

Evil he believed to be the result of a microbic condition of matter. The happy results obtained by the rise of the “Memory Fluid,” were turning the tide of thought into a more spiritual channel, the fact of which was in itself sufficient compensation for the years of labor the great men had had in bringing about their scientific discovery of “Memory Fluid.”

The name of Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir had within the last ten days become a household word. At first most every one looked upon his ideas, as portrayed by the press, as a big joke; but now the clergy had made bold (for they believed their staunch supporter had a big following,) to attack “Memory Fluid” as an enemy of life, as a messenger of evil. Yet they hailed it as their mascot, for they claimed to believe that, though a great evil within itself, through it would come a revolution which would result in the re-establishment of the Church and the Mexican Republic, which would be controlled by the former.

The very audacity of such statements made the public stop to pant; and a few stopped a little longer to think.

Governor Lehumada was reviewing the ideas advanced by Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, and hoped to be given the light which would enable him to see the outcome. So intent was he with “his feast with his soul,” as he termed his moments of abstraction, that he did not notice that Mr. Niksab had returned to the reception-room. “Your Honor,” spoken in a rather loud voice, caused the Governor to start and look around.

“Pardon me,” he said, “I did not hear you, so intent was I reflecting upon all that we have just witnessed.”

Mr. Niksab bowed, and continued: “The scientist requests me to say to you that the subject now under treatment is undergoing some wonderful changes, and your Honor will do him a great favor by witnessing the workings of ‘Memory Fluid.’”

“With much pleasure. We will enter at once. It is the eternal spirit that is calling out to him. He hears, thank God, he hears.”

Guillermo Gonzales waved the Governor and Mr. Niksab to seats near the table upon which J. Ecarg lay. His body was undergoing great pain; convulsion after convulsion shook his frame. His face was ghastly and his features contorted.

Mr. Niksab’s whole nervous system was wrought up to the highest pitch, out of sympathy for his friend. Not able to sit by calmly and witness the fearful convulsions, he arose:

“Great God!” he exclaimed. “It is death!”

“It is death,” quietly assented the scientist, Guillermo Gonzales, which statement was approved by a nod from the heads of the Governor and Julio Murillo.

Mr. Niksab knelt by the side of his friend, and cried aloud: “Great God, spare him a while longer, that he may have time to repent.”

“Arise, my friend,” said the Governor—“This is not the passing away of your friend. It is only the death of diseases which have been holding him down to darkness more than two hundred years.”

“Give yourself no uneasiness,” added Guillermo Gonzales—“your friend is only reaching the point where he can live.”

“Hark!” said Julio Murillo. “Victory is close at hand. Memory will assert itself soon.”

The prophecy of the Mexican was soon to be fulfilled. J. Ecarg drew himself up and said without the least hesitation: “I remember the circumstances perfectly. I kept a hostelry of some repute in this city then. That was in the fall of the year 1898. Being the largest city within only a short distance of the Rio Grande, the beautiful and progressive Mexican city had become known, and not without much regret from the law-abiding Mexicans, as a rendezvous for many Americans who were refugees from justice. As a rule I was not in favor of shielding my countrymen; but my heart went out to a young man who was in such distress, such great mental torture. He called upon me late the very night of his arrival in Chihuahua, and on bended knee begged me to shield him from the fury of the law. He had no remorse of conscience for the wrongs he had committed. His only fear was the juzado. He most likely would have committed the same offences upon Mexican soil the day of his arrival, if there had been the slightest opportunity, and if he had not felt sure that he would have to face the four bare walls of a prison for the remainder of his life. There was a man in the city—an American, of good birth and education, a prospector and railroad man—who was my friend in every sense of the word. He spoke the Mexican tongue without a flaw. I appealed to him to find a place of refuge on some hacienda, for our distressed countryman. My friend said:

“‘Your will is mine. But tell me, John, what is the name of this refugee from justice?’

“‘He is known,’ I replied, ‘as “The Plunger from Kansas.”’”

A cry rang out through the room, as if some animal of high mettle had been wounded.

Every one jumped to his feet and the look of pain and surprise was quite visible on each face.

From whence had the unearthly cry come? was the unspoken question on the white lips of all save Mr. Niksab. They soon understood.

“He is my friend. John, do you not remember? It was I, Niksab, who took ‘The Plunger from Kansas’ in a coach, on a dark, rainy night, to a cabin in the mountains on the hacienda of Don Alberto Ulloa. I supplied him with the necessities of life, and there he remained for many weeks in fear and trembling. You know me, now, John, don’t you?”

John did not reply; he had lapsed into a cataleptic state, and his anxious listeners were doomed to wait for further evidence, which would help to conclude their test case.

Mr. Niksab walked the floor and wrung his hands: “He is dead now, I am sure,” he cried; but the great author of “Memory Fluid” put his hand upon his shoulder in a brotherly fashion, and in a quiet, reassuring voice said:

“Again you are mistaken. It is only a further death of the millions of microbes which breed disease in his body.”

“Ah, I forget,” said Mr. Niksab.

“You are not freed from the awful gnawings of the creatures yourself; but it is not to forget that you are here. It is, on the other hand, to remember,” replied the Governor.

Marriet Motuble had entered the room unobserved by all, and now astonished them by saying: “You’re right, Governor; you’re right. It is memory we must cultivate while under your roof. It’s a good thing for John that he has sunk into his present state of semiconsciousness, or I am afraid I would be compelled to make him acknowledge his great sins by means of physical force, which is a shorter route to punishment than your ‘Memory Fluid.’ I think a good thumping would do John good; or a bullet through his head might be better.”

These coarse remarks were not joined in by anyone, but she was in nowise abashed. They pitied her for her coarse, vulgar mind. They knew her time was not far distant, however. The scientists busied themselves quietly with their chemical instruments, now and then glancing up (out of courtesy) at some remark she made, to which, however, they made no response.

Mr. Niksab sat in a corner of the same room, his head between his hands in deep thought, lost, it seemed, to everything around him. The fair-haired, aggressive señorita walked, or rather stalked back and forth in the room, her thumbs in a pocket on either side of her short coat.

“I remember, too, that blear-eyed reprobate, the subject yonder—that was the name by which the medical students called such people in years gone by. They called them that in the year of 1898–’99, did they not, friend Niksab?”

Mr. Niksab started from his reverie, looked at the señorita with a strange look in his eyes, and said: “I believe so,” and at once lapsed into another silence.

“You are correct,” said the Governor. “You have been, I believe, a Subject here also. I am not mistaken, am I? For our ‘Memory Fluid’ we can claim another victory, then.”

Marriet Motuble stood in her favorite position, a smile of amusement on her face, listening to the Governor. She openly respected and secretly admired him. All the impulses of her loving heart, which were many, went out to the great man. Hers was a terrible love, and woe to the man who aroused her love and failed to reciprocate it. She did not take her eyes from his handsome face,—her eyes which spoke volumes of love, and shone with the light of a furious passion.

In this frame of mind she approached him closely, and said: “Your Honor is mistaken. I have never been a ‘subject’ in your illustrious institution.”

“But,” interrupted the Governor, “you remember.”

“Yes, ’tis true; and more, perhaps, than many would care to hear,” she replied.

“Can you explain how this great memory came to be a part of you? Aye, it is possible you do remember many things which evil-doers in the great life of the past, did those who are here again for a purpose by Divine arrangement who would prefer not to have their past brought to light. But the just management of all things eternal cannot be changed. Physical man must be the adjuster of all evil, through the awakening of his soul. It matters not how strongly they fight against it, it is the inevitable. And it is a struggle often.”

“You are dead right there, Governor,” replied Marriet Motuble. “Our friend John over there is undergoing a great struggle now,” and she laughed a fiendish laugh, as she continued promenading back and forth in the room. “Poor devil; if he were in his right mind now, he no doubt, would prefer to die and go straight to that place the orthodox ministers said existed, many years ago, to terrify their flocks into submission—possibly, if he thought he would be allowed to stay there forever, rather than be a ‘Subject’ and undergo what is now taking place.”

In an earnest and serious tone Guillermo Gonzales said: “Your argument, dear señorita, is false. A seeking for the Eternal—after the things not comprehended by the senses—cannot be brought about by compulsion; no physical force can make the change. It is the desire for a knowledge of the Eternal; for a communion with spirits, which causes the change; the death of disease; the return of memory, the final life.”

Marriet Motuble, on hearing this, was again convulsed with laughter; but finally controlling herself, said: “That is all very fine, and sounds well, and might apply very well to most every one, but to John—ha! ha!—to John—never! The only way to cure him, to be sure of him, is to put him into a yawning abyss of that Ebony Fluid you extract from the ‘Sun’s Rays,’ and which, I believe, you claim, if it can be produced in sufficient quantities, would be able to destroy not only all things physical, but those very things which are thought now by everybody, except possibly your honored selves, to be Eternal.”

The three wise men dropped the instruments they were casually examining, on the hard, polished floor, where they were broken into a thousand pieces. Her statement confounded them. With questioning looks they gazed into each other’s faces, and then at the implacable señorita. They knew that besides themselves no one on earth had been told of the “Ebony Fluid.” In fact, they had discussed the probable use to which it could be put in hushed tones, in the sanctity of their most private study.

Julio Murillo was the first to gain control of himself, and addressing the señorita, said: “If we were living in the year of 1898—at that time when Hermannism was in vogue, when the ignorant, the credulous often employed these delvers in mechanical spirits, and paid them large sums to look into the future and disclose their fate—I say, if we were back in that infant age of spiritualistic progress—I would at once avow that you had been to see one of those prophets.”

Marriet Motuble replied: “You forget, friend Julio, that I, as well as yourself, existed years ago. Then you were not so distinguished as now. We lived in the very year about which you have just spoken. Women were then said to be mysterious beings, as well as the beings who could fathom all secrets. The Great One to whom you pay silent tribute, has seen fit through all these years to perpetuate the gentler (?) sex, and with much the same disposition she then had. But really, gentlemen, it is unbecoming in me to be telling three renowned scientists, discoverers of ‘Memory Fluid,’ about what existed at a previous age, or how I came into possession of a knowledge of your ‘Ebony Fluid.’ Besides, I am lingering longer than my time admits. Pour some more ‘Memory Fluid’ down John, so he will call to mind his own offspring lying in a semi-conscious state in the adjoining room.”

“What is the meaning of your words, Miss Motuble? Let me entreat you to linger a few moments longer and explain. You can aid us materially in making this affair clear.”

Miss Motuble’s eyes shone with love, and with outstretched hands she started toward the object of her affection, and in a low voice, yet plainly audible to all present, said: “Dearie!”

Her whole nature changed outwardly in an instant. She whirled her large frame around as easily as if it worked on pivots, and walking to the door, said: “There are other days, gentlemen, other days. Patience is a necessary requisite to success. You will pardon me if I leave now. Julio, thy mother’s seducer, thy father, is heading the present movement against the State.”

“Impossible!” they exclaimed in one breath. “Retribution overtook him in his first existence. Impossible!”

Again she gave way to a fit of laughter, and said: “Impossible, hey? nothing is impossible. Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir has evidently not been recognized by you. Ha! ha! Well, this is an age of discovery!” Stepping up to Mr. Niksab (who still sat on a low chair, his face buried in his hands, seemingly unconscious to everything taking place around him), she slapped him soundly on the shoulder, a custom with men of bad breeding, in the nineteenth century, who were very friendly with each other and demonstrated their friendliness by this coarse greeting. He sprang to his feet and looked in a bewildered way all around him. “Ha! ha! ha! ha! Friend Niksab, you can have your hand in the righting of a few other wrongs, if you say so.”

“I am aiding the great scientists,” he interrupted, “by helping to find living proofs of the wrongs committed by the ‘Plunger from Kansas.’”

“The poor Plunger is getting it on every side; getting thumped by this scientific hail,” she replied.

“In what way, Miss Motuble,” quietly asked the Governor, “can Mr. Niksab be of further assistance to our scientific investigations?”

She made him no immediate reply, but laughingly said in a familiar tone: “Nicky, the fellow who murdered your brother, rifled your safe, stole all those cántaras of pulque, and mescal, and skins of tequila, when you ‘kept bar’ at the Palacio, is here now, less a notch or so as things go in social affairs at present. You remember him, don’t you, Nicky?”

“There seems to be coming over me a dim remembrance of the person you speak of and the circumstance you relate; but I am not clear.”

“Governor, give him more ‘Memory Fluid,’ and he will nail the villain in twenty-four hours.”

“What position does he now occupy?” asked Guillermo Gonzales. “I am anxious to know, as you say he is a notch higher in the social scale than in his other life.”

“He is president of the Maguey Paper Factory, and is as dishonest now, in a polite way, as he was in that memorable year, in an uproarious fashion. He is not contented with the immense profit he derives from the sale of the superior paper he manufactures, but he takes the dry maguey leaves, boils them for days—until they are in a pulp—strains it; ferments the liquid and sells it for a kind of rum, which he claims will cure insanity, and I, for one, believe him. I have personally known a dozen or more credulous people—those who are always taking something to aid digestion or strengthen the mind—I say, I believe in this drink—because they lived only a few days after taking it ‘according to directions.’ The poor demented creatures are now ‘cured’ for one existence at least. It is called ‘Perpetuity Miel.’”

“Ah, let me think,” said the Governor; “let me think. I—have received some samples of this rum, with a request to partake of it sparingly, and recommend it to the public.” (He opened a small glass cabinet and took out a large bottle). “Yes, here it is: ‘Perpetuity Miel.’ A strange name, composed of a Latin and Anglo-Saxon word, meaning a sweet, endless duration.”

“Do you, Miguey, recall the name of the president of the ‘Maguey Paper Company’?”

“I do not; I do not. Strange, I do not know, he being so prominent a man in the various commercial fields,” replied the Governor.

Julio Murillo said: “His name in a previous existence was Henry Lexort.”

Mr. Niksab cried, as he clutched his fists and fought at some unseen foes in the air, “The same, the same; he was killed at the Jockey Club for cheating in roulette. He had returned to the city, in disguise, after successfully evading the rurales—for many months. The great desire again to see the scene of his crime led him back to Chihuahua, with the result I have just mentioned.”

“That is a strange truth,” said the Governor, “that criminals more often than otherwise return to the scene of their crimes. More than one has walked to his doom by such rash actions.”

“That is why I have such perfect confidence that the ‘Plunger from Kansas,’ although living his third life since the date of his life in which he committed his famous cattle robbery, will return to the scene of his operations and to the city to which he fled to escape the clutches of the law. But to return to the president of the Maguey Paper Factory. It is quite unusual that the name of so prominent a man in our midst is unknown to five people of intelligence and education.”

“I will ascertain at once,” said Julio. “I will speak over the fluid and have his secretary to give me his full name and address. We may need it for future reference.”

“Do not give yourself so much useless work, friend Julio. I know the man’s genealogy as well as his present name. I make it my business to find out the pedigree of all such animals, such scorpions, and to air their old skeletons, in the hope of helping them to take on a new life; to hide their dry, marrowless bones with new flesh and blood.”

The “Subject” on the table moved; then sat upright; rubbed his eyes; looked beseechingly towards the door and cried out: “Marriet, Marriet, have you forgotten that I loved you in that time long ago?”

The four other occupants of the room turned to face the woman he was thus beseeching, and behold, she was gone.

CHAPTER V.
LIQUID FROM THE SUN’S RAYS.

Early the next morning the beautiful and progressive capital of Chihuahua was in a state of more than usual bustle.

Some time previous to this day a large body of her representative citizens, amongst whom were more than a thousand progressive women, had called upon the Governor en masse, and secured his consent to lecture upon, “Liquid from the Sun’s Rays.”

Chihuahua is a magnificently built city of over more than one-half a million inhabitants. It is a large mining center, railroad center, and educational center. Recently its fame had spread abroad. The eyes of the entire civilized world are riveted upon it. It is the home and abiding-place of the greatest scientists the world had ever known.

Scientific men and women from all over the world came every day to see the city; the country which produced such marvels of scientific wonder and spiritualistic progress. The object in gathering such a large body together to call upon and entreat the Governor to deliver an address upon his and his coworkers’ great scientific discovery, was their knowledge of his great timidity; of how he personally disliked to appear before the public and recount the wonders accomplished by their “Memory Fluid.”

Through his book, “Liquid from the Sun’s Rays,” they had gained their first and only knowledge of their brilliant townsmen’s discovery. Committees of from ten to one hundred had at various times since reading the Governor’s wonderful book, besought him to deliver a public address upon the subject, for their benefit. Invariably he put them off in a polite way, saying: “At some future time.” Hoping, of course, that they would weary at his many refusals, and cease to ask for a personal explanation; that they would be satisfied with reading his work.

Such was not the case. Persistence on the part of his fellow-citizens won.

Now the early morning was alive with the persons constituting the various committees who were appointed to make the large theatre an Eden of loveliness; a place befitting the great man who was to address them that night, and the distinguished guests. The President of the United States, accompanied by his entire family; ministers from foreign countries who felt themselves especially favored by their own country in being granted a leave of absence from their post of duty, and to the committee of Chihuahuans for the invitation, arrived that morning on a special train, which was a veritable drawing-room on wheels. This party was at once quartered at the “Mexican Annex,” a magnificent hostelry, containing more than one thousand rooms. “It occupies two blocks of ground; it faces East on the Alameda; it is five stories high, and built from the ground to the roof, of a greyish-white marble,” said a prominent member of the reception committee. “The magnificent pillars in the rotunda and those on the outside, which support the five stories of open-air promenades around the hotel, are solid onyx, carved in the most wonderful designs. This famous hostelry is the private property of the Governor, and is known throughout the States. It is lighted and heated by a means known only to himself and his two scientific coworkers. In each room there are several small instruments, curiously designed, back of pictures which represent, respectively, the face of the sun, glaciers, and small furnaces. They are of much interest to every person who visits the magnificent hostelry, yet no one can conceive for what purpose the curious little pictures are fastened so securely in the walls and ceiling. By certain mechanical action, a liquid extracted from the rays of the sun unites with other liquids obtained from the same source, which is concealed behind each picture, respectively. Then, if light is desired, a miniature lever is moved which causes the liquid concealed back of the picture of the face of the sun to unite with another fluid with the result that a soft, mellow light spreads over the house, which gradually increases in power until a light of the brightness required is obtained. On the same principle, if heat is required, another lever is moved which unites a fluid with another situated back of the small furnace, and gradually the air rises, balmy and fragrant like the air on a summer day in a garden of fragrant flowers after a light shower. The small pictures of glaciers represent the source from which cold is generated,” concluded the gallant Chihuahuan. More detailed information as to the lighting, heating and cooling of the hostelry, were unknown to the reception committee who were showing the distinguished visitors the many places of interest in their famous city.

While they expressed their great delight with the entire city, they unanimously voted the “Mexican Annex” to be the most magnificent and beautiful hotel building they had ever seen at home or abroad, and the most magnificent building they had yet beheld in Chihuahua.

It was well that the last clause was added, for the committee held in reserve a greater surprise for them. Those who had never heard of their auditorium, their great State theatre called “The Goddess,” could scarcely have imagined in their advanced day even, such a place to have existed; a place of such great dimensions; of such grandeur; of such beauty.

Chihuahua is honored by being the home of thousands of beautiful women, who are likewise known for their virtue and great intellects. These women indulge in the amusements,—the popular amusements of the day,—but never dissipate.

Many of them help to support large institutions of learning by practicing various professions for that purpose, and they do not think they are doing charity either. They contend that they owe their efforts to the further enlightenment of the age, that their own soul may grow stronger. There are, on the other hand, thousands of women in the city, beautiful women who have many of the lighter accomplishments, who indulge in the most hilarious forms of dissipation. Many of them likewise move in the most distinguished, intellectual circles. Yet these very circles are kept down; their progress retarded from the very fact of the presence of these women; women who have never felt the Divine power.

The entertainments given by these women teem with brilliant repartee and sparkling wit. Wit made sparkling, by the use of high-class wines.

The advent of so many distinguished people to the capital of their state was a welcome opportunity for them. All the morning they had paraded themselves back and forth through the route taken by the reception committee to best show off the city to their guests.

Most of them were becomingly attired in fashionable gowns for morning outdoor wear. They sped along noiselessly over the smooth streets in their chariot-like carriages, that swayed back and forth in a most delicious fashion.

Their vehicles were put into motion by means of the simple effort of pressing the thumb against a small button set in the center of the dash-board; and they were turned in any direction by means of a small lever, which required the slightest effort imaginable to handle.

These women succeeded in attracting the attention of the President and his party,—just what they were out for, and were often close enough to hear the bursts of admiration which unconsciously fell from the lips of some of the gentlemen of the party who were very susceptible to the charms of feminine beauty.

They returned to their homes in ecstasy, to refresh their beauty by an afternoon siesta and bath; ready to array themselves in their most gorgeous attire, in the hope of meeting the distinguished visitors at the banquet to be held immediately after the close of the Governor’s lecture; to make further conquests, to gather fresh laurels.

No one in the city was as little concerned over the event about to transpire as the Governor. Getting his own consent to appear before his people in the guise of a scientist, of a wonderful discoverer, was the struggle. It being over he looked upon the prospective lecture seemingly with no more concern than if he were about to make a Fourth of July speech. Yet such was not quite the case. He was greatly concerned about the result of his evening speech. Events had come in quick succession, since his arrival home; important ones, that dwelt directly upon the great chain of evidence he and his coworkers were intent upon bringing to a close, and he was now on the alert. He knew not at what moment to expect the climax. Strict orders were given the attendants at his home, that he was not to be molested at any hour during the day. That the day must be his own for thought.

The day before, he had caused the child Catalina Martinet, the child who swooned in the study of the scientist, to be removed to his own home, where she was placed in charge of his housekeeper. He kept up the most magnificent private home in the city. Many were the mothers who sighed as they drove by, for some power to entrap him for their daughters. They thought it a sin for so beautiful a home to remain without a mistress. The Governor was not disturbed by any of the sighs or enticing looks. He pursued his scientific investigations and at the same time he felt that through them there would come to him a love that would make his life, his soul, his spirit, a paradise on earth.

Catalina Martinet seemed to have no remembrance of the strange occurrence of yesterday. When she awoke from the peaceful sleep into which Guillermo Gonzales and Julio Murillo had succeeded in getting her, she was bright and gay. Instead of the careworn child of yesterday out seeking her living, she looked and acted like the happy child of wealthy and indulgent parents. She clung to the Governor, embraced him fondly, and called him “Papa.” All day long he had been communing with self and silently watching the child, whose every movement was a source of great wonder and delight to him.

Dressed in a becoming gown of very fine texture, she alone accompanied the great man to the theatre.

The large auditorium of the theatre was full, every seat occupied, and most all available standing room was filled with the small, but strong spring seats that came up from the floor by a touch, when required to help seat the great crowds that thronged to the auditorium whenever the Governor was billed to address his people.

Applause after applause went up from the large audience when the person for whom they waited in breathless silence appeared upon the stage.

Exclamations of surprise and admiration were heard on every side when the people saw the pretty child. She sat facing them with the complacency of a queen, throughout the entire lecture.

In the large private boxes sat the President of the United States and the representatives from foreign countries which came with him.

It was an event of great annoyance to the Governor to find, in one of the most conspicuous seats of the private box where the President and family sat, Marriet Motuble.

On his way to the theatre he had called for a few moments at the Mexican Annex, to pay his respects to the Chief Executive and the distinguished representatives of foreign countries present.

Now he only bowed to them, and wondered how the aggressive señorita made the acquaintance with the party; by whose invitation she had a seat in the box.

He felt his mind wandering and it was with much effort he was able to concentrate his thoughts upon the subject of his lecture. His discourse led up in a modest way to “Memory Fluid,” by mentioning the many discoveries they had made before they began to experiment to find a fluid, directly from the source of light which would perpetuate Memory through all time. That while working with the instrument which condensed the moisture from the sun’s rays to a liquid, they discovered it had a very strange effect upon whichever one of the three workers who always conducted the experiments, when the fluid had reached a certain stage. A generous sample of the fluid at that peculiar stage was put away for future experiments. In the meantime they perfected their “Heat and Light” fluid and put it into practical use.

At this point in the history of their discoveries, Guillermo Gonzales stepped upon the stage. He was received with a storm of applause. He returned the greeting with a smile and low bow. The Governor continued: “My able coworker will show you one of the uses to which we have put this fluid in our own city.”

Then while Guillermo Gonzales turned the light off and on, and made the room very hot, then cool, the Governor pointed to the large picture of the face of the sun in the center of the ceiling and told them that it was the source of the artificial light which they saw in the room, and the heat they felt.

“Back of the face,” he explained, “is a small glass bulb which holds two ounces of liquid, which, to make very clear to you, I will call the Principal liquid. This fluid is used in the production of heat, light and cold. Extending from the bulb are ten thousand small glass tubes, through some of which this liquid flows to the center of each miniature picture of the face of the sun on the ceiling and wall, through others to the center of the miniature furnaces placed in the four walls of the room two feet from the floor, and still through others to the small glaciers which so beautifully adorn the walls twenty-four inches from the ceiling. In the center of each small representation of the face of the sun is a hollow glass button filled with another form of liquid obtained from the sun’s rays, which we call ‘Light Fluid.’ When light is required in a certain part or in the entire part in any room or hall in this building, a small lever is moved by pressing a button, conveniently situated for that purpose, which brings in contact the principal liquid and the ‘Light’ liquid, with the result you now see; the soft, mellow light spreading over the room, increasing in intensity until the amount of light required is had.

“Heat is likewise produced by causing the principal fluid to unite with a liquid confined in the miniature furnace, which we term ‘Heat Fluid.’”

Guillermo Gonzales touched a button, and the room gradually became very warm; so warm, in fact, that the audience was uncomfortable; murmurs of complaints were heard on every side. All the dainty fans carried by the ladies for effect only, were immediately put into use.

The Governor fanned himself vigorously and wiped perspiration from his brow.

“The efficiency of ‘Heat Fluid’ is well demonstrated, my friend,” said the Governor, addressing the scientist. “Make us cool; this heat is overpowering.”

The intense heat gradually gave way to the cool breeze, which the Governor explained, “was caused by the uniting of the principal fluid with the fluid called ‘Cold Fluid,’ concealed within the small glaciers.”

Every one in the room turned his face toward the ceiling to see the representation of glaciers, and was greatly surprised to feel the cold air falling on his face as the heat ascended.

Cheer after cheer went up from the much pleased assembly. Their delight knew no bounds. It was the first knowledge they had of the means by which this magnificent auditorium was lighted, heated and made cool.

“The strange influence the liquid had at the certain stage before mentioned,” continued the Governor, “upon us working to bring about desired results with it in other conditions, gave rise to serious study of self while under its influence, and further experiments in making the same fluid stronger. On inhaling some of the stronger fluid we lapsed into a cataleptic state, and on our return to consciousness each astonished the other by relating wonderful and strange experiences. And strange to say, each of us had received the same remembrances of strange experiences which happened right in this city one hundred and fifty years ago. When we knew from our own personal knowledge that the liquid was perfectly harmless and capable of bringing about such wonderful results, we were determined to experiment upon others, and, if possible, find out if others had lived at the same time. And if the fluid caused those upon whom it was tested to recall one certain incident which we remembered to have occurred in the year 1898. in this city. This new fluid or liquid we call ‘Memory Fluid,’ and upon others it likewise worked marvels. They too recalled at once the same incident which we had recorded in our register. And now our great test case is about to be closed. The ‘Plunger from Kansas’ has positively been located. All the evidence of many persons now living who knew him in this town one hundred and fifty years ago, is about collected. He remembers himself. Retribution is overtaking him. See! this is his picture. Through a similar process to the one used in making this auditorium light, another has been used in producing from memory’s picture-gallery of the past, the picture you see of ‘The Plunger from Kansas,’ now before you.”

For an instant a hushed silence fell upon the large audience. Then as if by unanimous vote they at once cried out in the most tumultuous cheers.

The cries of: “Down with him, I remember him; he robbed my father in another life.” “Punish him.” “Catch him.” “Hang him.” “Put him in prison.” “Make him repent.” “See that his just due is meted out to him.” “Yes, for he escaped in the other life,” rang out.

One of the orthodox ministers—Rev. J. T. Note—there are still a few who hang on to their creeds with the same tenacity that Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and his few followers do to the ancient customs and religion of their long-lost and beloved Republic of Mexico; arose and cried: “The wrath of God be upon such unholy teachings. Oh, God, spare our great nation, about to be plunged into an abyss of darkness and despair.”

When Father Hernandez, the best known priest in the city, cried: “Jesus and Mary protect us from evil,” Marriet Motuble arose from her conspicuous position in the box she occupied with the President, and cried: “Carry that scorpion, the Rev. J. T. Note, out. I know him of old. He tried to convert the ‘Plunger’ to his faith, to get some of his ill-gotten gains, no doubt. He was a missionary then, practicing his arts of conversion in Chihuahua. It is upon him the wrath of the gods should fall. And that priest, Father Hernandez,” she continued, as her body swayed back and forth, convulsed with laughter. “That priest, that priest, he was a voluptuous lout. Oh, the hangers-on he had. Clangity clang, clang, clang, every fifteen minutes went the bells in the towers of his ancient church, to call the peons to prayer—to get their centavos. Oh, you viper, you scorpion, get out of here!”

“Hush!”—came out the clear, distinct voice of the Governor.

Marriet Motuble sank quietly into her seat, at the sound of his voice.

Julio Murillo stepped on the stage, and in a quiet, reassuring voice said: “Eternal Truth, the Sublime Law of Right, will be asserted. The voice of my mother, Señora Suzzan Carriles, of Colima, cries out for a resurrection. Through her desire for a new life, for a knowledge of truth, yonder priest, whom I pity from the bottom of my soul, will see the folly of his ways, and will desire also to live the life of spiritual purity.”

A pitiful cry, “Oh, Joseph, oh, Mary, spare me, spare me!” rang out, as the priest fell forward.

He was carried out amidst the cries: “Impostor,” “Give him ‘Memory Fluid,’” on one side, and “Our kind priest is persecuted,” on another. “Spare him, ye blessed Virgin Mary!”

“Jesus y Maria, Jesus y Maria!” cried Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir. “This is the beginning of the war about to be waged. The sanctified Catholic Church will win. These blasphemous scientific impostors will meet their just reward. I knew it would come through the means of the fake ‘Memory Fluid.’ It is necessary for a vast amount of evil to be thrust upon man at one moment before he is brought to his senses; before a much needed revolution takes place.”

The keynote to his thoughts was struck when he said the word “revolution,” as it acted like wild-fire upon the wrought-up assembly.

Progressive women and men arose, and their cries of: “Down with the revolutionists! Down with the progeny who opposed the noble Diaz!”

“Drag the scorpion out and cut his wind off,” cried Marriet Motuble.

The President of the United States arose, and with hands outstretched toward the Governor, sent forth a silent appeal. This was the first exhibition of fear noticed during the entire commotion.

The Governor understood the mute appeal of the head of the nation, arose, and with a proud toss of his handsome head, spoke in a clear, high voice: “Captain, let the soldiers enter, and take the disturbers of peace away!”

No one up to this time had noticed that the doorways and vestibules leading into the auditorium were thronged with the city police force and the state militia. The wise Governor had, through the assistance of his able coworkers, Guillermo Gonzales and Julio Murillo, arranged thus for the protection of those present at the first outbreak of the evening.

The Captain whom he addressed had been in the audience, within close distance of the Governor, for some time, and only waited for the sign from him to quell the disturbers.

At the same moment the auditorium was filled with officers of law, the boxes occupied by the President and family and other visitors were completely surrounded with soldiers armed to the teeth.

Friends of the priest, Father Hernandez, had carried him out the moment he fell in a faint; others, in sympathy with Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, ushered him out quickly, so the police restored quiet by their presence.

Some nervous sensationalist was so bold as to cry out: “God save the President! This occasion is for the purpose of getting him here to murder him. It is the old story repeated. Abraham Lincoln was shot by a traitor while in a theatre two hundred and fifty years ago. We must protect our President with our lives.”

The person who gave vent to this cry was at once put under arrest, and taken by force out of the theatre.

Quiet was once more restored and by a few words from the Governor, the people were assured of protection and that the banquet would take place.

CHAPTER VI.
MRS. GRANGE AND THE PRESIDENT.

It was the powerful influence of the minds of the Governor and his able coworkers upon the people which produced quiet.

Even the aggressive Señorita Marriet Motuble leaned back in her chair with a dreamy faraway look on her face.

The Governor had spoken longer than he intended, and on looking at the timepiece, which occupied a conspicuous place in the room, he was greatly surprised to find the hour of midnight.

The President of the United States dismissed the assembly with a few complimentary and brilliant remarks, but strictly avoided making any allusion to the affair just ended, or rather, I would better say, which had just been quieted; for the scene had not ended, it was only the beginning of a fearful struggle, which would not end in a day, a week, a month, a year.

The committee having the arrangements for the banquet in hand, passed into the hall, some leading the way escorting the guests who came in first with invitations, others with those who came in last.

Everybody felt greatly impressed with some impending trouble, yet each endeavored to hide his anxiety behind a smile.

The subjects upon whom the scientists had been experimenting and from whom such great results had been obtained, were special objects of interest at the banquet. J. Ecarg looked greatly embarrassed; most of the evening, however, at times he seemed to lapse into a semi-conscious state. He only appeared to be at ease and contented when talking to Marriet Motuble.

Several times during the evening he was heard to laugh out merrily at some jest made by her.

Mr. Niksab was often the center of a large crowd, whom he entertained with stories of the effect of “Memory Fluid” upon himself and others.

Occasionally he stole a glance from his eager listeners in the direction of Marriet Motuble and his friend John Ecarg. He felt a deep interest in him, and in a measure responsible for the result of his present condition, of his awakening.

There were so many people present that it was impossible for each to meet the other during the evening. All the most prominent citizens were presented to the President and other invited guests from abroad. The Governor tried to have a few pleasant words with all visitors and newcomers to the city.

Toasts were proposed in which response was made in the most brilliant and appropriate manner.

The toast, “Our Beautiful Women,” was proposed by a gallant visitor, and the Governor was called upon to reply.

With his usual gallantry he responded. Crowds of beautiful women, many of whom belonged to the fast set before mentioned, drew near.

One in particular made herself conspicuous by getting very near the President and clapping her hands at everything the Governor said—words complimentary to women.

She was the wife of a Scotchman who, having failed as an opera singer, was obliged to try his hand in other lines,—railroading and commercial fields. Having secured, at a small salary, a place in a railroad office, with the high title of “Assistant Freight Agent,” he was forced to depend upon his form, his pretty face and his voice, (which by way of apology, he always explained, he hoped to recover), as well as his wife’s winning ways, and her ability to “act” in amateur dramatic performances, for their social position.

Mrs. Grange made the most of her winning ways. She flirted, and smiled, and danced and drank wine with every man of position and wealth, who paid her the slightest attention, and hinted only at such favors.

In the little game she played she very often came out winner; that is, winner in a way. She received for herself and husband an invitation for the next swell function, and often the present of a new gown for the occasion from her latest conquest, who also assured her that he would use his personal influence with the president of the railroad where her husband was employed, to have him retained in his position. Quite frequently these admirers of hers hinted that through their influence there was likely to be a raise in his salary. The raise, however, never came, yet the promise of it did them good; it was something to which they could look forward.

It was probably the hope of securing such a promise, by the aid of some of the famous men present, that Mrs. Grange disported herself so bewitchingly before them.

To herself her charms as reflected from her mirror, seemed irresistible, and it was a source of constant wonder to her why any man failed to become her victim.

In her case the formality of an introduction was never necessary. Yet she realized the prestige a formal introduction gave her, and by intriguing with those who did not know her arts, she very often was presented to people of influence by their own friends. She affected a retiring manner, and made her blushes to order.

Those to whom she was first introduced thought her a combination of beauty, modesty and purity, and her entertaining powers superior to anyone whom they had seen. Her great bashfulness enhanced her ability to entertain, they thought. The President of the United States certainly seemed to think so, from the way his face shone with pleasure as he gazed into her half upturned face, full of blushes that came and went as she talked.

The Governor had just concluded his response to the toast, “Beautiful Women,” which was eliciting a storm of applause. Guests were collected in twos and threes, discussing the brilliancy of his remarks.

Some of the gentlemen were discussing which one of the many beautiful women present would be thought the most beautiful, by the greatest number of persons at the banquet, if a vote were taken.

The President wished the woman into whose face he gazed with evident admiration might be chosen as the queen of beauty, and in a voice only meant for her ears told her so.

But Marriet Motuble stood close by and had been an eye-witness to the little, quiet game of flirtation, which they did not dream had attracted the attention of anyone.

She also heard the pretty compliments paid Mrs. Grange by the President, and at the time most inopportune for them, she stepped closer to them, and in a tone which carried much satire, said: “A pretty compliment indeed, Mrs. Grange; but pardon me, please, it was not meant for my ears.”

The President was evidently annoyed, although he tried hard to hide his real feeling, and said: “We, too, Miss Motuble, were discussing the Governor’s able speech. He paid beautiful tributes of appreciation to the many charming women present.”

“Your Honor, that is quite true; he is a great Chesterfield. He knows how to be gracious to the ladies, homely ones as well as beautiful, timid ones,” said Mrs. Grange, as she turned her face full of earnest pleading up to his.

The President did not reply in words, but the look he gave her, as he bent his head until it nearly touched hers, was proof enough to Marriet Motuble that he was afraid to trust his voice. His chest heaved with tender emotions inspired by Mrs. Grange, and one word would betray his real feeling.

On neither of those two did the stirring events just passed, seem to have left any impression.

Marriet Motuble well knew the mental calibre of the woman, and was not in the least astonished to find Mrs. Grange in the affected state she always assumed when with men.

“But the President! the President!” exclaimed Marriet Motuble, mentally. “I cannot understand how the leader of our great nation can carry on a sentimental conversation with a brainless beauty (?) when the great city of Chihuahua is in such a state of excitement. There is no telling where the events just transpired will end. I for one am sorry this terrible calm is taking place. It seems to me a time of preparation for a greater shock. He is a great actor if he is mentally disturbed and can so completely disguise his true feelings. I will test him.”—“Say, President,” she cried, as she whirled her huge frame in front of the two, and interrupted the low conversation, “Governor Lehumada is a fine actor, is he not?”

“In what way, pray, Miss Motuble?”

“In the disguise of his real feelings.”

“He is a heroic actor,” said Mrs. Grange.

“He is, indeed,” curtly replied Miss Motuble, addressing herself to Mrs. Grange; then in a complete change of voice, said, speaking to the President, with her back half turned to Mrs. Grange, “I mean, your Honor, that the noble man yonder is in a high fever of excitement caused by the disturbance in the auditorium—for he realizes that it was just the beginning of a long conflict, the end of which cannot be seen by mortal eyes. Yet the noble man is able to conceal his feeling out of his great love for his people, and his desire to have the banquet end successfully.”

“You know your people here better than I, Miss Motuble, this being your home; and pray, do you anticipate any further trouble?”

“I know the city but little better than yourself, your Honor, except possibly in the way of remembrance.”

Mrs. Grange, arousing herself from her passive state, said in a voice loud and cutting: “A subject of that fluid also!”

Ignoring her altogether, Marriet Motuble continued:

“With your Honor’s permission, I do remember many persons present as having lived in lives gone by. Some here to-night lived in this city one hundred and fifty years ago.”

“May I ask whom?”

“Most truly.”

“Not I, I hope,” again ventured Mrs. Grange.

“The child,” continued Marriet Motuble, “lived then.”

“What child?” inquired the President.

“Ah, ’tis true, you do not know. What a pity! The beautiful little girl who sat by the Governor during his lecture. Catalina Martinet. Dear child!”

“Can it be possible!” exclaimed the President.

“Quite true, your Honor. She remembers. She died at the age of eighteen of a broken heart.”

“How sad,” remarked Mrs. Grange, persisting in trying to join in the conversation.

“Was her death the result of a disappointed love?” asked the President.

“On the other hand,” replied Miss Motuble, “quite the contrary. Her heart, poor child, was broken when she learned of the cloud under which she was born—that she was an outcast—a waif. She died in my arms.”

“Impossible,” exclaimed Mrs. Grange.

“Not at all,” quietly replied the President. “One is as likely as the other, while neither is impossible.”

Marriet Motuble continued as though there had been no interruption: “She died in my arms. I buried her at my own expense in a tomb befitting a queen. And truly she was a queen. The deed to the ground I built her tomb on I have in my safe amongst my legal documents. Every word is legible. I could not bear to think that her precious body, possibly before the flesh had decomposed, would be thrown out of the grave to make way for a new corpse, as was the cruel custom in Mexico then. Her tomb is in a state of perfect preservation yet. I hope soon to finish this cycle and have made arrangements to have the destructible part of me, or that part of me recognized by those not initiated, laid away there.”

“How interesting. Quite uncanny, though!” ventured Mrs. Grange, as she peered around her as though expecting to see a ghost. She evidently saw something; for her face turned very white and she trembled with fright as she sank into a chair.

The President saw but paid no attention to her. He was interested in Marriet Motuble. The story she was telling was a revelation to him.

She, too, saw that something unusual had happened to Mrs. Grange, but paid no attention to her, and continued: “I know the child’s genealogies, of both her past and present existence. She, like myself, is here for a purpose. There are many who have congregated here for the same purpose. While the prime cause for the great meeting here was the same, many great results will be obtained other than the one hoped for in the beginning.”

“Can it be that you are here also to aid the scientists in getting proof to bring the ‘Plunger from Kansas’ to justice?” asked the President, with much surprise, and showing great interest.

“Indirectly only. I am here for the direct purpose of finding one whom I loved in that same time—a young, beautiful woman, whose poverty was the result of the doings of the ‘Plunger from Kansas,’ and who suffered much loss financially and great abuse from the slanderous tongues of jealous Americans living in Chihuahua.”

“Are you certain that the lady of whom you speak is living now?” asked the President.

“It must be true. I feel her presence, yet I have not been able to find her. She will come. She will come. A young woman, beautiful and talented. Must I wait much longer? I——”

Her last remark was cut short by some one calling, in a low, sweet tone: “Señorita Motuble. Ah, here you are. I have been looking for you for two hours. I am Catalina Martinet. It was my tomb you had built long, long ago. You remember now, don’t you?”

She caught the beautiful child in her arms, kissed her in her passionate way, and cried: “Yes, dearie, I know you. You are happy now, are you not?”

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the child. “Since I know that justice comes to all, I am happy. And you?”

“Dearie, I too am happy in a way. But do not worry about me. Let us talk about other things. Catalina, this gentleman, Mr. Mortingo, is President of the United States.”

“Your Honor, it is with much pleasure I meet you again,” Catalina smilingly replied. “I remember you quite well. I met you when you were here before.”

“Impossible!” exclaimed the President. “Dear child, I was never in this city before. This is my first visit.”

“Too bad, he does not remember,” addressing Miss Motuble. Then to the President she said: “In your other life. I will call the Governor to give you some ‘Memory Fluid’;” and with a wave of her hand, before they could realize what she was going to do, she was gone.

The President’s conversation with Miss Motuble had not been carried on without many interruptions. While he realized that he was the most prominent person present, and that he owed part of his time to all, yet so intensely interested was he in the aggressive Miss Motuble, that he was determined at any cost to hear her story through.

The remark of Catalina Martinet was heard by many near by, some of whom were intimate friends of the President. They now stepped forward and began to banter him about taking “Memory Fluid.”

The President took their jests in good part, at the same time avowing his intention of experimenting with the wonderful fluid.

While those around the President listened with much merriment to him, as he related the little incident with the child, Marriet Motuble turned her attention to the beautiful, retiring Mrs. Grange, who, so far as the President was concerned, had ceased to exist.

“This,” she exclaimed, as she held up Mrs. Grange’s lifeless head, “is an example of coming memory.”

The President looked at her for a moment in mute astonishment.

“Oh, your Honor, it is true.”

“But the fluid, Miss Motuble. Who gave her ‘Memory Fluid’?” asked the Spanish Consul, who had been an eager listener only for the present time.

“I, your most humble servant. I did.”

“But when and how?” asked the President’s daughter, who just came up.

“Possibly I would better not say,” Miss Motuble answered.

“Oh, do; oh, do!” came from all sides.

“Yes, let us hear, Miss Motuble, how you came to be such an expert in handling our fluid,” quietly asked the Governor, who came up leading Catalina Martinet.

Marriet Motuble dropped the lifeless head of Mrs. Grange on the back of the chair where she sat, and in a pleading voice said: “Dear Governor, I must first have your promise that you will forgive me for making tests of your fluid without the consent of yourself or the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales. Don’t tell me, I pray, that I have taken too much liberty with your great discovery.”

“On the other hand, Miss Motuble, I am personally delighted that you are thus experimenting, and I feel confident my able coworkers too, will be grateful to you for taking so much interest in our ‘Memory Fluid.’”

“Bravo! Say, gentlemen and ladies, that is the kind of stuff to make governors out of, and scientists, too. Well, so long as the culprit is not to be punished, I will confess. While ‘Memory Fluid’ has no odor, a simple inhalation of it will cause a cataleptic state, such as the state in which we now find the beautiful (?) Mrs. Grange. When she comes out of this state, in which she has been about five minutes, she will begin to remember. And if I am not mistaken, she will begin to regret the life of deceit she has been leading.”

Catalina cried: “Señorita Motuble, she will remember and yet will be punished for her ill treatment of me in that unhappy life of mine, long, long ago.”

Everyone stood around in breathless surprise.

Marriet Motuble kissed the child Catalina, standing by her side and holding in tight clasp the Governor’s hand, and said: “Dearie, she will remember, and I hope that her first regret will be of her ill treatment of you. See! she moves.”

The crowd stood back in breathless expectation.

Secretly the Governor and the other two scientists rejoiced at what was now taking place. It was the realization of a long-looked-for opportunity. A public exhibition of the effect of “Memory Fluid” and the proof of its harmlessness.

“She moves again,” came in subdued tones from some one standing by. Much the same effect seemed to be produced upon those witnessing the scene, as would take place if Mrs. Grange had been dead and they were waiting to see her return to life.

“She moves again,” said the Spanish consul, stepping closer. “The fluid has caused no change in her complexion, and her circulation is very little wrong,” he concluded, as he let her wrist drop, but gazed with evident admiration into her face.

He tarried a little too long. She opened her eyes, and finding a strange face so close to hers, exclaimed at the same moment as she threw out her hands and pushed him away:

“The impudence of you, you ill-bred scamp!”

“But, madam,” said the President, “it was his anxiety for your return to consciousness that caused the consul to be peering into your face.”

“Your explanation is satisfactory, President. But are you not mistaken about me having been unconscious?”

“In a certain sense, madam, you were,” replied the Governor.

“But, you remember, do you not, Mrs. Grange,—Aunty Inez?” asked the child.

Mrs. Grange sprang to her feet. “Have I been living a dream all of my past life, or am I now dreaming?”

“Neither, dear madam,” replied the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales; “neither, madam. You are simply confused with the remembrances of two lives.”

In an abstracted manner she took the hands of Catalina Martinet in her own, and gazing intently into her face for a moment, said: “It is the same child. The other life is plain to me now. Am I to be punished? I did ill-treat her then; I did. But spare me, spare me!” She pleadingly called out to some invisible person. Turning her face away from the child, she looked straight into the laughing face of Marriet Motuble, who said:

“I thought it would come, Sister Grange. In fact, I knew it would come.”

“Such torture,” she cried, turning from first one to the other, “such torture; save me, save me!”

“We cannot do that, dear madam; we have no such power. You need have no fear. It is the awakening of your soul, and only good can be the final result,” said the Governor.

“Your words only harrass me. There are so many here to chide me for my unjust treatment of the child there, in that other life.” Spying a new face close by, she fairly screamed: “What, you here?”

Everybody turned to see who it was that caused the half crazy woman—crazy with guilt—to cry out so, when a queenly young woman stepped forward and said:

“I certainly am sorry my presence has created such an uproar. Ladies and gentlemen, I now apologize.”

“Have you ever met the woman?” asked the President.

“Not in this life, your Honor.”

“She remembers me, though,” said Mrs. Grange, “and I her.”

“If that be true,” said the Governor, “present me, dear madam. I have not the honor of her acquaintance.”

As Mrs. Grange sank into a chair she put her hands over her eyes, as if to hide from view of every one, and said: “Your Honor, the lady was Helen Hinckley, in that time long past,” then sank into her former state of unconsciousness.

Helen Hinckley, with a pleasing smile, advanced with outstretched hands to the Governor, and in her charming voice, said: “By which name I have the pleasure to present myself to your Honor now.”

The Governor took her two beautiful hands into his own, and as he looked into her open countenance, and beautiful eyes, he realized that at last he had met his fate.

CHAPTER VII.
THE PRESIDENT SURPRISED.

It was the intention of the Presidential party to spend one day and night in Chihuahua, and to leave the following morning before eleven o’clock for Saltillo, where they would spend a few days visiting her large and famous educational institutions, of which the United States is justly proud.

But instead of carrying out the plan for the tour, he sent a message, saying his visit would be delayed, to the president of the most renowned of the ten schools, which had made the beautiful city of Saltillo, away up in the Sierra Madre mountains, five thousand feet above the sea level, the envy of all pedagogues all over the East and North. The hub of learning was no longer said to be in the old, puritanical town of Boston, as was credited to it a hundred and fifty years ago.

A strange shifting of scenes had taken place, not only in the fall of Boston from its educational pedestal, but in the shifting of the axis of the earth, changing the positions of the poles, and creating in different parts of the world a different climate from what had been in years gone by, as well as different animal, vegetable life and mineral deposits.

The great school, “For Hidden Thought,” of which Francisco de Urdiñola was president, was the institution of greatest note in Saltillo, and the only one of its kind in America. It was to the president of this University that the President of the United States sent a message, saying that the date of his arrival in Saltillo would be delayed.

President Mortingo had a short conversation with Governor Lehumada at the close of the banquet the previous evening, in which the President declared his intentions of becoming a “subject” the following day, to see if he could fathom the mysteries of the evening.

He made an appointment also to meet the child, Catalina Martinet, at the Governor’s home, at nine o’clock, after which meeting he would go to the studio of the scientist, Guillermo Gonzales.

As the President sped through the beautiful streets of Chihuahua, from the Mexican Annex, to the palatial home of Governor Lehumada, his thoughts travelled with surprising rapidity from one occurrence to another of the last evening.

He had never taken life seriously, and notwithstanding the fact that he had thought last night that the “Memory Fluid” possessed an uncanny element, he laughed to himself now, and declared the whole scene was an uproarious comedietta, in which he was about to present himself before the public as the buffoon. He chuckled at the thought of the prominence from a new point of view it would bring him, by submitting himself as a subject for the great scientists to further experiment upon. He had always been ambitious to shine before the public. He was chosen President of the United States, not because he was a great politician, or a man who had distinguished himself in the service of his country; quite the contrary. He came by chance, as it were, into the presidential chair. He had great wealth and good nature combined, and he allowed himself to be used by his friends. It was a great plum he had secured by being good-natured, and his face constantly glowed with evident satisfaction.

The two great political parties had ceased to agree amongst themselves, and on the eve of the great national election a black horse had been run into the ring and won the race.

Each party was glad the other had not won the race, and each felt assured that the black horse would not prove a serious stumbling-block to the many projects each party hoped to accomplish by the election of a man from its own party.

Far beyond the most sanguine expectations of the people, he had proved a benefactor. His good-nature, coupled with his desire to do no one a wrong personally, and produce all the good possible to the nation, was a balm to the hurt minds of the two defeated parties.

All of these things Mr. Mortingo knew very well, and reflected over them now with much satisfaction. It was the pleasant things of life he was seeking, and he had his full share. He accepted all favors shown him, even those from persons whom he knew to be enemies, and whose object in showing him courtesies was for the sole purpose of gaining some political favor or social prestige. He smiled as he stepped from the carriage, and thought of the sensation the step he was about to take would make upon the people.

Governor Lehumada received him in his wonderful drawing-room, with the respect due his position, and at once presented the child, Catalina Martinet. She curtesied prettily and gave her tiny hand to the President. He kissed her bright face and asked her to sit on the chair placed by the one he was to occupy, and to excuse him one moment. Then he drew his arm through the arm of the Governor, and as they walked a few steps away, said: “Your Honor, does the child know I have come to see her?”

“She does not, sir; at least she does not know by being told. I have, however, a feeling that she divined you were coming, and that you would talk to her upon the subject of a past existence,” replied the Governor.

“I am sorry she suspects the object of my visit. I am afraid the mere fact of it will make me incredulous of her statements,” said the President. “However,” he continued, “what led you into the belief you have just stated?”

The Governor walked a few steps further away with his friend, and in a lower tone said: “The child has taken a great fancy to me, and notwithstanding the fact that I tried to persuade her not to call me ‘papa,’ she persists in so doing. She is a child a man in any position in life would be proud to claim as his own, yet being a bachelor I feel a certain timidity in being addressed as ‘papa.’ Now to answer your question, what led me to suspect that she knew you would call this morning and the object of your call as well? While I was taking my breakfast she ran into the room, and after throwing her arms around my neck and kissing me fondly, she exclaimed: ‘Dear papa, dear papa, the great man will be here presently; I will run to the house I used to have for a home, and get the philopena he gave me in the other life. I promised to keep it always, and I want to show him I still have it. Then he will remember.’

“‘Is the President coming to see you, Catalina?’ I asked.

“‘Dear papa, you know he is; may I go for the philopena now?’

“‘No, child,’ I replied, ‘not now; but if our President comes and wishes to see the philopena, you may go for it.’”

“Oh, thank you; thank you. Do let the sweet child go at once,” said the President.

“Do you want me?” cried Catalina, starting from her seat toward them, as they turned around to call her.

“We certainly do,” replied the Governor, as he caught the happy child in his arms. “We certainly do, do we not, President?”

The President looked at the two for a moment in mute astonishment, then replied: “We do want you, dear, but how strange!”

“I wear the philopena, President; you remember it, don’t you?”

The Governor looked at her questioningly, to which she replied:

“I slipped away, papa, just for a moment, to get it. I knew the President would want to see it;” with that she handed him a curious coin suspended from a small silver chain.

“What is it?” asked both men, as they examined it curiously.

Catalina looked serious as she replied: “He does not remember. It is speiss, a five-cent piece, you gave me for winning the second game of checkers I played after you taught me how. You said you would never see it again, for I would give it to the priest some day when I went to confess; playing checkers for a philopena.”

“This is an old coin,” said the President; “it is dated 1898.”

“And the day we played the game is cut on it also,” said Catalina.

“A date is on it—December the seventh. But who put it there?” asked the President.

“Why, you cut the letters on it, your Honor,” Catalina replied, “with a little pearl-handled knife. I have it also. You used many big words to me then, but I remember them all very well. Do you remember what you said the priest might do with the knife, if I were not a good girl?”

“You forget, child, the President does not remember; but tell us about the knife,” said the Governor.

“Do; I am all curiosity,” said the President.

“It is a big word you used,” said Catalina, “and if you do not remember, I will have to tell you what it means. You said if I were not a good girl, the priest would perform phlebotomy upon me.”

“We do not know—explain, child,” said Governor Lehumada.

“He meant, the priest would open a blood-vessel, and all of my blood would run out,” laughed the child.

“But were you so bad that I had to be constantly reminding you of the fact?” asked President Mortingo.

“I was not bad then,” said the child; “it was only after I knew of the disgrace of my birth that I got to be disagreeable and bad. It is now time for you to take ‘Memory Fluid’ from Señor Guillermo Gonzales. I will tell you about other things when you remember. I am now going to meet Helen Hinckley in the Alameda.” She shook hands with the President; kissed the Governor fondly, and with the air of a queen swept from the room.

“How strange,” said the President; “a child and a queen in one;” while Governor Lehumada, with a smile on his face, murmured: “Helen Hinckley, my long-lost love, found at last, at last. Would that I, too, could hasten to her.”

The President heard the Governor’s confession of love, but gave no sign that his secret had been betrayed. “With your permission, Governor, I will go at once to the studio of Señor Guillermo Gonzales. I wish to become a subject immediately, the child has enthused me very much; in fact, I never believed it possible for any one to arouse my curiosity to such an extent.”

At that moment Señor Guillermo Gonzales was shown into the drawing-room, and as he greeted the President, said: “To keep the matter of you becoming a subject very quiet, I came at a suggestion just received from the Governor, to administer the ‘Fluid’ here.”

“How considerate,” said President Mortingo. “I really felt a little delicacy in going to your laboratory. Let the experiments begin now, I pray you. I really am getting nervous over it. I hope I will not be affected, on my return to a conscious condition, as was poor Mrs. Grange last night.”

“Have no fears, President; it is not likely you committed any evil deeds in a life gone by for which you will now suffer remorse. Your presence in this life is no doubt due to the fact that you desired knowledge—desired to reach the highest plane, without any waste of years.”

“That is most likely,” said the Governor. “Friend Gonzales is quite right. To avoid any further delay, please follow me into my private study. As soon as the ‘Fluid’ is administered, I will leave you with Señors Gonzales and Murillo, until the period we desire is reached. Then I will return. A matter of great importance has come up recently, within the last hours, which I wish to attend to personally.”

“You are quite excusable, Governor, quite excusable,” replied the good-natured President. He thought he knew what the “important business” was that had recently come up, to which the Governor wished to give his personal attention.

His vein of humor produced a hearty laugh from the three men besides himself in the room when he received the small glass containing “Memory Fluid” in his hand, and holding it aloft, said: “I drink, oh, thou Great Revealer, to the health of all my present enemies and friends, to all friends and enemies I had in those lives I am supposed to have lived ages and ages ago! Oh, thou Muse, bring me Memory, that I may know myself now as I was then! Was I then a mule driver, or a bootblack in America; a mozo in Mexico, or an Emperor of Germany?”

He sipped the tasteless liquid and lapsed into silence.

Guillermo Gonzales nodded to Governor Lehumada significantly, and the Governor at once made his exit.

He hurried to his dressing-room and began to make some changes in his toilet. Satisfied with himself from the reflection he saw in the mirror, he rang for the coach, and while waiting for it to be announced, exclaimed: “The greatest moment in my life has come! Dearest Helen, thou wilt be mine! You must! You shall! I have lived sadly through one existence searching for you, and several times during this life I have been on the very verge of despair because I could not find you—and I would have despaired, were it not that even in a past life I knew a power would be given to me to discover an element from Nature which would be instrumental in bringing you to my arms. The insincerity of humanity has, since the beginning of time, caused more heartaches and trouble than any other one thing. To the great Creator I certainly give thanks for the germ of sincerity he sowed in my breast, and the proper nutrition he placed there to make it grow. There, Juan says my coach is ready; I must hasten to meet my love.”

With a sweeping glance at his mirror, he hastened out of the room and down the long stairs. On nearing the drawing-room door, Juan said: “Your Honor, a señorita awaits you in the drawing-room.”

The Governor took the large white card from the silver tray his man held out to him, and with a look of dismay upon his face, read aloud: “Miss Marriet Motuble.” “A very great disappointment, dear, dear Helen. When will I ever have another opportunity to see you? It is unjust for me to feel this way. I will enter at once, and not keep the señorita waiting. Juan, tell Miss Motuble I will be in at once.”

While Juan entered the drawing-room Governor Lehumada removed his gloves and hat, and was glad to have the opportunity to collect himself, and when Juan reappeared, he asked: “Do you see any signs of displeasure on my face?”

“No, your Honor; your face is as serene as the morning sky.”

“Thanks, Juan. It is another victory. Take my hat and gloves, and tell the coachman to go to the Alameda. The child, Catalina Martinet, is there; should she desire to use the conveyance, take her wherever she wishes to go. Tell him to say to her that I had started for her, and at the last moment was disappointed at being unable to go,” whispered Governor Lehumada, into the ears of his trusty man. Was all the long message sent to the child meant only to be delivered for her ears?

“Certainly not,” mentally remarked Juan. “I kind of have a suspicion that there is something more than ‘Memory Fluid’ bothering the Governor for several days; but then I am only Juan, and not a great Governor, author and scientist. I will experiment one day, if I can, and help to solve the great problem of life. I wonder if it is probable that the Governor has fallen in love with some beautiful young woman? I will find out, if it can be done. I will from this moment camp on his tracks, and when I have a chance I will slip some ‘Memory Fluid,’ for I has a notion in my old head that I lived before. I has a notion that Mr. Niksab and J. Ecarg, were known to me somewhere, long, long ago.” He smiled to himself as he went out to give the Governor’s orders.

On his return to the house he stationed himself conveniently near the drawing-room door, so close that every word uttered by the aggressive señorita was heard by him.

When Governor Lehumada entered the drawing-room, he felt very much like a schoolboy who had been punished for not wanting to enter the parlor and be pleasant to callers. He was ashamed of himself, and tried to make amends for his actions by being more gracious than was necessary.

Miss Motuble mistook his gallantry and great hospitality for demonstrations of love, and after greeting the object of her affections, she sank into a chair close by, much overcome with emotions. She believed she had won a conquest. She was unable for some minutes to speak. Her face became red and white by turns, her breast heaved with great convulsions, while her hand trembled so violently that she had no power over the fan she was trying to move.

The Governor saw the condition she was in, and from the bottom of his heart he pitied her. The object of his heart’s desire affected him much the same way when he saw her. “But I need no sympathy,” he argued to himself, “for my love is reciprocated; my Helen is mine, and I am hers. It is the law of the inevitable. It could not be otherwise. Miss Motuble,” he continued, “is there any way in which I can serve you this morning? Can it be you are not well?”

The tone in which he addressed her, more than what he said, was the tonic Miss Motuble needed. She failed to hide her irritation, and sitting erect in a moment, her face, crimson with rage, said: “How can you serve me this morning? I need no assistance whatever, sir. I am neither in need of money or advice; on the other hand, I came to proffer certain valuable information I have recently obtained. I ferreted it out. I admit it cost me considerable time and expense, but I learned of the scorpion’s movements, as well as his entire pedigree. I have it all here—the written statements of many who knew him. He was not an opera singer in the life long past; he was a vocalist in a missionary choir, and he wafted his dulcet tones high and loud every Sunday for the edification of the congregation which, by the way, was very small. I know them all, the scorpions. Then to think I came here to tell you of my remembrances and the many written statements I have from others to aid you in your great experiments, and am approached by you as the aggressor, the one to whom a favor needs to be shown. No, Governor Lehumada; no, sir, I will not tolerate any such impudence even from you. I will not further state the object of my call. I now have the pleasure to bid you good morning.” She arose to her feet, and with one turn of her huge frame had swept past the Governor.

She had spoken so fast and so fiercely, after she came out of the half-crazed condition into which her great love and passion had thrown her, that the good Governor knew not what to do or what to say to quiet her. As she passed into the hall he called to her: “Miss Motuble, I pray you, my good young lady, to stay, if only for one moment. You do not understand me. I certainly am clumsy in my expressions. Dear miss, pardon me; if you have inferred a discourtesy by any remark I have made, pray, forgive me. You are a source of great wonder and delight to me, and carry a fund of valuable information.” He approached her, as she stood near Juan panting like a tiger at bay, and gently laying his hand upon her arm, said: “I am forgiven, am I not? I certainly never intentionally offend anyone, particularly a woman.”

She turned her face, full of shame and regret, to him, and with tears in her eyes, said: “Dearie, I am so lonely; you do care for me, don’t you? It is not true, as I suspected, that your whole love is centered in Helen Hinckley. Is it, dearie?”

With that she threw her massive arms around his neck with such great force, that his body swayed to and fro like a babe in the paws of a lion.

With her head on his shoulder, she sobbed: “Dear, dear Miguey, my dearie, forgive me for mistrusting you. I was frenzied with what I thought unrequited love. Great Revealer of Light, I thank you for making me see my mistake.” When her petition was ended she loosened her arms from around his neck. Governor Lehumada sank helplessly against the wall, and Juan sprang forward and exclaimed:

“Your Honor, the señorita has choked you.” He supported the Governor, and addressing Marriet Motuble, said: “You are accountable, miss, for the helpless condition of my master. You seem to remember too much.”

All the time he had spoken to her, his back was turned. Now, facing the place where she had stood, he said: “I take charge of the house, now that my master is unconscious, so, you git!” But to his great dismay she was gone.

He rang for help, and soon the Governor was lying comfortably in his own bed.

CHAPTER VIII.
A CONFESSED CRIME.

Governor Lehumada did not faint, nor was he in the least injured by the passionate embrace of Miss Motuble. He was speechless from surprise only, and he allowed his men to assist him to his room, realizing that a few moments of quiet for reflection was what he needed.

He assured Juan that all was well, and that he wished to be alone for a few minutes. Juan shook his head as though he had many misgivings, and quietly left the room. He walked slowly down the hall in deep meditation. He wished that he were off duty, so he could follow the strange señorita. He went into the yard and gazed wistfully up and down the street, in the hope of seeing her. Heaving a sigh, he turned to enter the house again, and murmured to himself: “It must be the evil in the fluid that is causing the trouble.”

Some one startled him from his reverie, by saying: “You are his Honor’s man Juan, are you not?”

“I certainly am,” he replied.

“I was told to give you this letter, and request of you to give it to his Honor at one o’clock this afternoon sharp.” With that he handed Juan an official-looking envelope, and hurried away.

Juan turned the large letter over and over, and read the address on the back, several times: “To His Honor, Governor of Chihuahua.” “Humph! Well, for once in my life, I wish I was ‘His Honor.’ I would make quick work of seeing on the inside of this letter. Association with these scientists has caused me to be a man of much thought. I, too, have great ideas. I know a thing or two. Ha! ha! It does not take a scientist; a Governor or a President, to know that ‘His Honor’ is in love, or that there is pending (he straightened himself up and smiled at the big sentence he was framing) a fearful calamity, and the greatest violence of it will fall upon this town.”

At that moment the child Catalina ran up to him, and said: “Oh, Juan, let me go to him at once. He is in great trouble; the town has gone wrong. Juan, guard his Honor night and day. Do not let anyone enter the house without his knowledge. Watch for Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir. You know him, do you not?”

“The great Don,—ha! ha! I do know him, señorita.”

“And the priest, Father Hernandez?”

“Him, too, niña. I tell my sins to him every week,” said Juan.

“Oh, Juan, how can you?”

“Because, niña, I am still a Catholic. It is not popular to be, I know; but so long as ‘His Honor’ knows I am, and still keeps me in his service, I will be true to the religion of my fathers.”

“His Honor is too wise and too great a man to interfere in anyone’s religious beliefs,” said Catalina.

“Yet he is a man, and loves,” quietly remarked Juan, with a twinkle in his eye.

“He does love. His is a great love; it extends over all humanity. Had you lived before, Juan, and remembered it, you would understand,” replied the child, with deep pathos in her voice.

Juan laughed heartily, and said: “Pardon me, niña, but what can a child know of another life? If ‘Memory Fluid’ makes señoras viejas out of niñas, it is not good. What would homes be without the innocent coo and laughter of babies?”

“I am happier now than before I remembered, Juan. It is because you do not understand what it is to remember, that makes you say such things.”

“Maybe so; maybe so, niña, but Juan is glad he does not remember.”

“My dear hombre viejo, you must remember what I told you about Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and the priest,” cried Catalina, as she ran into the house.

“Good-bye, Juan; watch out for the minister, J. T. Note—the Rev. J. T. Note, as he calls himself, and his followers. He is also a foe to progress. Guard him, Juan; guard him well. No harm must come to his Honor.”

Juan’s reply was upon his lips, but the charming child was gone before he could voice it. He looked curiously at the big envelope in his hand, and while reading the address again and again, disappeared into the house.

No sooner had Juan and the Governor’s other man left him alone, than he arose from the bed upon which he was reclining and walked back and forth rapidly in an abstracted manner. He was a man who prided himself upon his personal appearance, and now as he stopped before the long plate-mirror and surveyed himself he said: “Dearest Helen, is there anything in my manner of dress, my gait, or tone of voice that displeases? If so, I will rectify it to suit you. I cannot see myself as you see me; oh, my love, that I could! Oh, for the power to see into the future as I now can look into the past. Ye wise and everlasting Force, grant me the boon of greater knowledge. All I get will be used for the uplifting of humanity. I feel the presence of a great force in our midst, which will bring about a change; a change so wonderful that were I to prophesy, no one would believe me. Each would declare that the day of miracles is past. Poor, deluded creatures, there will nothing happen which will be of a miraculous nature. Simply the natural results of the present condition of affairs will take place. The mere fact that President Mortingo submitted himself as a subject, to further demonstrate the use of ‘Memory Fluid,’ will hasten the change. We must be prepared to meet it. We must be able to preserve peace at home and abroad. I must not defer ’till morning to tell my fears to the heads of departments.” He stepped to an ivory tube by the side of his great mirror, and said, speaking through it: “Convey to the head of each department the following:

“‘Prepare for trouble. Try to avert it. Help me generate a great soul wave, that we may quell the disturbers of peace and enemies of progress without force or bloodshed. If trouble comes, it will be by the brewing of Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, Father Hernandez, Rev. J. T. Note, and the husband of Mrs. Grange, who is assistant Freight Agent of the Chihuahua Air Motor Railroad Company, at this city. If he joins the peace disturbers it will be in an underhand way. He has not the courage of the other gentlemen just mentioned. The prime movers in any trouble that may arise will be the three first mentioned. Others will join them. Many well-known and prominent citizens, who writhe in envy at the success of our administration, because the one in which they figured was a failure from more points of view than one, will be glad of the opportunity to join the rebels and to assist in a cause against us. Not because they believe in the leaders, Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and faction—not by any means—it is because they are our enemies and wish to make us trouble, to create discord, to overthrow our rule. No blood must be shed. We do not care to repeat the old story. The theories we advocate and practice must not be thrust upon humanity at the point of the bayonet. In ages gone by, the Christian religion was carried into all lands, the sword in one hand, and the cross they wished to implant, in the other. There must be an awakening of the spirit of God within man first. It never comes by force. Love is the upbuilding of the race. It grows within the breast of man after its awakening, and spreads its perfume all around, like a beautiful, fragrant rose in a well-attended garden. Remember, force must only be employed to protect the lives and property of our citizens, should an uprising occur. That is all the instructions I care to give. Adios, gentlemen.’”

At the moment he ceased talking, Catalina Martinet entered the room, unannounced. “Dear papa,” she said, “I thought I never would find you.”

“But you succeeded. Come, tell me how you enjoyed yourself in the Alameda,” replied the Governor, placing a chair by his side for the strange child. He felt a delicacy in asking about Helen Hinckley, yet he secretly hoped she would speak only of the object of his heart’s desire.

“Oh, your Honor, it is about what I heard at the Alameda I came to see. First, does J. Ecarg repent? Is he doing any good now?” said Catalina.

“I have secured an excellent position for him. He works early and late, and has not been known to frequent any low places of resort since he first took ‘Memory Fluid.’ He has certainly repented of the great wrong he did you in your previous existence, as well as your mother. A criminal at the bar of justice could not feel any greater remorse of conscience than he now does from the mere fact that he in nowise gave aid to your support or to your mother’s. He now wishes to help you.”

“I cannot have help from him; my soul is yet sore. Dear papa, Helen Hinckley, the most beautiful and the truest of women, is to adopt me.”

“Bless her,” cried the Governor. “That is a happy thought.”

“She says that Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir and followers are excited very much this morning. Hundreds and hundreds of people have been there to-day to see him. She was asked, late last night, after the banquet closed, to spend the day away from the house, but to return not later than eight o’clock to-night. Before she left, those people began to come. She believes their object is to formulate plans to overthrow the state rule. She fears your life will be in danger. She asked me to say to you to use every precaution to avoid evil,” concluded Catalina. She seemed to possess the very soul of Helen Hinckley.

The Governor looked into the face of the beautiful child, and as he wiped a mist away, that seemed to gather in his eyes, said: “This is the return of love. I am contented. She loves me now, I am certain. All is well; all is well. It could not be otherwise in the end. Truth is everlasting; it endureth forever and forever. In the end it triumphs. The waiting for the end often seems an eternity. Without the one I love, every day is as an eternity. The end is near at hand. Yet before it comes, a fearful struggle will take place. Thou great One, from whom all light comes, bear witness to my integrity of purpose.”

The Governor spoke aloud and gesticulated much, yet he was unconscious, seemingly, of the fact, or that he had company. A slight knock at the door stopped his soliloquy, and glancing around the room in a confused manner, he discovered the child sound asleep upon the chair on which she sat. “Poor little darling; after all, you are a healthy, natural child. Exhausted from last night’s dissipation, nature demands her rights, and is now getting them. If my Helen has adopted you, dear, you are mine, too, I will be your papa after all.” He kissed her fondly on each full, red cheek, and quietly opened the door.

It was Juan who was seeking admittance. He stepped quickly into the room, after looking up and down the hall nervously, and closed the door.

“Your actions, Juan, are strange. Explain,” said the Governor.

Juan stood shaking and speechless, and glaring with wide-open eyes at Catalina.

“What is it, man, what is it? Why do you stand gaping like a man from whom all reason had fled? Come, good man, be natural. I cannot lose my old friend. Come, come, sit down; I must do something for you,” entreated the Governor, getting very nervous. The only sign of life Juan had shown since he entered the room, now appeared. He raised his long, gaunt hand, and pointed with his index finger to Catalina.

“Ah!” exclaimed the Governor. “You are surprised to find the sweet child here. She is no cause for your being so frightened. Come, Juan, explain yourself,” he entreated, taking his old servant’s arm.

“Your Honor,” he whispered, “she is not a child—she is a woman, and a ghost-woman at that.”

“Nonsense; nonsense, man. Now I am afraid of your reason. She is very much of a child. See how soundly she sleeps, and the glow of health upon her cheeks,” the Governor replied lightly, notwithstanding the fact that he felt slightly annoyed by the strange actions of his man, as well as his remarks concerning the child.

“She may be a child, your Honor, but she prophesies. And I am afraid of people of her size, who make prophecies that come true.”

“Explain yourself, Juan, explain yourself; do not talk in riddles. What did the child prophesy?”

“It was this way, your Honor. You remember I carried her in my arms from the carriage into the house, when you and her came home from the banquet last night?”

“I certainly do,” assented Governor Lehumada; “also how surprised you were to find her wide-awake, instead of sound asleep.”

“I was, your Honor; but was more surprised when she whispered in my ear, and said: ‘Juan, I saw the “Plunger from Kansas” to-night.’”

“‘Who is he?’ I asked.

“‘Have you not heard of him, Juan?’

“‘No,’ I said. ‘Does he plunge in a Kansas river?’

“‘Oh, how stupid. No, he does not plunge at all now. He made a big plunge about one hundred and fifty years ago—but not in a river—oh, no, not in a river. You are a funny man, Juan; but then, you do not remember.’

“‘Yes, I do remember much; but not anything about this man who plunged, and not into a river, one hundred and fifty years ago. Say, chile, you is dreaming, honey. Come, Juanita will put the precious niña in bed.’ I led her to the housekeeper’s room, and as we went, she said:

“‘You are funny, Juan. I am awake, not dreaming. You will see the “Plunger from Kansas” to-morrow.’”

“‘How will I know him when I see him?’ I asked.

“‘Oh, he will come to this house to see Governor Lehumada in the morning, and when he gets here he will say: “You are Juan, the Governor’s man? Is his Honor in?” and when you say he is, the ‘Plunger’ will reply: “I came to see him, but I will not call this day. Please hand him this, with my compliments,” and he will hand you a package.’

“Well, he did come, and he did say just what the child prophesied, and he did give me this package, your Honor. Take it, please. I am afraid of it. The devil is let loose, as certain as fate. And I think this fluid you tell about in your great book, is the cause of so much trouble.”

The Governor had an interested and amused smile on his face as he opened the package handed him by his man.

“You are no doubt quite right about the book I wrote, and the public demonstrations and proofs we have given of the results of our great fluid upon matter and mind, being the cause of so much trouble. On that score, Juan, you are right. But there have been no evil results, and there will be none. But what is this? Look, Juan, look; who is this the picture of? Don’t be mistaken, man; don’t. Be sure you speak correctly. Have you seen the face before?”

“My sight is not good, your Honor. It’s failing,” replied the frightened man, getting further away from his master, out of pure fear. “My sight is nigh gone, your Honor.”

“Can it be? Can it be the face of the one I loved? Of the one I now love?”

“It is Helen Hinckley’s picture, papa, taken in that life long gone by,” cried Catalina, grasping the Governor’s hand.

“Child, how do you know? You have not seen it.”

“Oh, I do know, I knew last night he was going to bring it. I heard him say so at your lecture last night. He remembers, you know. He is trying to palliate the wrongs he did in that day long gone by. He is afraid that retribution will overtake him, that he will be reduced to poverty.”

“Did I not tell you, your Honor, that she was no child. That she is a ghost a-talking like a grown woman philosopher,” ventured Juan, edging nearer the Governor, while he glared at Catalina as if she were a spook.

“Be sensible, Juan. Be sensible. I do admit, however, that the child is a wonder even to me; that she has a power of speech that would be the envy of many a collegian. But she is a child of flesh and blood, nevertheless, and a wonderful creation, too,” concluded the Governor.

Catalina put an end to further remarks by him, by saying: “What is it, dear papa, written on the back of the picture?”

The Governor turned the photograph around, and said: “To be sure, child, there is something written on it. It is very dim. One moment—I will use some of our restorative liquid, and then read it.”

In the center of his bedroom stood a beautifully carved rosewood table, on which was a magnificently beautiful piece of sculpture. It represented a little girl, about eight years old, distributing the olive leaves from a branch which seemed to be always full. The Governor placed his hand fondly upon the head of the statue, and at the same moment held the back of the photograph over the mouth of the marble representation of the child. A vapor spread over the pasteboard, yellow and stained by time, and in three seconds, every word written thereon stood out in bold relief.

He read aloud: “My baby girl, Helen Hinckley, July 3d, 1898. Boston, Massachusetts. Age, eight.”

“The same, the same,” replied the Governor, his voice full of emotion. “But it does not tell me enough! How am I to know that this was brought here by the ‘Plunger from Kansas.’”

“On the paper in your hand,” said Catalina, “is a message from the ‘Plunger.’”

“She is no child, I say,” cried Juan, his knees fairly shaking with fright. “With your Honor’s permission, I will go out of the room. That child is too much for me.” When he opened the door to leave, Governor Lehumada called:

“Juan, I will not repeat what I have said to you, twice before within the last few minutes. The child is of flesh and blood as ourselves. There is nothing uncanny about her; so I command you to remain in this room until I dismiss you.”

Catalina looked up pathetically into the face of the Governor, and said: “Don’t scold him, papa; he does not remember.”

The Governor pressed her hand, and kissed her rosy cheek time and again. “You are right, sweet child. I should not be harsh with Juan. He does not remember,” he kindly replied.

“How much is written, papa dear?”

“To be sure, child; I have not read what is written on the paper. This is a strange handwriting also. It reads:

“‘The photograph was given to me by the father of the child, Honorable E. Willard Hinckley, in his own home in Kansas City, August, 1898. That very day I got more than one-half million dollars from him, and gave him as security a mortgage on fifty thousand cattle I never owned. In less than sixty days he was a bankrupt; in ninety days he was dead; his wife and child were penniless and homeless. Despite the long number of years which have passed, that photograph has been preserved in a way nothing short of a miracle. Five times have I put it on the burning coals; three times in black, muddy water. Out of each it came unsullied. Out of a superstitious fear I resolved to keep it, to preserve and guard it with the same care as one would an ancient heirloom of untold value. It has ever been a thorn in my side. In that life one hundred and fifty years ago—the time I made my memorable plunge in cattle, the thought that I could not get rid of the picture of little Helen, drove me wild with rage. It was in a fit of frenzy, brought on by not being able to destroy the picture, that made me take my life. I was then in South America. My wife had perished in an epidemic shortly before, and no one knew just what destiny befell me, “The Plunger from Kansas,” and no one but those whom I had wronged, cared. Before committing the deed that sent me out of the body to try to find relief, I sent a large package to a relative in Kansas. Amongst the things it contained was the picture. Thus it was preserved in the great iron safe in which various documents and family curios were put for safety. On my return to earth after an absence of half of a century this photograph fell to my part of the family keepsakes. And while in that life I never knew its history, it always filled me with fear and trembling when I saw it. At the age of thirty-five I passed again out of the physical body—and lay in a state of unconsciousness for fifty-six years. I was awakened by a voice which seemed to say: “Helen is here. Have you no desire to rectify the wrongs you did her in that life long since passed away?” I did not understand, yet I prayed to be allowed to live, that I might be better and wiser. And I was born again. Fortune favored me from my birth. I was born to wealth, and the faculty I have of acquiring it is a wonder to many. I am now twenty-eight years old, the same age I was when I performed the feat in cattle-plunging. I bring you this photograph with the strange feeling that to you it belongs, and when it is securely in your hands, the dreadful nightmare the sight of it gives me, will leave me. This town has a fascination for me, of which I cannot get rid. I feel nervous, as I did one hundred and fifty years ago, when I was here a refugee, whenever I see an armed officer of the law, or a strange face that gives me more than a passing glance. Retribution, you say, is going to overtake me. If the law can get me, handle me; but to use a slang phrase of the nineteenth century, I will close by saying: “Catch me if you can; but I think I am too swift for you in this life, as well as I was then.”

“‘I am, your obedient servant,

“‘The Plunger from Kansas.’”

CHAPTER IX.
MARRIET REPORTS HERSELF DEAD.

The Governor heaved a sigh when he had finished, as if a burden had suddenly dropped from his shoulders.

“How long since he gave this to you, Juan?”

“About fifteen minutes before I entered this room, your Honor.”

“Did it take you fifteen minutes to get up the stairs?”

“I am an old man, your Honor, but am yet spry. When the Plunger left, I was called to your private study, where Señor Guillermo Gonzales wished to speak to me. If your Honor cares, I will tell you everything he said. First, he sent a message to you, which I have not had an opportunity until this moment to deliver. He told me to say to you, that though the President has returned to consciousness he desires to be left alone that he may write a full account of his past, provided he remembers.”

“Very well, Juan,” replied the Governor. “I will not interrupt his Excellency. And as for you telling me all the scientist said to you, there is no necessity for you telling anything, except the message you have just delivered.”

“Since the ‘Plunger’ came, I feel it my duty to tell you that Señor Gonzales cautioned me to guard you closely; to allow no one to pass into the house without you knowing the person and giving your consent. That trouble is brewing in the city, and your life would be threatened,” said Juan.

“It is certainly kind of him and others to be so interested in my welfare. I am least concerned about my own safety. I have a strange presentiment that I will not be harmed. It is the safety of the people, the great multitude around us, Juan, about whom I am concerned. Rest assured, good man, I will protect my people, no matter what the cost.”

“But, dear papa, the people would not be able to protect themselves, if you were gone. Dear papa, do not court danger,” cried Catalina.

“That child! She makes me afraid, your Honor. I wish she were more like my own little granddaughter,” said Juan, stepping closer to the marble statue and further from the child.

“Poor man,” said Catalina, “he does not remember. He is afraid of me, is he not, papa? How strange that anyone is afraid of a little girl.”

“It is strange, dear; but Juan is an old man and has never taken ‘Memory Fluid,’” replied the Governor. “Juan, I will remain in my room with Catalina. Serve us a luncheon here promptly at twelve-thirty, one hour hence. I have a presentiment that I will be seriously occupied about one o’clock. Tell the chef to prepare a luncheon for two persons, in a manner befitting his Excellency, and send it promptly at half-past twelve to my private studio.”

“Yes, your Honor,” he replied, with a low curtesy, as he left the room, while he mentally exclaimed: “If I am not a fool, he will be seriously occupied at one o’clock. The big letter I have is to be delivered to him at that time. I wish it were one now; I want to get rid of it. It seems to be burning a hole into my body. I thought I would ’speriment with ‘Memory Fluid’ this morning. But now I will do nothing rash. I will let the past rest, so far as I am concerned, until I see the result of the present unsettled state of affairs. In the meantime I will take the matter of being a subject under grave consideration. If I was just ten years younger, strangers would take me for a great scientist. At sixty it is difficult for a man to take on new ideas.” Juan had not been commenting aloud, consequently was very much surprised by hearing the familiar tones of Julio Murillo saying: “Don’t bother about your age, Juan. You will live again, if you desire; then you may be a very learned man.”

Juan did not reply, and the great scientist’s assistant went on.

With his head low upon his breast, frightened and trembling, Juan hastened to the kitchen.

Governor Lehumada and Catalina were reclining in large, comfortable chairs in the room where Juan had left them. The Governor in deep meditation, the child thumping upon the arm of the chair with a small stick, and singing softly, the words, “Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home;” and the exquisite tone in which they were sung caught the ear of the Governor and unknown to the child, he watched her intently until her song ceased.

“Those words, Catalina, sound strangely familiar to me. Is it a new song, or an old one revived?” he asked.

“It is an old song, your Honor,” replied the child, as she curtesied prettily to him, in the same manner she did the day she came to the State House to sell her flowers. It was only a few days ago, yet it seemed to the Governor that a year or more had passed. In fact, the child had grown to be so great a part of his life that it seemed incredulous that she had ever lived elsewhere.

“Where did you learn it, dear?” asked the Governor.

The child was startled at first, and looked frightened; then, throwing out her arms, she rushed to the Governor, crying: “For a moment I was the Catalina of long ago. I was unhappy. I had ceased to remember myself as I now am. I thought I was the poor Catalina of disgrace and despair whom the President taught to sing that song so long ago. He sang it to me the night he left for ‘the States,’ in the other life that I knew him.”

“Was he kind to you, dear?” asked the Governor.

“Indeed he was, papa; kinder than any man had been. Sometimes he vexed me greatly. I did not understand him, and he was a constant tease.”

“He was an American tourist in Mexico then, was he not?” asked the Governor.

“He was an American, I am quite sure; but I do not think he was in Mexico for pleasure,” replied Catalina.

“Possibly not,” commented the Governor; “at that time many Americans were coming to Mexico to prospect. He no doubt was a mining man.”

“I do not think so,” confidently replied Catalina.

“No? What idea have you then, child?”

“He had much money to spend, and every time he came, and he came often, he gave me money; sometimes food and clothes. My mother washed for several people who stayed at the big white hotel facing the principal plaza. He knew this, and whenever he came he questioned me about these people—he wanted to know what I saw in their rooms. I always went with my mother to help her carry la ropa limpia home. I had a sharp eye and usually saw everything in view in the room,” she replied.

“I cannot understand,” replied the Governor, “why he questioned you about what these people had in their rooms. He must have been consumed with idle curiosity.”

“He asked me,” continued Catalina, “if I could bring him the ‘phiz’ of a certain man, who with his wife stayed at the hotel.”

“The phiz? What did he mean, child?”

“I did not know then, and told him so, and he said: ‘Well, I will tell you what I mean by a phiz.’ He took a pencil and note book from his pocket, made a few strokes on the paper and handed me a picture of myself. ‘Oh, no.’ I said, on seeing what he meant, ‘I cannot make pictures.’ He left the house, saying he would be back in one-half of an hour. He came as he promised, and brought a little black box, which he said was a camera. He showed me how to use it, and I consented to take it with me the next time we went to carry la ropa to the hotel, and take a picture of the man and woman, also one of the room. I did so, and here it is. Also my phiz.” She handed the pictures to the Governor, and while looking at them intently, he said:

“Can it be possible, child, that this is the picture of the great counterfeiter who operated in Mexico for so many years, and whom I delivered into the hands of the United States authorities? It is, it is. I remember him well. And this, dear child, is your ‘phiz,’ is it? It is not unlike you now. But you were older then than at present, were you not?”

“I was older. I am eight now, and I was eleven when that was made.”

“Mr. Mortingo, the President of the great United States of America,” laughed Governor Lehumada, “was a secret service man in the year 1898. I remember him well. He was a jolly, generous chap, and on coming to Chihuahua I remember the remark he made when he first called upon me. He said:

“‘Uncle Sam has sent me down here to catch some birds who are in your city. They are molding and shoving the queer.’”

“Yes,” said Catalina, “that is what he kept telling me—that they were ‘shoving the queer’”—to which the Governor replied:

“I understood very little English at that time, but the official interpreter put it into the best Spanish he could and I at once saw the point. The Americans were much given to the use of slang then, much of which had a singular fitness. I committed the phrase to memory and never forgot it. Let me see the other picture; the interior of the room.”

The child handed him the picture, and pointing to a certain place in it, said: “There is the lump of silver they were chopping up as we went in. In the kettle over the fire is lead.”

“Ha! ha! ha! ha!” laughed the Governor. “That is very interesting to know. I wonder what will be the feelings of the President, should he remember?”

“I have several packages of spaghetti he gave me to use on feast days. He showed me how to cook it. We learned to like it so well, he declared that my forefathers were Italians. And sure enough, my mother began to hunt up old family history, and she discovered that her great-grandmother was an Italian noblewoman,” said Catalina.

“Child,” replied the Governor, “you have always been something more to me than an ordinary child, a child of entirely plebeian birth. The mere fact of your wounded pride on learning that you were born out of wedlock, that broke your heart and caused your untimely demise, proved the question of your blood to be other than plebeian.”

“I do not cry any more now, over the past,” said Catalina, “for I believe in the righting of all wrongs. It is worked out by Nature and Nature’s help to man.”

“Come, child, my little philosopher, kiss your papa; kiss me fondly. A strange fear is crowding over me,” he said, holding out his arms to her.

She did his bidding with much fervor, and whispering in his ear, said: “Juan is coming with our luncheon. I will open the door.”

The faithful old man entered and set before them a dainty meal, and stood quietly back of the Governor’s chair while he ate heartily of the food. The meal was quite contrary to the usual customs of the household—that is, without any conversation and with much dispatch.

The Governor arose when he had finished, looked at his watch, and said: “It is now one o’clock. Juan, remove the dishes, and take the child to the housekeeper.”

“Yes, your Honor,” replied Juan. “Here is a letter I was told to give you at one o’clock.”

The Governor took the letter, and kissing the child fondly, said: “Go with Juan, dear, and tell Juanita you need to sleep.”

As they were leaving the room, she said: “I am sleepy and will take a nap—but will show you the way to Marriet Motuble, when you go.”

“A strange child,” mentally commented the Governor, as he tore the envelope open. “As if I intended to call upon Miss Motuble, the massive giantess; the aggressive señorita. No, no, Catalina, dear, sweet child, you are a wonder in many ways, but this time you are mistaken. Dearest Helen, would that I could visit you! What, what is this?” holding the letter he pulled out of the envelope at arm’s length. “What is it?”

“I, Marriet Motuble, nearing the end of my third existence,” he read, “wish you to bear in mind the following: that by the time you have finished reading this note which I have ordered to be left with you at one o’clock this very day, I will no more be a mortal. By my own hands will the great chasm which separates the physical from the spiritual of man be reached. Such an act has been recorded, since the beginning of time, as a crime against the great Creator as well as against self. Be it further known that I, Marriet Motuble, this moment confess to my many faults, the greatest of all my sins to my mind being my pretensions to having been a subject of ‘Memory Fluid,’ or of having remembered a previous existence. I only made this pretense to ingratiate myself into your favor, knowing your great belief in your wonderful ‘Memory Fluid,’ to make you return my great love. My labors were in vain. I am, on the other hand, repulsive to you—so I this day, at one o’clock, make an end of this earthly existence.”

The Governor looked at his watch. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “it is one o’clock this very moment. Can it be that she is now taking this step? What can I do to prevent this mad act? I will send her a message—where does she live?—I have not the faintest idea. I will have Juan inquire.”

Juan appeared almost instantly after the Governor’s call.

“Do you know where Miss Motuble lives? The lady, I mean, who called here early this morning?” asked the Governor.

“No, sir, I do not,” replied Juan, eying the Governor curiously.

“Find out, immediately. If necessary, employ a detective. I must know if there is any possible way of finding out.”

“I will do my best, your Honor, my very best,” replied Juan, as he left the room, shaking his head dubiously. The Governor followed him to the door engrossed with his own thoughts.

“Juan,” he called, “here one moment.”

Juan returned and looked questioningly into his face.

“Go to my private study at once, and say to Señors Guillermo Gonzales and Julio Murillo to do me the favor to meet me here this moment, if they have the leisure. With dispatch, Juan, with dispatch.”

“Yes, your Honor,” replied Juan, as he hurried away.

Such a request had never been made to the scientists before, and without any delay they hurried to the Governor, curious to know the object of the call.

The door leading into the room was wide open, and as they entered, the great author of “Liquid from the Sun’s Rays” stood in the middle of the floor re-reading Marriet Motuble’s letter. He greeted them warmly, and without any delay said: “I have received a very strange letter—no stranger, however, than the person by whom it is written—the aggressive señorita Marriet Motuble.”

“Marriet Motuble!” exclaimed both men in a low voice.

“Your surprise cannot possibly be greater than mine,” replied the Governor. “Please reserve your surprise for what I will read you. In fact, I am inclined to believe most anything, if what I have read of this long letter be true. I am yet in ignorance of the nature of the remainder of the letter. Be seated, friends, and I will start at the beginning.”

The three great men sat down in a circle, and when the Governor had re-read the first part of the letter and various comments had been made, the Governor began reading where he had previously left off:

“I repeat that I, Marriet Motuble, this day at one o’clock will make an end of my present earthly existence. Farewell, farewell, my adored one, farewell. Although my great love for you was not reciprocated in this life, I will live again and again. In the next life I hope to have sufficient power to compel love to grow in your heart, in your great noble breast, for me—for me alone.

“My life is not lived upon the highest plane, for I long for revenge; for revenge upon the one you adore. Her name is upon your lips at this moment, and you breathe a prayer for her protection. Beware! if I have the power, her downfall will come shortly. She upon whom I wish for revenge to fall, is Helen Hinckley. And I am the one who adores you.

“Marriet Motuble.”

“That is not all,” said the Governor, “but before I read this, which is entitled, ‘A Matter of Business,’ I will ask you what I would better do in regard to the case. It seems so perfectly absurd that anyone would kill himself for such a foolish reason. I cannot imagine one loving another for whom he knew the other had no regard.”

“Love,” replied the great scientist, “is a strange thing. It goes out toward the object of its desire, prompted by no other motive, it would seem, than to do the will of the person upon whom it is lavished. Miss Motuble has my sympathies, most certainly, because she is in error. What she terms love is a misnomer. However, we must investigate. If self destruction has not taken place, we must use every means known to science to prevent it.”

Julio Murillo was walking back and forth, as was his custom, his hands clasped tightly behind him, intent upon what was being said, and forming his own conclusions.

“Have you no suggestions to offer, friend Julio?” asked the Governor.

“Yes, your Honor,” he replied, facing the two men; “I would suggest that you do not let this matter annoy you in the least. Miss Motuble will never take her own life!”

“You speak so positively, I am encouraged. But what makes you think so, friend Julio?”

“The reasons he will give, Miguey, will be scientific ones, and you can rely upon them,” said Guillermo Gonzales, as he embraced Julio and said: “Tell us upon what grounds you base your statements.”

“I am at this moment,” replied Julio, “en rapport with the bewitching, aggressive señorita. She is half reclining in a beautiful lounging-robe, on a couch so rich that Cleopatra would have envied it in her days of splendor. Now she lifts a goblet to her lips and cries: ‘The drink of the gods! What a joke it is to play upon the credulity of the Governor. What the result will be when they search for me and find me peacefully taking my siesta, instead of being no more a mortal, no more of clay, I cannot say. Ha! ha! If I cannot secure his love, I will create an uproar. I will be prominent yet before I die. I will crush the life out of all the scorpions around here. I will, I will!’ She now falls over amongst her pillows embraced in the arms of sleep.”

“If there is no doubt about what you tell me, I will certainly hold this young woman accountable for her little confidence game. I have sent Juan to find her address. Should he succeed in finding it you will accompany me to see her,” said the Governor.

“You must go in disguise, your Honor, as a physician; we three will go disguised thus. It is not necessary to wait for the return of your man. I know perfectly well the place where she now is,” said Julio.

At that moment Juan entered the room, panting and frightened. “Your Honor,” he cried, “I employed a detective; he has this moment returned to say that Miss Motuble is dead by her own hands. Her body was laid, less than an hour ago, in the old private family vault of the Motubles.”

“Everyone knows the place. It was there the child Catalina Martinet was buried,” cried the Governor.

“The detective’s statements are false,” said Julio Murillo. “I mean he has been misinformed. Someone may have been placed in the Motuble tomb, under the name of Marriet Motuble, but the real person is alive and is as strong to-day as anyone of us three.”

“Juan,” asked the Governor, “are you sure no mistake has been made by you in repeating this message?”

“I am sure, your Honor, and I am sorry Señor Julio thinks she is not dead,” said Juan.

“How inhuman!” exclaimed Guillermo Gonzales.

“Maybe so, your honor; but women who make men afraid should die.”

“You have strange ideas of getting rid of annoyances,” said the Governor, trying to hide a smile. “I will ring for you, Juan, when I need you again.”

Juan was getting intensely interested in the affair on hand, and was secretly congratulating himself that he would hear everything; consequently, was very much crestfallen when the Governor very politely invited him to leave the room.

“That part of Miss Motuble’s letter which relates to the deception she practiced by pretending to have been a subject of ‘Memory Fluid,’ is false also; there was no pretension about it. She actually came disguised as a drunken man, and entreated me to give her ‘Memory Fluid.’ Her figure was a splendid disguise, but her actions and voice betrayed her sex to me. By no sign from me did she ever know that I had penetrated her disguise. She certainly is a strange mixture of God’s creation—a strange mixture,” concluded Julio.

“I know of no case as interesting as hers, unless it is the case of ‘The Plunger from Kansas,’” said the scientist, Guillermo Gonzales.

“You are correct, my friend,” said the Governor. “As soon as I finish reading Miss Motuble’s letter, or I would better say letters—this one is entitled, ‘A Matter of Business’—we will disguise ourselves as doctors and ferret out the mystery of the tomb, after we convince ourselves that she is alive. She used a different tone in writing this:

“‘To His Excellency, Governor of Chihuahua: Be it known that on the day which shall from henceforth be known as “Memory Fluid Day,” that I, Marriet Motuble, being an attentive listener to the lecture, and a guest at the banquet, where all I saw and heard consumed me with interest, and where the following plot I overheard, which I now relate to put you on your guard—that I may show to you my great appreciation of your wonderful discoveries and the great love and esteem in which I hold the lives of my fellowman. The words that first attracted my attention were spoken by Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, well known to yourself, to a man who wears the garb of a priest, Father Hernandez by name. He said: “The nefarious works of this man Lehumada, a man of purely Mexican origin, whom we elected to fill the highest office in the hands of the people of Chihuahua, has betrayed the confidence imposed upon him to such an extent that it now behooves us to put our shoulders to the wheel and stop the downward run he is hurrying us to perdition. The time-honored institutions and customs of our once great and beloved Mexico have fast disappeared. And now it is left to one of our own race; one of our own dear Mexican blood, to pretend to discover a liquid which will restore and perpetuate memory to be used to get evidence of crimes that poor souls are said to have committed in lives gone by, that they may now be brought to justice. There is no telling how far these accursed doings will be carried. It will not stop at the trial of ‘The Plunger from Kansas.’” The priest replied: “Your story I will spread far and wide. I will raise an army from amongst the priests, and our followers and our sympathizers. Money will buy a great following who at present are seeking work, and have no scruples. To these people I will paint the intentions of the present makers of ‘Memory Fluid,’ as black as midnight. I will have our own priesthood falling by countless thousands into a yawning abyss—filled with the blood of our own downtrodden. Complete organization is absolutely necessary. That can be done in this city within twenty-four hours. Through our secret code we will advise our sympathizers over the entire continent of America of our intention. They will be ready to come to our assistance at the moment of our call. The first step we will take in this city to-morrow night, when we hope to arrest and put to death the three instigators of this great evil that seems to be spreading over the entire continent. This is the beginning of a long and bloody war which will be waged between Free Thought and the dogmatic teachings of the churches. Particularly do I hope for the re-establishment of the ancient and time-honored institution of our long-lost Mexico.” The two men arose, embraced each other, and hurried away to spread their evil intentions amongst their followers present. If this information proves a warning to you, I will be greatly repaid for the slight service I have rendered you. May the great Power above guide you safely through the conflict about to be waged between Scientific Thought and those wedded to the creeds of the churches—to the dogmatic teachings of every denomination and society on the face of the earth.

“‘Your aider and abettor in all your scientific investigations in this life and those other lives we will live together in the future, yours, through all time,

“‘Marriet Motuble.’

“A strange woman,” said Governor Lehumada, as he folded the letter and placed it within the envelope.

“There may be much truth in her statements. We have received many warnings since nine o’clock this morning, about this same affair. I hope we may be able to avert it,” said Guillermo Gonzales.

“It cannot be done,” came the emphatic prophecy of Julio Murillo. “So I beg of you to waste no time. Trouble is gathering thick and fast on every side. Let us prepare our disguise at once and hasten to the tomb and to Marriet Motuble.”

The two men left the Governor to prepare a disguise, and Juan entered to assist him.

CHAPTER X.
A DAY OF CONUNDRUMS.

In thirty minutes the Governor and his two scientific friends disguised as physicians, stepped into a private cab propelled by air.

Julio Murillo gave directions to the motorman to take them through the streets slowly to the Mexican Annex.

The cab was circular in form and around it extended a glass window which magnified everything seen through it from the interior of the cab, while from the street nothing in the interior of the cab could be seen.

Governor Lehumada leaned back amongst the comfortable cushions, by the side of Señor Guillermo Gonzales, and engaged him in conversation, the coach gliding noiselessly through the street the while.

Julio Murillo sat upon the high observation stool in the center of the circular cab, where he saw, through the window near the top of the cab, everything in the streets through which they passed.

Occasionally he gave directions to the motorman, who was comfortably seated in the center of the top of the cab, through the speaking tube, to turn in this direction and that direction. Three-quarters of an hour had passed since they left the Governor’s mansion, and still they were winding in and out from one street to the other, and yet they seemed to be no nearer than they were at first to the Mexican Annex.

The two men talked unceasingly and were not in the least disturbed by not reaching their destination. They had never known Julio to do an act without being able to give a good reason for it, and now they did not question his object in taking them through various streets, back and forth, instead of directly to the hotel.

The cab came to a stop in front of a large drug store.

It being the physician’s cab belonging to the Governor’s mansion, and on account of its peculiar construction, it attracted much attention wherever it went.

The motorman descended from his conspicuous seat and entered the drug store to fulfill the orders of Julio Murillo.

“Friends,” said Julio, when their cab had come to a standstill, “do me the favor to watch closely out of the window. A curious little play is going to take place in front of this store within a few minutes.”

“With much pleasure, friend Julio,” replied the Governor, as the two men arose to look out of the window.

“The All-Wise has been kind to you, my compatriot, to give you the power to read the thoughts and know of the actions of those around you,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales.

“I am grateful, my friend, for all the progress I have made. Get in tune with Nature and her mysteries you can read. The divinity of Her force, Her influence, can be felt by all,” replied Julio seriously.

“What a strange looking man is now entering the drug store—that big swaggerer there to the right,” said the Governor.

“Yes, to be sure,” said Señor Gonzales. “He makes me think of one of those ancient Northmen sailors, or a big, raw-boned Irishman of more recent days.”

“What a strange gait he has,” remarked the Governor; “there is something familiar about the fellow. I wonder if I have met him before.”

“Yes, your Honor, you have met her before,” said Julio.

“Her?” exclaimed his companions in a breath. “Her?”

“Yes, you both have met her. That person is no other than Señorita Marriet Motuble, the lovesick maiden of less than two hours ago, who claimed to have committed suicide because her great love for you was not reciprocated. Watch her closely. I will put on the sound condenser; then we can both see and hear what is going on,” said Julio.

“Who is the man, with whom she is talking?” asked the Governor.

“Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, your Honor,” quietly answered Julio.

“He also is in disguise, then. What can be the meaning of all of this, Julio?” questioned the Governor.

“Your questions can be answered more definitely when I turn the lever of the sound condenser,” said Julio. “Every five minutes one of the tubes is filled and ready, when the lever is turned, to repeat every word spoken within ten feet from the center of its radius. The five minutes is up. Watch the two while we listen, and we can more fully comprehend the meaning of their conversation.”

Julio turned the lever, and the three scientists heard the following conversation, Marriet Motuble being the first to speak.

“It is pathetic to know that one so young and so fair would take her own life. She is the young woman, I believe, who is private secretary to the well-known Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, is she not?” asked Marriet Motuble, as she puffed a cigar in regular man fashion.

“If the person is Marriet Motuble,” said Governor Lehumada, with much concern, “why does she ask such a question?”

“It is a ruse,” replied Julio, “to find out something about the young lady to whom she refers. She is exceedingly fond of Miss Hinckley, and at the same time insanely jealous of her. What is it her companion is replying?” concluded Julio.

“No doubt Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir would be glad if such were the case. He believes, I understand, that this young woman will be the means of much domestic unhappiness and outside trouble, unless that by means other than his own she can be induced to leave his employment. This blue-blooded Mexican is a royal friend of mine, and I will take it upon myself to offer one thousand dollars in gold as my friend would say. You know he has never yet acknowledged Mexico to be a part of the States. Yes, I will pay one thousand dollars in gold to the person who will induce Miss Hinckley to leave my friend’s employment.”

“Indeed,” replied Marriet Motuble. “I wish I knew the charming lady. A fellow could not easier make one thousand in gold, and perhaps get the lady as well. Say, sir, it’s settled, I’ll get her away. Have this cigar, and let’s go in and have a large glass of the old popular drink of the ancient Mexicans to celebrate the blue blood, the royal Mexican blood, of your friend Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir,” said the aggressive señorita.

“Improbable it seems to me that the person can be a woman,” said the Governor.

“Hard to believe, yet as true as fate,” replied Julio.

“Thanks,” replied Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, taking the proffered cigar; “with your permission, we will drink to the royal blood of my friend a little later.”

“As you please,” replied Marriet Motuble.

“First,” said her companion, “let me introduce myself. Jose M. Martinez—my card, please. Of Mexican extraction also, you see.”

“Ah, I see the connection—a sympathizer. Well, well, this is royal blood too, and mighty glad I am to know you, Señor Martinez. Let me present myself. Leo Leander—my card, please. I also pride myself upon my lineage. I am a lineal descendant of the Northmen. But it is not family genealogy we are here to discuss,” replied Leo Leander.

“You are right, Señor Leander; yet it fills one’s bosom with pride to be able to trace blood.” Getting very close to him, he continued: “I’m sure your sympathies are with my friend in the uprising in which he is about to be the instigator. Can I trust you? You seem to be such a royal fellow.”

“I do not quite comprehend you, my friend; but if you or your friend are in trouble, command me. I am your most obedient servant,” said the pretender, Leo Leander.

“I am content,” said Mr. Martinez; “‘muy contento,’ as my ancestors would have expressed it. Now, friend Leander, this is the point I wish to make. Miss Hinckley must be gotten away from the house of my friend before nightfall. She knows too much about his reverence for the ancient customs of his long-lost Mexico. She must be gotten rid of—do you comprehend?”

“I grasp your meaning, I am quite sure. Leave her to me; I will put her beyond the sight of mortal eye.”

Mr. Martinez shook his hand warmly, and said: “There is one thing more, then we will drink the health of my royal-blooded friend, who, I hope, soon will be your friend also. The author of ‘Liquid from the Sun’s Rays’—that accursed fluid which they claim restores memory—and his would-be scientific associates, must be killed before morning. We are determined to have a revolution. We are determined to rend this part of the country, so long known as Mexico, from the rule of the United States of America. We are assured now of a following of ten thousand from each State that was at one time a part of Old Mexico, or the Republic of Mexico. You know the history, do you not, of that long-suffering, brave and downtrodden people? We wish to sever our relations from the people who united us to them without our consent.”

“We certainly do,” said a voluptuous man who had been standing close by, an attentive listener.

“Ah, old fellow, here you are,” exclaimed Mr. Martinez, in true democratic style. “On time to the second. Let me present you to my friend Señor Leo Leander, Don Enrique Arellano.” The two men shook hands cordially, and Don Enrique Arellano embraced him after the fashion of the nineteenth century Mexicans.

The three men in the cab turned from the scene in front of them, and gazed in astonishment at each other.

“What deception they are playing,” said Julio. “The fellow introduced as Don Enrique Arellano is none other than the priest, Father Hernandez.

“Is it possible?” cried the Governor.

“This is a strange affair,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales; “a strange affair.”

“The priest is talking,” said Julio. “We must not lose a word he says.”

The three men again turned their faces toward the street, and listened intently to what was being said:

“I caught my friend’s last remarks as I came up,” said the man introduced as Don Enrique Arellano. “We must sever the existing relations between the country known as the Republic of Mexico, long, long years ago, and the United States of America. We are determined to re-establish the Republic.”

“And how are the latest reports?” asked Mr. Martinez.

“I have been assured the support of every bishop in the states that once were a part of long-lost Mexico.”

“Our power—I mean the power of the Church, as wielded in the nineteenth-century Mexico, is only known by reading history,” said Mr. Martinez.

“I see where you are correct, my friends. The relations must be severed. The civil law must be revised. It is sad, sad, sad to see the poor, downtrodden priests, poorly fed, poorly dressed—those, I mean, who have to depend upon the church only for support. They struggle bravely on and uncomplainingly, hoping and praying, no doubt, to regain the long-lost power they had over the people during the life of Pope Leo XIII.”

“Quite true;” replied Don Enrique Arellano, wiping a tear from his eye, “quite true. Then the priests were clad in purple and fine linen; then they received fifteen dollars for every marriage ceremony they performed—now only one; then the many feast days brought them thousands of centavos; now they are so few that the increase in the church treasury is hardly perceptible. The people are too much enlightened in the ways of the evil world, and not enough in the ways of the church, or, I would better say, this Government does not teach them submission—there is no head. Each goes his own way; each thinks for himself; hence the priest has lost his power, and I say it must be recovered,” vigorously concluded Mr. Arellano.

“Let us drink to the health and wealth of the priests, and to the recovery of your long-lost Mexico,” said Leo Leander, evidently hoping to spring something new on them.

The three actors passed into a bar near by, out of sight of the three scientists in the cab.

“So much has transpired since we stopped in front of this drug store, it seems to me that it must be night,” said the Governor.

“On the other hand,” replied Julio, “the time is only ten minutes later than the moment we arrived here.”

“Shall we proceed to the tomb of Marriet Motuble?” asked Señor Guillermo Gonzales, with a smile.

“When the two return,” said Julio, “we will get some more information; then we will start.”

“You say we will start. Will something prevent us from reaching the place, Julio?” quietly asked the Governor.

“We will reach the tomb, but not for several hours yet,” he replied; “and now I must have the motorman return to his seat. We must be prepared to follow wherever they go.”

The exquisite notes of a bird close by, went out upon the air. People passing stopped and looked for the bird in every direction. Failing to see it they hurried on. At the first sound the motorman came out of the store carrying a large package, which he handed to Julio, and without a word climbed to his seat on the top of the cab.

“That was your secret signal, was it not, Julio, which you told me you had invented?” asked Señor Guillermo Gonzales.

“It was, my friend, and it works to perfection. I will explain the principle of it later. See! the trio are coming from the bar,” replied Julio.

Once more they were intent in their thoughts and looks upon the three strange people in disguise.

Leo Leander said, evidently continuing a sentence she had begun at the bar: “Oh, yes, I know quite well the way to the Motuble tomb. After her tragic death was noised about, I met a friend of hers to whom I expressed a desire to see the old tomb and to know its strange history. He told me the story of the Marriet Motuble who lived in a life gone by, also the pathetic tale of the child, Catalina Martinet, for whom the tomb was built. I expressed a desire to see it. He gave me this key, which was presented to him by the deceased señorita, who begged him, if it fell to her lot to pass away first, to visit the tomb often, and grant the same privilege to his friends. Curious to see the tomb, I hurried out to the city of the dead, and had just arrived, when two men clothed in black, and carrying a large, heavy metallic coffin, entered the tomb, deposited their burden and hastened away. No one was present but myself, and they evidently took me for an officer of law. For they had not gone very far when one of the miserable cowards came running back; he handed me a paper and requested me to sign it. At first I refused; but the poor devil insisted that I was the proper person to sign it, and if I refused they would be imprisoned on their return without my name. So intent were they, that I was worked up to the belief that I was the person who should sign it, and I mustered up courage and wrote the first name that came to me, other than my own.”

“And what name was it?” asked Mr. Martinez.

“Julio Murillo,” calmly replied Leo Leander.

The three men in the cab threw up their hands in astonishment, and Mr. Arellano cried: “Jesus and Marie! Jesus and Marie! You saved the poor wretches from present trouble, but should this act of yours become known, which will be sure to happen, your life will be in danger.”

“I am fearless. You cannot frighten me, friends, with the law as practiced in Chihuahua,” said Leo Leander. “If it is now your pleasure, we will visit the tomb, gentlemen,” he concluded.

“A brave fellow,” said Mr. Arellano, “a brave fellow. You will lead and thousands will follow. Ah, friend Martinez, we are to be congratulated on having this great leader on our side. Lead; we will follow to the tomb. The work we desire to have accomplished to-night is in the hands of the proper person.”

“You will please accompany me to the Mexican Annex; there we will take a cab-a physician’s cab, like that one there, if one can be secured. Come, gentlemen, we must be off, or the bloodhounds will be on our scent,” concluded Leo Leander, walking off at a brisk pace.

At the same moment the Governor’s cab started on at a rapid rate after them.

“No scientific investigation ever puzzled me more than this present affair,” said the Governor.

“Nor me, friend Miguey. These disturbers of the law must be placed under arrest before sunset,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales.

“True,” replied Julio; “they must be put under arrest, but not until we see what happens at the tomb.”

“Order ten policemen to come to the tomb at once. Say for them to come in disguise and quietly,” said the Governor.

“You do the proper thing at the proper time always, Miguey. We must get their entire story, then capture them. This bloody war they are trying to raise will be nipped in the bud,” concluded Señor Guillermo Gonzales.

“Would it not be well for us to reach the tomb before them, examine it thoroughly, and be on the eve of leaving at their arrival?” asked the Governor, of Julio.

“Our best policy, I believe, is to follow them at a slow pace, and be alighting from the cab as they enter the tomb. The law is on our side, and if we so desire, the arrest can be made inside the historic tomb,” replied Julio Murillo.

“We will not be connected outwardly with the arrest. On coming out of the tomb the police must know that the time to make the arrest has arrived,” replied the Governor.

“Here is the Mexican Annex, gentlemen,” said Julio Murillo, looking out of the window, “and our disguised friends are coming. They are more than a block away yet. We will move a block to the side to avert suspicion, from which point we can see them quite as well.”

The cab moved slowly and noiselessly away and soon disappeared amongst a hundred or more.

The great hotel was filled to overflowing, and the big crowd of fashionably-dressed people surged back and forth through the entrances.

Julio’s trained eye scanned every face, and now and then he uttered low exclamations of surprise. His two companions asked no questions, but arose from their seat and remained standing by his side, that they too might see what was going on around them.

“Ah, there is J. Ecarg, and Niksab, and Mr. and Mrs. Grange, out on a dress parade. I wonder if they are staying in the Mexican Annex now, or are they just hanging around trying to impress strangers with their importance,” said the Governor.

“Partly yes, and partly no,” said Julio. “Mrs. Grange has convinced herself by this time that she does not remember, and has met these men by appointment, which of course her husband made with them, not to arouse their suspicions. For had they known that it was Mrs. Grange who wished to see them, to interview them on ‘Memory Fluid,’ they never would have met.”

“See how she tosses her head and smiles at Mr. Niksab. She has probably heard of his good fortune and hopes to be presented with another costly frock,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales. “Strange how susceptible some men are to such women’s charms.”

“It is the town talk to-day how she enchanted the President. She does not care for peoples’ tongues, however. She is, no doubt, out on this dress parade in the hope of seeing the President again and to make a further and more lasting impression on him,” said Julio.

“Who is the short, stout man dressed in grey, coming out of the hotel now?” asked the Governor.

“I do not recognize him,” said the scientist, Gonzales.

“No, not in his present guise!” exclaimed Julio, with a laugh that shook his entire frame. “No, not in his present guise. If he were to take off the large grey beard and grey wig, the difficulty of identification would be removed.”

“Whom would we recognize?” asked the Governor.

“‘The Plunger from Kansas,’” quietly replied Julio.

“A day so full of conundrums as this has been, I hope will not fall to my lot again in this life. I am a large, strong man; the greater part of me—the objective part—is human, and I am confident I cannot hold up under another strain as severe as this one which began well on to twenty-four hours ago. The arrest of this man must be made soon, and this great farce being enacted by the terrible señorita and her two associates we have just seen, must be put to an end,” said Governor Lehumada.

“‘The Plunger from Kansas,’” quietly remarked Julio, “will accompany the trio to whom we have just been listening, to the tomb. Marriet Motuble knows who her two companions are, also the disguise of the ‘Plunger.’ There is no one’s history she will not ferret out, no matter how dark and deep the veil is surrounding them. The step she is now taking is one too far. She is taking herself and her companions into the very hands of the law.”

“Sure enough, friend Julio, here is the trio; the cab now coming up to the main entrance is the one they have employed. It is likewise similar to yours, Miguey,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales.

“If upon investigation, I find that that cab is an infringement upon the patent of mine, the manufacturer will suffer to the extent of the law,” replied the Governor, very much annoyed. The strain of the day and the previous night was telling on him.

“Something must happen to divert him or a physical collapse will result,” mentally commented Julio, while aloud he said: “Your Honor, ‘The Plunger from Kansas’ is being invited by the aggressive señorita to accompany them to the tomb.”

“I see,” said the Governor. “They are now entering. Do not let the cab get from our view, Julio. We must make a sure thing of it this time. We must put a stop to this disgraceful farce.”

“Trust me, your Honor. The police will be on hand when we arrive, but in hiding. And when they hear the beautiful song of my mechanical bird, they will rush forth and make the arrest.”

CHAPTER XI.
ARREST OF THE CONSPIRATORS.

The cab the four men in disguise were in took a circuitous route to the necropolis.

Julio directed the motorman to keep far enough away to avert suspicion, but not to lose sight of it at any cost. The Governor’s cab was not in a place easily to be seen by Marriet Motuble and her assistants in the little farce-comedy they were playing, when they entered their cab, which stood in front of the Mexican Annex, and while it only now and then followed directly back of them, there was one hawk-eye within the cab that saw they were being followed.

Leo Leander was the occupant of the cab who saw they were being followed, and knew intuitively that trouble would result unless some way out of it could be invented quickly.

“Gentlemen,” the aggressive señorita in disguise said, “gentlemen, I took the liberty to add another to our party to visit the ancient tomb—a gentleman by birth, a gentleman by education and social environments; a student and writer on anthropology, and a devotee to archæology. Friends, it is he you see, the Rev. Isaac Tombstone, Señor Enrique Arellano, and Don Jose M. Martinez.”

It was quite evident from the expression on the faces of the pretenders introduced to Rev. Isaac Tombstone, that they would rather he were not one of their party.

Leo Leander saw this, and very quickly remarked: “Brother Tombstone is better informed than any other man alive on prehistoric Mexico; on the written and unwritten history of Mexico up to the nineteenth century; and from that time on he has been an eye-witness to everything that has taken place upon the soil known as Mexico in the nineteenth century, and he fully sympathizes with the descendants of the Latin race who lost their country, their time-honored customs and religious stronghold. Gentlemen, the Reverend Tombstone is true to principle; rely upon him. He will fight to the finish to help down the present régime.”

The assertion that the Rev. Isaac Tombstone had lived through two hundred years, and now sat before them a well preserved man, apparently not over sixty years old, in full possession of all his senses, was the only thing in the statements of Leo Leander which seemed incredulous to the listeners. However, they congratulated the Reverend Tombstone on being so hale and hearty at his great age and said they were delighted that he had joined their party, and hoped in the near future that they would become staunch friends. Leo Leander was delighted at the effect his words had created, and smiled serenely to himself as he watched the maneuvers of the Governor’s cab.

He was leading them a lively chase. So lively, in fact, that the motorman of the Governor’s cab often was undecided just which way to turn.

“We are discovered,” said Julio; “the aggressive señorita knows she is being followed, and it will take more than the quick eye of a hawk to keep her from eluding the law.”

“Her cab certainly is not capable of swifter movement than ours,” said the Governor. “I do not think it possible for them to escape us.”

“We will not lose sight of the cab entirely,” said Julio, “yet it is likely to lose one of its occupants on the way without our knowledge.”

Señor Guillermo Gonzales did not make any comment, but gazed with much interest upon the remarkable panorama before him.

“We certainly are not going directly to the city of the dead,” said the Governor.

“In most every other way but the direct road to the necropolis, we are going. The fact is, your Honor, the person in yonder cab disguised as Leo Leander suspects us of following them, and is going to ascertain if such be the fact by this method,” concluded Julio.

In the meantime Leo Leander was formulating a plan for escape, while the Rev. Isaac Tombstone discoursed upon various topics with the other two occupants of the cab. He played his part well, to the great delight of Leo Leander, who had no idea that the man had the learning he now displayed.

“Yes,” he said, in answer to a question propounded by Señor Enrique Arellano, “I am certainly grateful to the Father Divine who saw fit to let me live throughout two centuries and more, and retain complete use of my senses, and yet am in feeling a gay, healthy young man as well.”

“Upon what ground do you base your information concerning prehistoric Mexico?” asked Señor Jose M. Martinez.

“Upon the fact that all light since the beginning of time has come to man from the East. Knowing such to be the case, early in the nineteenth century, then a young man eager for knowledge, I journeyed to Calcutta, and from thence to the remotest of the Himalayas, where I studied with the most learned of the Hindoos. They taught me from charts, maps and sign-writings, that centuries before, a people had gone from Persia and settled along the west and southwest coast-line of Mexico. But this new country was like the ‘Vale of Siddim, full of lime-pits,’ and the leaders of this tribe fell to fighting amongst themselves, after having founded large cities. Excavating amongst the ruins of their once great and populous cities, I discovered they had made great progress in science, art and literature. Those of the Persian tribe left, fled to the mountains and valleys of the interior, where they show evidence of having united with different races, by whom they were afterwards extinguished. These facts, friends, are of profound interest ethnologically,” concluded the learned doctor of divinity.

“To be sure, to be sure,” repeated Don Enrique Arellano. “What a wonderful fund of knowledge you have, Reverend Tombstone. Some day not far distant I hope to have you at my house as a guest, when dear Mexico is restored to us again and we are happy.”

“And my guest as well, when that good time comes,” joined in Señor Martinez; while Reverend Tombstone mentally added: “Then I will never be your guests, gentlemen. Ah, but this is a great comedy some others besides myself are helping to play. These two men are a puzzle to me, as well as Leo Leander. I was afraid not to accompany him because he pierced my disguise. He said: ‘You are “The Plunger from Kansas.” Walk right up, young man, and take your medicine. I need your help in the little farce I am playing, and woe is your name, if you betray me.’ Well, I walked up, and here I am taking my medicine. Such seems to be life in this the twenty-first century. I pulled through two other lives without getting behind the bars, and they will have a lively chase if they overtake and arrest me in this life, ‘Memory Fluid’ or no memory fluid, notwithstanding the great advance there has been since my previous life, in scientific investigations. Well, what is going to happen now? The cab is stopping.” Then aloud he asked: “The cab stops; is this the city of the dead?”

“No, your Reverence,” said Leo Leander, “this is not the necropolis. However, I will leave you here and join you in a few moments at the Motuble tomb. Here is the key to the tomb, Señor Jose Martinez. It admits you to the tomb with one turn. If I am not there on your arrival, enter at once—do not wait for me—and gaze upon the placid features of Marriet Motuble seen through the glass on her metallic coffin. Gaze upon her and envy her brave act, but pity those of us left without her benevolent heart and sweet influence. Gaze upon her, friend, and do not wait for me. I may overtake you, however. Good-bye; good-bye for a short time,” he concluded, as the cab came to a standstill and Leo Leander stepped from the carriage.

Almost instantly the cab with its three occupants bound for the city of the dead moved rapidly on, and Leo Leander disappeared from sight.

“How unfortunate for us that Mr. Leander felt duty bound to leave us at a time so propitious for seeing the ancient tomb,” said Señor Martinez.

“It is unfortunate for us,” calmly replied Rev. Isaac Tombstone; “although the bad fortune does not fall upon us alone.”

“How is that, friend?” asked Don Enrique Arellano.

“He was in good company, I mean,” smiled the preacher; “in very learned company, and with old friends; or I would better say, with those whom I hope some day to be classed as old friends. Heigh-ho, here comes a physician’s cab at breakneck speed,” concluded Rev. Isaac Tombstone.

“Some one is very ill, no doubt,” said Señor Martinez. “I wonder who the patient is, that causes the physician’s cab to travel so swiftly. There are three of us, witnesses to the fast travelling through a crowded thoroughfare. See the people falling over each other nearly, to get away from the path of the cab.”

“A fair example of the present rule of things,” said Don Enrique Arellano.

“But I believe, my friend,” said Rev. Isaac Tombstone, “that exceptions to the law are made, in cases of physicians going on missions of mercy.”

“How can anyone say that such is the case now?” asked Señor Martinez.

“Not I, for one,” replied Don Arellano.

“Nor I,” added the preacher.

“One cab is certainly chasing the other now. We must prevent it; such doings are not lawful. We must prevent it. We must prevent it,” cried Señor Martinez, rising to his feet and calling loudly to the motorman. If he heard the cries of “Stop, Stop,” he paid no attention. The cab fairly flew through the streets, and before anyone was aware of the fact, they had arrived at the cemetery gate just behind the cab the motorman had been trying to overtake.

Rev. Isaac Tombstone was not less surprised than his companions to see the other cab stop at the Motuble tomb.

The three men alighted first, however. Mr. Martinez unlocked the tomb and they entered, leaving the door wide open. The tomb was in the form of an octagon at the base, the diameter being twenty feet; from the center of the base to the highest point of dome measured one hundred feet. The interior was of highly polished marble, in which were set large mirrors. The small coffin in which rested the body of Catalina Martinet stood in the center of the tomb on two marble pillars. A silence fell upon the three as they read in bright gold letters on the casket, “Catalina Martinet, age sixteen. Died of a broken heart.”

“By the gods, I will have revenge upon the man who caused her illegal birth to be, and her untimely death to come. Marriet Motuble. Her Friend through all eternity.”

“She is dead, but lives,” solemnly said Reverend Tombstone. “She is dead, but lives.”

“Impossible,” angrily replied Don Arellano. “Impossible.”

Without making any reply the Reverend Tombstone stepped to the large casket recently placed in the tomb, and said, looking in the glass face plate: “The classic features of Marriet Motuble! She whom I knew in a life long since past lies before me.”

“Don Arellano,” cried Señor Martinez, “we have been deceived. This man is a believer in that accursed ‘Memory Fluid.’ The sooner we get away, from this tomb, back to the city, the better for us.”

They each glanced nervously at the waxen face before them, and without further comment started hastily to leave the tomb.

Rev. Isaac Tombstone made no sign that he heard them, but stood by the head of the metallic coffin, his eyes riveted upon the face he there saw.

As his two companions left the tomb, three men dressed as doctors of medicine entered, and stood with uncovered heads around the coffin. The cab in which the Reverend Tombstone and party had arrived stood in front of the door of the tomb.

At the moment the two men were stepping into it three policemen stepped forward, as the song of a bird rent the air, clapped iron bands around their wrists, and said: “You are prisoners of law. Make no disturbance or you will be roughly dealt with.”

Señor Martinez threw his head back haughtily, and asked: “Does the present régime permit the arrest of quiet, law-abiding citizens?”

“Certainly not, certainly not,” replied the officer. “It is not becoming to your present disguise for you to ask such a question.”

Attracted by the noise outside, Rev. Isaac Tombstone walked to the door of the tomb to see the cause of the disturbance.

Julio Murillo followed him and said, addressing the officer of the law: “Bring the prisoners here, into the Motuble tomb.”

His orders were instantly obeyed. It was an opportune moment for Rev. Isaac Tombstone, so he thought. He stepped aside to allow the law and its trespassers to pass into the tomb. And as he bowed in a very dignified manner to them, mentally exclaimed: “Now is my time!” and ran to the end of the tomb, jerking off his false wig and beard and his spectacles as he went. He turned his coat inside out, either side made to wear outside, lit a cigar, and before anyone was conscious he had left his place by the door of the tomb, his disguise was completely changed, and at a bound he was in the cab.

At that moment the song of the bird was again heard, and the officers of the law rushed out to make another arrest, but the cab was fairly flying away from them, and they cried: “It is too late; the bird has flown. We must have one more chance at the fellow.”

“Were it not necessary to examine the contents of this metallic coffin,” said Julio, “which is supposed to contain the remains of one Marriet Motuble, we would pursue this man in the physician’s cab.”

“One of my men,” said the captain of the force present, “can follow on my air cycle, get assistance, and make the arrest in the city.”

“That is a splendid idea,” said the Governor; “a splendid idea. This man is too valuable to science to be allowed to escape. His capture and open confession is the only thing necessary for us to have to convince the entire world of the truth of our wonderful discovery, ‘Memory Fluid.’”

“What do you, a common physician of the State, know of ‘Memory Fluid,’ that fake discovery of the Governor’s and his scientific friends?” asked Señor Martinez, in a highly sarcastic tone.

To whom Señor Guillermo Gonzales replied: “We are not here to discuss what his Honor knows about ‘Memory Fluid,’ but to fully examine the corpse in this box. Stand close by, friends. I will make the first incision.”

Aghast with horror, the two prisoners and the remaining officers of law stepped back.

With an instrument that seemed to be made especially for the purpose, Julio Murillo removed the glass plate from the coffin.

As he passed his hand over the face of the object before him, he smiled to himself and the two men shivered.

“Now, my friend,” he said to Guillermo Gonzales, “now is your time.”

Unflinchingly the scientist pressed the sharp edge of the large knife against the waxen-like neck of the object before him with the result he expected. Instead of dissecting a corpse, Julio cut into a wooden model over which was a thin coating of wax.

“See,” he said to the Governor, “see; the prophecy of Julio is true. The aggressive señorita is surely not in the Motuble tomb.”

“Nor for that matter,” said the Governor, “in any other tomb. I am fully convinced, and the law must take its course immediately. A model of wax only occupies the Motuble tomb.”

Señor Guillermo Gonzales fastened the glass plate securely on; the policemen led their prisoners out of the tomb; the Governor and Señor Guillermo Gonzales followed, and Julio Murillo locked the tomb securely and placed the key in his pocket. As an extra assurance that no one could enter the tomb and carry away the proof of Marriet Motuble’s dual action, the Governor ordered two extra policemen, who had arrived in the cab ordered for the prisoners, to guard the tomb, and under no circumstances to let anyone enter.

Strange to say, Señor Jose M. Martinez and Don Enrique Arellano entered the policeman’s cab without any protest whatever, and at a rapid rate were taken to the central police court when their disguises were at once removed, and their names were entered as follows: Jesus Marie Hernandez, occupation a priest, alias Don Enrique Arellano; Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, occupation a gentleman, alias Jose M. Martinez. After the above registration was completed, they were placed in separate cells and left to their own reflections.

The Governor and his two companions were quickly taken to his own private home, where they soon learned that many callers had been there during his absence, and several left, very angry, because he was not to be seen.

The President had sent to the Governor, a few minutes before they arrived, a large envelope which contained many sheets of paper closely written.

The three men took supper together, and over their meal discussed their experiences of the day, and at its close went straight to the Governor’s private study to read the President’s statement. The Governor handed the envelope to Julio, who opened it carefully and read as follows:

“Friends and Comrades: A wonderful change has come over me within the last eight hours. A change so delicious that no one but he who has experienced the same feeling can begin to understand it. It is the knowledge that comes to one of a previous existence.

“To be plain, my friends, I remember, thanks to your wonderful ‘Memory Fluid.’

“I was in this city one hundred and fifty years ago, in the employ of the United States Secret Service. I arrested, by the assistance of a little girl—Catalina Martinet—a counterfeiter who had evaded the law for years, all the while living in the Republic of Mexico in the guise of a mining man.

“That arrest was a big feather in my cap. I was promoted and my salary raised largely.

“I wish to thank you, my friends, for the great service you have done me by bringing to my notice this wonderful discovery—the most wonderful scientific discovery of this or any other age. I could write on and on and on, telling you about what I remember, but it is of no use to burden you with so much reading.

“I will now return to my apartments at the Mexican Annex, at which place I hope to see you privately before I leave the city, which will be at twelve o’clock to-night.

“Yours fraternally and faithfully,

“Joseph Mortingo.”

“He leaves to-night, at twelve. Ah, he returns to the capital; his plans are changed since morning. I will go immediately; you will accompany me, friends, I hope,” said the Governor.

“With much pleasure; we will make our toilet at once,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales, speaking for himself and Julio Murillo.

“I will in the meantime,” said the Governor, “speak to him. I will say we will be there in half an hour.”

In a very short space of time the three scientists were on their way to the Mexican Annex. The hour was ten P.M., yet people seemed to be assembling there from all quarters of the city.

Several times before reaching the hostelry the three scientists heard angry cries as they passed through the streets.

The Governor thought nothing of the matter until he was leaving his cab to enter the hotel, when an angry crowd cried: “There is the traitor! Kill him! Kill him!”

Many blows were aimed at the Governor, but were warded off by the timely arrival of the soldiers and police.

“Come, Miguey, come. Enter by this private entrance. This mad crowd is likely to make an end of all of us if we do not get out of sight,” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales, as he hurried the Governor into the hotel.

“The uprising has begun,” said Julio, “and earlier than I expected. You gentlemen go at once to the President’s rooms. I will see what news can be learned in the rotunda. It is my opinion that the President should be sent to the station to-night under heavy military guard. He must get out of Chihuahua in disguise, and to-night at that. If I am not mistaken, we have an ugly affair on our hands. This is no place to talk. I will go in search of the latest news.” He hurried away amongst the surging crowd, while the Governor and Guillermo Gonzales were shown to the President’s rooms.

“This is a terrible state of affairs,” said the President, as he greeted them on entering.

“The instigators of the uprising,” quietly spoke the Governor, “are behind the bars, and when their sympathizers learn the fact, it will put an end to the unlawful doings of the rabble.”

“My life has been threatened three times since my arrival at the hotel. And see, gentlemen, the cipher despatches I have received from the Capital.”

Señor Guillermo Gonzales took the despatches from the hands of the President, looked them over curiously, and said: “Has the news of this affair reached Washington?”

“It has more than reached the city. A fearfully large following has not only been raised there, but in the metropolis and capital of every State in the Union. Unless the militia and police force can quell the disturbers in a few days, much trouble will follow,” said President Mortingo.

The Governor extinguished the light in the room, and stepping to a window, said: “See the mob in the street! What is it they are crying?”

Above the sounds of the mob, a voice cried: “That is his room; they are all there. Shoot the pretenders down without a word!”

At that moment Julio Murillo entered the room quietly, and going close to the two near the window, said: “His Excellency must be taken from the hotel immediately; there is no time for delay.”

“But his life is in danger, if he be seen,” said the Governor.

“To be sure,” calmly replied Julio; “but not any more than your own.”

“They intend to harm every one who is a believer in ‘Memory Fluid,’” said Señor Guillermo Gonzales.

“There is no time to be lost, gentlemen,” said Julio. “I have disguises here for his Excellency and your Honor. Friend Gonzales and myself will be lost in the crowd.”

The two men of national repute disguised themselves with the various articles Julio brought with him, left the room unobserved by anyone but the soldiers guarding the room, and were soon safely quartered with those of the President’s party who had not left the city that morning in a palace car ready to be hurried away to Washington.

The Governor and his two scientific friends returned to his residence, but could only get within one block of it in the cab, for the rabble and soldiers.

They left the cab and mingled with the crowd, and soon were safely in the house by a private entrance.

In a sense they were safe; but how long safety would last they could not say. All night the Governor and his two scientific friends in company with many high officials of State, discussed the present state of affairs and laid plans for immediate action should further trouble come.

The President had promised that United States troops would arrive at the shortest notice possible and put an end to the uprising if the State troops were insufficient.

CHAPTER XII.
A LIFE SAVED.

There never had been such excitement in Chihuahua as that caused by the arrests of Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir, and Father Hernandez.

Not even the execution of Hidalgo, the good priest who sought to free the people of Mexico from the terrible slavery in which the church held them, created the same fervor. The mad rabble and the church fanatics were too ignorant to realize the awfulness of their deed. They believed what they had been told by the church, that whoever advocated freedom of thought must die. And few were the tears shed when, in the year of 1810, the life of the great and noble Father Hidalgo was taken in Chihuahua. At least, it was the few who shed tears.

Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir had been known as a quiet, law-abiding citizen, very wealthy and eccentric. It was generally known that he prided himself upon the fact of his blue Mexican blood, and persisted in signing Falomir, his mother’s maiden name, to his own surname, as was the custom in Mexico up to the close of the nineteenth century. Yet no one ever dreamed that he nursed any ill-will against the law of the land of his birth—against the United States of America.

Everyone seemed to think that he had a right to his peculiarities, and while Chihuahuans smiled when the name Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir was spoken they were always ready to point out this wealthy, aristocratic and eccentric citizen to visitors in Chihuahua and obtain an introduction to him for them, if possible.

It was not strange that the citizens of Chihuahua wondered that their fellow-citizen, thought to be quiet and law-abiding, and the priest, well known in the city for his many charitable deeds, were behind the bars on a charge of treason.

The calm of the early morning, produced by reading the full account of the charges and the arrest of these two well-known citizens, in the great Chihuahuan, was now giving way to noisy discussions of them, by small and large crowds of citizens of all classes, assembled on the street corners, and in public and private houses. At nine o’clock the jail in which the two offenders of law were held was almost surrounded by what looked to be the rabble of the entire country.

The great and progressive city of Chihuahua had never had such a large crowd of ungainly and suspicious looking creatures assemble since it became a part of the great Republic of the United States of America. From whence had they come and for what purpose? were the questions propounded on every side by the uninitiated.

At first no particular attention was paid to the miserable looking beings hanging around the jail. But as their number increased so rapidly, although they seldom spoke and made no disturbance, the number of police usually on beat near the jail was doubled, and a company of one hundred soldiers were stationed close by.

The rabble questioned no one, and no one questioned the rabble.

The police and soldiers kept their eyes riveted upon them, but as they only looked suspicious, and did nothing, they were allowed to remain and no arrests were made.

Such were the orders received from the Governor, and no officer cared to disobey them. During the forenoon several priests and friends of Don Francisco R. Cantu y Falomir came to the jail and begged for admittance. Each person was refused and went away angry. Some of them openly vowed vengeance.

One priest ventured to return, and asked the guard why his friends were confined in jail, and if an early hearing would be granted them. Unable to get any satisfactory answers, he turned away, his white face showing the terrible rage he was in.

The Governor and his scientific coworkers had not been seen on the street during the day, and as night approached and no official word could be had as to the probable fate of the prisoners, the rabble around and near the jail showed signs of great uneasiness, and in bodies of threes and fours wandered away. As each party left it was quietly followed by an officer, who thought himself in a condition impossible to be surprised, no matter how unusual an occurrence which would happen might be.

However, his thoughts in that direction were wholly in error, as what occurred will demonstrate.

As the sun sank behind a tall peak of the Sierra Madre, and a still darkness crept over the beautiful scene, and hid it from admiring eyes, the strange crowd that had wandered off in small numbers from the jail now collected themselves in a large, empty storage room in the southwestern part of the city, a distance of about four miles from the Mexican Annex, and the Governor’s residence. Before nine o’clock it was filled to overflowing, and still ragged, dirty creatures full of disease kept on coming from every direction. From the stillness of everyone the meeting and its object evidently was meant to be kept a secret, at least for a season.

When it was seen that not another person could find standing room in the large wareroom, the door was securely fastened; a dim light was turned on, and a tall, raw-boned looking man stepped on top of a high drygoods box, and said:

“Friends and Countrymen: It is with a sad heart I stand upon this platform and look out upon the many hundred faces before me, faces that show the ravages of disease, the pangs of hunger, and the no-hope expression of those who have been downtrodden; neglected, mentally, morally and spiritually, on account of peculiar environments. It is with a sad heart I see you thus before me and join you in your silent prayer for deliverance. For deliverance! Does not that word partake of Divinity? Does it not seem to bring you closer to the great Giver of Justice? Does there not seem to be a start toward the adjustment of all evil? Cannot you who have despaired of hope, see the light of the Divine, the expression that comes from a superior knowledge, upon my face? I am your deliverer. By the help of all influence Divine, I will see that justice is meted out to you. Away back in that life known only to myself when I was a fat, freckled-faced, barefooted boy of ten, building mud houses and paddling in the rippling streams, I saw strange things and heard strange voices. One day while sitting on a large moss-covered bowlder in the clear waters of a placid, cool and shallow stream, I had a vision. I saw the words, ‘You must be the deliverer of the oppressed and downtrodden in Chihuahua in this year, the year of our Lord 2049,’ written in letters of fire, out over the water. I was frightened, and started to run, when a voice said to me: ‘Stop; look and fear not.’ I took my seat upon the highest point of the bowlder and riveted my eyes upon the spot over the water where I had seen the letters of fire. Very soon I saw a large, magnificently built city. I saw it grow and grow until it became unparalleled, for grandeur, and for the number of advanced-thought people. I saw the glory and power of one rise, while others sank lower and lower into the very depths of poverty, disease and ignorance. I saw a coterie of blue-blooded people, educated and wealthy, arise like guardian angels in the night and go forth to defend the oppressed; to take from his throne of power, the pretender; one of their own royal blood who had betrayed the confidence imposed in him, and now sought by the arts of a magician to make the people believe that he had made wonderful progress in scientific discoveries. I saw the two noble defenders of the downtrodden thrust into jail! I saw a small army of believers in the two defenders of noble birth, start out confidently to overthrow the government; to try to sever that part of the United States of America once known as the Republic of Mexico, from the Union to which it sent a petition less than one hundred and fifty years ago, asking for annexation, which was in due time granted.”

“Yes,” piped out the voice of an infirm old man, “we want our Mexico back; we want our priests restored. Them was good old days, and we want them back.”

“We will make war against all these high notions of scientists, who, the priests say, are leading the people to hades,” ventured another old man, bent with age and infirmities.

“The Church ain’t much power, but it still has many followers, and all of us can fight for it,” continued the old man.

The revolutionary sentiments expressed began to show effect upon the crowd. They moved about uneasily, and low curses and threats were being voiced on every side.

The speaker again began to talk and the noise subsided somewhat.

“Yes,” he said; “I saw ourselves plunged into an internal war. It was carried on between all adherents to the dogmas of the orthodox on one side, and advocators of free thought on the other side. And my vision ended, with part of this nation fighting the other. The assembly no doubt thinks that thoughts as expressed by some of your would-be learned men are too free.” This remark elicited a great applause, and the speaker, after mentally congratulating himself upon the impression he had made, continued: “Everyone knows to whom I refer particularly.” A hushed silence followed this remark. “I refer particularly to the Governor of this great State, the man who claims to have discovered a fluid directly from the sun’s rays, which will perpetuate memory throughout all time. The main purpose for which this fluid is intended, is to aid officers of law in securing evidence against all who have committed crimes, and to bring such people to justice. Study upon this feature of the case, friends. Imagine yourself being compelled to believe in such stuff. That is what constitutes part of the doctrine of Free Thought. You must be a scientist to advocate free thought as they wish it. It tramples down all the idols which you have bowed to for centuries. The faith of your fathers must be superseded by facts obtained from scientific investigations. You must believe that memory can be restored and preserved through ages; that the annihilation of diseased matter can be accomplished by means of ‘Ebony Fluid.’ That all miraculous deeds of the Christ of Bible fame can be done to-day, not only by one, but by many; all of whom, however, must be initiated. Well, friends, I have been talking thirty minutes. You have my sentiments; think, think, think! Never act without studying over the past results of just such action you are on the eve of taking. Remember the condition of the times. You will fight against many odds. It will be ten against one. But do not be discouraged; bear in mind that a handful of men and women who desired to practice their religion according to the dictates of their own conscience severed themselves from England, their mother country, with much bloodshed; with much bloodshed, it is true, yet they gained the object for which they fought—their freedom—and hence the right to serve God as pleased their fancy. I will not suggest what step for you to take, but if you will tell me your plan, I will lead you to success.”

This time the high notes of a voice which showed training in public speaking, arose up from the great crowd, and startled everyone by exclaiming: “I, the Rev. J. T. Note, do this moment declare that there is but one way to adjust matters as they now stand;—to rectify the great injustices done to the followers of the orthodox, to those who believe in and follow the precepts of the inspired works of biblical writers. I say there is but one way to recover our waning power and that is, to fight for right.”

Hurrah after hurrah went up. The crowd grew less and less under self-control.

The minister continued: “Do not delay; make the first strike to-night. Listen,” he cried in hushed tones. “Listen! I will assist yon noble speaker to lead you to the front—to face the foe in battle.”

At the conclusion of his speech, and before another word could be spoken by anyone else present, the lights in the room went out and the mad cries of the audience went up in protest.

A strong breeze, which could only come through an open door or window, swept through the room.

It needed no voice to tell that trouble was at hand, but not the kind they had been talking about trying to create. Quick orders were given by some one in authority, in a low voice, and responded to by others in curses. Everybody tried to get to the door and into the street.

In less than ten minutes after the lights went out, the large room seemed to be empty; but it was not quite empty—there was one person left and he was the speaker of the evening. The night was intensely dark, and the large crowd got as near together as possible, and planned for a night of carnage. Until one o’clock they remained quiet, except for planning.

By some one the Rev. J. T. Note was missed; but no one felt alarmed, for those who missed him thought he was somewhere amongst the crowd, helping to carry out their proposed plan of attack. Now that the hour had arrived that they had agreed upon to attempt to take the life of the Governor and his two scientific friends, a company of three hundred men, led by the old man with the piping voice, cautiously wended their way in that direction. Others started in various directions to carry out their nefarious ideas.

The tall, raw-boned person remained, almost breathless, in his crouched position on the floor back of a big empty box, until thoroughly satisfied that no interloper, or friend, as for that, was in the room. Cautiously walking to the back door, the position of which he must have been well informed, he opened it noiselessly and quietly stepped out into the dark night. For five minutes more he strode back and forth, his thumbs securely thrust into the band of his trousers, in deep meditation, now and then chuckling to himself.

“Let me see,” he said aloud as he suddenly came to a stop, “let me see. It is now fifteen minutes after one o’clock. Whew! What did Helen Hinckley think when I failed to meet her at the appointed place and time. The result of the meeting just closed was the most unexpected event of my life. It is all day with these would-be revolutionists if the city police and state militia are onto this meeting. It is all up with you, Reverend Note, I am quite sure. Chihuahua’s police force took charge of you, I’ll bet a copper. You are languishing in a small cell, behind the iron bars, as a nineteenth century romance writer would say, on a charge of treason. It will go hard with these three transgressors of law. It is a strange affair, and I have done my best to help both sides accomplish what they are out for. Ha! ha! It is a great world, and Free Thought, based upon scientific reasoning, is sure to win. As sure as fate. The poor deluded creatures here to-night have my sympathies, and also had my assistance to-night. I did all within my power to make the fire of revenge burn bright within their bosom. Some people may say I am a hypocrite. Well, I am in a way; but when one can make others happy by practising a little deception, the wrong cannot be lasting. And what if it is, what if it is? The beautiful creature who has so completely captivated the bachelor heart of the Governor, was disappointed, no doubt, by not finding me at my apartment at the Annex, at ten o’clock. But not so disappointed, I fancy, as when she reads in to-morrow morning’s Chihuahuan, an account of the murder of the Governor, whose love, I imagine, she reciprocates; and of Don Guillermo Gonzales, and of Julio Murillo, the son of Señora Suzzan Carriles, of Colima, as well. ‘Memory Fluid’ will go over the board, if that wholesale slaughter is effected. Their great test case will be laid over for another incarnation. ‘The Plunger from Kansas’ will have one more chance for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, without living in mortal fear of being dragged up before the bar of civil justice and politely requested to make amends for a deed done in the body in at least two existences past. Yes, poor fellow, he will have a little rest and peace of mind; for there is no one who will concern himself about presenting to the world proofs of the results obtained by the use of their great discovery. Helen Hinckley will pine away, and the grave will claim her for another victim before the summer is over. Their spirits will voice a desire to enter again into a physical condition immediately, and before twenty years of their new life has passed away, those two hearts that this moment beat as one, soon to be so ruthlessly severed, will be united forever and forever, and as they glide along and form one of the many scenes in life’s grand panorama, they will cause, by their subtle philosophy, the ‘Plunger from Kansas’ to adjust the wrong they are now trying to right. Ha! ha! ha! Really I must move on, and cease my early morning soliloquy. I really believe I am getting to be a prophet. Certainly I have been talking aloud. In the nineteenth century, when one fell into the habit of talking aloud to one’s self he was said to be loco; but no such a fear need be entertained now, for this is the age of scientific revelation. No one can accuse the other, for every queer action is attributed to his knowledge of science. And either everyone is a student of science—of course that science which pertains to the soul of man, particularly—or everyone is loco or crazy. Adios, all ye demons of darkness, soon to be superseded by the angels of light, adios. I certainly hope the messages you bring will be such that my sad heart will be avenged. Now, with feet as fleet as the wild goat that once roamed the mountains over, I will reach the Mexican Annex, quietly steal into my apartments, quickly conceal all of my disguise, and to-morrow no one will be any the wiser for my night’s escapade. Ha! ha! no doubt, that on in the day while the revolutionists are playing havoc in the great, progressive city, I will be shedding tears, mingling mine with those of the Plunger of Kansas over the biers of our lately departed friends. Only friend Julio will I grieve for the loss of. Poor Señora Suzzan Carriles, of Colima, had no idea when she and Father Hernandez, now languishing in jail, committed the crime of adultery in a former existence that their progeny would rise up nearly two centuries afterwards and make them repent of their folly. Ha! ha! Ye vigils of darkness, I am gone!”

The person who had just concluded the lengthy soliloquy, passed away, without further delay or comment, in the direction of the Mexican Annex.

Near by stood unseen, Helen Hinckley, who had heard with bated breath every word of the soliloquy. “The person,” she cried with smothered voice, “cannot be other than the friend of my other life. The voice I recognize as that of Marriet Motuble. Strange creature! She whom I grieved for as dead, until her note reached me at nine o’clock to-night, and gave satisfactory explanations, is here plotting against the great and noble Governor and his able coworkers. Oh, thou annihilator of evil, bear me witness to the doings of this strange woman. I will warn him for whom I have looked through two lives. He shall be preserved, and when his true state is confessed to me in words, I will unite my life to his, and then what should have come to pass two hundred years ago will take place now. There is no worry in my soul, for the righting of all wrongs is certain to come to pass.”

As swift as the wings of a bird could waft itself through space, she glided through the still, cool air of the early morning, at a distance of twelve inches from the ground, to the Governor’s home. By means of her own great psychic power she conveyed to him even in his deep sleep the knowledge of her coming, and where to admit her; at a door opening out upon a balcony on the second floor, to the rear of his home.

She was dressed in a close-fitting black dress and hat, so that in the intense darkness of the night she was not observed.

When the Governor first received the mental message stating her intention of visiting him on important business, his body shook with a great emotion, and his heart beat wildly with joy at the prospect of seeing and talking with the object of his heart’s desire.

But when he reached the door she expected to enter, and stood ready to open it for her, he was again a man of reason, and an overwhelming love for the spiritual woman had taken the place of his baser love.

He held the door slightly open, and eagerly gazed into the darkness he could not pierce.

He felt a strange vibrating of the air, and then a presence which glided over the balcony and into the room and sank into a heap at his feet.

He caused the room to be instantly lighted, and stooping, raised the prostrate figure at his feet.

“A little water, if you please,” she said. “I could not compute the height, so the flight was a little hard for me.”

The Governor handed her a glass of cool water, and said: “I am sorry your solicitude for my safety has cost you such a great physical effort.”

“No, no, no; do not mind. It would not have happened could I have seen the house and computed the distance from the ground to this door. Do not be in the least concerned about me, your Honor. The law is apparent, but I had nothing on which I could base my calculations,” said Miss Hinckley.

“I do not understand,” said the great Governor and great discoverer of “Memory Fluid,” “how you came in this door directly from the street without any visible means of ascending to this height?”

“Is it possible, your Honor, that you forget when you and I in that life gone by, hoped we might be able to overcome the law of gravitation so far as our own bodies were concerned, as well as to discover a means by which we could perpetuate memory?”

“I certainly recall our meditations along those lines, but I have made no investigations along the line of the former,” replied the Governor.

“But I have,” said his fair listener, “and while you were perfecting your wonderful ‘Memory Fluid’—and other liquids obtained from the source of all light, and which may prove to be equally as great scientific revealers to man—I have been delving in the realms of the hidden and praying for light. It came, and oh, glorious was the day when I felt myself lifted up a few inches from the ground and gliding along as easily as a bird on the wing!”

“How astonishing, how wonderful! You must at once become a Fellow in our Royal Academy for Scientific Investigations. Your discovery is the most remarkable in the history of man. You will do me the honor, I hope, to first explain the modus operandi. My soul yearns for knowledge of Nature, of God,” cried the great man of science, his voice full of emotion.

“My hand, your Honor. Depend upon it, that the limited knowledge I have shall be conveyed to you at the earliest moment possible. The man who is so well in tune with the Great Light, the Source of All, will comprehend the subject in a moment,” said Helen Hinckley.

The Governor pressed her firm brown hand between his two, and lifting his eyes to the invisible Ruler of the universe, said: “The blending of two harmonious lives, oh, Thou Great and Everlasting Cause; this seems to me to be the fulfillment of Thy desire.”

CHAPTER XIII.
THE PEACE OF THE SOUL.

Helen Hinckley raised her beautiful face, shining with a light divine, and said: “It is the fulfillment, your Honor. It is the peace of the soul that ‘passeth all understanding.’”

At that moment the Governor dropped her hands; extinguished the light in the room, opened the door a little wider, and strained his ear to catch the unusual sound that came in from the street below.

Helen Hinckley knew at once the meaning of the sound, and said: “I must not delay longer telling you the object of my call.”

As these two people (whose souls had sought each other through two other lives and failed utterly to find the other, from the simple fact that their material environments were such that their very souls had no power to break through the terrible prison house in which they seemed to be encased, and fly to the arms of its counterpart) stood in the dark doorway, Helen Hinckley told the Governor all that had happened between herself and Marriet Motuble.

It was the dearest moment of his life when he felt her warm breath upon his cheek, while she whispered the story in his ear.

“A strange creature, that Marriet Motuble; a very strange creature,” he whispered in reply.

“She is more daring now than in the other life. She is a woman to be avoided. When one is so constituted that the association with a person harms him, instead of doing him good, the best plan is to keep at a respectable distance, and do the person all the good possible from that distance. But hark! What is that?” she concluded, as she clutched the Governor’s arm in her fright.

They stepped out on the small balcony and both listened breathlessly.

The Governor replied: “It was the report of a gun. Ah, there is another, and another. Hark! the police are after them.”

“The Executive Mansion is well guarded by the soldiers. I do not believe that they will be able to enter the house. The unguarded moment is the dangerous time, your Honor,” said Helen Hinckley, as she stepped into the room and gently led the Governor with her.

“On the subject of guarding my house,” replied his Honor, “I gave strict orders that no extras should guard me or be placed around my property. It is my duty, as the official head of this great State, to protect the lives and property of private citizens. The officers of the law will do their duty if there be an uprising, which I can hardly believe will take place. I am not a coward. I will not run and leave my people to face the trouble alone.”

“What you have said is quite true, and no one would expect any less from your Honor,” replied Helen Hinckley; “but there is an old law concerning self preservation. Your Honor recalls it, does he not? Yes? Well, then, you may be compelled, in order to carry out the law, to keep out of sight of these fanatics—these would-be revolutionists—until they are taught to remember—until they see the power of the Light Divine.”

“Hist! hist!” both the Governor and Helen Hinckley heard the warning which came through a door that led into the room where they stood, from an adjoining room.

In another instant, the clear, piping voice of the old man who had uttered such revolutionary sentiments at the meeting of these disturbers of peace, called out in hushed tones: “Find him, boys; find him. He’s not in his bed. I thrust daggers all over it. Then I climbed on it and crushed my heels on every part of it; but he was not there. Our brave leaders are behind the bars, boys, and we are handicapped. Now this imposter and enemy of the church must die! Come, boys. Forward, march!”

Helen Hinckley pulled the Governor’s ear close to her mouth, and said: “Your Honor, to stay here means instant death. The physical power of two people against one hundred or more is of no avail. Come; you must leave this room with me through the outside door. You must this moment feel the force of being able to overcome the law of gravitation. Slip your hands under the strap across the back of this small propeller; step on top of the railing on the balcony; trust me; do what I whisper into your ear, and we will escape. You must come, if not for your own sake, for mine,” she concluded.

“I will go, my life, for your sake,” said the Governor, his voice full of emotion.

At once Helen Hinckley led him onto the balcony. He stepped with her on top of the railing. He put the cap of his long black dressing gown over his head, and with no support except the arm of Helen Hinckley, which she had quietly slipped through his, he walked out with his companion into space.

The leader of the revolutionary party and his many followers, who were seeking his life, at that moment stepped into the room they had just left. The cool breeze of the early morning rushed in through the open door, feeling which, the old man at once exclaimed: “He has escaped; a door is open, if I am not mistaken. A light will soon settle the question.”

No sooner was the idea given voice, than several of the men present pressed the end of the miniature torches they carried in their pockets, and instantly the room was ablaze with light. With these small torches in hand they rushed to the open door, with the vain hope that they might catch the runaway.

“We are misled,” piped the old man. “No human being could have escaped from this small balcony, without the use of ropes and ladders. And none are here. We are misled! We are misled. Forward—march!” he cried, after military fashion. “We will search every nook and corner of this great mansion, until we find him. We will not be stopped. We are powerful, and will slay every one in our path who objects to the course we are taking.”

The old man was frantic—frantic from the thought that they might fail in taking the life of the Governor.