WIDENER LIBRARY
HX 5CF7 3 LERING
DEAD
ALFRED
GANACHILLY


Harvard College
Library

ARDIA
VERI
RISTO
TAS
ADEM
10NON
CHR
LESIAS
Gratis











WHISPERING DEAD
THE


COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY
ALFRED A. KNOPF, INO.
HARVARD COLLEGE LIBRARY
GRATIS
FEB 12 1932
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA





WHISPERING DEAD
THE





PRELUDE
THERE a brilliantly lighted café in San-
tiago city sent forth an electric flare
into the glorious night of Chile's beau-
tiful capital, enhancing the purple and lilac glory
without, in a secluded corner amidst the shadows
flung by the glittering splendour of the fashionable
café there sat two men in earnest talk at a small
table well withdrawn, but not conspicuously iso-
lated from the clatter and chatter of the ranked
white tables where rank and fashion were fore-
gathered hard by.
Neither of the men, however, was concerned
with the beauty of the night. They spoke low,
as in confidence, in short sentences, long inter-
vals between-but their close converse was the
deceptive duel of two deadly enemies, close-locked
in stilly strife.
There was a skilful cynicism and wit in select-
ing such a public haunt of fashion for the discus-
sion that was afoot. No man who looked upon
them could have guessed what was passing be-
tween these two apparently intimate men of the
world. Both were of the world of fashion, mod-
ishly dressed, mundane of that somewhat smart
[7]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
raffish mundaneness that suggests the gambler, the
man about town, not innocent of debauch.
The fairer man of the two of medium height
and powerful build, was clearly at bay, seeking
mercy; the other, reckless, sinewy, graceful in ges-
ture as a leopard is graceful, was pressing with
merciless sneer and relentless will for a decision.
His gloved hand lay easily on the table, disci-
plined to hide sentiment; but his cultured voice,
pitched low, showed no tinge of pity. The two
men understood each other well; and there was no
pretence between them.
The slender darker dandy stared cold-eyed at
the other—a cynical smile upon his handsome lips.
"Oh, no, my friend—I meet you in no dark
cellars nor disguised. Oh, no!"
The fair man, who looked worried, tried to
catch the airy cynicism of the other; but he had
flushed a little hotly even as he spoke.
"As you will,” said he "but you will confess
that your letter read like that of a man who en-
joys melodrama.”
The dark fellow's keen eyes never left him, em-
barrassed him, burnt into his pride even as they
smiled at him.
"Truth always sounds melodramatic—to a
liar," he said.
"Are we here to quarrel ?” languidly asked the
fair fellow
[87


THE WHISPERING DEAD
The dark man's gloved fingers tapped the back
of the other's fat fingers which rested upon the
table.
“You daren't quarrel”—came the quick retort.
"High position has always the defect that a scan-
dal can kill it.”
The fair fellow bit his sensual underlip.
“You dub me a shameless gambler; but I am
not the only man who gambles in Chile,” he said.
"But the others gamble with gold-you with
paper promises.”
The fair man flushed a little.
“My honour "
The other laughed sharply..
“Honour does not gamble with slips of paper
against gold, and spend the gold.”
In the calm silence that the cynical lips allowed
to follow his truism, the fair fellow's blood red-
dened his face. At last he said hoarsely in his
heavy guttural Spanish:
"Where I come from, we allow no man to call
us thief and live.”
The dark fellow laughed, almost gaily.
“Where I come from, we are forbidden to duel
with thieves," he retorted; and his Spanish was
musical.
The other brooded awhile, the darker man's
keen eyes ever upon him. At last he said with
guttural solicitude:
[9]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"I do not see why we should bandy bitter
names. If our friendship is to end
The interruption came swift as lightning stroke
before the phrase's fuller shaping.
“Our friendship ends the day you pay—and I
thank my little twinkling stars that it will not be
longer than six more full moons.”
"I cannot pay- "
“You shall pay.”
"I mean in six months.”
“I mean in six months.”
“It means utter ruin to me.”
“If so; then it is ruin.”
"But-but- " the fair fellow stammered in
confusion. The other offered no help. "But-
I know no way.”
The cynical smile returned to the handsome
vicious lips of the dark dandy.
"Nonsense,” said he. “The man who has
played with paper chits against the gold of the
bloods of Chile, will find the money before six
moons are worn out. Don't be modest. Opera-
singers, who get a hundred pounds a night for
singing, are not given scraps of paper by you-
dancers do not dance for you for paper scrip—
if you can pay them you can pay me. You have
paid them long enough with my gold. It would
not read well in the evening papers.” He waved
his gloved hand towards a lad who ran by, cry-
[10]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
ing the news—"Think how the people would gloat
over it! You could not live a day longer in
Chile."
The fair-haired man lit a cigarette; and after
a long silence between them, he at last surrend-
ered.
"I understand. If I cannot find this large sum
of money in six months, I am to be made a social
outcast.”
The dark dandy shrugged his shoulders, rose,
and laughed airily.
"I knew you would understand,” said he.
“Good night.”
He stepped serenely into the flare of the bril-
liantly lighted café and was at once greeted from
several tables, as the other stepped from the dark
corner into the deeper darkness of the street and
quietly stole away.
(112


CHAPTER I
THE sun was shining gaily over the beau-
tiful capital of Chile as the German
Ambassador, Baron von Bodmann,
walked into the offices of his Embassy, followed
by his secretary Baron Welcheck.
The Chancellor, Beckert, seated at his desk,
looked up as the great man entered.
“Good morning, Herr Beckert,” said the Am-
bassador, condescending amiably to take notice
of the man, who, on hearing his chief's voice, im-
mediately left his typing and stood up, subservi-
ently, clicked his heels together, and, bowing low,
replied formally:
“Guten morgen, Excellency, I hope your Excel-
lency is quite well.” His hands were twitching
nervously on the desk, and he put them behind
him.
"I am," answered the Ambassador, and added
as though the Chilean climate were his footstool-
“on a day like this one could not feel otherwise;
but, Herr Beckert, you don't look very well your-
self—not at all well— " He stared at the livid
man.
[12]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
However, so trivial a matter as this fellow's
health did not worry His Excellency overmuch; so
he turned his back on Herr Beckert, Chancellor of
the Embassy and the Ambassador's right hand.
As suddenly he hesitated, halted, and fell a-brood-
ing. What the devil did he care what happened
to his Chancellor, as long as the fellow did his
work properly? If the Chancellor died, there
were, in the Kaiser's Empire, hundreds of mere
Chancellors awaiting the post and glad to get
it. He shrugged, made as though to step towards
his own room, hesitated again. But the devil take
the fellow! what was the matter with him? He
looked as if he had been seeing ghosts! However,
he had other things to think of than the bilious at-
tacks of his Staff. He hesitated again, changed
his mind--and moved towards the door of his
office.
Before His Excellency could step into his priv-
ate office, Beckert, who was nervous and harried
and looked really ill, exclaimed anxiously:
“I have again had news, sir; I have received
another anonymous letter saying that my life is at
an end, that, before this week is out, I shall be a
dead man. It has the Caleu postmark. It is
from those men. Your Excellency, I beseech you
to ask the Chilean Government, the police, or the
army authorities, to place a guard here and at my
house. I am certain those Caleu people we prose-
[13]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
cuted, and who were sent to prison, mean what
they say; I have seen suspicious individuals around
here off and on. This morning I caught sight of
them; and I dared not approach the door of the
Embassy offices until I saw the policeman coming
along. When he came in sight the men disap-
peared as if by magic. I am a weak man. I
have a weak heart. I could not defend myself
against a child. Your Excellency knows I am
not able to take care of myself. Please obtain
the necessary protection!”
The man was clearly scared; and he spoke with
passionate insistence.
His Excellency smiled contemptuously at the
pusillanimous individual before him. The am-
bassadorial, upturned, catlike moustaches nearly
touched His Excellency's eyelids, his fat rubicund
cheeks grew inflamed, his eyes became hard, his
upturned lips showed his white teeth, his appear-
ance was that of a tiger. With his clenched hand
held up menacingly towards the Chancellor, he
cried hoarsely:
"Coward! Do you imagine for one moment
that I am going to disgrace our country, disgrace
myself, disgrace Welcheck here, by asking protec-
tion for an insect like you? If you mention this
to any living soul here in Santiago, or here in
Chile—if you mention your fears and your cow-
ardice to any one-I shall dismiss you instantly,
[14]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
without consulting Berlin. To confess publicly
to all Chile that there exists a German coward,
never!”
He made a step forward as if to strike the
cowed man and stopped perplexed. He had been
talking to a coward, to an insect, yet when ad-
vancing that one step, what did he see in this man
Beckert's eyes? Yet-No, he must have been
mistaken; the look which he thought he had seen,
the look of a hyena at bay, had disappeared. No;
it had gone like a flash-there stood the coward,
trembling with fear. It must have been his
fancy.
"Excellency, I am no coward,” said Beckert
gently, but with dignity. “I can face death as
well as any of the bravest in the Fatherland. My
nerves are jarred; these anonymous letters have
destroyed my health through continuous watch-
fulness. Last night I had another epileptic fit;
and excitement and nervous strain render me an
easier prey to them.” He pulled himself to-
gether, drew himself up, and added: “You are
right, Excellency; do not ask for protection;
Deutschland über alles, and also the good name
of her brave sons.”
"That's the way to talk," said Von Welcheck,
patting the shoulder of the Chancellor: "you can-
not possibly believe those letters; it must be a
joke that is being played upon you."
[15]


CHAPTER II
ECKERT, left alone with Welcheck,
watched him under his bushy brows
through his glasses out of curious eyes that,
by the intentness of their gaze, would have caught
the attention of any man except this self-centred
dandy. A strained anxiety, uncanny by very rea-
son of the hideous self-discipline that the man was
putting upon himself, could not have been lost
even on Welcheck at most times. It was more
than pathetic. That the Chancellor was in a
state bordering upon absolute terror such as he had
vowed that the threat of assassination had put
upon him, there could be no doubt; but the mod-
ish Welcheck happened to have his eyes on other
matters, more or less feminine
At last Welcheck strolled out of the room to-
wards the street, well-groomed and pleased that
he was well-groomed. But as he reached the
door, he hesitated; what caused him to pause there
he himself probably could not have explained.
But he said, as if in explanation, that he would
be back in a few minutes; the door closed on him;
and he was gone.
[i]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
A look of relief passed over the Chancellor's
pallid face. He waited until the last brisk foot-
fall of the departing man pronounced the silence
of the room. Then glancing furtively about him,
he swiftly crossed the room on tiptoe; glanced
behind the large screen that stood across the huge
fireplace; tugged it more closely about the hearth,
and, in the doing, he nearly slipped to a fall, for
the floor thereby was wet as if it had lately been
washed. His face became livid. He seemed to
dread an enemy in every shadow. Beads of
perspiration broke out upon his pallid counte-
nance; he swept his handkerchief over his face as
he swiftly and stealthily stepped back to his desk.
Pulling his will together, he sat down at his
Adler typewriting machine and tapped out official
dispatches with feverish address. The business
steadied his nerves, and he was soon thoroughly
master of himself.
This man was clearly a man of action; action
cleared his brain; lack of action fretted his will.
As the click of the typewriter ceased, Beckert was
wholly himself again. A man now sat in his seat
who, with brows knitted and stubborn will, was
setting himself a stern path to follow, a marked
and definite design. The tensity of his deter-
mination blanched his cheek, but it was the white-
ness of a man about to act on a vital decision.
He glanced at the clock. But a quarter of an
[18]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
hour had gone by since Welcheck had left him
alone.
The Chancellor arose deliberately; and, brac-
ing his nerves, knocked at his chief's door, and
entering presented the dispatches to the Ambas-
sador for signature. When they were signed, the
Ambassador, without looking up, asked Beckert to
address them to the Foreign Office, Berlin, and to
give him the envelope. Beckert had moved be-
hind the Ambassador, and the evil look in his eyes
betrayed no love of the great man.
"I am going to the Post Office with Welcheck
and he can post them himself,” said His Excel-
lency. “I am leaving nothing to chance.” The
Chancellor's face blanched as he stepped back with
a baffled look, but the other did not notice it as he
went on: “These documents should be sent by
courier, but maybe it is better to send them by
post as the damned English may even waylay the
courier and steal them from him. By the way,"
he looked up, "where is that fellow, the porter,
Tapia? I did not see him at the door when I
came in."
Beckert steadied his voice and answered indif-
ferently:
"I sent him to the Post Office to get some
stamps just before you came, sir; he should be back
by now.”
Beckert started as Welcheck came into the
[19]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
room, hat in hand, gloves and stick, quite the
dandy. "In your state of nerves," said Wel-
check, "you should have that fellow Tapia by
you; he is a sturdy chap and faithful; being an
old soldier he can handle a sabre or stick and
give you ample protection if necessary." He
turned to the Ambassador: “Excellency, it is
eleven twenty-five, and if you want to go to the
Post Office before lunch, I might suggest we go
now."
"I am ready,” said His Excellency, rising, and
following Welcheck, who stepped briskly towards
the hat-rack, handed His Excellency his hat,
gloves, and stick; opened the door to allow him to
pass, bowing slightly as his chief stepped forth
after telling Beckert that he would be back about
three o'clock when work would be resumed. Wel-
check closed the door and followed the great man
into the street. Could he have looked into the
room he would have seen a black scowl on the
subservient Chancellor's face that would have
caused him wonder.
The Embassy offices of the Chilean capital were
situated in the Calle Nataniel leading from the
world-famed Alameda, the beautiful wide avenue
which runs from east to west of Santiago, with
its broad sidewalks, its roadways on either side
crowded with traffic, and in the centre the ample
[20]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
walk for pedestrians lined by secular trees, which
border the picturesque rivulets that run on each
side of the promenade.
Under the shade of these gigantic trees that met
overhead, His Excellency paused before the won-
derful vista of the snow-capped Andes.
"What a climate!” he exclaimed, “nearly chilly
in the shade on a midsummer day! Who would
believe that in South America one could be cool
in summer? But, my dear Baron, these Andes
are the refrigerating plant for the heat in the
atmosphere and for the blood of the Chileans.”
After which very original epigram he smiled con-
ceitedly.
"The blood of the Chileans is cold, but-suf-
fering from what they may believe an injustice
it boils,” said Welcheck; and added, “I don't
know, Excellency, what to think about the threats
poor Beckert has received. They have undoubt-
edly made an impression on him. I have often
wondered if the Compadres' of those men in
prison would dare to assault a member of our Em-
bassy. Beckert said this morning that he had
seen suspicious persons about, and he was undoubt-
edly in a frightened and nervous condition. I
told him I thought it was a joke, but if he really
saw those persons it may turn into a very tragic
joke.”
They walked on in silence awhile, oppressed
[21]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
by a feeling of uneasiness; they both knew the
complications that would arise if anything hap-
pened to Beckert. German dignity would de-
mand the heaviest penalty for the guilty ones.
Revenge being the motive of such a crime, doubts
would be cast on the imprisonments, which gave
cause to it. Were the German Embassy officials
quite correct, quite just in the case? Had they
not acted a little too harshly, demanding heavier
penalties than were deserved? Would the Chil-
ean people sympathize with their countrymen,
who, although of the lower classes, carried out the
vendetta?
What impression would a crime in the Embassy
cause at the Foreign Office in Berlin? No crime
is committed without a motive. Had the officials
at the Embassy given a motive? If a motive had
been given His Excellency thought he would be
blamed, if a motive had been given Baron von
Welcheck thought he would be blamed. It was
their duty to maintain the most cordial relations
with all and everyone. To be liked, to be thought
"simpaticos,” to please every one, to gain each and
everybody's confidence; had they failed?
"I am not taking this matter seriously,” thought
His Excellency aloud.
"Nor I," echoed Welcheck.
They had walked towards the east, towards
the Cordillera's snow-capped peaks. They
[22]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
turned to the left and walked up the Calle
Ahumada, where, regardless of their diplomatic
position and their titled personalities, they were
jostled by the crowds coming out of the shops and
the employers and employed hurrying home for
lunch.
As they neared the Post Office, each steeped in
his own thoughts, they were startled by the twelve
o'clock gun, fired at midday, which has startled the
natives since the time of the Spanish occupation.
A few minutes later the dispatches had been
stamped, registered and posted.
As they walked out of the imposing Post Office
building, His Excellency turned towards Wel-
check:
"Come to lunch with me," said he and then
we can go back to the Embassy together. The
baroness will be pleased to see you. You young
fellows are always after the pretty girls when not
at the Club. You have no time to spare on an old
couple like us, except diplomatic functions, when
you are obliged to come.” He laughed sadly.
Baron Welcheck's conscience pricked him. He
was fond of his chief, he was the “enfant gâte” of
the Ambassador. All the work was done by Bec-
kert; Von Welcheck was the society butterfly; he
never had time for private calls on the old pair.
He felt guilty, and forthwith accepted the invita-
tion with seeming alacrity.
[23]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
His Excellency hailed a cab, and stepped in,
followed by the young baron.
They had not driven three hundred yards when
the traffic was stopped at a corner by a policeman,
as there flashed by them two fire-engines, full
speed, the horses' hoofs rattling furiously on the
pavement from which flew showers of sparks, the
firemen holding on to their seats as the huge
engines bumped along the uneven pavement.
"Another fire," quoted His Excellency, "an-
other bad balance sheet! just think of it on the
5th of February! The auditors were late," al-
luding to the enormous increase in fires during
the fortnight preceding the New Year, and the
one following it. “The insurance companies
here should set fire to themselves; there would
then be no more fires.”
A policeman lowered his hand and the blocked
traffic resumed its course.
[24]


CHAPTER III
T EN minutes later the Ambassador and
Welcheck arrived at the Ambassador's
house. They had hardly time to get out
and reach the front door, when it was opened by
the butler-a splendid figure in livery and knee
breeches of red velvet, coarse white cotton stock-
ings and buckled shoes.
He looked at first glance a magnificent German
flunkey, six feet high, fair, blue-eyed and square-
headed. You could not fail to admire the splen-
did physique of the man; it attracted one; but at
a second glance one saw that his breeches were
soiled with grease, showing dark spots, his stock-
ings were darned in several places, his shoes had,
from ancient comradeship, moulded themselves to
his feet and now showed up all the defects and
natural deformities thereof.
Baron Welcheck blushed at the sight that his
chief's butler presented. He would have given
fifty pounds willingly to have this man dressed
as he should be dressed; etiquette forbade him.
How could a subaltern criticise his chief's love for
cheap ostentation which was the laughing stock
[25]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
of Santiago Society? At the Club Welcheck
had been chaffed about it by other diplomats.
At parties and public functions the young girls
teased him about the splendid butler.
When his chief gave a reception which was
only once a year on the Kaiser's birthday and
he had perforce to be present to receive the guests,
Welcheck could see the smile on their faces when
they glanced at the butler with his white piqué
four-in-hand tie and celluloid collar. These
were moments of great trial. At times he wished
the man would die of apoplexy; at others he
would laugh outright and joke with the guests
about it, winking his eye towards the butler.
On this occasion Welcheck took his eyes away
from him impatiently, and followed his chief
into the morning room, where the baroness was
sitting by a window darning His Excellency's
socks, aided by a gold-rimmed pair of spectacles.
"Guten Morgen, Frau Excellenze," said von
Welcheck, as he came up to her, clicked his heels
together, and bowed low, kissing the hand ex-
tended to him in greeting.
"Ach, Welcheck, what a pleasant surprise!
Aber lieber,” turning to her husband, “why did
you not tell me the dear boy was coming to
lunch ?” Then looking at His Excellency's socks
in her hands—“Ach Gott! look! he finds me
[26]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
mending your socks! Nein du lieber, it is not
right, besides being old-fashioned; what will
Welcheck think of me in this prosaic occupation?
but you are late-Otto announced lunch some
time ago, and you must be hungry. I will ring
for him to serve at once.”
She had hardly reached the bell when Otto's
voice was heard: “Excellenze, lunch is ready."
"I am glad you came today, Welcheck, we have
a real German lunch-Bismarck herrings, lovely
ones—Frankfurter sausages with sauerkraut, and
Arme Ritter with golden syrup.”
She led the way towards the dining-room, fol.
lowed by Welcheck and Baron von Bodmann,
who insisted that whilst in his own house his
young guest should precede him.
They crossed the spacious hall, entered the din-
ing-room, and sat down to the “real German
lunch.”
They had scarcely tasted the Bismarck herrings,
when they were disturbed by the ringing of the
telephone bell in the next room, which was the
Ambassador's private study.
The butler imperturbably continued his duties,
pouring out the wine. It was the footman's day
out; it was not the butler's duty to attend to the
telephone. The baroness, with the born natural
curiosity of women, began to fidget and wished
[27]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
she knew what the message on the telephone could
be—was it for her? or was it some dry, stupid,
uninteresting doubt of Beckert's about some im-
portant dispatches?
The bell went on ringing merrily. It had be-
gun intermittently, now it was continuous.
Baron von Bodmann did not look pleased he also
began to fidget. It was beginning to jar on their
nerves. They both looked at each other and then
at the young baron.
Frau Excellenze thought it was very unfortun-
ate that the footman was out. The baron won-
dered why the footman did not answer the in-
fernal instrument; and Welcheck, having no re-
sponsibility, was amused at the embarrassment of
his host and hostess. The more they fidgeted the
more his eyes sparkled at the joke; he did not
dare to laugh. The bell rang on furiously. As
everybody was silent it seemed to grow louder
and louder in their ears. The butler's silent foot-
steps were ghostly; no sound could be heard ex-
cept that awful bell.
The situation became ridiculous in the extreme.
There sat three people hypnotised by a telephone
bell without saying a word.
Baron von Bodmann's nerves could stand it no
longer.
"Where is the footman, and why does he not
answer that telephone ?” he exclaimed angrily,
[28]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
turning to the baroness; and, without waiting for
an answer, he added irritably:
“Otto, go at once and stop that noise.”
Otto gently put down some plates he was about
to place on the table, and with a look of “it isn't
my duty” slowly directed his steps towards the ad-
joining room. When he opened the door the
sound of the bell furiously ringing became even
louder. At last the deliberate man took up the
receiver, and at the same time three sighs of con-
tentment, as nerves were relaxed, escaped upon
the sudden silence.
“Telephones are very useful indeed,” ex-
claimed the baroness, "but at times (specially
when the footman is out, she thought) they are
awful nuisances."
"Still,” said the baron, “we are in the wonder-
ful age of wonderful inventions, what should
we do without them?”
Otto, through the open door, could be heard
exclaiming, “No, ja, so unmöglich—impossible.”
Suddenly he ran into the dining-room, his face
and manner betraying the most intense excite-
ment, and burst forth:
"Excellenze! Excellenze! Frau Excellenze!
Herr Baron!” In his agitation he could not find
words to convey the news.
"Well, what is it?" shouted His Excellency
angrily, “can't you speak?"
[29]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Excellenze, they say the Embassy Offices are
on fire; the house is destroyed; nothing remains
of the building.”
“ Are you mad?” exclaimed Baron Welcheck,
who lives in a flat adjoining the Embassy Offices.
“Excellenze, allow me to rise and verify this."
"Go, go quickly; this idiot must have been mis-
taken.” The Ambassador turned and glared at
the butler angrily.
Welcheck instantly rose and, stepping briskly
towards the Ambassador's room, made for the tele-
phone; His Excellency and the baroness rose and
followed him slowly, the butler bringing up the
rear. This worthy with a revulsion of bitterness
on being called an idiot was hoping to heavens
that even the last atom of the buildings would
be found to have been burnt to a cinder. That
at least would prove that he was not an idiot.
Welcheck took up the receiver and waited.
No answer. He banged the receiver with his
left hand several times and waited.
“This is enough to drive one mad,” he said.
“First it rings worse than an alarm clock, now
nothing, no answer. Heavens! Excellency, shall
we send Otto for a cab and go at once? All
documents may not be burnt, maybe there is no
fire.” He banged and banged on the receiver.
No answer. “Donnerwetter! will they never an-
swer?"
[30]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Otto, go for a cab at once, as you are; hurry,
hurry!" commanded His Excellency.
Otto forgot his overdressed ease and actually
ran off.
The idea of half-burnt but more or less legible
secret documents being at the mercy of a curious
crowd was not relished by His Excellency. Even
if the fire were not at the Embassy but in adjoin-
ing houses the firemen would of a certainty break
into the Embassy in order to attack the fire from
there.
"I shall go mad,” said Welcheck, his eyes dart-
ing furious looks at the telephone. He looked as
if he were going to break the instrument with his
fists. He felt like it.
"Hallo! hallo! you rang up to say the German
Embassy Offices were on fire, is it so ?”
“What number did you say ? came the cack-
ling answer, passionless and official and unhur-
ried.
Welcheck was getting angry, really angry.
"You rang up to say the German Embassy
Offices were on fire. I am the Secretary of the
Embassy, Baron Welcheck. Tell me quickly if
it is true ?"
The instrument answered deliberately.
“You are connected with the Central Telephone
Office. What number do you want? I can't
wait here, there are others waiting for calls.”
[31]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
e
o
"Put me on to the Fire Department, quickly,
please.”
“There you are, Fire Department 409 Ala-
meda; put it down, please, for next time.”
Welcheck did not put it down.
“Hallo!” he called impatiently. "Is that the
Fire Department?''
The telephone coughed back in another key:
“Yes.”
“This is the German Embassy. They tell us
that there is a fire at the Embassy Offices. Is that
so?"
“Don't know," came the wheezing answer, and
added dispassionately—“there is a big fire in Dis-
trict 14."
"Is Calle Nataniel in District 14?” asked Wel-
check.
“Yes; the fire is in Calle Nataniel.”
Without another word Welcheck put down the
receiver and turned excitedly to His Excellency:
“The fire is in Calle Nataniel district,” he said.
“It may be in the Embassy, or in the houses ad-
joining. Quick! let's get into a cab, and go
there ..."
That instant Otto burst into the room, the per-
spiration pouring down his face. He had run full
speed, eighty yards, and secured a cab. He was
out of breath and said, panting, “Excellency, the
cab is at the door, you can see immense clouds of
[32]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
smoke in the direction of the Offices” (Ach,
thought he, who is the idiot now? and who ex-
aggerating?), “the flames can be seen leaping
towards the sky.”
His Excellency and Welcheck, followed by the
agitated baroness, hurried into the hall, where
Otto already held their hats and sticks. They
seized them from his hands..
The baroness clung to His Excellency's arm:
“Do not go too near, mein lieber; do nothing
rash. Do not expose yourself to any danger; be
careful, please, won't you, darling? Welcheck,
you will take care of him, won't you? He is so
rash.”
His Excellency responded to the affectionate
words by running down the steps with “Yes, yes,”
as Welcheck followed exclaiming, “Yes, Baroness,
an
yes.”
They leaped into the carriage, Welcheck shout-
ing out to the driver:
“Calle Nataniel, quick! drive as hard as you
can; there's a good tip; hurry up!”
[33]


CHAPTER IV
\HE driver, who had noticed the coat of
arms over the doorway, after the first
apparition of the wonderful butler in
red velvet breeches who came running like a
madman for him, thought it must be a matter of
life and death. Besides, there was a good tip.
He plied his whip and cried to his horses, which
went away at a gallop.
His fares wanted quick driving; well they
would get it; and if the tip were in proportion
to speed his tip would be a fine one: It was the
luncheon hour and there was consequently no
traffic to speak of. His team of native Chilean
horses, small, sinewy, direct descendants of the
pure Arab, liked excitement. The coachman's
words—and at times shrieks-accompanied by the
crack of the whip, which, more for display than
punishment, was whizzing over their backs, crack-
ing without touching them, lent encouragement
to their galloping as they careered along the
streets.
At a corner one of the wheels caught the kerb
and for a moment they were nearly over. No,
[34]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
the carriage righted itself and plunged back on
to the four racing wheels; but if the pace continued
an accident was a deadly certainty. Welcheck,
without asking for His Excellency's views, put his
head out of the window, and yelled at the man:
"Not so fast, please!”
The coachman, without the least respect for
his fares nerves, looked back over his shoulder
without abating his speed in the least:
“No hay cuiado, patron” (“There is no danger,
master”), he cried.
“Don't look back! mind where you are going!”
called Welcheck; “not so fast!"
The coachman smiled. “Go fast! hurry!
quick! big tips if you hurry!” He shrugged his
shoulders—and muttered in puzzled mood: “You
go quick, they get frightened and want to go
slow—these damned foreigners never know what
they want. Now, if I go slow I won't get any
tip. What the devil am I to do?"
During this soliloquy the horses had somewhat
moderated their speed, and the anxious occupants
seated within the carriage could see people run-
ning in the direction of the fire. Some were run-
ning in the middle of the street, and this further
obliged the horses to slow down.
"In two minutes we are there,” said Welcheck.
"I hope the fire is not at the office. The
archive is not in a fireproof room, it will be an
[35]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
check crashed down into what had been the back
part of the offices two hours before.
Millions of sparks, live cinders, and smoke burst
upwards a hundred feet high. The crowd gave
forth a rumbling roaring sound of admiration at
the sight; then came shrieks, curses—the glowing
embers were falling on those whom curiosity had
made over-bold and so had approached too near.
The cordon of police rushed backwards in close
formation towards the crowds, pushing them back
and away from the fiery furnace—they had seen
the danger, and were themselves smarting from
the red-hot missiles belched forth by the fire.
The crowd in their turn were fiercely fighting to
retreat, driven back by the burning cinders that
fell, scorching their clothes, and stinging their
necks and faces and hands. The dense crowd be-
hind gave way to the intenseness of the back-
ward pressure.
Spectators nearest the conflagration were
screaming with pain at the burns received. Be-
fore the rain of sparks their clothes were become
so tinder dry, and hot to burning, from the fur-
nace glow of the tremendous heat of the fire, that
in some cases the agonized people had caught fire
and the poor victims had actually gone mad with
pain. A fireman who stood close by, and who
kept pouring water over his clothes, so as to save
himself from the shower of dangerous cinders that
[37]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
rained about him, seeing the frightful situation
of those in front of the crowd, turned the hose
full on them. A score went down, knocked over
by the force of the water, but the fall was grate-
fully received by such as were dreading being
burnt alive.
Von Bodmann and Welcheck who were in the
middle of the crowd, but not far enough away to
escape the pressure, were nearly flung off their
feet. They joined forces with those who were
slowly retreating, and, after a few minutes' hard
struggle, found themselves comparatively free
from the crowd.
Seeing a police officer on horseback they made
their way to him.
"Could you tell us what time the fire started?''
asked Welcheck.
“At four minutes to twelve we got the alarm.”
Both His Excellency and Baron Welcheck tried
to pull out their watches to see how long the fire
had lasted, but the watches were gone.
"My watch has been stolen!" they both ex-
claimed in a breath. They felt for their pocket-
books; and a blank look of amazement told the
police officer that these were gone also.
The officer smiled at their consternation.
"Crowds like this are very dangerous,” he said.
"It is next to impossible to catch a pickpocket in
the act over there.” He pointed to the vast mass
[38]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
of people. "You should not have gone so close.
Please send details of pocket-books, and the num-
bers of your watches, to Headquarters; and we
shall look for them.”
The contents of pocket-books were easy enough,
but the numbers of their watches! they never
knew watches had numbers.
“Would a description of the watches do ?”
asked Welcheck.
“Yes.”
"Where did the fire start ?"
“At the Embassy Offices.”
"That is impossible," exclaimed von Bodmann.
“We were there until eleven-thirty and the Chan-
cellor Herr Beckert must have left shortly after,
about midday. No! Mr. Officer, it could not
have started at the Embassy Offices.”
“I beg your pardon, sir; I do not know who
you are, but I will not allow you to contradict me.
I say, and I repeat, that the fire broke out at the
Embassy Offices. The policeman on the beat
called me up on the telephone and gave the alarm.
I was with the first to arrive, and the fire started
where I said. The door was locked; we could not
get in; and when the fireman arrived the whole
place was in flames, burning like an inferno."
"If it were burning as you say, it must have
started somewhere else. What time did you
arrive here?”'
[39]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“To be precise, three minutes after the midday
gun. I have it in my report.”
"Herr Beckert must have left shortly before
midday, never before twenty minutes to twelve;
is it possible for a fire to spread as you say in
twenty-three minutes ?”
"I have been to many fires and this one must
have been burning for at least an hour. It must
have begun at about eleven o'clock or else- "
The officer's face clouded at the thought. ...
Then he addressed the two gentlemen.
"Can you tell me who you are? you seem very
interested in the matter.” Then nodding to two
plain-clothes policemen who stood at a short dis-
tance he looked fixedly at the two diplomats, con-
tinuing, “You have just said that you were there
at eleven-thirty.”
"Yes,” answered von Bodmann, "we were there
at eleven-thirty. I am His Imperial Majesty the
German Emperor's Ambassador, and this gentle-
man is Baron Welcheck, my Secretary."
"Have you a card?''
"No."
"Have you any documents to prove what you
say?"
"No."
"I am sorry, gentlemen, but you will have to
prove your identity. You will please remain
where you are whilst I go for the chief who is
[40]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
over there," pointing towards the fire. “He will
recognize you; will you kindly wait here?”
"How can we have a card or documents when
you know they were stolen from us just now?
Do you mean to say we are under arrest? Re-
member I am the German Ambassador; and no
one can arrest me or my staff. Enough of this
nonsense! Welcheck, let us go!"
The officer moved his horse a trifle, impercep-
tibly, barring their way.
“Gentlemen, please be reasonable. You have
confessed to being at the scene of the fire just
before it started. You cannot prove your iden-
tity. I do not arrest you. I do not detain you.
I only ask you to kindly oblige me by waiting
here two minutes, only two minutes."
They were two typical Germans in whom the
inborn sense of discipline, the respect for uniforms
and for authority had become second nature.
They did not resent the police officer's insinua-
tions as much as diplomats of other nations would
have done, and after a mute consultation they
decided to comply with the police officer's request,
and to wait for the Chief of Police to come and
identify them.
[41]


CHAPTER V
THE Ambassador looked at the officer's
retreating figure with growing anger in
his eyes. Welcheck, remembering the
Frau Baroness's parting injunctions, and noting
the growing anger in his chief's eyes laughed
quietly, and smiling said:
"Excellenze, this is an experience you have
never had before; it is the best joke I have had
for a long time! you and I are under arrest for
burning our own property and not a penny
insurance money to come. Ha, ha!” and, laugh-
ing loudly at the thought, he added, “Excellenze,
you will spend the night in prison! Ha, ha! I
will act your valet if they put us together; I am
sure it would do us no harm. It will be a novel
experience. We would be the heroes of the hour.
How the papers would exploit the joke! it is
magnificent. I am beginning to regret that our
polite and diplomatic officer did not arrest us at
once. Heavens! it would have taken my mind
off my dear little flat and all its belongings; it
was really charming. If those walls could speak
they would have to blush at so doing.” Wel-
check's tongue ceased as he found the Ambassa-
[42]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
dor in no mood for raillery; but his thoughts ran
on, as he gazed at the gap where his flat had once
been. “Ach!!” thought he, “Carmencita, never
again will that roof shelter our love. Those hours
spent with you among my beautiful knicknacks
are passed.” He sighed and strolled a few steps
from his chief, who looked admiringly at the
young man, who could bear with a light jest the
loss of all his treasures and personal belongings.
Welcheck, deep in thought, regretting his loss,
continued his walk. He had not gone ten yards
when he found he had a companion. He looked
at the man, thinking it must be a friend of his
coming to condole with him over his loss, but his
surprise was great when he realized that he had
never met the man before. He stopped short
and retraced his steps towards von Bodmann.
The man did not follow him. As he came up to
von Bodmann he said:
"We are as much under arrest as though be-
hind steel bars. That man,” looking towards his
late companion, "is a detective. I am shadowed;
there is my jailer; they are polite and tactful,
but it is disagreeable. It is an experience we
have never had before; enjoy it, Excellenze, we
shall never have another like it.”
As he finished there came towards them the
Officer of Police, accompanied by the Chief of
Police-a little man with a white pointed beard;
[43]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
his soft felt hat shaded piercing eyes, and the
light played about an aquiline nose and square
jaw.
The thought occurred to both the Germans,
were they really going to be arrested? The an-
swer came almost as swiftly from the Chief of
Police. The little man stepped up, having recog-
nized them, and took off his hat to the diplomats.
“Good afternoon, Excellency," he said.
“Good afternoon, Baron Welcheck! What a
calamity! What a misfortune this fire is! It
must be a great loss to you. I hope you have a
strong room and a good safe. Embassy docu-
ments are not easily replaced. I am here at your
service; and I must really congratulate my subal-
tern,” pointing to the police officer, “for asking
you to wait here; you have all the police force
at your disposal. We may even now be able to
save something. It is fortunate you waited, as
I would like you to appoint someone to witness
the digging up of the debris. Papers, Excellency,
when closely packed, have been known to stand
terrific heat. We would like you to appoint an
agent, and would not consider it a usurpation of
our prerogatives." He laughed pleasantly, and
added: “Would you like to come nearer, the heat
has died down ?"
"I am afraid we cannot approach much nearer,"
said the Ambassador.
[44]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“But, Excellenze," said Welcheck, "why not?
we cannot lose our watches and pocket-books
twice.” He laughed good-naturedly and looked
at the Chief of Police.
"My police are excellent," the Chief of Police
smiled, "there are no better in the world; the
trouble is there are so many innocents abroad;
still,” he added seriously, "you may rest assured
your watches at least are as safe as in your own
pockets. Just imagine you have lent them for
a week, you will have them back within that time.
As for the pocket-books—that is another matter,
The pocket-book itself is worthless to the thief,
it is generally put into the fire, but the contents
are very much appreciated; we shall try and
recover them, but we can promise nothing. ...
Well," continued the chief, “what are your
Excellency's wishes? Shall we approach the fire?
But I must tell you that you will see nothing
at all except ruins and smoke.”
"No," said Von Bodmann, “it is no use; how
long will it be before the offices can be ap-
proached ? before salvage work can be begun?”
"It is difficult to say," the chief answered;
"what think you, Rojas?”
The subaltern was taken unawares. He did
not dream his chief would consult him. He stood
at attention, thought for a moment, and said:
"I think by about eight o'clock in the evening,
[45]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
if all the engines now working continue pouring
water on the debris.”
The chief smiled, satisfied at the answer; he
had made the same calculation himself.
“Excellency,” he said, "you may take it that
work will be begun at eight o'clock.”
The Ambassador suddenly came to a decision:
“Do you know Herr Beckert, Chief ?'
“It is part of my duty to know everyone."
"I shall send him here to act for the Embassy.
I wonder where he is? Where could we find
him?"
"He must be amongst the crowd somewhere."
The Chief of Police turned to his lieutenant:
“Rojas, do you know Herr Beckert, the Chan-
cellor?”
“Yes, sir, he lives in my beat.”
“Well, go and find him amongst the crowd.”
“Yes, sir,”
“Come and report to me within a quarter of an
hour if you cannot find him.”
As the Chief of Police dismissed the other on
his errand, he turned towards His Excellency, and
asked:
"Can we do anything else for you?”
“Nothing, thank you, yet; but if you will
telephone to my house as soon as you find Beckert,
I would be obliged; and thanks again for your
courtesy."
[46]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Von Bodmann shook hands with the Chief, and,
turning to Welcheck, he said sharply:
“Come, Welcheck, we have work before us.”
Welcheck waved good-bye to the Chief of
Police. He had promised himself a parting shaft
at him for their semi-arrest, but all these petty
schemes of vengeance had vanished—the cour-
teous, dignified, and pleasant attitude of the man
had dispelled them, their leave-taking was cordial.
"Excellency,” said Welcheck, when they were
out of hearing, “that man is clever; he is a born
diplomat, he turned our arrest into a favour on the
part of the officer.”
“Ach, I had forgotten all about it; we have
other things to think of. We must cable Berlin
about this. Cable Buenos Ayres for another code
book; if they have one to spare at the Embassy
there, very well, if not we must cable Berlin.”
"In that case,” said Welcheck, "four weeks at
least must pass before it arrives.”
“Maybe ours was put away in the safe; Beckert
is so careful.” But the Ambassador spoke
uneasily.
Welcheck did not comfort him:
“All Beckert's care could not save the con-
tents in that safe, it was at least forty years old.
No; all is destroyed. Still,” added Welcheck
with the optimism of youth, "we must not de-
spair.”
[47]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"You do not know what you are saying, my
young friend.”
“What am I to do?” said Welcheck despond-
ingly, seeing his chief's grave face, and thinking
of himself. “If everything is burnt I have noth-
ing, not even a change of clothing, not even a
watch. I have,” feeling in his pockets, "exactly
sixty cents."
"You have,” said His Excellency, "everything;
you have everything in that you have credit;
don't bother about that. Go to an hotel to-night;
buy a change of clothing; the rest you will get
later on.”
[48]


CHAPTER VI
HE person for whom on this memorable
day, the 5th of February, 1908, this
Chancellor for whom the German Am-
bassador and Señor Castor, the Chief of the Secret
Police, were making such keen search, was born
in Nuremburg in 1870.
His full name was Wilhelm Rudolph Beckert.
He had gone to the University of Nuremburg,
reading law. He had graduated with honours.
He was only twenty-one years of age when
there fell out of the blue a bolt which obliged him
to leave Germany.
One evening he and several other young lawyers,
were sitting in the "Bier Halle.” They had all
imbibed freely. Beckert was young, and, like
most youth when carousing, was indiscreet. He
loudly proclaimed to his friends that the lovely
young wife of Lieutenant Franz Hofmeyer had
fallen an easy prey to his seductive powers. He
was beginning to describe her wonderful charms
when a violent blow knocked him half senseless
on the floor. Lieutenant Franz Hofmeyer, un-
known to young Beckert, had been sitting at the
next table.
[49]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
duellists, stern outomn busine
Half an hour after, the duel was arranged for
the next break of day.
As the rising sun showed its first pale days, the
duellists faced each other in the woods that lie
in the eastern outskirts of Nuremburg.
In such a solemn business, as a swordsman,
Wilhelm R. Beckert stood no chance; but luck
was with him he did not know how he did it,
perhaps his very lack of skill, but he struck out
and there at his feet lay Lieutenant Franz Hof-
meyer of the Prussian Guard, dead. He had run
his sword clean through the Guardsman's heart.
In Germany an officer may kill a civilian in a
duel; God help the civilian who kills an officer!
That same morning Beckert fled from his coun-
try, and after extensive travelling for about a
year found himself in Chile. He liked it and
stayed there, waiting for his pardon. His father
and uncle had employed the best lawyers to ob-
tain it; and after thirteen years it had been
granted. In the meantime both his uncle Leo-
pold and his father had died.
After having led an adventurous life and squan-
dered first the fortune that his uncle Rudolf had
left him, and then gone through his father's,
Beckert, being well connected, had obtained ad-
mittance into the diplomatic service.
As we have seen, he was now Chancellor of the
Embassy. He was an ambitious man; he worked
[507


THE WHISPERING DEAD
launched by the Kaiser, he wore a long moustache
combed upwards. His mouth was small, his lips
thin and closely drawn together. His jaw was
large and square, which still more pronounced the
look of determination.
Although he was in the diplomatic service, he
had not been able to introduce himself to Chilean
Society. The reason for this was that he had,
three years before, married Natalia Lopez, a
charming, beautiful girl. Unfortunately for her,
she had been on the stage, had sung, had danced,
had exposed to view her beautiful bodily charms
to the gallery for one shilling, for a better and
closer inspection price in proportion. Chilean
Select Society would not admit public dancers.
Natalia, being beyond the pale of society, in
her isolation was still if possible more in love with
her husband.
This afternoon of the great fire she was sitting
at the piano, most charmingly attired in a mauve
crêpe de chine dress, singing a sad Chilean love-
song. All her thoughts were centered on her hus-
band, her beautiful breast heaved with a sigh as
she gave forth the last sad lamenting note. She
had an intangible vague idea that his love was
waning.
A servant came in to say that the Embassy
[52]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
wanted to speak to her husband on the telephone.
She rose immediately to answer the call.
“Hallo!” said she, taking up the receiver.
“I am the butler of the Embassy," said a voice,
“can I speak to Herr Beckert?":
"Herr Beckert is out.”
“Do you know where he is ?”
"He must be at the Embassy Offices.”
“He can't be there, the offices have been burnt
down to the ground.”
“Dios mio,” she exclaimed, “are you sure?!!
"Oh, yes.”
“ Virgen Santisima! He did not lunch here.
can anything have happened to my husband?”
"Oh! no, madame, he is safe, right enough;
he must be in the crowd watching the fire.”
[53]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
five hours to get here. He should have been here
at the latest at three; he should at least have
been at the office at that hour. If he went there
at that time, he has since had two hours to come
here.”
"Maybe he saw us in the crowd and lost sight
of us; he may think we are still there, and be
looking for us.”
"I am afraid something must have happened
to him, Welcheck; telephone to the police, to our
friend Castor; ask to speak to him; tell him our
fears. Beckert is not the man to stay away when
work is to be done. Telephone at once! Stay!
tell Castor he has not been to his own home to
lunch, and his wife does not know his where-
abouts.”
Welcheck went to the telephone.
His Excellency continued to pace the room,
deep in thought. Could Beckert's fears have been
realized? Had the friends or "compadres” of
the men from Caleu carried out their threat?
Had anything happened to Beckert? All these
questions and many others presented themselves
to him in a whirl. Everyone knew by this time,
half-past five o'clock, that the Embassy Offices
had been demolished by fire. Beckert must have
known about it; was he there when it broke out?
When did he leave the office? Where had he
lunched? Why did he not arrive?
[55]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
In the midst of all these doubts Welcheck re-
turned.
"Excellency! Señor Castor says Beckert is not
to be found amongst the crowd. I gave him your
message that he had not lunched at home. Castor
has sent messages to all the clubs to find out if
he is in any one them. He insinuates—insinuates
only—that Beckert may have lunched with a lady
-Miss or Mrs. Mercedes Pacheco, I did not quite
catch it. Castor says he knows that Beckert visits
this lady occasionally, and that if he did go to
lunch there today and she had made up her mind
to keep him there, Beckert would have been no
human being if he had resisted her charms and
left. He has sent a messenger to the lady's house,
and will telephone to us as soon as he has news.”
“ Dummheiten!” said His Excellency, “Castor
does not know Beckert. A stupid supposition.
Beckert is not given that way; well, we must
wait; in the meantime let us work.”
Welcheck smiled ironically; but said nothing.
He took up a pen, and settled to work.
His Excellency continued pacing the room,
Welcheck writing to dictation. Telegrams were
their principal occupation.
In the midst of this work Castor rang up to say
he had not been able to locate Beckert.
They continued work until shortly after seven,
when His Excellency instructed Welcheck to go
[56]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
and have some dinner, and immediately afterwards
to return to the scene of the fire.
"The work of excavation will by then have be-
gun, Welcheck. You must be present. All the
archives may not be burnt; you must secure any
unburnt papers; and deposit them in the safe of
the German Club which is close by. Get the key
of the safe from the secretary Report to me
what papers you find. I shall probably be up
all night; I have still great work to do, so come
at any time.”
"Yes, Excellenze.”
“Ask Castor to try and place his hands on
Beckert. Ach! this man! I shall certainly dis-
miss him.” He clenched his hands in anger.
“Verdampter Kerl!”
[57]


CHAPTER VIII
ELCHECK left, but instead of going
to the German Club as ordered by His
Excellency, he went to the Anexo A of
the Oddo Hotel, where he secured a room for the
night. He then stopped at a haberdasher's and
purchased the necessary linen and pyjamas to keep
him going for two or three days; and thereafter
directed his steps to the Club, where he passed for
rudeness itself, not answering any of the ques-
tions his friends put to him. He justified him-
self, thinking that he must fulfil his duty, and be
at the scene of the fire at the earliest possible mo-
ment.
As he slipped stealthily up the grand old ma-
hogany staircase of the Club, he saw the maître
d'hôtel standing on the landing which leads into
the magnificent dining-room.
“Buenas noches, Señor Baron," saluted the
maître d'hôtel, bowing to Welcheck.
“Buenas noches, Alfredo, I want something to
eat and to be served as quickly as you can arrange
it.”
"Señor Baron, shall I make the menu myself ?''
[58]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Very well, Alfredo; but, mind you, two
courses only, quickly; also coffee and a good
cigar.”
The maître accompanied Baron Welcheck to a
table, followed by two liveried waiters, one of
them helping the Baron to his seat, the other in
the meantime taking the slip of paper which
Alfredo had written out and which contained in-
structions for the Baron's dinner.
The maître, with natural curiosity, lingered be-
side the table, fingering the wine-list. At last
said he:
“May I offer the Señor Baron my sympathy?
I hear his home has been burnt as well as the
Embassy. There was a rumour that His Excel-
lency and all the staff had been burnt at first; it
is really lucky that you were able to escape over
the roofs of the houses adjoining. Someone was
saying that if it had not been for Tapia, you
would all have been burnt alive."
The mention of Tapia's name made Welcheck
start. Here was another one missing! the Em-
bassy porter, Tapia! Certainly the porter of the
Embassy should have reported himself at the resi-
dence of the Ambassador. Not a single thought
had been given to the man. Welcheck was puz-
zled; but the maître's smiling face brought him
back with a start to earth. He shook his head.
"No, no," said he. “All you have heard are
[59]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
inventions, there was no one at the Embassy
Offices when the fire broke out. I did not know
of it till after one o'clock.”
The maître lifted his eyes to heaven with an air
of resigned martyrdom, and said:
"Baron, one can believe nothing nowadays."
Alfredo was sorry such a thrilling hair-breadth
escape was not true. The maître d'hôtel of the
Club de l'Union actually talking, perhaps the
first one, to one of the heroes! He had fancied
himself a most important person. How the
waiters would want to hear what the Baron had
told him! He had imagined how he would keep
them in suspense and let out bits of news little
by little.
All his importance now vanished, as his hero
sat waiting for his dinner, a hero no more.
Welcheck ordered his wine and dismissed the
maître; he was now alone in the spacious dining-
room and his thoughts reverted to the Embassy
porter, Tapia.
He knew that Tapia did not drink; Tapia was
a very steady, good, faithful, hard-working man.
He was also very quick, very bright, and intelli-
gent. In the army he had acquired habits of
discipline which, surely, would make him report
himself in an emergency to headquarters, to the
Embassy; why had he not done so? Maybe in
his humble way, and following the discipline
[60]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
hammered into him, he had not thought it fit
to approach the Embassy directly.
“ Ach!” thought Welcheck, “I see! He must
have tried to find me. He knows my flat exists
no longer. Respect for the Ambassador did not
allow him to seek any of us at the Ambassador's
private residence. He must have gone to
Beckert's house; he must be there waiting for
orders; perhaps with Beckert himself who may
have been hurt trying to save dangerous docu-
ments which it would never do that the public
should ever see.”
The more he thought of this idea, the more he
was convinced that it solved the riddle of the un-
accountable absence of these two. Yes, Beckert
must be hurt; he must have been taken home,
perhaps unconscious. No! that could not be;
they had asked Mrs. Beckert to telephone immedi-
ately he arived. She had not done so, but then
again, yes! Beckert must be home; and Mrs.
Beckert, whose devotion to her husband was well
known, seeing him arrive wounded, bleeding, un-
conscious, must have lost all presence of mind.
Seeing her husband in that state, nothing else but
his comfort would occupy her. Yes! she had for-
gotten to telephone, he must be there.
He had arrived at this conclusion when his din-
ner was brought to him.
The maître himself was supervising the waiters.
[61]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Welcheck nodded to him to approach.
“Alfredo,” said he, "please send me a telephone
boy at once."
“Señor Baron, I have a telephone just outside
the door. I am not busy yet, can I telephone your
message? It will be quicker.”
"Well, yes; but keep this to yourself; telephone
to the house of Herr Beckert, Providencia 69, and
ask if he is home; if he is, let me know as I wish
to speak to him at once."
Alfredo bowed, and with a “Si, Señor Baron,"
he gravely retired, feeling himself entrusted with
a most secret and delicate diplomatic mission.
Five minutes later the maître returned, graver
still, overpowered by the importance of the news
he had to convey.
"Señor Baron,” he said slowly and impressively,
“I have spoken with Señora Beckert; she answered
the telephone herself. Before I could say a word,
she asked me in a very agitated voice if I was
telephoning news of her husband. I answered her
that I had been asked by the Señor Baron if Herr
Beckert had arrived. She seemed very upset and
said that she knew nothing of her husband's
whereabouts, as she had already told His Excel-
lency, and that she felt convinced something had
happened to Señor Beckert, that she felt very, very
anxious on his account, and that she begged and
implored the Baron to have inquiries made by the
[627


THE WHISPERING DEAD
police as nothing but an accident of the worst
kind could account for her husband's prolonged
and unexplainable absence from home. The poor
lady's voice trembled with suppressed fear and
emotion, and it has cut me to the heart to hear
the pathetic appeal she has asked me to transmit
to you."
Welcheck received this message in silence, and
remained thoughtful for a few seconds; suddenly
he turned round to the expectant maître and said
simply:
"Extraordinary! thank you very much, Alfredo;
but stay; just ring Mrs. Beckert up once more and
say that I will certainly look into this matter at
once, and ask her if Tapia has been to the house."
Alfredo feeling more and more important on his
second diplomatic mission, which already savoured
of mystery, again pompously retired.
In a short time he returned saying that Señora
Beckert had no news of Tapia, and had not seen
him that day.
"What! Tapia has not been there either?”
Welcheck exclaimed, really surprised to find that
all his reasoning was falling to the ground.
“Yes, Señor Baron, that is what Señora Beckert
said.”
Welcheck was puzzled, he did not know what to
make out of all this. He quickly finished his din-
ner and hurriedly left the Club. At the door he
[63]


CHAPTER IX
T was clear that the sanitary police and fire-
men were beginning work amongst the wreck-
age by means of big acetylene flare lamps.
Welcheck could see this from the barrier where he
had been stopped by the police. He gave his
name and asked for Señor Castor the Chief of
Police. The constable asked him to wait. "I
will tell Señor Castor that you are here; he has
just come back.”
In a few minutes he saw Castor coming towards
him.
“Good evening, Señor Baron!"
“Good evening, Señor Castor; I came here to
take the place of Señor Beckert as regards taking
over the archives and reports. We cannot find
him; have you any news of him?"
"No, Baron, I have not; nor of the porter,
Tapia.”
“Do you think anything may have happened
to them?'
“Yes, but at present we can say nothing, except
that the absence of both must be explained, and
that soon.”
[65]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"Have you instituted a search?”
“Yes, Baron, and a thorough one; they are not
to be found, I fear, except there.” He pointed to
the desolation caused by the fire.
“When will the salvage work begin?”
“It has begun already, Señor Baron.”
“My instructions, Señor Castor, are to be pre-
sent whilst this is proceeding."
"With pleasure. Let us approach; you are
welcome to aļl the steam, smell and smoke; it is
not pleasant work. If the absence of the Chan-
cellor and Tapia had not given rise to suspicion,
the work would not have been begun till tomor-
row."
“Do you expect to find the bodies there?” said
Welcheck, paling at the thought of the horrible
death these two men might have suffered.
"I cannot say,” answered Castor, “but if they
are not there, then I am inclined to think- "
he left the sentence unfinished and quickened his
pace, leading into the smoking ruins.
The workmen were hard at work already; they
had made secure such timber as threatened them
on the ground floor, which was up to the neck
with debris.
"Where was the Chancellor's desk?” asked
Castor.
"His desk was there," said Welcheck, pointing
to where it had stood.
[66]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Then,” said Castor, "we must excavate around
it; where would he sit?!!
Welcheck pointed to the place.
Castor called for the man in charge of the
Sanitary Police. When he came he was directed
to proceed with the excavation over the space
usually occupied by Beckert.
"See that this is done very carefully,” said
Castor.
The work was continued with pick and shovel.
"It may not be very long before we know where
we are," said Welcheck.
"In about half an hour the debris should be
removed sufficiently to allow us to ascertain
whether those we seek are here or not,” said
Caster.
"Yes,” replied Welcheck, “and if we find
them?”
“Then we must find the cause, Señor Baron.”
“The murderers, you mean. Do you now
know, Señor Castor, that Herr Beckert has been
fearing the assassin's knife for a year?''
"What! do you mean to say you suspect some
one?
“Yes.”
“Do you mean that this fire is not acciden-
tal?”
“I cannot go as far as all that, but then again
Beckert is missing, so is Tapia. If we find them
[67]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
here they have been murdered—at least that is my
opinion. Maybe the fire was intentional, so as to
cover the traces of crime."
"All is possible; but what grounds have you
for your opinion ?”
"The menacing letters he had received."
"Menacing letters! from whom?"
"From unknown persons, but all bearing the
postmark of Caleu.”
“Of Caleu? Do you associate the persecution
of those poor people with this fire? Impossible!”
"Señor Castor," said Welcheck, "you have said
persecution; we, the Embassy, did not persecute,
we only, rather Beckert only, 'asked for a just
punishment, not a persecution.”
"Call it as you like, Señor Baron; a blow struck
in defence of one's—well-home, shall we call it?
is not a crime. Here in Chile, no man, who-
ever he be, can tolerate insult to his home, as
we said. No! not even were the insult from your
Kaiser, much less the Chancellor of your Em-
bassy."
The little man, his tiny grey eyes sparkling with
indignation, lifted his head proudly, glared at the
baron, and added:
"We are a small country, Baron, but we hold
our honour greater than that of the whole world
put together.”
[68]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"You will then, if Beckert is found here, call
it retaliation ?” sneered Welcheck.
"I will call it nothing; the poor man Jose
Contresas and his son are in prison, imprisoned for
defending the honour of the old man's daughter,
imprisoned solely through the pressure exerted by
your Embassy. Bah! I went into the case thor-
oughly. At any rate, Jose Contresas could do you
no harm; neither could his son. They are both
in prison. The next son, Manuel, is only four-
teen; he is too young to undertake-as yet—the
vendetta.”
"How can you then explain to me the presence
of suspicious persons around this place this morn-
ing??
"What suspicious persons? Who? When?"
“When I arrived this morning with the Am-
bassador we found the Chancellor in an extremely
nervous condition; he told us that he had not
dared approach the offices until he had seen the
policeman on the beat; that he had spoken to him
and they had walked to the offices together. He
said that as soon as the persons he feared had seen
nim with the policeman they disappeared as if
by magic.”
"Señor Baron, I do not believe any one from
Caleu would have done this, they are too simple-
minded. No, Baron, murder by fire is not the
[69]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
method used by a man who seeks revenge. No!
not here in Chile,” said Castor, and added, "We
are supposing all sorts of things and have as yet
nothing to go upon; we are really talking non-
sense; let us wait; we shall soon know.”
ca
[70]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Castor immediately sprang forward, ordering
the men to cease work for a moment. He then
examined the position of the foot and leg, called
for the photographer, and asked the men to con-
tinue work very carefully with their hands and on
no account to disturb the body.
“We must ascertain what the person was doing
and how he met his death. The only clue we
have at present lies here,” said Castor.
The police doctor now joined Welcheck and
Castor. He assumed command, and superin-
tended the removal of the rubbish covering the
corpse. As the work went on the silhouette of the
body became apparent. The photographer OC-
casionally took a photograph of the scene.
Little by little the charred bones of the right
hand appeared, pointing heavenwards towards the
starlit night. The hand and arm seemed to ap-
peal to God for justice. Castor, more experi-
enced, said, “His arm is extended upwards as
though to ward off a blow, or perhaps to shield
himself from something falling.”
The body lay on its left side nearly face down-
wards. The right arm extended upwards, as we
have said. The legs were drawn up close to the
body, which rested on a pile of charred documents.
The police doctor examined the face and head.
Of the face, nothing was left except the blackened
bones. The head showed two round holes on the
[72]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
back of it, about an inch and a half in diameter.
The left tibia was broken close below the knee.
The body appeared entirely naked, the fire hav-
ing consumed all the clothes.
Under the body was found a silver cigarette
case, a pair of spectacles, a wedding ring, several
metal studs, a gold watch and chain, and some
silver.
These were taken to a strong light, and on
close examination were identified by Welcheck as
belonging without a shadow of a doubt to Beckert.
The wedding ring contained the following in-
scription, "From N. L. to W. B.”
"It is clear,” said Welcheck, “clear as daylight.
This was from his wife; Natalia Lopez to Wil-
liam Beckert. Poor chap, this will be a terrible
blow for his poor wife.” Then he added petu-
lantly, "What rotten luck! stupid fool to go and
die like that! now I shall have to do all the work
myself, both mine and his.” He was angry, he
only thought of himself, and the inconvenience
his brother diplomat's death would cause him.
But Dr. Molina and Castor were carefully ex-
amining the body. After a few minutes' obser-
vation the doctor stood up, and said:
“The skull does not present any signs of crush-
ing. The fracture, which we see, seems to have
been due to one or more blows dealt with a blunt
instrument. One cannot say that this skull is
[73]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
fractured, in fact nearly half of it is missing."
Doctor Molina turned to several of the work-
men and enquired: “Were there any beams or
steel joists over the body?”.
"No, sir,” answered one of the men-he who
had discovered the dead man. .
“What was there over it, then?”
"A thick layer of dust and ashes about three
feet deep; we were able to remove this with our
hands.”
“Are you absolutely sure of this ?”
“Oh! yes," intervened Castor; "he was the man
who found the body; and Baron Welcheck and
myself were here much before that, and there were
no beams or anything heavy enough to inflict these
wounds."
“This is very strange,” the doctor muttered.
Castor asked the police photographer to take
more photographs of the body as it lay.
When this task was finished Castor told the
police to remove the remains as carefully as pos-
sible and convey them to the ambulance. He
turned to Welcheck:
“Shall we send the remains to the morgue,
Baron? or shall we send them to his house?”
“Send them wherever you like!”
He was in a fearful rage, and was only
called back to himself by Castor's stern re-
proof:
[74]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Señor Baron, your sentiments are not to be
envied; we don't care how much work this dead
man may throw upon you to do; this gentleman
was your countryman. His remains do not belong
to us; they belong to the Embassy. We must
have the Ambassador's instructions as to where to
convey them. He was a diplomat; and we can-
not send him to the morgue unless you don't care
to give other instructions."
Welcheck feared the consequences of his out-
burst of temper; and it might have consequences
if his chief heard of it. He thought a moment,
and an idea struck him.
"Yes," said he, “the remains could be sent to
the German Club close by. A chapelle ardente
could be arranged. Beckert's wife in this way
would not have to see the awful remains of her
husband.”
Welcheck's idea was at once accepted by Castor
and Dr. Molina.
"I must stay here to collect the papers we may
find which are not absolutely burnt," said Wel-
check; and added, turning to Castor, “Would you
mind sending some one to the Secretary of the
Club asking him to come here? We can then ar-
range with him what to do."
[។


CHAPTER XI
CAVING given the necessary orders Castor
turned his attention to the Sanitary
Police Inspector. He ordered the work
to be resumed at once; his object, he told the
inspector, being to find the body of Tapia, who he
felt sure must have perished with Beckert.
Castor was convinced that if the body of Tapia
were not found in the debris, he was either the
actual murderer or an accomplice of the men of
Caleu. If Tapia were not found, then a search
must be instituted for him; his home searched;
and a watch kept over it. A minute investigation
must be made as to his character; his whole past
life must be gone into, and a connecting link
established between him and Caleu. Yes, thought
Castor to himself, that for the present is the right
road to follow, and we might start right away, for
if Tapia is found here nothing will have been lost.
If, on the other hand, he turns out to be a near
relative of Contresas, then the case against him
would be clear. Tapia was a retired Sergeant, a
man of intelligence, probably a well-read man for
his class, a man capable of hiding his crime by
committing another, so as to burn all traces.
[76]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Castor asked to be excused for a few minutes
and walked briskly out into the street, past the
waiting ambulance. When near the corner of the
street he stopped at the pillar telephone for the
express use of the police. He unlocked the case,
and took out the receiver.
"Put me on to Inspector Rojas; I am the chief;
be quick!"
Answer came back sharp:
“Yes, Chief. Rojas speaking."
“Rojas, you must double your efforts to find
Tapia; have his house searched and watched.
Nobody must come in or go out without our know-
ledge. If you catch him, keep him. Telegraph
to Valparaiso, Iquique, Concepcion, all over the
country; get his photograph, reproduce it, have
it printed and sent broadcast; there are reasons to
think he may be connected with the Contresas of
Caleu, who are now in prison—try that line as
soon as possible. Wait for me at Headquarters;
I will be back in about an hour or so. Good-bye.”
He returned; and, joining Welcheck, found
him in animated conversation in German with the
Secretary of the Club.
"He won't believe that Beckert is dead,” said
Welcheck to him.
“Well,” said Castor, “it looks mighty like it;
but what have you decided? Are the remains to
be taken to the Club ?"
[77]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Yes, the ambulance can wait until we arrange
a room in which the remains can be deposited. I
have asked Herr Hunspyr here to inform the Am-
bassador and to call up an undertaker.”
"I hope,” said Herr Hunspyr, "that the am-
bulance can wait until we can arrange the room
fittingly to receive the Chancellor's body. He
was a well-beloved gentleman; and his diplomatic
position entitles him to still higher considera-
tion.”
"The ambulance is at your service for any time
you may require it,” answered Castor; “and now,
gentlemen, I must go back.” He turned and
pointed to the room where Beckert had been found.
"It is possible that Tapia's body is there also. I
bid you good night.”
“I must go with you, Señor Castor," said Wel-
check, following, after a hurried good-bye to Herr
Hunspyr.
The work had proceeded rapidly. In the room
where the body was found it was easy to see the
uselessness of continuing a search for Tapia's
body.
Castor stepped into what had been the private
office of Baron von Bodmann, and found the work
advanced far enough to show that no body would
be found there. In the other two rooms the in-
spection did not give better results.
By eleven o'clock, nothing further being found,
[78]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Castor was bidding Welcheck good night, when
the baron asked him for assurance that no papers
or anything in the debris would be removed or
appropriated.
Castor then gave orders before the baron, strict
orders to the effect that no one was to approach
the building except with a written order from the
Embassy, absolutely no one, not even the police.
“Now are you satisfied, Señor Baron?”
"I am not only satisfied, but grateful to you,
Señor Castor; please accept my thanks.”
"I am only doing my duty, Herr Baron. Good
night; I have yet much to do.”
“Good night, Señor Castor,” replied Welcheck,
and he turned his steps to make for the Ambas-
sador's residence, where he was to acquaint his
chief of the ghastly find that their investigations
had brought forth.
As the two men parted, there stood in the near
distance, watching what passed, a bearded man
who seemed inquisitively interested in the
smouldering ruins and in the coming and going of
the officials.
[79]


CHAPTER XII
VASTOR hailed a cab and ordered it to
drive to Headquarters—where he was
due to confer with Chief Inspector Rojas
of the Secret Service.
Ten minutes later he was sitting at his bureau,
with Rojas facing him.
“Well, Rojas, what have you done? Have
you any news ?”
"No, Señor Castor, I have no news as yet. I
have done everything suggested by you; and we
have taken the usual precautions in these cases so
that the criminal may not escape.”
Castor emptied a bag which he had taken out of
his pocket, on to the table.
"Here we have some objects for identification,"
he said; "put this down in writing:
1. One gold wedding ring with inscription as
follows: 'From N. L. to W. B.'
There is no doubt it was Herr Beckert's. N. L.
stands for Natalia Lopez his wife, to W. B., Wil-
helm Beckert.
2. One gold cigarette case initialled W. B.
[80]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
That is plainly Herr Beckert's.
3. One gold watch initialled W. B.
4. One gold and platinum chain.
5. One gold cigar cutter, initialled W. B.
6. One pencil case.
7. Pair of gold links.
8. Four shirt studs, two gold, two metal.
9. Eight metal trouser buttons, stamped “Sas-
trelia Alemana (German tailors)
10. One pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses-
glasses missing.
That ends the inventory, and we can safely state
they belonged to the Chancellor; but, in order to
proceed according to regulations, you will tomor-
row see that Mrs. Beckert identifies all these.”
Rojas nodded: “Yes sir.”
Castor then ran over the events of the evening.
Rojas listened intently to every detail.
“May I ask," queried Rojas, “was the door of
the office locked when the fire began?”.
“Yes; the report says so.”
“Was the key of the door found?” asked Rojas
quickly.
"No; in fact I don't think any one looked for
it specially.”
"If the door was locked I can prove to you a
crime was committed. It is impossible for a man
[81]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
rolled up and moist. Rojas spread them out,
and, after a careful scrutiny, remarked:
“The right arm seems extended upwards in the
first photos, in the others the bones are by the
side; how is this?”
"In the first photos all the debris had not been
cleared, and the debris round about was holding
up the dead man's arm in that position. All the
photos were not taken at once. You see in this
one,' the Chief pointed to the last one taken,
“the body is nearly a skeleton.”
Rojas' face cleared.
“Oh! yes, I see, of course that explains all,” he
said aloud; but he said it absent-mindedly—he
was thinking deeply.
Suddenly he roused.
“Chief,” he said, “the murder was committed at
least three-quarters of an hour before the fire broke
out!”
“You are wrong, the Ambassador and Wel-
check were there with Beckert at about eleven-
forty, and the fire alarm was given at twelve noon,
therefore, at the most, only twenty minutes
elapsed between the Ambassador leaving him and
his death.”
“Then, pardon my saying so, I am speaking
under the seal of official secrecy, the German Am-
bassador and Welcheck are either wrong about the
[83]


THE WHISPERING DEAD,
time they last saw Beckert, or they know more
than it is healthy for them to know about this.”
Castor laughed gently. .
“Remember, Rojas, you are accusing the Am-
bassador of His Imperial and Royal Majesty the
Kaiser, and his Secretary Baron Welcheck, of
murder! no more! no less!"
"I can't help that, the murdered man's arm was
extended upwards. When a man is killed in-
stantly, like this man, the body collapses; the
nerve centres cease to act; all the nerves become
flabby, like a jelly. The man's arm when killed
'must absolutely and without the slightest doubt
have fallen to his side or towards the floor. That
arm could not have been in that position unless
it had been propped up, immediately after his
death, propped up until the stiffening of the body
set in. This stiffening of dead bodies in a case
like this, in midsummer, on a hot day, could not
have taken less than three-quarters of an hour, not
one minute less, two hours more likely.”
“I follow your reasoning,” said Castor, "which
is as sound as ever; still, the Chancellor was sub-
ject to epileptic fits and if you can prove to me
that he did not have one at the time, then and
only then shall I take you seriously. Why could
not the Chancellor have been sealing a letter?
Why could not the sealing-wax have caught fire ?
Why could not Herr Beckert have fallen on the
[84]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
ments of the bones still remaining, the strength
exerted on the pick may, I don't say did, have
changed the whole position of the body. If you
drag a person by his feet, the arms, if slightly
separated from the body and held by rubbish,
mortar, laths, etc., would assume a different posi-
tion. The right arm, in this case, might have
been raised to the position we see it on the photo-
graph.”
“Yes, Chief,” answered Rojas, rather disap-
pointed; "of course your theory is possible. All
that you say may have happened; and certain
facts tend to corroborate your opinion.”
Although Rojas was apparently satisfied, he was
far from it. Castor's allusion to the prosecutor
was not encouraging towards further discussion.
“We must see what to-morrow brings forth,”
said Castor; "good night. Have these articles
identified tomorrow morning.” He handed him
the objects belonging to Beckert.
"Yes, sir, I shall see that it is done early; good
night, sir!"
“Good night!"
“Yes,” thought Rojas as he left Castor, “we
must see what tomorrow brings forth. I can see
it now, the arrest of Tapia and a month later his
punishment-death. Poor fellow, if he did it to
avenge his relatives for the insult to poor Maria
I sincerely hope he may only get ten years. No;
[86]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
that will be rather difficult with these damn Ger-
mans. Only to think of poor Contresas, and his
son, makes one's blood boil. There is no hope for
Tapia; not with these people. Of course they
will want an indemnity from the Government for
the dancer. Of course half a million francs for
Mrs. Wilhelm Beckert! I don't think! Not if
Herberto Rojas manages this case. I would love
to put the blame on old von Bodmann, and the
young dandy Welcheck, if only I could. If I can
prove that the arm was extended upwards when
Beckert was found it would show that the mur-
der took place before they say it did. It looks
suspicious to me; they acknowledge they saw him
last anyway. The blows on the head show
plainly enough that a murder took place. The
old Chief, Castor, knows this; and all his expla-
nations about hanging beams are pure nonsense;
and he knows that too. He thinks Tapia killed
him-Beckert. It looks very much like it; but
then, if he did so he must have done it at about
half-past ten. If I, Rojas, am right, the Ambas-
sador and Welcheck are lying regarding the time
they left Beckert. Why?'
Such were the thoughts in the mind of the Chief
Inspector of the Secret Service as he retired to
his rooms.
[87]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
which would account for his failure to save him-
self.
"After this explanation the Ambassador cour-
teously dismissed us, saying that he was over-
whelmed with work.”
In another column the following news was
given:
INQUEST ON THE BODY OF HERR
BECKERT OF THE GERMAN EMBASSY
"At eleven o'clock this morning a coroner's
inquest was held at the German Club.
"Amongst the first called was Mr. R. Brull,
who lives in the house opposite to the German
Embassy Offices. Mr. Brull stated that he saw
that a fire had started and telephoned to the
Fire Department. He then ran out to see if he
could be of any help.
" Where did the fire begin?' he was asked by
the President of the Court.
“'The fire began at the Embassy Offices. I
knocked at the door, and tried to open it. I heard
nothing from the inside excepting the roaring of
the flames and the crackling of burning furni-
ture. The door was locked, the firemen found it
necessary to break it open with axes. When this
was done it was impossible to see anything inside;
the smoke, flames and heat blinded every one
near.'
[89]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“This ended Mr. Brull's evidence.
“Several witnesses were called who gave evi-
dence as to the finding of the body and agreed
with what we published in our morning edition.
"Señor Rojas of the Secret Police, when called,
declared that the valuables found had all been
identified as belonging to her husband by Mrs.
Beckert, who was too ill to attend the inquiry.
She stated that a diamond ring which Herr Beck-
ert always wore was missing. Señor Rojas said
the diamond ring was usually worn on the little
finger of the left hand and from the fact that the
wedding ring was found on the finger next to this
it was possible that the ring might yet be found.
"Señor Castor declared that he and Baron Wel-
check had that morning opened the safe and found
it empty. According to the Baron, something like
three hundred thousand dollars in notes and drafts
on Buenos Ayres and Berlin were deposited in it
the day before the fire. He said that an im-
portant witness, namely Tapia, a porter to the
Embassy, was missing.
“ 'Is it possible that the body of this man may
yet be found in the debris?' enquired the Chair-
man.
“No, sir,' answered Castor, “it is absolutely
impossible; the whole place has been cleared up;
not only the premises occupied by the Embassy
but also those adjoining. In fact, the body has
[90]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
been looked for in every place where there was
any likelihood that it could be found. Up to the
present the search has been fruitless. Not a trace
of him. From enquiries made by our department
we find that the man Tapia cashed a cheque
signed by Herr Beckert on the day of the fire, at
the Banco de Chile, for six hundred dollars. This
was done at about nine-thirty in the morning.
We have tried to find him at his house. His wife
insists that he has not come back since he left home
at seven a. m. the day of the fire. We have
searched high and low, and have not found him.'
"Doctor Molina was then called; he declared
that he, together with Doctor Grille, Municipal
Doctor for the district in which the fire occurred,
had examined the body. After a careful examin-
ation of the remains they found no wounds or
traces of blows. The body was very nearly con-
sumed by the fire. The head, arms and hands
were absolutely charred, even the viscera, which
in most such cases are preserved, were burnt nearly
beyond recognition. Certainly, on the first ex-
amination at the scene of the fire, he thought that
two large wounds had been inflicted on the back
of the head. Dr. Grille and himself were now
of opinion that there had been no such wounds.
They thought that this had been caused by moving
the body when buried by the debris, or by falling
bricks or timber. They also agreed that only one-
[91]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
tenth of the usual cerebral matter had been found
in the head.
“Was the head broken open? asked the Chair-
man of the Jury.
“'Yes, sir.'
“'Can you say with absolute certainty that no
blow was struck on the head whilst the person was
alive?
“The body,' answered Dr. Molina, 'is so badly
burnt, so very badly burnt, that it is impossible to
make that statement; still, from all visible signs
we are of opinion that no blow was struck. I
should add, the frontal teeth are missing, but the
roots exist. These may also have fallen when the
body was moved, or have been destroyed by some-
thing heavy falling on them. The slightest touch
would destroy them. Asked about other injuries,
he replied: 'One leg is broken just below the knee;
this may have been caused, taking into considera-
tion the state of calcination, by any one walking
over the body whilst excavating.'
"The Chairman then summed up; the jury re-
tired and in a few minutes the coroner gave his
verdict as follows:
“That the Chancellor of the German Embassy
had been found dead, and presumably through the
agency of Tapia.'
“This ended the proceedings.”
[92]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Under still another heading appeared the fol-
lowing:
OFFICIAL CONDOLENCES TO THE
GERMAN AMBASSADOR
“This afternoon, shortly before three, the Un-
der-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Señor Negro,
and one of the Aides-de-Camp, representing the
President, visited the German Ambassador and
tendered their condolences for the untimely end
of Herr Beckert.”
[93]


CHAPTER XIV
ASTOR and Rojas drove together to
police Headquarters. Arrived at Cas-
tor's office, Rojas rang the bell and asked
for Sergeant Pera.
A few moments later the Sergeant stepped in
and saluted.
“Well, what news?” asked Rojas.
"Following your instructions, sir, at seven
o'clock this morning I left here to call on Mrs.
Tapia; she lives in a district which is not familiar
to me. At the corner of Avenida Italia and Santa
Isabel I stepped into a grocer's shop and asked the
owner if he knew Tapia and where I could find
him. He answered that he lived around the
corner in Jelvez Court. In answer to my further
enquiries, the man said he had known Tapia for
ten years; that he never drank, was very kind-
hearted, and paid his account at the shop every
Saturday night punctually. He was a most
methodical man; and gave his wife all his wages.
Seven months ago he bought a small corner lot,
and built a tiny three-roomed house, his great am-
bition being to establish himself in the front room
as proprietor, manager, and shop-assistant all in
[94]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
one, of a dry-goods business in a very small way.
He saved every penny towards the accomplish-
ment of his great dream. I was told that Tapia
is thoroughly honest, and bears as good a charac-
ter as possible.”
Rojas nodded. “So far, character good.
Well?"
"I then went to Jelvez Court,” continued the
Sergeant. "I had to show my disc to get near, as
one of your men, Señor Castor, stopped me.
When I got to the house the door was opened by
Mrs. Tapia. She is about twenty-nine or thirty;
a good-looking, harmless, good-hearted woman.
I told her I had come on behalf of a newspaper to
learn something about her and her husband. I
offered my services to her, and asked her if I could
be of any help. Whilst I had been talking to
her, I was standing between the door and a white
deal shop counter. She stepped forward and
lifted the flap, and asked me to come right in and
offered me a chair. The poor woman was sobbing
continually and looked heartbroken.
“'I came to ask you a few questions,' said I;
do not be afraid, no possible harm can come to
you.'
"The poor woman did not answer, her eyes
were downcast, and she seemed sunk in a kind of
stupor, the result of that fatalism with which some
people accept the most terrible vicissitudes of life.
[95]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“ What was your maiden name?' I asked.
“ 'Bienvenida Salgado.'
“ 'How long have you been married ?
“ 'Seven years.'
“ 'Have you any children?
“Two; the elder, Gilberto, is four years old;
and the little one, Hilda Flor, one and a half
years."
“Was your husband good to you?'
"Oh! yes, sir; very good indeed.'
" "Did he ever beat you?
“ 'Beat me? she exclaimed; he never once
raised his voice to me.'
“ 'Is it true that every month he used to hand
over his salary to you?
" "Yes, sir; every month.'
“'Was your husband of a mild disposition?
“ 'He was the best husband living, gentle as a
lamb.
“ 'Do you know that some people are of opinion
that your husband had something to do with the
death of Herr Beckert ?
“That is impossible,' she answered indig-
nantly; 'my husband could never, never have
committed such a crime. Why, he was the
kindest-hearted person alive, and would not have
harmed a fly. He never got into bad company;
he used to spend his evenings at home, working on
the shop we were going to have. You see, sir,
[96]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
we had already finished the counter, and we were
making the shelves to put the goods on. I don't
believe my husband is hiding from the police, be-
cause when he came home the night before last,
he told me he might have to accompany Mr. Beck-
ert on a long journey, but he did not know when
they were going to start.'
“ 'Do you expect him to turn up, then?'
“ 'I hope so, sir, but all the others think he has
run away. He'll come back, be sure, sir; he'll
want to finish the shop so that we can make
enough money, so that we can send the children
to a good school and have them well educated.
Then Gilberto will succeed his father in the busi-
ness, which by then will be a big concern. Yes,
sir; very big. Oh! he will come back, sir; have
no doubts about it.
“It was grand to see the faith the poor woman
had in her husband, and in the success of their
business enterprise, which consisted so far of a
white deal counter and a few deal boards, which
later were to be turned into shelves for dry goods.
“ 'Did Tapia say how long he was to be away?
I asked.
“ 'He was told by Herr Beckert that he was
going to send him on a long journey; that is all
he said; I know no more.'
“With this I left Mrs. Tapia and went to the
Gazadores Barracks to look up the record of
[97]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Tapia. He joined the army when eleven years
of age as bugle-boy and served for eighteen years.
His sheet is clean. A 1, in fact. All his com-
rades spoke very highly of him, so did the of-
ficers."
Sergeant Pera finished speaking, and stood at
attention.
“Very good, Sergeant Pera,” said Castor; "you
may retire."
The man saluted and marched from the room.
When they were alone Castor said:
"Rojas, I don't know what to make out of this.
Every report is favourable to Tapia. If it were
not for those six hundred dollars he cashed at the
bank, seven thousand more gone from the safe,
and over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars
in bills, without counting the diamond ring, I
would be inclined to think him innocent; but
against our reports as to his character we have his
disappearance, with nearly three hundred thou-
sand dollars and a diamond ring. Now we must
weigh both sides of the question. In my opinion
three hundred thousand dollars is for a man like
Tapia an enormous fortune. Suppose Tapia
hoped to get to Argentine and efface himself,
change name, and disappear completely. Two
years later he writes to his wife to join him, if he
has not arranged that already. With three hun-
[98]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
dred thousand dollars and his thrift he would be
a very rich man. His dreams would be realized
beyond his wildest hopes; what think you?”
"I agree with you, sir; I had thought of ven-
geance; I had thought of a great many other
things; but the three hundred thousand dollars
put an entirely different complexion on the case.
Yes, sir; we must find Tapia; he must be the
guilty one."
"Have you still no news of him?"
"No, sir, but he can't get away; the police at
all the mountain passes to Argentine have been
told to keep a strict watch. The Argentine police
have promised to help us in this. All the sea-
ports are under surveillance. Every boat leaving
will be thoroughly examined. He is as safe as
if he were in San Pablo prison already."
“We must see what else we can do, and await
development,” said Castor.
Rojas signed agreement; and replied:
"I went this morning to the scene of the fire.
Baron Welcheck was there, with two other Ger-
mans, sorting out half-burnt papers. I made a
thorough examination of the room, and found
a hammer and a stiletto. Both, most likely, have
been used on the dead man, as on microscopical
inspection they still contain a substance which
could not have been on them had they been used
Rojas signed a ghorning to the S
wo other G
[99]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
only for opening letters or hammering nails. I
have kept them, as they may be useful for the
reconstitution of the crime.”
“The more evidence we have the better," said
Castor with a finality that put an end to the
conversation.
[100]


CHAPTER XV
HE next day at four o'clock a funeral
service was held at the Deutsche Evange-
lishe Kirche situated in Calle Santo Do-
mingo No. 1825; after which the remains of Herr
Beckert were taken to the Protestant Cemetery.
The principal mourners were Baron von Bod-
mann and Baron Welcheck. The Chilean Minis-
ter for Foreign Affairs also attended, the Presi-
dent being represented by one of his Aides-de-
Camp, all the diplomatic corps en masse, and
nearly all the German residents. A second hearse
followed the one conducting the body, carrying
an enormous quantity of wreaths and floral tri-
butes.
Before lowering the body into its final resting-
place, Baron von Bodmann delivered the eulogy:
"Gentlemen, when a little over a year ago His
Majesty the Emperor entrusted to me the direc-
tion of this Embassy, I little thought I should
have to fulfil the sad duty of accompanying one
of the members of the staff to his last resting-place.
Deeply moved by the sudden and terrible tragedy
which has brought a most promising career to an
untimely end, I find myself here with you to bid
[101]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
our friend a last adieu. But before committing
to our mother earth these mortal remains I wish
to say a few words about the excellent employee
and conspicuous collaborator whose death fills me
with unspeakable sorrow. The Fatherland will
remember with heartfelt gratitude one who died
in the accomplishment of his duty, a victim to the
traitorous knife of a cowardly assassin. In the
annals of the Embassy the dastardly attack shall
be written in letter of bronze. Yes, although he
was a faithful servant of His Imperial Majesty
he loved Chile with the same love which he had
for his Fatherland. He loved his wife to idolatry
and his only thought was for her welfare. The
deceased was a man full of noble sentiments and
with the kindest of hearts. He could never see
any one suffer, and all those who knew him could
but love him. In this solemn moment, gentle-
men, I must declare that our late idealist and en-
thusiastic friend was not capable of a foul action,
and I can declare this with firm conviction as I
had many occasions to study and prove the no-
bility of his soul. May he find in heaven what
he so much desired on earth-Rest and Peace.”
The body was then solemnly lowered into the
grave; and the mourners moved off quietly to
leave the cemetery.
Baron von Bodmann, Baron Welcheck, and a
nephew of Beckert's were the last to leave. As
[102]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
they were nearing the gates of the cemetery Herr
Hunspyr approached them, and, bowing low to
the Ambassador, held out a thick letter, and an-
nounced in a low funereal tone:
"Excellency, I was charged some time ago by
Herr Beckert to give this letter to your Excellency
if he died suddenly or mysteriously, after his
burial was over. I now comply with his wishes."
The Ambassador took the envelope, and, form-
ally thanking Herr Hunspyr, placed it in his coat
pocket. As he turned to leave he added, "It is
not usual to receive letters from the dead," and
walked gravely to his carriage.
The Ambassador was intrigued by this inci-
dent; he wanted to open the letter whilst driving
home; he tried to read the address on the en-
velope, but could not do so owing to the vibration
and his short-sightedness.
As soon as he had arrived at his residence, how-
ever, he went into his bureau, sat down, opened
the letter, and read as follows:
Kaiserliche Deutsche Gesandshaft
in Chile.
October 31st, 1908.
My most respected Ambassador
For several weeks past I have had the
presentiment that the threats made to me by
several Chileans will be realized sooner or later.
[103]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Herr Baron von Bodmann, you have laughed
at my presentiments, maybe you are right; maybe
they are ridiculous; but if they are, if these fore-
bodings of death are only the result of over-
wrought nerves caused by the anonymous letters I
have continually received, then this letter will not
reach your hand.
I calculate that when you come into posses-
sion of this letter, I shall be a dead man.
The last wishes of one who is going to enter
the shadows of the valley of death are sacred.
But for your Excellency they should not be sacred,
they are only a most earnest supplication in the
hope that they may be heard.
I have lived nineteen years in South America,
fifteen of which I have spent in Chile. Chile is
for me my second Fatherland, and therefore I love
Chile; but notwithstanding this affection I re-
main a German in the fullest sense of the word.
I have spent in this country the happiest
hours of my life also the bitterest, but these one
forgets.
It is infinitely painful to me to think that my
death might cause my second Fatherland a serious
conflict.
Added to this thought there is the no less
worrying one of the uncertain future of my
wife and my young nephew whom I have adopted
as my son.
[104]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
In the letter which I enclose for His Excel-
lency the President of the Republic of Chile, I
believe I have found the means of avoiding any
possible conflict. I desire that your Excellency
should place this letter in the hands of His Excel-
lency Don Pedro Montt, President of the Repub-
lic of Chile.
This wish from one who has ceased to exist
may seem inconceivable to you, yet it is the wish
of one whose last days have been embittered not
only by the presentiment of death, but also by
the pre-occupation caused by the problematical
future of his beloved ones.
I thank you for complying with my wishes
and for your kind and generous conduct towards
me.
W. Beckert.
“Poor Beckert, poor man!” thought His Ex-
cellency sadly; “from this I gather that he has left
his widow penniless. A sad state of affairs in-
deed!" He sighed.
He sat deep in thought for several minutes.
Suddenly he got up and paced the room to and
fro, his eyes bright with new thought.
"Ach," he thought, "Beckert was more fore-
seeing than I had given him credit for. Of course
the letter to Señor Montt contains a request for a
pension or something very much like it for Frau
[105]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
tragedy in a life so young! I will write her a
note telling her that her future is assured, that to-
morrow I shall see the President and demand an
indemnity of two thousand pounds a year as com-
pensation for the foul murder of her husband.
She can count on this with absolute certainty, and
I shall tell her so.”
Baron von Bodmann was a man of action. He
sat at his desk, wrote the note, and sent it by hand.
He also wrote another to the Minister for Foreign
Affairs, asking for an audience with the President
for three o'clock next day.
As Mrs. Beckert sat in her lovely drawing-
room that night, a beautiful centre to the hand-
some surroundings about her, she held the Am-
bassador's letter in her slender fingers. As she
brushed the tears from her eyes with her handker-
chief, she started in an agony of apprehension.
She stared at the window; gradually her terror
departed. She must have been overwrought-
she could have vowed that a bearded face was
peering at her out of the darkness of the night.
After awhile she shrugged her pretty shoulders.
Perhaps some police agent was guarding the
house!
The fair-bearded fellow, however, withdrawing
into the darkness of the night, was a thick-set and
solid apparition enough. He seemed satisfied
[107]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
with his peep into Beckert's home, and took his
way serenely to the scene of the Embassy fire, and
stood in the moonlight gazing at the ruins for a
long time. The mystery seemed to have intrigued
the man; but he kept his conclusions to himself;
and relapsed again into the darkness.
[108]


CHAPTER XVI
T five minutes to three a carriage stopped
in front of the Presidential Residence,
the “Moneda," a beautiful edifice begun
by the Spaniards towards the end of the sixteenth
century. Baron Welcheck stepped out of the
carriage, followed by His Excellency the German
Ambassador.
They entered the wide portals, where they were
met by an officer who conducted them through
the "patio" in which trees of all climes gave a
pleasant and welcome shade in the hot summer
day.
Arrived at the President's quarters, they were
asked to sit down whilst the officer communicated
with the President's Aide-de-Camp, who hurried
off to announce their arrival.
A couple of minutes later the German Ambas-
sador was ushered into the President's room, Wel-
check waiting in the ante-room.
Señor Montt was sitting at a large mahogany
writing-table. He had apparently just finished
dictating some letters to his secretary.
On the entrance of the German Emperor's
[109]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Representative he left the table, and with a pleas-
ant smile on his lips advanced to meet him.
Don Pedro Montt was in his sixty-sixth year,
his complexion was dark, so much so that in the
country he had the sobriquet of “El Negro
Montt,” as distinctive from all the rest of the
family. His close-cut white hair, his mild and
generous grey eyes, and his large nose, accentuated
a very determined bearing. He was not hand-
some, but one glance at his face impressed one
with his intelligence, honesty of purpose, sincerity,
and patient determination.
He shook hands cordially with the Ambassador,
saying in fluent French, the diplomatic language:
"Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, I am indeed pleased
to see you; your visit gives me the opportunity to
offer you my sincere condolences. I have given
special instruction to spare no effort to capture
the criminal; he shall be dealt with as he de-'
serves."
"I thank your Excellency,” replied the Baron.
“I must apologize, Monsieur le President, for
taking up your time with an unofficial visit.
Strange to say, I have come here at the request of
Herr Beckert. He had expected that he would
be assassinated. Some time ago, foreseeing his
untimely end, he had written a letter which he
gave to the keeping of a friend of his, to be de-
[iio]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
livered to me after his death. Yesterday I was
handed the letter, which expressed a last wish ask-
ing me to deliver into your own hands this en-
velope.”
The Ambassador handed the letter to Señor
Montt, adding:
"I am anxious to know the contents, for when
this letter was written Beckert was in a very ner-
vous state of mind.”
"Let us be seated, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur,"
and Señor Montt, leading Von Bodmann towards
a large sofa covered with old aubusson tapestry.
Asking the Ambassador to excuse him, Señor
Montt opened the letter. He scanned it rapidly,
and as he proceeded his features assumed an im-
perceptible look of indignation. When he had
finished he tendered the letter to Von Bodmann,
and said:
"Would your Excellency care to read it?”
“Thank you,” replied the Ambassador, and,
taking it, read:
Kaiserliche Deutsche Gesandshaft,
Santiago,
October 31st, 1908.
Señor Presidente, I am German by birth
and affection, I am Chilean by the deep love I have
for Chile, where I have resided for fifteen years,
[111]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
and where I have passed the happiest days of my
life.
I have fallen a victim to the blind fury of
illusionists. I forgive them and earnestly beg of
your Excellency to see that my death does not
embitter still more the condition of the perpetra-
tors of the uncalled-for assault I suffered at Caleu.
If justice overtakes my assassins, may my pardon
be a shield to them and their ignorance their de-
fence. I must suppose that in assassinating me
they thought they were fulfilling their duty to
those wretches of Caleu.
My death is not their worst crime. No, the
hours of suffering and anguish which for weeks
and weeks I have endured like a man condemned
to death, have been a torture far worse than their
crime. Yes, for I have an absolutely certain pre-
sentiment that sooner or later I shall fall by their
hands.
I leave, Excellent Şir, a widow and a nephew
in a precarious situation. I have not been able to
make money. I lived on the salary my Govern-
ment paid me.
To your Excellency's benevolence I recom-
mend the two beings I most loved on earth.
Chilean generosity will know how to provide them
with the necessaries and comforts of life when the
source, which procured them, has been stopped by
WJ.
[112]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Chilean hands. In this way all the difficulties
which through my death may arise between the
Chilean Government and the Imperial Govern-
ment will be obviated.
I have been continually worried with the fear
that a disagreement might arise between the two
Governments through this foolish crime com-
mitted by irresponsibles, who think that by sacri-
ficing me they are liberating their 'brothers' from
Caleu. May God forbid it!
If I had known who were the authors of all
the anonymous letters which during so many
weeks held my life as by a thread, I should have
written to them that their contentions were foolish
and absurd.
It seems strange and ridiculous that one
should urge one's wish from 'ultra tumba (beyond
the grave), but the presentiment of my death has
instilled into my being the absolute certainty of it.
If this letter comes into your Excellency's hands,
then my presentiment did not err. Then my
words will not sound strange and ridiculous.
I would await with sincerity and tranquillity
the moment when the assassin's dagger enters my
heart, knew I only that it would not cause worry
to the German Ambassador, whom I esteem and
revere, nor alarm and occasion bitter moments in
my second Fatherland, Chile.
[113]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
That your Excellency be very happy always
and Chile prosperous and strong, I desire with all
my soul.
W. Beckert,
Chancellor of the German Embassy
in Chili.
Von Bodmann sighed as he finished reading the
letter; it was a deep sigh. One would have
thought at the moment that the letter was from
his own son, so deep was his apparent grief.
"It is a sad ending to a brilliant career,” he
said at last.
"It is indeed, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur."
“Yes, Monsieur le President, and most sad for
his poor young wife and nephew.”
"It is very regrettable, Monsieur l'Ambas-
sadeur.”
"His wife and nephew, as he says, are left in
very straitened circumstances, Monsieur le Presi-
dent."
The President's grey eyes lit up keenly as he
asked in steady reply:
“Are you sure, Monsieur l'Ambassadeur?
Did he not have his life insured?”
“No, Monsieur le President, no; he only had
his salary. He leaves nothing at all. If Beck-
ert had been a rich man he would not have been
afraid to die. No, had he known the means of
[114]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
subsistence for his beloved ones were assured he
would not have written this letter.”
“He should," answered Señor Montt, “knowing
our institutions, have deposited money in the
Government's Savings Bank; he could have got
eight per cent for his money yearly. Besides, all
the profits of the Bank are divided amongst the
depositors and often yield to them ten and twelve
per cent.”
Baron von Bodmann knew of the President's
hobby.
"But he did not avail himself of the Bank,” he
interrupted, “and now he is past doing it; his
widow's position is awful.”
The President shook his head sadly.
“What want of foresight!” he said. “Very
sad, but surely your Excellency's Government
will grant the poor widow a pension !"
"I am afraid not, Monsieur le President. He
was not long enough a Government official. No
pensions are granted before ten years' continuous
service.”
“Too bad, too bad,” muttered Señor Montt.
But his shrewd grey eyes were watching the pom-
pous Ambassador of Germany very closely, as the
German played his next card.
"May I ask what the Chilean Government in-
tend doing regarding the petition contained in
Herr Beckert's letter?” asked the Ambassador.
[115]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"I do not know, Excellency, what the Govern-
ment have to do with it. Herr Beckert's letter is
a petition to me personally, as you said. I am
a poor man; I myself cannot help him; besides,
he was a German, his Government or maybe you
yourself might help him. I never knew Herr
Beckert, I don't think I saw him more than twice
and that at official receptions. His letter to me,
a most unaccountable one, must have been written
in a fit of great depression.”
“Monsieur le President, his petition is directed
to you as Head of the Nation, as Head of the
Government."
The President's voice hardened.
"It may be or may not be," answered Señor
Montt; "that does not remove the fact that he is
a German and not a Chilean. How can my Gov-
ernment give largesse to foreigners and besides to
our own people?”.
"I might answer that, M. le President, by say-
ing that the Government is answerable for the
safety of the inhabitants, be they Chileans or for-
eigners.”
The President bowed.
“Our laws are such that they extend full pro-
tection to all inhabitants, Monsieur l'Ambas-
sadeur. Well; what do you propose ?"
“I should think that a pension of two thousand
pounds a year to Frau Beckert from the Chilean
[116]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Government would be a just and equitable settle-
ment. It is the salary that Herr Beckert would
shortly have had. He had a very brilliant career
to which to look forward. In two years he might
possibly have had five thousand pounds a year.”
The Ambassador said this with aplomb; he did
not even blush. He knew he was lying. So did
Señor Montt.
A ghost of a grim smile of contempt played
about the President's lips.
“So that is your opinion!” he said.
“Yes, Monsieur le President.”
“I am glad to hear it,” returned the President
abruptly. He had risen. His face was passive
and smiling, as if the proposition pleased him.
His blood was boiling with indignation; but, not-
withstanding, he stood there smiling, silently
awaiting the departure of his unwelcome visitor.
“May I hope," asked the Baron, “that the just
aspirations which I have put before Monsieur le
President on behalf of Frau Beckert will be satis-
fied?"
"Monsieur l'Ambassador, your demands are so
unexpected, so sudden, that I have not even now
got over my surprise. I can therefore give no
opinion. This is a matter for mature considera-
tion. I shall speak to the Minister for Foreign
Affairs about the matter. He will know how to
deal with it. That is all I can say.”
[117]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"Don Rafael, my friend," said the President in
an affectionate tone of voice, which as he pro-
ceeded turned low, hard, charged with anger, “in
all my experience as a diplomat, an experience of
which I have had a good many years, and in all
my experiences as a politician, I have never been
asked to accede to such preposterous demands as
those made to me by that man”; the President
nodded towards the door by which "that man”
had made his exit. "No, never had I imagined
that the representative of a great country like
Germany would stoop to blackmailing. It seems
incredible, Don Rafael; but-you see this let-
ter? Read it!"
Señor Balma took the letter and read it slowly
through. He Aung it down with contempt.
“This is blackmail in every sense of the word,”
he said. “This is a canting, begging letter, writ-
ten by a hypocrite who intends to extort money."
“I agree fully with you,” said Don Pedro, “but
what do you think he did?'' nodding to the door
again. “I will tell you. He began whining over
the death of the Chancellor; then showed me that
letter, expecting me at once to propose to him
what he thought would be an amende honorable
in the shape of a pension for Señora Beckert.
Amende honorable for what? As I did not pro-
pose it he drew a picture of the poverty into which
the nephew also, mind you, would have to sink!
[120]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Then he falsely stated to me that Beckert was not
insured. Curiously enough, this morning I met
Señor Salas, who is a Director of the Chilean
Consolidada Insurance Company, in which I hold
some shares; and he told me that Beckert insured
his life only two months ago for sixty thousand
dollars, that they had not reinsured yet, and that
the loss was a big one."
The Foreign Minister nodded. “I see,” said
he.
The President's voice was now the voice of the
accuser.
“Well, that man,” nodding again towards the
door, “asserted categorically twice to me that
Beckert was not insured, and at last asked me
what I intended to do. I said I would refer the
matter to the Foreign Office, to you; for that let-
ter had been so unexpected, that I could not de-
cide anything; besides it was not for me to de-
cide, but for you. He then said he would, fol.
lowing my suggestion! present a claim to the For-
eign Office! .., Lying again. To shield
himself, in case Berlin should not quite agree, he
had brought Welcheck, who was in the anteroom,
with the door open, to be a witness that I had
proposed his representing a claim.” He uttered
an exclamation of contempt: “Pah! these Ger-
mans have no sense of honour!"
Balma replied with cold deliberate voice, as a
[121]


*THE WHISPERING DEAD
judge condemns the guilty: “Señor don Pedro,
this is incredible! It passes belief that a man like
Von Bodmann, whom we thought a straightfor-
ward and clean diplomat, would stoop so low for
such an unimportant and trivial affair. Inten-
tionally to misunderstand your meaning is bad
diplomacy. He forgets he was addressing the
Head of the State. To paint a widow as poverty
stricken when she is to receive sixty thousand dol-
lars within two or three days is worse diplomacy
still. To make false statements which will come
to light within two or three days is worse diplo-
macy still. To make false statements which will
come to light within forty-eight hours is worse
than all.”
"But, Don Rafael, my friend,” said the Presi-
dent, "you do not know the amount of his claim.
What do you think of two thousand pounds a
year for life ?"
The Foreign Minister laughed contemptuously.
. “Señor President, he must have taken leave
of his senses. Beckert's salary was a miserable
one for his position. He only had eight hundred
pounds a year; on what can such a claim be
based?"
"On his brilliant career and still more brilliant
future," answered Don Pedro, smiling.
“Nonsense! I beg your Excellency's pardon,
but must say, nonsense!” Don Rafael was
[122]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
laughing as at a farce. “And I assure you, Don
Pedro, that the refusal I shall give to his claim
will be emphatic, very emphatic.”
“Well,” said Don Pedro, “tell Perez, who is
the bookworm in your department, to try and
find, if he can, similar claims and the results.
Von Bodmann must have had some precedent in
his mind when he came here. Perez knows the
world's history as if he had lived through it per-
sonally.”
“Yes, Perez is marvellous," replied Señor
Balma, rising from his seat, “and if you will per-
mit, I shall retire.”
“Certainly, but have a careful note taken of our
conversation, we may have to refer to it later in
reference to our rights and honour against that
"he was going to say bully, but again nodded
towards the door and said “man.”
Two days later the claim was presented to the
Foreign Office; it demanded an annuity, payable
by the Chilean Government for life, to Mrs. Wil-
helm Beckert, in quarterly instalments of five
hundred pounds each.
[123]


CHAPTER XVIII
THE Chief of Police and his head of the
Secret Service were again closeted to-
gether.
“So you still persist with your ridiculous idea
about Von Bodmann and Welcheck ?" Castor
chuckled to himself.
Rojas looked angrily at the Chief. .
“At any rate, Chief; if the dead man is Beck-
ert, they could not have seen Beckert as late as
they say they did, for the simple reason that he
was then dead. I insist that my theory about the
dead man, whosoever he may be, is right; and that
the upwardly extended arm could not possibly
have been in that position if Bodmann and Wel-
check really saw him alive twenty minutes before
the fire began and the dead man be Beckert. I
repeat and assert that it is impossible. I have
consulted two good doctors and they both agree
with me. The stiffening would not have had
time to set in. That is absolute."
"But did you ask them about a case like this,
subject to epileptic fits, or may be in a cataleptic
condition ?" retorted Castor.
"I do not believe in fits, or conditions as you
[124]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
cepting in the lower extremities of the legs which
were apparently covered with falling plaster from
the ceiling before the rest of the body. The trunk
of the body, arms, and head were burnt more in-
tensely. The ligaments were more or less de-
stroyed and brittle. If the body were dragged by
the legs, as you suggest, the remains would have
separated at the hips. Even if this had not hap-
pened the arm would have remained in its origi-
nal position, that is to say, horizontally, lying on
the body or on the floor. The arm was embedded
with the rest of the body in plaster, dust, cinders,
etc. If the body had been dragged the arm would
have separated from the body as the ligaments
connecting it to the shoulder had lost all cohesive
power.”
“Yes,” said Castor, looking at the matter from
the point of view so forcibly unfolded to him by
Rojas. "Yes; and the arm being embedded, as
you suggest and as it certainly was, in a cast of
plaster, dust, and cinders, caked hard with the
water that had been poured over it by the engine,
the theory that the arm could have changed posi-
tion falls to the ground.”
Castor himself, having given the most logical
reason against his own theory, was pleased. In
changing his views he now took upon himself the
honour of having furnished the final argument.
He knew that Rojas was clever. But Rojas had
[126]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
not been able to clinch the point as he had.
Rojas was clever, so much so that he did not
say, “I told you so.” He wanted to clear the
case. He wanted his chief to look at it from his
own point of view, and he succeeded with his next
words:
“Caramba! Señor Castor,” he said, striking his
forehead with the palm of his open hand, as
though to denounce his stupidity, "I never thought
about that, never. It never entered this poor
head of mine. And so simple! but simple things
are always the most difficult,” he said, catching
himself up. “You have settled this point once
and for all."
“Yes,” said Castor gloomily; "we have settled
a point which instead of throwing light on the
subject makes it darker than ever. The Ambas-
sador and Welcheck both state in their depositions
that they left the offices between eleven-twenty
and eleven forty-five in the morning. They state
also, with equal assurance, that they left Beckert
alive and well at that time; we cannot doubt the
German Ambassador's words, nor Baron von Wel-
check's.”
Ten years have elapsed since Castor gave forth
this unassailable decision. One wonders whether
Señor Castor would have made the same state-
ment today! Rojas at least had come to other
conclusions even ten years ago.
[127]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“I don't know about that,” said Rojas. "The
trouble is that I cannot find any other motive than
robbery. A robbery of sixty thousand dollars is
not big enough for either the Ambassador or Wel-
check. Welcheck is rich, very rich; his income
is ten thousand pounds a year; he doesn't gamble.
Welcheck would not do it for robbery; that's
plain. I do not know so much about Von Bod-
mann; he is relatively poor; has only his salary.
But, no; I can't imagine the old man doing it;
no, his position would forbid it; besides, they
were both together, and the young fellow would
not have allowed it anyway, not for money, that
is certain.”
"Yes; that is certain," agreed Castor drily.
"I don't know," returned Rojas. “Now what
if Beckert had threatened to divulge some of their
dirty work! what if Beckert had demanded an
increase in salary or hush-money for secrets which
he might divulge! Would they not have at-
tempted it for the honour of their Fatherland?
They are capable of anything in that case.”
Castor nodded.
“In that case, yes! At any rate, you might
give instructions to have them watched,” said Cas-
tor; "it will do no harm.”
Rojas at once left the room and gave the neces-
sary orders, and returned:
[128]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“We lose nothing by knowing their move-
ments," he said.
Castor swept the whole theory aside with his
hand.
"No, no; you are on the wrong track,” said
Castor; “you forget Tapia; we must account for
him before laying the blame at any one else's
door.”
“Caramba! Señor Castor, you are always
right,” said Rojas, and added gloomily, “but that
man has disappeared as if the earth had swallowed
him. Here we are, four days after the double
crime of fire and murder, and not a trace of him.”
“Are you sure he has not escaped to Argentine ?"
“Absolutely, Señor Castor; I receive hourly re-
ports from all the Andes passes, and no man has
crossed the Cordilleras even resembling him. He
is not in Santiago. If he were, my people would
have found him before now. He has not com-
municated with his wife either by word of mouth
or by letter. All her correspondence has been sub-
ject to strict censorship; he has not written to
her. I think I shall go and see her myself; I
may get something out of her; she might make
some slip which may give us a clue.”
Castor sighed wearily. He was baffled. He
arose and said:
"I think the idea is good, and the sooner it is
[129]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
She made Gilberto kneel on the bed to say his
prayers. The little chap, crossing himself,
mumbled through Our Lord's Prayer, and added
with child-like confidence: “Dear Jesus, do bring
Daddy back, because I want him very much,
please.”
Bienvenida, kneeling on the floor, her elbows
resting on the little bed, buried her head in the
pillow. Her body shook convulsively as she
sobbed silently. She prayed to God with all the
strength of her soul to bring her husband back.
Little Gilberto, seeing his mother crying pitifully,
began crying also. His prayer had ended; but
he added, “Please do, dear Jesus, because Mammy
also wants him, and she is very sad."
Bienvenida Tapia lifted up to God her tear-
stained face in one last appealing mute prayer;
then embraced her child tightly, her face against
his face, their tears mingling in their fall on the
spotless cotton sheets.
"My darling, I have no one left but you,” she,
said gently, "now you must go to sleep.”
She put out the light and stepped into the
kitchen to prepare her supper. She had not been
occupied many moments when she heard some one
stop at the front door; her heart gave a jump,
she felt faint for a second with unacknowledged
expectations. She stood where she was, not daring
to go to the door. Unconsciously she had been
[132]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
hoping against hope that some mysterious reason
had detained her husband and that some day he
would return and make it all clear. In moments
of sober reason, she thought that he must be lying
dead under the ruins of the burned Embassy,
himself reduced to ashes; it is true that the
police ...
A knock came at the door. Bienvenida
trembled violently; she shrank from dispelling
her illusions by opening the door; then she sud-
denly rushed forward, pulled the door open, and
was face to face with a soldier of the Cazadores;
but the uniform was not enough to deceive her,
for whereas Tapia was small and thin, the soldier
who obscured the doorway was tall and heavily
built. Her disappointment was terrible.
Again her eyes flooded with hot tears.
[133]


CHAPTER XX
S Bienvenida stared bewildered through
A her tears at the figure of the soldier
against the dark night, “Burenas noches,
Señora,” said he; “I heard of your misfortune,
and I thought I would come around and see if I
could do anything for you in these sad straits.
I am an old friend of Tapia's. We were good
friends for ten years until he got married.”
"Entre pues, amigo," murmured Mrs. Tapia
sadly, “Step in, friend”; and she led the way past
the counter into the kitchen.
"Sit down,” she said, as she pulled up a chair
to the white deal table in the centre of the room
for her visitor. She sat down in another one, and
silently covered her eyes with her handkerchief.
The soldier waited a few moments to allow
her to compose herself. He broke the silence
abruptly, saying in a mild voice:
"And have you no news of your husband?!!
“None at all,” she answered.
"I have heard so many stories, I don't know
what to think,” said the soldier; “some said he
was going on an expedition with the German
[134]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
gentleman and had not returned; others said he
was blamed for the fire at the Embassy and that
he had run away. I know better though; I've
known him for ten years."
"What! have you heard of him? Is he alive?
Tell me, please.” She leaned forward eagerly.
"No, I have not heard from him; I don't know
whether he is alive or not; I only said I knew him
very well, that's all.”
"If you know him so well, you must know he
could have done nothing wrong."
“Yes; that is what all the boys at the barracks
say; they never thought he would have the pluck
to do it.”
"He never did it,” she cried indignantly; "I
swear by the Virgin Mary he did not.”
"That's what I told them," said the soldier;
“and when we were talking it over I proposed
we should get up a subscription for you, as we
thought you might be hard up. We collected two
hundred and six dollars, and here they are."
He pulled out a roll of money, mostly com-
posed of one dollar notes and some silver, from
which we see that our friend Rojas was not a
man to be trapped by bungling with small trifles.
If he had brought two one-hundred-dollar notes,
Mrs. Tapia would have certainly wondered. In
this way she was satisfied that it had been a col-
lection, every man giving his little bit.
[135]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Rojas shoved the money across the table
towards Mrs. Tapia. The poor woman looked at
it, but did not touch it.
“I don't know whether I ought to accept it,”
she said; “I am very hard up and the tempta-
tion is great. I wonder what he would have liked
me to do?”
"He would have said, take it for the children,”
answered Rojas.
"I will take it; and when he comes back, if he
is not dead, we shall repay it,” she said; and
added, "Thank you very much for doing this for
me, you are a friend indeed to think of me.”
“Don't mention it, I am your husband's best
friend; and I want to clear his good name; and
I want you to help me to find him or to solve this
mystery; I tell you I have absolute faith he did
nothing wrong."
“How can I help you ?" she asked anxiously.
"Had he acquired any vices since he left the
regiment ?” he asked suddenly.
"How can you say such a thing when he was
the best man, the most honourable man, that ever
breathed?” she answered hotly.
“I only wanted to make sure; you see people
talk a lot,” the soldier answered. “Was he going
on a journey with the German gentlemen ?"
"He said something about it, but he did not
know when they were going to start. If they had
[136]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
intended to go, he would certainly have come back
for a bag and clean linen.”
"Then what do you think has happened to
him?'' asked the soldier bluntly. He was watch-
ing her every mood keenly.
The poor woman again put her handkerchief
to her eyes, as if to shield them from some terrible
sight. She remained so for several minutes. At
last Rojas gently broke the silence:
"I would like to know what you think, because
I myself think that he has been a victim of some
accident.”
“Of that I am sure," she broke in vehemently.
"He would have been back before now if nothing
had happened to him?"
"Yes, yes,” Rojas asked quickly; “but what
do you think has happened to him ?”
“I fear to say it, but I believe he must have died
in trying to save Señor Beckert from the fire.”
She spoke with difficulty.
“Then you think his body should be found
where the fire took place ?" he asked gently.
“Yes,” she sobbed.
Rojas shook his head:
“We had a man from the secret police at the
barracks and he said that only one body was
found, and that it was the body of the German
gentleman.”
"How could he tell ?" she broke in. "I was
[137]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
told the body was not recognizable, so how could
they know it was not my poor husband ?"
“Well; they only found one body.”
"Oh, yes!” she said with indignation, “Oh,
yes! because we are poor they lay the blame on
Tapia; because they found only one body they
accuse my poor husband of all sorts of horrible
things; and at the same time they can't tell whose
body it is.”
Rojas started. “Good God!" He leant for-
ward with quick eagerness and added: “Could
you identify the body?”
He was keeping control of an intense excite-
ment.
She remained silent a long time, as if seeking
an inspiration, her pretty black eyes turned up-
wards towards the electric light above the table,
in a fixed stare. Rojas gripped his patience. It
seemed as if she were never going to answer.
At last she muttered suddenly:
“Yes; I think I could.”
“What?” Rojas jumped up from his seat.
He leaned over the table towards her, and asked
excitedly: "You could make sure of the body!
How?"
“By his teeth,” she said calmly with a simpli-
city that carried conviction.
“What! You could be sure ?” he asked keenly.
[138]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"My husband had very perfect teeth,” she said
simply. "He had only once in his life been to a
dentist; and then only had a back tooth taken out.
The teeth could not have been burnt, because they
do not burn; so I am sure I could recognize him.”
"You've got it,” exclaimed Rojas. He struck
his fist on the table excitedly. “Yes, you have
got it. :. .Caramba! ... I congratulate you;
you are clever than— " he stopped. In his
excitement he had nearly forgotten that he was
posing as an old soldier friend of Mrs. Tapia's
husband.
The woman gazed at the man and his excited
state, dumbfounded.
"I have got it! what do you mean? What
have I got ?" she asked, bewildered.
Rojas came back to earth:
“The idea; the solution of the problem. I will
tell my Lieutenant to mention this idea to the
police, so that your husband's name will be cleared
of all guilt. They will now be able to identify
the body with certainty." And he added, some-
what enigmatically: “Good God! we never even
thought of this! Yes; the simple things are the
most difficult.”
Bienvenida Tapia's eyes filled with tears, and
she fell a-weeping.
The man came out of his own thinking, touched
[139]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
her kindly on the shoulder, and said gently:
"Hush! don't grieve-Tapia's good name is
saved.”
"If it is my darling that they find, my doom
is sealed,” she sobbed. “Sorrow, helplessness,
poverty are my future and the lot of my little
ones.”
"That shall not be,” answered the soldier hotly.
"I have some friends in high places, who will see
to it that you do not want; I promise.”
He sat down again; and for a few minutes
longer asked her about her children and com-
forted her as best he could, whilst his whole being
urged his going. After assuring her that he would
call again as soon as he was able to get a day off,
he at last bade her "good night!" and was gone.
[140]


CHAPTER XXI
On
was
A S soon as Rojas was well out of Jelvez
Court, he hailed a cab, and was driven
1 1 to his private residence whence, after a
quick change of clothes, he sallied forth. He
now went whistling a gay tune, his head high in
the air; he was at last full of confidence. He
felt sure that he was on the right track. “Yes,”
thought he, “now I can see it as clear as daylight.
Of course I was right. The right arm of the
dead man could not have been pointing towards
heaven unless the murder took place long before
old Von Bodmann and Welcheck pretended it
did. ... Oh, yes; we shall now see who is the
cleverest detective in Chile. Yes; I shall send
off on the sly a pair of those eyeglasses offered by
the press to Castor. But Castor is sure to take
all the honour; of course he is the Chief, and the
top nobs are those that get the credit. I wonder
how he will take the news?"
He was a happy man as he wondered what
special recommendation would be accorded to
him by the Government.
He was in the highest of spirits as he knocked
at the door of Castor's office at headquarters;
[141]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“What-do you—say?” stammered Castor, in-
credulously.
"I say, sir, that Tapia was the person buried
and not Beckert. My theory is right. The arm,
as shown on the photographs, belonged to a body
which had been dead an hour at least before the
fire took place. Beckert was alive twenty min-
utes before the fire broke out; so it could not
have been his body. And if it was not his, it
was Tapia's.”
“You must prove that,” replied Castor.
"I can and will prove it,” said Rojas.
“How ?”
“Have the body exhumed. Tapia had excel-
lent teeth, not a single filling and only one ex-
tracted. If the teeth of the dead man agree with
my declaration, then we arrive at the certain con-
clusion that it was Tapia who received all the
pomp and honour of an official and diplomatic
funeral.”
"How do you know all this about Tapia's
teeth ??
"I have been to see Mrs. Tapia; and I have
obtained the information personally from her. It
cost me, or rather the service, two hundred odd
dollars."
"It is worth it,” said Castor; then swinging
round in his chair he added: "but please tell me,
Inspector, where then is Herr Beckert?":
[143]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Ah! That, for the moment, I cannot pre-
tend to tell," answered Rojas, his brows contract-
ing in a puzzled look: '“I have thought about it,
and can find no reasonable answer to the ques-
tion.” And he added: “Chief; it may seem
absurd, but why should we not be looking for
Beckert instead of for Tapia?”
Castor's shoulders shrugged.
“Do you mean to accuse Herr Beckert, Chancel-
lor of the German Embassy, of murder ?” he
asked. “No, no, a man in his position is above
suspicion. Come, Rojas, you are death on the
German Embassy; you'll be suspecting the Em-
bassy cat next.”
“Let us suppose, then,” said Rojas, quite un-
ruffled, "that Herr Beckert had one of his epilep-
tic fits in some obscure corner of Santiago and
still continues in an epileptic condition. He has
not been found because the place where he had
the fit is so obscure and so little frequented that
no one had approached it. For argument's sake
let us leave him there. Now, as only one body
was found where there should have been two;
and as this one body has not been identified in
person as it was unrecognizable; why should it
not have been Tapia's ?''
"Simply because Tapia would not be wearing
Beckert's jewellery,” said Castor triumphantly.
"Against that very just objection I lay before
[144]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
you my side of the question: this man was mur-
dered before eleven in the morning on the day
of the fire, the position of the arm proves that be-
yond doubt; therefore if Bodmann's and Wel-
check's evidence is to be believed—and you say
you believe it—it could not have been Herr Beck-
erť s body as he was alive after that time.”
Castor nodded.
“We have arrived at an impasse,” said Castor.
“We are in a blind alley.”
"Rojas took quick advantage of his Chief's be-
wilderment:
"Let us get out of it by looking at the body,"
said he.
“We cannot have the body exhumed unless we
show the most powerful reasons," said Castor.
“What more powerful reason than the one be-
fore us ?. Tapia is not to be found. I guarantee
that he has not got out of the country; and yet
we cannot lay hands on him. The body was not
properly identified. The position of the arm
alone should be reason enough.”
"I shall speak to the Judge about it, and if he
agrees, he will order the exhumation of the body.
We shall leave it at that,” replied Castor.
“Will you see the Judge soon?”
· "In about an hour's time when I have finished
with these papers.” Castor nodded to the pile
of correspondence on the desk.
[145]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"Every moment is precious now,” said Rojas,
stressing each of his words.
“I know that; and the sooner I finish this, the
sooner I shall see the Judge.”
With this mild hint Rojas had to be satisfied;
at once he turned and left his Chief alone.
A
[146]


CHAPTER XXII
HE order was given by the Judge for the
exhumation of the body. The body was
unburied that same evening, and taken
to the School of Medicine, where the examination
of the remains was to take place.
As a courtesy to the German Ambassador, two
German doctors were appointed by the Judge to
make the examination of the remains that night:
Doctor Westenhoeffer, specially engaged in Chile
by the Chilean Government as a professor of
Autopsies to teach at the Santiago School of Medi-
cine, and Doctor Aichel, a German practitioner.
Next morning at ten o'clock the Judge arrived.
at the School of Medicine, accompanied by two
Chilean Doctors acting on behalf of the Govern-
ment, as the laws of the country demanded.
As the Judge passed through the waiting-room
adjoining the room where the autopsy had been
made by the German doctors, he saw sitting on
either side of a table strewn with papers, Natalia
Beckert and Bienvenida Tapia, who had both
been called by the authorities to identify the body.
Mrs. Beckert, dressed in deep mourning, her
beautiful face very pale, bore traces of great grief
[147]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
and sleepless nights. At nine in the evening of
the day before, she had been notified that her
presence would be required next morning to iden-
tify the remains of her husband. She had been
told that some doubt had arisen as to the real
identity of the person buried and that the body
would be exhumed that same evening. As she
had not identified the body at the inquest she was
called upon to do so now.
The summons shocked her sense of decorum and
of the respect she considered as due to her hus-
band. Requiescat in pace had been the last words
of the Evangelist Minister, officiating at the
burial; and now the rest and peace of the poor
body had been disturbed. All the proceedings
seemed to her absurd, monstrous. To have her
husband identified a second time seemed a use-
less desecration. She saw no objeot in this; the
possibility of the exhumed body not being that
of her husband was beyond her wildest imagina-
tion. She dreaded the ordeal she was to go
through within a few minutes; she shuddered at
the thought, and looked for sympathy at the
woman sitting on the other side of the table.
Poor Mrs. Tapia. Her comely face betrayed
the greatest anxiety. Her poor heart was full of
contradictory emotions. If she identified the body
her last hope, slight indeed, but still a tiny ray
of hope, of future happiness would be gone for
[148]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
The words, spoken in a voice, mild, gentle, and
full of sympathy, were soothing to her in her
terrible distress. She pressed his hand in mute
acknowledgment of his kindness.
"I shall try,” she answered.
On the marble table, lying on its side was the
skull, bare, not a particle of skin covering it;
beside it lay the lower part of the jaw. Further
back a shapeless brown mass, which the doctors
said was the trunk of the body, lay with the arms
and legs.
Mrs. Beckert was asked to look at these grue-
some remains and to say if she could identify them
as belonging to her husband. She glanced at
them and turned away.
"How awful, how terrible!” she exclaimed.
"I can't. Let me go away!”
"My child, calm yourself,” said the Judge.
"Please look at the jaws, can you identify the
teeth ?”
She controlled herself with a great effort and,
concentrating all her strength, looked. She re-
mained staring at the jaws for several moments,
then turning away, said:
"It is impossible for me to say that I can recog-
nize anything. This is too terrible.”
"You must have one more look at the body,
please," said the Judge. “Do you think you
could recognize your husband ?”
[150]


CHAPTER XXIII
IENVENIDA TAPIA, attired in the tra-
ditional manto, a Spanish inheritance,
entered the mortuary chamber.
The manto, of rich black silk embroidered with
flowers, covered her head and was gathered in
tightly at the neck, and fell in graceful folds,
hiding and at the same time revealing her well-
developed figure.
With the stolidness of the Araucanian, the
original inhabitants of Chile, whose blood ran in
her veins with that of her Spanish ancestors, she
glanced at the rich coffin which rested on the
opposite side of the room from where the marble
table stood. She paled slightly notwithstanding
the show of unconcern.
She thought for a moment she would be shown
a body seemingly asleep.
As she knew she was there to identify it, she
made a step towards the coffin, then stopped short.
She did not dare approach; she stood perplexed,
her heart beating intensely, her brain a great con-
fusion. She felt stunned; the decisive moment
had arrived.
The Judge advanced to her.
“You are Mrs. Tapia,” he said.
[152]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Yes, sir."
"You have said you could recognize your hus-
band by his teeth though mutilated and burnt?”!
“Yes, sir.”
“You must be strong because the sight you will
witness is terrible. Do you think you feel up to
it?"
“Yes, sir.”
“Please come this way," said the Judge.
Her surprise was great; instead of being asked
to step up to the coffin she was led in the opposite
direction.
She saw several gentlemen observing her, and
then her glance fell on the table where the re-
mains were laid.
She clutched the arm of the Judge, who winced
as he felt her fingers and nails tighten on his arm.
She had seen, and stopped short, closing her eyes.
“Calm yourself,” said the Judge, removing her
hand from his arm and retaining it in his own
hand.
“Doctor Grille,” he said, "will you bring the
teeth for identification ?”
Doctor Grille, with a surgeon's sang-froid, took
from the table the skull in one hand and the lower
jaw in the other, and presented them to the hor-
rified eyes of Mrs. Tapia.
One glance at the teeth was enough. She
heaved a deep sigh of relief.
[153]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“The teeth are not those of my husband," she
said.
“Could you swear to it?"
“Si, Señor; por la Virgin.”
“You swear by the Virgin Mary that these are
not your husband's teeth ?”
“Yes, sir, I swear his teeth were perfect," she
said, turning away from Doctor Grille and his
revolting exhibits.
"That will do,” said the Judge; "thank you
very much; you are a brave woman.” He him-
self led her to the door.
[154]


CHAPTER XXIV
THEN Mrs. Tapia had passed out, the
Judge shut the door and, turning to
the doctors, said: “We have not ad-
vanced any further after all this trouble. Doc-
tor Westenhoeffer and Doctor Aichel, have you
a written report on the autopsy carried out by
yourself?”
“Not yet, sir; but we can give you verbally the
result of our examination," answered Westen-
hoeffer.
“What is your opinion?''
Doctor Westenhoeffer went to the table in the
centre of the room and took up some papers. He
had put down notes at which he occasionally
glanced, and commenced:
"Doctor Aichel and myself began the examina-
tion of the body last night at ten o'clock, after
having consulted His Excellency Baron von Bod-
mann as to whether we should undertake it. We
both agree that the remains which we have here
are those of Herr Beckert. Besides, all the proofs,
already in the hands of the police are to the same
effect. We have discovered, stuck in the left-
hand side, which is the side on which the body
[155]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Dah
.
must have been resting, and in the region of the
fifth rib, this piece of cloth.”
He held up to view of those present a piece of
linen which had certainly belonged to a shirt,
with red and blue stripes. It was about four
inches wide by six inches in length.
"This cloth and the body were of the same
colour when we separated it and was soaked in
what must have been blood. We examined it
microscopically and found it to be so. After
washing, it resumed its present appearance. We
have had it identified this morning by Frau Beck-
ert; she recognized it as part of the shirt Herr
Beckert was wearing on the day he met his death.
On further examination we have found that the
heart was penetrated to the extent of two inches
by a wound inflicted with a stiletto or other thin,
sharp instrument. The skull had been perforated
by two blows struck with terrible force with a
hammer, as you see by your own observation.”
He took up the skull and with a slow sweeping
gesture showed it to them all.
“We have been able to ascertain that the blows
on the head did not produce death instantane-
ously. Death was due to the wound in the heart,
the amount of blood shed shows this. The time
that elapsed between the infliction of the wounds
on the head and the one in the heart must have
been very short; indeed, so short that we are of
[156]


CHAPTER XXV
OJAS was not beaten yet. Oho! so the
German doctors, then, had had an inter-
view with Von Bodmann at two in the
night before the autopsy; why? Had the . Am-
bassador ordered them, in case they found any
evidence to prove that the body was not Beckert's,
to pass over it? The blow would now be great
for the German Embassy if by any chance a
doubt remained that the body was not that of the
Chancellor. If it were not, then the crime had
been committed by him. Why had the doctors
been at such pains to examine the blood micro-
scopically on the cloth and washed the cloth so
that it should be identified by Mrs. Beckert?
Why had they not examined the teeth micro-
scopically as well? They knew that the exami-
nation had been ordered principally to examine
the teeth; yet they had cursorily dismissed the
most important evidence with words such as “ap-
parently" and "you can see for yourselves.”
This did not satisfy Rojas at all. He would get
to the bottom of all this, and very soon. In this
train of thought he arrived at Mrs. Beckert's resi-
dence, got out, and asked the cab to wait.
[159]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
He was ushered into the drawing-room, where
he found Mrs. Beckert reclining on a couch, in her
hand a handkerchief wet with recent tears, and
on a small table beside her a bottle of smelling-
salts.
The poor woman had not yet recovered from
the effects of the ordeal.
“Señora Beckert,” broke in Rojas at once, "I
have come to ask you if you can tell me the name
of the dentist who attended your husband.”
"Dennis Lay,” she answered wearily.
“Thank you very much, Señora, I hope you will
soon get over the terrible experience you went
through this morning. I see you have not yet
recovered; I shall take my leave. Adios
Señora.”
“Adios, Señor," replied Mrs. Beckert dreamily.
Rojas stepped into the waiting cab and asked to
be driven to Mr. Lay's dental surgery. The dis-
tance was not great; and in a few minutes he ar-
rived at the Lower Alameda.
Asking the driver again to wait, he knocked at
Number 2778. It seemed ages before the door
was opened and the servant appeared.
"Mr. Dennis Lay?” he asked.
"He is out of town.”
“Where?"
“He has gone to Melipilla.”
“Caramba!” said Rojas, bitterly disappointed;
[160]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
then suddenly added, “When do you expect him
back?"
"We don't know; he is on his holidays."
“We don't know! who are we?"
“Señor Villareal and myself.”
“Who is Señor Villareal ?"
“He works 'with Mr. Lay and has done so for
years.”
“Ah! Good! Can I see him?"
“Certainly; this way, please.”
Rojas was ushered into the usual dentists ante-
torture-chamber, and was asked to take a seat.
Fortunately Señor Villareal was disengaged.
The door of the consulting-room opened, and the
dentist stepped in.
"Good afternoon, doctor,” said Rojas; "I am
Inspector Rojas of the Secret Service. I have
reasons to think that Herr Wilhelm Beckert has
been a patient of Mr. Lay."
"To what year do you refer ?!!
"Say 1907."
“My dear sir, if he has been attended here, we
will easily find all the information you can want.
Every bit of work done for our patients is always
minutely written down with the record of their
work done and the charges for the same. Mr.
Beckert, you said? Let us look.”
Señor Villareal opened a large book at its index,
and under the letter “B” found the name "Beck-
[161]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Rojas was ushered out by the servant who had
admitted him; and got into the cab.
It was half-past twelve; he could do nothing
for an hour, everybody would be lunching; he
felt hungry himself. He consulted a pocket di-
rectory and ordered the cab to drive him to the
Restaurant Santiago. This was the nearest res-
taurant to the place to which he wanted to go
afterwards.
When he arrived at the restaurant he paid off
the cabby, and entered. He sat down at a table
and ordered what for a Chilean would be a light
lunch: a cold partridge, a couple of fried eggs and
bacon, a steak and fried potatoes, and dessert, with
a quart bottle of Chilean claret and some fruit.
And he watched the hands of the clock feverishly.
[163]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
sa
the papers the death of Chancellor Beckert of the
German Embassy and that the assassin Tapia is
not to be found?”
“Yes; but what has this to do with the honour
and good name of a woman?”
"Very much indeed. The woman and her
children are Tapia's wife and sons. They are
victims of the most infamous plot concocted by
the German Ambassador and Doctors Westen-
hoeffer and Aichel.”
"Impossible.”
"Exactly. Impossible! Everyone says the
same. It rests with you to prove that it is not
impossible. It rests with you, with your science
and experience, to clear the name of a poor
woman. You can clear her and her children from
the infamy of a false accusation which without
you they will have to bear to their dying day.”
"But how can I do this?”
“Did you know that the body of Herr Beckert
has been exhumed?
“No, I did not; why has this been done ?”
“Because Tapia is not to be found; and Mrs.
Tapia said she could recognize him by his teeth.
Well, she did not do so. She was too shocked.
She saw nothing; but we know for a certainty
that Tapia had all his teeth except one, and that
Beckert had five extractions and nine fillings."
“Do the German doctors know this?"
[165]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
: "I don't think so; but the exhumation was
ordered with the exclusive object of identifying
the teeth, and they have not even looked at them.
It is a German plot."
“How can you make such an accusation?
What ground have you for calling all this a Ger-
man plot?”
"Yesterday evening, before carrying out the
autopsy, Doctors Westenhoeffer and Aichel had
a long consultation with the Ambassador. After
this interview they undertook the autopsy. At
two o'clock this morning they had a second inter-
view with the Ambassador. They proved beyond
the shadow of a doubt that the body is Herr Beck-
ert's! They proved it by a piece of linen which
they found stuck to the back and by a broken leg."
"I should think that this is enough proof after
all the evidence already published in the papers,”
said Doctor Valenzuela.
“Yet they did not touch upon the most im-
portant and capital point, the teeth.”
“They had enough evidence without them,”
said the doctor.
"There you are wrong, doctor; they had more
evidence than they liked with them. Think of
the tremendous blow to the reputation of Ger-
man diplomatists in case the body found were
not Herr Beckert's, but Tapia's; Beckert is miss-
ing; if Tapia is dead, Beckert is the assassin. I
m
.
[166]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
maintain that the Ambassador instructed the Ger-
man doctors to prove that the body was Beck-
ert's.”
"It is incredible,” said Doctor Valenzuela.
“Yes, it may seem incredible; but in our pro-
fession,” said the detective, “we look for clues
amongst the fantastic.”
“Let me think a moment,” said Doctor Valen-
zuela.
Rojas saw he had interested the famous dentist,
and remained quietly expectant. The doctor took
two or three turns up and down the room. He
sudenly stopped in front of Rojas and said:
“How old was Tapia ?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“And Beckert?"
“Thirty-eight or thirty-nine."
“The doctors should certainly have examined
the teeth,” said Valenzuela.
“That is my opinion,” said Rojas.
“How many teeth are there left in the jaws ???
“About six in the upper and lower jaw on one
side of the face. The others are destroyed to the
roots.”
“That will be plenty for an examination,” said
Valenzuela.
"They intend to bury the body tonight or to-
morrow morning,” said Rojas anxiously.
“I see; you want me to examine the teeth ?”
[167]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
queried the doctor; "have you secured the neces-
sary authority ?!!
"No, sir; I did not want to apply for it with-
out having your consent first. No one knows or
even suspects that I am following this clue, or that
I am here with you. The result of your examina-
tion will be the greatest blow ever dealt to these
German savants that the Government engages to
teach at our Universities.”
This thrust at the German doctors was diplo-
matic, and had the desired effect. It had already
been rumoured that a German would shortly be
engaged to take Señor Valenzuela's post as Head
of the School of Dentistry. Rojas knew this; so
did Valenzuela.
“I will consent to undertake the examination if
you obtain the authority for me to do so,” he said.
"It is late, already nearly three; if we take a
cab together we might go direct to Castor, and
thence to the Judge, and obtain the permission,"
said Rojas.
"I don't know,” said Valenzuela dubiously;
"I think I would rather you went alone.”
“But, doctor, if I don't find them at once,
valuable time will be lost. The order for burial
may be given at any moment; it may already be
signed. Think of Mrs. Tapia. Please accom-
pany me out of pity for her; think of the infamy
she may undeservedly have to bear for a lifetime.”
[168]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
had gone out and had left no word as to when he
would be back. He came back rather crestfallen;
and, getting into the cab, asked to be driven to the
Tribunals, or Criminal Courts. As the driver
whipped up the horse, Rojas turned to the doctor.
"Castor is not there,” he explained. “We must
get this authority immediately. I would suggest
that you accompany me at my interview with the
Judge; if you do, I am certain we shall get the
order.”
"I will do as you like. I have gone too far now
to back out,” answered Doctor Valenzuela.
[170]


CHAPTER XXVII
OJAS and the doctor arrived at the Courts
and were at once admitted. Twenty
minutes afterwards Rojas came out again,
followed by Doctor Valenzuela. His face was
beaming; the permit was in his pocket. They
quickly reached the School of Medicine, and asked
to see Doctor Westenhoeffer or Doctor Aichel.
It was four o'clock; the lectures were just fin-
ished and the German doctor Westenhoeffer re-
ceived them in his private study.
A look of surprise and anxiety overclouded the
German's face as he saw Doctor Valenzuela enter,
accompanied by Rojas.
“What can I do for you, Herr Valenzuela ?”
said he, in a mild mellifluous voice. “It is a plea-
sure to see you here."
“We have come,” broke in Rojas, “to carry out
the orders of the Judge to examine the teeth and
jaws of Herr Beckert.”
"Does this man speak the truth?” asked Wes-
tenhoeffer, with official German insolence, turning
pale.
“Yes, doctor," answered Valenzuela calmly.
Rojas was furious; he burst out angrily:
[171]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“This man' will show you the Judge's order
asking you to allow every facility and to render
all the assistance required by Doctor Valenzuela.
Here! read this!”
He drew the order out of his pocket and held
it out to the German doctor roughly.
Doctor Westenhoeffer took it. He scanned it
quickly; was silent a few seconds; then remarked
lamely:
"Doctor Valenzuela, to begin with, this is not
according to professional etiquette.”
"Etiquette has nothing to do with it,” said
Rojas; he smiled grimly, and turning from Valen-
zuela, added: “Doctor Valenzuela has been
ordered by the Judge to make this examination;
and if he does not do it I shall arrest him."
"Excuse me, Mr. Policeman,” said Westen-
hoeffer angrily, “I was addressing Herr Valen-
zuela, not you."
Valenzuela intervened calmly:
"Doctor Westenhoeffer, I have been ordered by
the Judge to make this examination; and the
sooner I make it the better. I have no other alter-
native. Will you please let me have the skull and
lower jaw? I will take them to the School of
Dentistry, where I can best carry out my orders.”
"I cannot give them to you," replied the Ger-
man; “I also have orders from the Ambassador;
I was ordered by him to carry out the autopsy."
[172]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
man
Rojas and the doctor let the fact that the Ger-
man was in Chile, not in Germany, pass them by
“Yet you gave your report this morning!” said
Rojas.
"Only verbally.”
"You refuse to comply with the order before
you ?” asked Rojas.
“Yes."
"Because of your Ambassador's orders ?”
“Yes.”
“I will soon settle that,” said Rojas.
He stepped up to the desk and took up the
telephone.
"Give me Alameda 495,” he spoke into the re-
ceiver.
“What are you doing?” asked Westenhoeffer
hoarsely, stepping up to Rojas.
"Telephoning."
"Put down that instrument at once. How
dare you?"
He went up to Rojas in a threatening attitude,
his face livid with anger.
“You can't bully me. Don't you touch me,”
said Rojas as Doctor Westenhoeffer attempted to
snatch the telephone from him. “Stop it or you
will regret it!” he added significantly; and, still
holding the receiver to his ear with his left hand,
he held Doctor Westenhoeffer at bay with his
right.
[173]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Hallo! is that the German Embassy ?”
There was a guttural reply in the hollow of the
phone. Rojas answered:
“Yes? I would like to speak with the Ambas-
sador. I am Inspector Rojas of the Secret Ser-
vice. It is an urgent and important matter."
"I am Baron Welcheck. I shall communicate
your message to the Ambassador," came the an-
swer.
"I am with Doctor Valenzuela at the School of
Medicine. Doctor Valenzuela has been ordered
by the Judge to carry out an examination of Herr
Beckert's remains. Doctor Westenhoeffer opposes
it, although we have shown him the Judge's order.
He says he has orders from the Ambassador that
do not allow him to comply with the commands
of the Chilean authorities."
Answer came quickly:
“Will you hold the line a moment?”'
“Certainly," answered Rojas.
As soon as the conversation on the telephone
had begun Doctor Westenhoeffer had given up
his attempt at interference. Doctor Valenzuela,
looking at a well-known picture entitled, “The
Diagnosis," seemed utterly unconcerned at the
result of the altercation between the two
men.
“Hallo! yes ?
Rojas listened attentively for a few moments
[174]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
and then asked Westenhoeffer to take up the re-
ceiver.
“They wish to speak to you,” he said.
Westenhoeffer took it from the desk where
Rojas had left it. During the conversation that
followed he looked agitated, and bowed several
times, saying “Ja wohl, Excellenze; ja wohl, Ex-
cellenze," as though he were addressing the Ger-
man Ambassador in person.
At last he put down the telephone, and said
pompously: "His Excellency the Ambassador
waives his rights in this matter, and you may pro-
ceed to your examination, Herr Valenzuela.”
The Chilean doctor bowed ironically:
“That is very kind of him, but let me tell you,”
he added sternly, “that, with or without his con-
sent, I should have carried out this examination.”
Rojas laughed:
“So he waives his rights! Ha! ha! ha!”
Rojas's anger had vanished as though by
magic; he was in the highest of spirits; he turned
to the sullen German.
“Will you now let us have what we require ?!!
“Yes; come this way.”
The baffled man led them to the mortuary
chamber where the remains lay, and, pointing to
the marble table, he said: “You may select what
you like, but I require a receipt for whatever you
take."
[175]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“And I require a bag or some paper to wrap
them in,” said Valenzuela.
, "I have no bag; I shall ring for some paper,"
said Westenhoeffer.
"I hope, Herr Westenhoeffer," said Valenzuela,
“that our reports on this case and our opinions
will be the same.”
"I am sure that that will be the case," said the
German doctor, bowing.
“When do you hand in your report?" asked
Valenzuela.
"I have had it translated from the German into
Spanish; and it should be in the hands of the
authorities by this time."
A few minutes later Valenzuela, with a large
round parcel under his arm, and followed by
Rojas, entered the cab. They were driven to the
School of Dentistry.
Rojas was undecided what to do. Would he
go to Headquarters and see Westenhoeffer's re-
port, or would he stay and await Doctor Valen-
zuela's report?
He decided to wait; paid the cab; and fol-
lowed the famous dentist into the school. After
all, he already knew the German report; he had
heard it that morning in evidence; it had already
arrived at its destination and could not be
changed. Could it not? If Westenhoeffer sus-
pected that their plot had been discovered, would
[176]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
he not try and get the report back in order to
alter it?
They had reached the door of the laboratory
where Doctor Valenzuela was to make his micro-
scopic examination. As the doctor opened the
door, he turned to Rojas:
"Señor Rojas, I cannot allow you in here; you
can wait in the anteroom if you would like to
know the result at once."
“Will you be long, doctor ?”
“Not more than an hour, although the written
report will not be ready until tomorrow."
“I shall wait here, doctor; can you direct me
to the telephone ?”
"Yes, go to the caretaker; he will show you
where it is; and if you come back here I shall let
you have my opinion.”
“Thank you very much,” said Rojas.
The door was shut. Rojas went in search of
the caretaker. He telephoned to Castor what he
had done, and informed him of his suspicions re-
garding the likelihood of Westenhoeffer having
the report returned and altering it.
Castor informed him that Westenhoeffer would
not get the report back; that if he wanted to alter
his opinion he would have to send a second report,
but that the original one could not be touched.
This satisfied Rojas greatly and he went to the
anteroom and waited—waited almost over-
whelmed with a great sense of certainty.
[177]


CHAPTER XXVIII
OJAS sat in an easy chair, pulled out a
cigarette, and lit it. He watched the
smoke curl up in fantastic shapes. He
knew that his theory was correct. Oh! how he
wished it to be proved so! He puffed at his
cigarette in quick spasms that revealed the tense
excitement of the eager brain. He blew the ashes
off the cigarette, and puffed again. The easy
chair felt uncomfortable. He got up and paced
the room. In the centre was a table. He looked
for a newspaper; there was none. He sat down
again; he looked at his watch and found it was
twenty minutes past five. They had arrived at
five minutes past the hour. He had still forty-
five minutes to wait; how the time dragged! He
looked at the second hand and watched the little
arrow go slowly round. Goodness! how long a
minute is when you are waiting! He put his
watch in his pocket, got up again, and paced the
room. He gave three or four turns and again
consulted his watch; had it stopped? No, the
little arrow was moving. Still the other hands
had not advanced; he put it back in his pocket;
pulled out another cigarette, and lit.it.
[178]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
He sat down again and looked at the door
behind which so much centred. How was the
doctor getting on? He could imagine him look-
ing through a microscope at the ghastly remains,
sitting calmly there in his white overalls, his hands
incased in rubber gloves to avoid contagion if
there were any. He could picture him probing
here, probing there, removing bits of bone or
cinders which were in the way.
Suddenly the door opened and Doctor Valen-
zuela stepped into the room; he wore no overalls
nor rubber gloves.
"Your theory, my friend, has proved correct;
I congratulate you," said the doctor, holding out
his hand, which Rojas shook heartily.
“My thanks to you, doctor; my sincere, sincere
thanks. Can you prove it absolutely ?"
"Oh, yes; as sure as that two and two are
four."
Rojas could hardly believe what he heard; he
hesitated, then asked doubtfully:
“Are you certain ?
“Perfectly."
“The murdered person is Tapia ?” Rojas
asked the question like an anxious child.
"I can only say that if your information about
Beckert's teeth is correct, this is not Beckert's
head, as it has only one extraction,” answered
Doctor Valenzuela.
[179]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Then it is Tapia's.” The man's nerves were
setting his whole body a-quiver. "Heavens! we
must catch Beckert. He has a week's start of us.
When will you have your report ready ???
“Tomorrow morning, or possibly late tonight."
“Will you work at home, doctor, or here?"
“Here.”
"If I get through my business in time may I call
for it tonight?!!
"Certainly, but not before eleven.”
"Good-bye, and thanks again, doctor."
[180]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Thank you,” said Rojas.
"I give you carte blanche in this case, Rojas;
do what you think best and follow up your won-
derful success by laying your hands on Beckert.
You have done good work, very good work; again
I congratulate you”; he held out his hand to
Rojas, who shook it cordially. “And now, in-
stead of going home to dinner, I am going to the
Foreign Office,” continued Castor. “I was asked
to inform Señor Balma of any developments in
this case on account of the claim filed by the Ger-
man Ambassador, who demanded full and sum-
mary punishment for Tapia and his accomplices."
“May I accompany you?” asked Rojas eagerly.
“I would like to see some one there.”
“Certainly, come along."
During the drive Rojas only answered Castor's
questions by monosyllables; he was thinking
deeply. "If I have drafts on a bank I must prove
my identity in order to be paid. If I change my
name, how can I prove my identity? Through a
false passport. That's it. We shall see.” So the
busy keen brain worked out the tangle.
Arrived at the Foreign Office, Castor went in,
asking for Señor Balma; whilst Rojas made
straight for the passport department. It was
already late, but he found one last solitary young
man still in charge, to whom he explained who he
was, and asked to see copies of the passports viséd
Car&IC.
[182]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
for the German Embassy. The book was pro-
duced.
“There are not many,” said the young man.
"How far back do you want?":
“Say three months.”
“Here we are! Only one since the 4th Decem-
ber. That was for a German professor.” Then
the youth read out the name: “Ciro Lara Motte,
January 8th.” He turned to Rojas: “Oh! yes;
I remember; poor Herr Beckert came himself;
it was for a nephew of his going to Germany;
that was on the 28th of January, about two weeks
ago. Poor fellow !”
"May I take a few notes ?” asked Rojas.
“Certainly; but I hope you won't be long; it
is getting late. ...".
Five minutes later Rojas was back at Head-
quarters dictating messages to be sent to all passés
and ports; the purport of these messages was to
arrest the bearer of a passport in the name of Ciro
Lara Motte.
Rojas was a happy man. He had even got the
name that Beckert had assumed. He knew that
Beckert had no nephew bearing that name.
What a lucky idea to go to the Foreign Office!
thought he. He sent telegrams to the Argentine
Police asking co-operation in the apprehension of
Ciro Lara Motte. He worked until late. At
about eleven o'clock that night he went in search
of Valenzuela at the School of Dentistry.
[183]


CHAPTER XXX
D OJAS found the doctor putting the finish-
K ing touches to his report.
“May I read it, doctor?” he asked.
“Certainly, my friend,” said the doctor, passing
him a few sheets of paper.
Rojas took the papers and read:
Report of J. Valenzuela, D. S., etc.
The jaws, which I have been asked to ex-
amine, have all the teeth except one which has
been extracted. Technically speaking, the
word teeth applies to the thirty-two teeth which
every well-developed adult should have.
These jaws therefore have thirty-one normal
teeth; and I can certify in the most absolute
manner that only one tooth has been extracted.
THE SUPERIOR Jaw.
The examination of this jaw reveals the
absence of seven anterior teeth as follows-two
incisors, two lateral, two canine, and the first
left premolar.
The absence of the crowns on the roots
of these teeth is explained by the fact, without
[184]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
all the roots of the missing teeth exist, and I
can declare emphatically that this jaw had the
sixteen normal teeth belonging to it. The
same observation applies to this jaw, that is to
say; that it has not been touched deeply by any
professional hand.
ALENZUELA.
“Caramba!” exclaimed Rojas. “Tell me,
Señor Valenzuela; if Westenhoeffer made, as he
says he did, an examination of the teeth, what
conclusions do you draw ?!
"I can affirm that any one looking at these speci-
mens would see, at the first glance, that they had
been violently dealt with. If you look at the
edges of the broken teeth you will see they are
as sharp as broken glass.”
"Do you think Westenhoeffer could tell the age
of the person to whom they belonged ?"
“Doctor Westenhoeffer has been engaged by the
Government as professor of autopsies; he has vast
experience. It is as easy for a professional man
to tell the age of a person by his teeth, within a
few years, as it is for a veterinary surgeon to tell
the age of a horse, within a few months. You
can draw your own conclusions."
"Caramba!” Rojas's eyes glittered. “So our
foreign savants, as I suspected, were plotting with
[186]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
the Ambassador towards the turning of suspicion
from the subtle Wilhelm Beckert! and the brutes
were laying the blame on poor Tapia. And the
Government engages them, at magnificent salaries,
to teach us their culture. My God! but I would
like to clear out the lot.”
Valenzuela's voice was hard as he replied
slowly:
"If this plot is proved publicly, as it certainly
is already privately, their reputation as to honour,
truthfulness, and knowledge will suffer greatly,”
said he. “Why, a student of dentistry in his first
year could have detected that the teeth belonged
to a man of at most thirty, and, what is more, not
to a foreigner.”
“Why; how so?”
“Because we find amongst our lower and upper
classes the best teeth in the world. These teeth
of the dead man are typical of the standard of the
teeth of our population. No German, or very
few indeed, could reach the age of thirty with only
one extraction and all the other teeth perfectly
sound. The peculiar whiteness of them is char-
acteristic. Westenhoeffer could not possibly help
knowing this, and establishing a comparison,"
said Valenzuela with conviction.
"Why don't you put that in your report?”
asked Rojas.
[187]


CHAPTER XXXII
OJAS and the Governor of San Pablo
Penitentiary were in earnest conversation
when a knock at the door interrupted
them.
“Come in !" called the Governor.
Led between two warders, a man of about fifty
was ushered in. He was dressed in prison clothes,
his white hair closely cropped, his cap in his hand.
His appearance was one of deep dejection. His
eyes, jet black, looked downwards, as though not
able to bear the humiliation of his present sur-
roundings.
"Gonzales," said the Governor, “this gentle-
man has brought some good news for you; you
may be free in a few days. We need, in order
to be able to set you free very soon, to clear some
points which were not brought out at your trial.”
The man paled with emotion, and his whole
bulky frame shook. He did not lift his eyes; he
remained quiet as though he had heard nothing.
He heaved a deep sigh; tears sprang to his eyes,
and coursed down his cheeks, at the joyful pro-
spect of soon seeing his family. Brushing away
DU
[193]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
his tears with the back of his hand as though feel-
ing rather ashamed of his demonstration of weak-
ness, he said in a steady, manly voice:
“What do you wish to know?”
“When did Herr Beckert first go to Caleu ?”
“To my knowledge about five years ago."
“How long was he there each time he went
down?
"Sometimes a day, sometimes a week, some-
times a month."
“What did he go there for ?”
“To try and dishonour my daughter."
“Don't you think he had other objects ?”
"No."
“Did he have no occupation there ?!!
“He said often that he and some other gentle-
men were prospecting for gold.”
“Did they work a mine?”
“They worked several mines.”
"Do you know if they ever got any gold out ?''
“They couldn't, because there is no gold in
Caleu.”
“Did you ever see them work the mines ?”
"No; because the machinery never arrived.”
“What machinery?”
"I don't know what kind of machinery it was."
"How do you know it was coming, then ?"
“Because I was told so; and I saw the big
foundations for them.”
[194]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Could you show us where these foundations
are ?"
“Some of them. I know they built lots of
them; but as the company did not have any more
· money to continue working, they left the founda-
tions as they were. They must be covered over
with vegetation now, and difficult to locate.”
“But you said just now that you could locate
them.”
“Yes, I might locate two or three of them, cer-
tainly two."
"How big were they?”.
“As big as an ordinary large room.”
“How deep?"
"I don't know; they did not allow people to
approach as they said they were afraid of the
secret of the machinery being discovered.”
“But you approached?"
Gonzales was silent.
“Answer my question.”
“I did.”
“What for?!
“Because I knew there was no gold there, and
that they were lying.”
“Yes; and what more ?''
"Well; I was anxious to know what they were
up to.”
“And what conclusion did you come to ?”
“That these foreigners mistook fools' gold for
[195]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
real gold; and that they were spending their
money for nothing."
“Did you ever tell Herr Beckert that there was
no gold?”
"No."
"But you knew there was none ?''
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell him?"
“Because they paid very good wages to all who
worked for them; and I wasn't going to play a
dirty trick on our friends."
“A dirty trick?''
“Yes; if they had known that what they saw
was fools' gold, they would have cleared out."
“Where did Herr Beckert stay when at Caleu?'
“At the explosives factory.”
“Who owns the factory ?''
“Mr. Otto."
“Otto what?!
"I can't pronounce those foreign names; we
knew him as Mr. Otto.”
“Did Herr Beckert always stay there?”
“Oh, no, he sometimes stayed at the Hotel Ger-
mania, and sometimes at the yards with Mr.
Schultz.”
“What are these yards ?”
“Where they build ships.” .
“Were Mr. Otto and Mr. Schultz partners in
the gold mines ??!
[196]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Oh, yes, they were always together, with a lot
of mining engineers; and they had lots of argu-
ments as to where they were to dig next; they
were awful fools those engineers.”
"How do you know they had arguments? Do
you understand German ?"
"I don't need to know German to know when
people disagree.”
"Could your son tell us more than you have
told us?”
“I don't think so."
"Very well, you may expect to be set free very
soon. We shall probably want you to show us
the foundations, so as to prove that you have
spoken the truth.”
"I have spoken the truth," answered Gonzales.
"Very well; take him away."
The warders led Gonzales back to the work-
room where all “long terms” are given occupations.
"Would you like to question the son ?" asked
the Governor.
"I don't think so, what else could we ask?”
queried Rojas.
"That is for you to decide.”
“We shall leave it at that for the present; I
shall report to Señor Castor and see what he says;
and now, sir, I must go,” said Rojas; and, taking
up his hat, he departed, bidding the Governor
good-bye.
[197]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
gineers are to be led into a mistake because fools'
gold has the appearance of gold, and glitters?
why, every child here knows it isn't gold; this is
all nonsense.”
“But, if so, why build foundations for hy-
draulic machinery to wash down gold from the
hills ?'' asked Rojas drily.
"That we don't know; but we must find out;
we shall soon hear from Caleu; and now tell me
have you any news of Beckert?"
“None, I only ordered his arrest last night;
hardly time yet to catch him.”
There was a knock at the door; and a police-
man entered.
"There is a gentleman who desires immediate
speech with you, Señor Castor.”
"Has he stated the nature of his business?!
“Yes, sir; he says it concerns Mr. Beckert.”
A look of intense surprise showed on the faces of
both Castor and Rojas.
“Ask him in," commanded Castor.
A few moments later a tall fair man was ushered
in; he had a lofty forehead, very bright and pene-
trating eyes, and seemed to belong to the upper
classes by his dress and manners.
“Are you Señor Castor ?” he asked, looking at
Castor, seated at the bureau.
"Yes, sir," he replied, rising, "what can I do
for you?"
[199]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"I have something of importance to tell you,"
began the visitor. "I am Isaac Nikolaievitch,
Pole by birth, Chilean by adoption. I am man-
ager of the European Jewellery Company, Calle
del Estado 437. I saw in the papers this morn-
ing that the body of Señor Beckert had been
exhumed, and that Doctors Westenhoeffer and
Aichel, after due examination, had declared to
some reporters that the body was that of Herr
Beckert; is this so?”
"It is so,” said Castor.
"If the body were exhumed, it is natural to
suppose that there existed some doubt as to the
identity; am I correct?!!
“You are.”
"I read the news of the report of Doctors Wes-
tenhoeffer and Aichel this morning; this report
stated with finality that the body belonged to
Wilhelm Beckert. I repeat this, in order to im-
press upon you the fact that I believed Herr Beck-
ert was dead; therefore, when I say to you that I
spoke to him last night, I do not wish you to think
that this is the imagining of a disordered brain."
“What! last night?” “Where?” exclaimed
both together.
"In the Portal Edwards."
“At what time ?
“About half-past twelve. I had been to the
[200]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Opera with the Proprietor of the Royal Hotel and
his daughter. As we reached the door of the
hotel, which was already closed, I saw Beckert,
who was walking towards us. I recognized him
by his figure and gait. For the moment I had
forgotten all about his death; and I walked up to
him and, speaking in German, said to him: ‘Wie
gehts, Herr Beckert. He answered me in
Spanish: 'I do not know you! Immediately I
recognized his voice; and I instantly said: 'What!
Herr Beckert, don't you recognize me?' He
again replied in Spanish: 'I know you noť—
which is the German order of the words, a literal
translation from the German. Only then did it
dawn upon me that I was speaking to a man who
was supposed to be dead. By this time he had
slowly stepped away from me, and entered a four-
wheeler, which was waiting for a fare. I fol-
lowed him; and leaning on the door of the cab,
I looked into his face, and then recognized his
features. I again asked him: 'Don't you know
me, Isaac Nikolaievitch?—upon which he put
his handkerchief to his mouth and said: 'Get out
of this; I don't know you. The carriage drove
off, but such was my astonishment that I stood
there as one in a trance, until Mr. Hengel called
me, saying: 'Are you coming in? because we want
to shut the door.' I slowly rejoined them, and
[201]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
my part. I was a friend of Mr. Beckert; and I
would not have given him away. But as this
meeting is the talk of every one, sooner or later it
had to reach your ears; and then I might have
been taken by you for a coverer of misdeeds;
therefore I decided it was wiser for me to make a
clean breast of it.”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Beckert
before this occurrence ?”
Rojas came back at this moment and, before
Mr. Nikolaievitch could answer, said:
“The matter is being attended to, Señor
Castor.”
Nikolaievitch considered for awhile:
“I believe I saw him four nights ago; but to
this I could not testify.”
“What! really?" exclaimed Castor. “Four
nights ago!"
"Yes, but as I have said already, I would not
swear to it. Four nights ago I was at the Ger-
man Club until about one after midnight. As
you know, the Embassy Offices are on the way
from the Club to the hotel. As I was nearing the
ruins, I saw a man looking at them; he was going
the same way as I, and I was struck by the re-
semblance of his build and gait to Beckert.
When I passed him I looked at him; but saw at
once I was mistaken, as the man had a long fair
beard whilst Beckert only wore a moustache. I
[203]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
dismissed the subject from my mind; but your
question has brought the incident back.”
“Can you tell us where Beckert usually had his
hair cut?”? asked Rojas.
"At the Peluqueria Francesa in the Calle del
Estado, nearly opposite our jewellery shop; I have
often met him there," answered Nikolaievitch.
"Are you always to be found at your jewellery
shop?"
“Yes, I am there from ten in the morning until
six in the evening, except at lunch time when I go
at noon and come back at two o'clock.”
"I am very much obliged to you for your infor-
mation,” said Castor; "it is very timely and use-
ful, as it corroborates what he have already sus-
pected, and adds to our knowledge the fact that
the fugitive was here in Santiago last night.”
"I must be going now," said Nikolaievitch.
"Again accept our thanks,” said Castor, as the
visitor departed.
When Castor and Rojas were alone, Castor sug.
gested to Rojas a visit to the hair-dresser's.
Rojas left at once.
[204]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Didn't you know it was forbidden ?''
“Yes, sir; but he said it was to go to a fancy
dress ball. Besides, he was a diplomat, sir.”
"Have you an entry in the books ???
“Yes, sir," said the manager; "here is the
book.”
He looked through it for some time; and, after
a few minutes, said:
"Here it is! September 27th, $25.00. One
human hair beard.”
"Give me a copy of the entry; and sign it,
please,” said Rojas.
This done, he left the shop. The frightened
barbers breathed more freely, but were much be-
wildered. ... But Rojas knit his brows on
quite other things. This complicated matters.
Three persons had to be looked for: first, Beckert
as he was; second, Beckert with a fair beard;
and third, Ciro Lara, who might be disguised as
anything.
As soon as Rojas arrived at Headquarters, he
ordered telegrams to be sent to every police sta-
tion, port, and the Andean passes, giving the de-
scription of the three characters that Beckert might
assume.
Rojas paced his private office, his brows knit.
From time to time he brushed the hair back from
his forehead, as though sweeping away thoughts
that deserved no notice. He unconsciously
[206]


CHAPTER XXXV
D OJAS strode quickly towards the barracks
of the Carabineros-a Regiment of the
Line but devoted to safeguarding coun-
try roads and rural districts. A cavalry regi-
ment of the highest standard, the officers and men
are exceptionally well paid; only the best men
are admitted; the discipline is terribly strict.
The risks these soldiers run every day are great,
as they have to capture the most desperate bandits
and cattle-thieves in their own lairs, where the
soldiers may be ambushed at any time.
Colonel Flores was in. Rojas found him busy
at work and apologized for taking up his valuable
time.'
“What can I do for you?” asked the Colonel
in a sharp cutting voice like the crack of a whip.
He was a man of about forty-five, very bald;
but borrowing the hair from the side he plastered
it over the bald crown of his head and brought it
over his forehead in a flat wave. He had small
grey eyes, a beaked nose, a sensitive mouth, and
a strong chin; and was as near an image of Na-
poleon as one could find. He was not more than
five foot six and rather inclined to be stout.
[208]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Rojas began:
“Colonel, I want your help to catch ” he
stopped.
"Come on," snapped Flores; "shall I finish for
you? Yes? to catch Beckert. Do you think I
come from Curico, where old men are said to act
as new-born babies? I have expected your visit
since the body was ordered to be exhumed.”
"I wish you were my chief,” said Rojas, lost
in admiration of this wonderful little man.
“And now you want my help to catch the man,
eh? And you think he has gone? Now, tell me
where? I have formed my opinion; I have
already wired to a certain detachment to keep
strict watch. Now tell me, and I will show you
a copy of the wire; now, where?”
"I believe, Colonel,” said Rojas, "he must have
gone via Chillan.”
"Ordenanza!” snapped out Flores, calling an
orderly.
A soldier, who was waiting outside the door,
instantly appeared.
"Bring me the copies of telegrams sent this
morning; quick!"
The soldier disappeared, and in a few minutes
was back with a file of telegram copies.
Colonel Flores selected one and read:
“Lieutenant Fuensalida. Keep strict watch
[209]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Chillan Victoria Passes. Give up Tapia.
Look for Beckert height five feet nine fair hair
beginning baldness bushy brows shortsighted
German accent probably disguised and as-
sumed other name and accompanied by guide.
Flores."
“You beat me, Colonel! But how do you
know he has a guide ?!!
The Colonel's eyes snapped.
“Because Beckert is not a fool; and knowing
the difficulties of such a journey, he must either
take a guide or get lost and die of starvation in the
Cordilleras. He has naturally preferred the
guide."
"Certainly it must be so," said Rojas. “Now,
Colonel; can you let me have two specially good
men, well horsed? and can I have a horse from
your detachment at Chillan ?”
"Yes, you can have a horse there; I shall give
you an order, on presentation of which you can
have a horse at any detachment in the province.
As to two good men, they are all good, every one
of my carabineros. You have only to take any
two at random, and you won't find two better
men, except amongst the rest of them.”
"I don't want to choose, Colonel,” said Rojas,
"but I wish you would give me two men from that
locality, who may be in your regiment. Two men
[210]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
who may have been engaged, before joining, as
‘arrieros, conducting cattle from Argentine here,
and vice versa, through the Victoria Passes."
The Colonel smiled.
“As I had an idea you were coming, I had
already asked the Major for two such men.”
He rang a bell; and the Major appeared.
Flores enquired of him if he had already selected
the men. The Major answered, “Yes, sir,” and,
on being requested to produce them, he said the
men were stationed at Chillan and would be ready
on the arrival of Señor Rojas.
Colonel Flores then asked the Major to have the
order made out for Señor Rojas.
When the Major left, Rojas said, with frank
admiration:
"Colonel Flores, if the Secret Service had you
for their Chief, there would be no more crimes
undetected.”
“You flatter me; I am an Army man. If I
were your Chief, probably there would be whole-
sale murder going on. No, thank you; I am bet-
ter here.”
"I don't know,” said Rojas. "Señor Castor is
a good Chief, but he is slow. Oh! so slow.”
“You think that, because you are a young man.
A man in Castor's position must act with great
deliberation, not like us. We are amateurs, and
responsible to no one; if we catch the wrong man,
1.
[211]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
we let him go-and apologize. If Castor does
it; well, Heaven help him!"
At that moment a knock was heard at the door;
a lieutenant entered the room, clicked his heels
together, stood at attention before Flores's table,
and said:
“By your leave, Colonel; a telephone message
has just come through from Chillan saying that
two men from the regiment saw a man arriving
this morning, by the night express from Santiago,
whom they thought suspicious. The man looked
foreign; was wrapped up to his nose in a silk
muffler; wore a hunting suit; had a small bag,
and a gun-case. He was followed by our men to
a small hotel near the station—not the Grand
Hotel-where he had breakfast, and a few drinks.
He then went to a barber's shop near by, where he
had his moustache shaved off. He then went to
the Belle Jardiniers, bought a vicuña poncho and
a heavy woollen muffler. The man was followed
from there to the station; and as he was going
to board the train for the Cordillera, our men
noticed that he entered a third-class carriage.
This confirmed their opinion of the man's sus-
picious character, as he wore good clothes. When
they had seen him earlier pay for breakfast and
drinks, he had 'seemed to have a good deal of
money about him; therefore they now went up to
him and asked him to give up his bag and to
[212]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
consider himself under arrest. At first he turned
pale; but immediately afterwards addressed our
men in a most angry and imperative tone, asking
them whom they took him for. Our men said
Beckert, and required him to accompany them
quietly without any further protest; whereupon
the man showed them a passport, supported by
the German Embassy, and counter-signed by the
Minister for Foreign Affairs in favour of Ciro
Lara Motte, who was proceeding to Argen-
tine "
Rojas interrupted.
“Ciro Lara Motte? Caramba! we have got
him.”
The lieutenant looked at Rojas indignantly for
interrupting him, and continued:
"By your leave, Colonel; our men were satis-
fied that the passport was a genuine one, and the
likeness of the photograph was unmistakable.
They let him proceed towards the Victoria Passes,
apologizing for their mistake.”
“Good God! Let him go, you said !” ex-
claimed Rojas, jumping out of his seat, and
clutching the lieutenant's arm, who looked
amazed at this man, whose excitement he could
not understand. With a quick jerk he freed his
arm, with a ferocious look.
“Sit down, Rojas; and calm yourself!"
snapped Flores.
[213]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Rojas turned on him excitedly.
"Sit down? I can't sit down; don't you know
that Ciro Lara Motte is the name on the passport
in Beckert's possession ?"
"No; I did not,” curtly answered Flores. “As
usual the police keep their secrets, and come for
help after the criminal has been let go. Why
didn't you let us know this before, man?”
“Because I only found it out last night.”
“Telephone this at once to Chillan, please,”
said Flores to the lieutenant.
“Señor Rojas,” said Flores, when the subaltern
had left, "you very nearly got into trouble with
my lieutenant; they are not used to being handled.
A second more, and even my presence would not
have saved you."
"I am awfully sorry, Colonel; I will apologize
to him; will you call him back?
“Never mind, I shall convey your apologies to
him as soon as he comes to say he has fulfilled
orders. And now that you have your orders for
the detachment, you had better try to catch the
four-fifteen; you will be in Chillan tomorrow at
six in the morning.”
"But, good heavens! to have lost him like this!
It is too bad! He has twenty-four hours' start!"
“Calm yourself,” said Flores; "it will take him
four days, at least, to get across; my men can do
it in two; so can you, if you can keep up with
; you will ze better treur orders for
[214]


CHAPTER XXXVI
A T five o'clock next morning, Rojas was
awakened by the sleeping-car attendant,
and was told that in thirty minutes they
would be in Chillan. He looked at his watch and
wondered how it was possible for a train to be
ahead of time. He had travelled little and was
not up to the tricks of the sleeping-car attendants.
Travellers do well not to be too credulous when
they are told the train is ahead of time—whether
in Chile, Scotland, or Timbuctoo.
Rojas 'was ready in about twenty minutes; had
breakfast in ten; and was ready to get off the
train at five-thirty. He had a good half-hour to
wait. At six fifteen the train steamed into Chil-
lan.
As soon as he got off, he made his way to the
exit. At the door he met two carabineros; one
took his small valise from his hand; the other, a
sergeant, saluted, saying:
“Good morning, Señor Rojas.”
“Good morning, Sergeant; I am Rojas; how
did you know me from the other passengers ?”
"Description by telephone last night,” an-
swered the sergeant.
[216]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Rojas smiled. He admired the clock-like ma-
chinery of that cavalry corps.
"Well,” said he, "we must get on our way at
once; what do you propose ?''
“Take train, seven o'clock, to end of rails; from
there on, on horseback.”
“How far does the train take us ?”
“Only about thirty miles.”
“Did Ciro Lara take the train ?”
“Yes, sir, at ten o'clock last night.”
“Any news of him?"
“None, sir."
“Was he accompanied by a guide ?”
"Found out last night he took Fragaza.”
“Who is Fragaza ??
“Cleverest guide and horse-thief living; have
had him up six times, no conviction.”
“That's cheerful,” said Rojas; “I suppose he
knows the country well, and where to hide; are
they well horsed?”
“Yes, sir, excepting Lara or Beckert; he's got
a poor sort of nag, one of those imported racing
horses; paid a good pile for it; no good moun-
tain work; height kills them.”
“What is your name?
“Sergeant Veloso, at your service, sir," he an-
swered, bringing his hand to his cap.
“And our friend here?”
“Private Bello.”
[217]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Very well, where do we take the train ?"
"Same platform.”
"I must get the tickets.”
“Got them here," answered Veloso.
“Good; we shall get on,” said Rojas, pleased.
Veloso was a good specimen of the Chilean sol-
dier; standing about five feet ten or eleven, he
looked much less owing to his powerful propor-
tions. He was too wide in the shoulders, and his
chest showed great strength; excepting for this,
which gave him a certain heaviness, he was per-
fectly built. His hair was jet black, thick, and
stubby. His eyes, brown and sleepy, had long
curly eyelashes, and, when speaking, they lighted
up with extraordinary vivacity. The nose was
short and wide. He was clean shaven like all
carabineros; showing the lips thick and the bull-
dog determination of the chin. When speaking,
his face was pleasant and alert; when at rest, his
sleepy eyes belied him with a look of indolence
and lack of energy.
Private Bello—who should have been hand-
some-did not do honour to his name, having
from childhood been pitted with small-pox; but
he had, notwithstanding, a soldierly appearance.
They were both in the pink of condition, and ready
for all eventualities with short carbines slung over
their shoulders.
[218]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
In the distance of the clear morning atmosphere
the train could be seen coming.
“Our train,” said Veloso.
“Where are our horses ?” enquired Rojas.
-“Punta de Ricles.”
“Oh! so they have been sent forward!”
“Last night.”
“Good.”
Veloso looked at Bello slyly; and Bello, fol-
lowing Veloso's glance, looked at the legs and hips
of Rojas, which were encased in thin town trousers
-at his rather portly waist—and at his bowler
hat. They looked at each other again and
smiled.
The same idea was in both their minds: how
was this townsman, with these thin cheviot clothes
and bowler hat, to stand the thorns and bushes
when riding through them? How was his face to
stand the fearful sunburn produced by the
rarefied Andean atmosphere, together with the re-
flection of the eternal snows?
When they were in the train, Sergeant Veloso,
after a consultation with Bello, approached Rojas,
and said:
"Señor Rojas, what have you in your bag ?”
“A change of linen, some brushes, and a
poncho.”
“The poncho you can put on,” said Veloso.
[219]


CHAPTER XXXVII
HE men rode in silence for the first five
miles. The road was bad; but still it
could be called a road. The hot rays of
the sun struck through the clear atmosphere, mak-
ing them perspire freely. Rojas felt as he had
never felt in all his life. What a glorious ride!
What majestic scenery! They were riding up,
up, into the eternal snows. In two days, so
Flores had said, they would reach the frontier of
Argentine. Ah! it was good to live. The fresh
cool wind blew against his cheeks and filled his
lungs; what a difference from Santiago atmos-
phere! Up, up! in two days they would be at
the summit of the passes, some twelve thousand
feet high. There they would warn the Customs
Officials of their quest; then, if Beckert had not
crossed, they could double back on their tracks
to meet him. Of course Beckert could not cross
before they arrived.
“Veloso !!!
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you think we shall get to the boundary
before Beckert ?''
"No, sir.”
[222]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
·
---
in the saddle. The horses were fresh, and the
speed good.
But Rojas felt uncomfortable. The horse he
had left behind had a smooth canter; he felt he
could have gone to sleep on it. This one jolted
him up and down in a most trying way. The
left leg of his trousers insisted on rucking up to
his knee, and from his knee up, between the thigh
and the saddle. This made folds against the
tender inside flesh of his thigh which, after an
hour's ride, became unbearable.
At first he had not noticed it; he would slow
down every now and then, and pull his trouser
down. He had said he would keep up; well, he
would. The folds insisted in re-forming them-
selves again, and chafing his leg. His pride for-
bade him to stay behind; so he “stuck it,” lean-
ing down every hundred yards to ease his leg.
They were giving the horses a breather
Veloso noticed Rojas's hand reaching down to his
knee and straightening the folds.
“Señor Rojas, why don't you change the pace
of your horse ?"
“How?''
“Your left leg hurts you?”
“Yes.”
"Dig your spur on the left side, and make him
canter with his right foot foremost. Hold the
reins tight while you do it."
[224]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
He tried it when they began to canter again.
Heavens what a relief! The horse seemed the
same which he had left behind. This way he
could go on for ever. Why hadn't he asked
Veloso what to do before? Now he had foolishly,
from false pride, suffered a deep chafing on his
leg, and he had two whole days at least on horse-
back, not counting the night, to which to look
forward. He would put his pride in his pocket;
he would give in to these men who were experts
in these matters.
At nine that night they reached a posada, an old
dilapidated inn, built of adobe, with a thatched
roof.
Veloso reined up, and said they would stay
there for a couple of hours till the moon was up.
The horses needed a rest and a feed; and so did
they.
Bello was detailed to look after the horses.
Veloso and Rojas called for such food as could
be provided by the innkeeper; and when the order
had been given, they questioned him.
“Had Fragaza passed up?” asked Veloso.
"I don't know Fragaza."
“Come on; you don't know Fragaza ?”
"No."
“Has he threatened you if you said he went by
this morning?”
"No."
[225]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Very well; has a gentleman in a big slouch
hat, with a vicuña poncho, a thick woollen muffier,
eyeglasses, and a foreign accent, gone up?"
“There are so many travellers, sir; one can't
notice all of them.”
"Was Fragaza travelling with any one ?”
“I don't know.”
"Serve us a drink of pisco, for it is cold,” said
Veloso.
When the innkeeper was out of earshot, Rojas
heard his companion whispering:
"Keep him engaged here; don't let the scoun-
drel get out of the room; I will go and make en-
quiries as soon as he returns.”
They sat down at the table seemingly dead-
beat. The innkeeper brought a bottle of pisco
and two glasses, and set them on the table.
Veloso drank a glass, and, getting up, said:
“Where in perdition is our beauty? I must go
and look after that scoundrel Bello.”
He sauntered slowly out of the room.
Rojas asked the innkeeper to have a drink with
him, which invitation the other accepted. The
innkeeper fetched a glass from a table near-by, but
somehow or other, seeing Veloso make his exit by
the service door, he suddenly discovered that the
glass was not clean.
[226]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“These girls never do anything right,” said he.
"I must go and fetch a clean glass, and give her
a scolding.".
“No, you don't!” said Rojas. “You keep me
company, and drink out of that glass! I shall
consider myself offended if you leave me like this
after I have asked you to drink with me. Come
on! be a good fellow!"
The tone was not pleasant to the ear; the inn-
keeper hesitated and sat down, and drank, say-
ing times were very hard. This ought to be the
busy season. Other years, hundreds of arrieros
would be going up and coming down, men with
pockets full of money who liked a good drink and
paid well; now there were no travellers, or very
few. He did not know what was the trouble;
he had been there twenty-seven years and had
never seen times like the present. And so on
through the conventional gird against luck.
Veloso, coming back, told the innkeeper to
bring the eatables at once, and have them served.
"Must have an hour's rest after food before
going on,” Veloso turned to Rojas, “must ride
for all we are worth to next post. Ought to be
there two in the morning; change horses; and by
six, reach the next post for breakfast.”
Rojas listening to all this, was thinking of his
sore leg. He thought he would ride more com-
fortably if he passed a string or thong under his
[227]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
shoe and tied both sides of the lower part of the
trousers-legs to it. He asked for a thick piece of
twine and with his knife pierced his beautiful
cheviot trousers, heaving a sigh, and tied them
under his boots.
Veloso watched the act with approval.
“Señor Rojas; mutton fat on chafed part; do
it good; want some ?"
“Think so ?”
“Sure; prevent inflammation.”
“Very well; I will put some on if I can get it."
“Right!” said Veloso, disappearing. A few
moments later he came into the common room
with a saucer containing hot fat.
“There, rub it into the flesh, hard,” he said.
“Bring back what's left.”
Rojas went to a private room and rubbed in the
fat. He came back with the saucer in his hand,
half full, and put it on the end of the table.
Bello came in, sitting down as the meal began.
His eyes looked bright with excitement. He
looked at Rojas and Veloso; and they knew he
had news of importance to convey. The inn-
keeper himself was waiting on them, or rather
superintending the maid, and occasionally help-
ing them to wine. He did most of the talking,
thinking of the bill; the conversation was steered
to the difficulties in obtaining wines, vegetables,
etc. They had to bring every mortal thing on
[228]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
faces. The sweat on the horses did not show at
all, the wind dried it as soon as it came out, form-
ing a cake of dust on their backs. They had been
travelling all day and part of the night on the
slope that leads up to the chains of mountains of
the Andean Range.
The vegetation had been marvellous up to the
foot of the first steep incline. From thence the
mountain-sides showed bare, studded here and
there with thorny dwarf bushes, five feet at the
highest; more often three. Towering over the
bushes stood the thorny araucanian pines, a tree
that never grows over eight or ten feet high and
takes centuries to reach that full height. What
a contrast this dwarf growth with the tremendous
trees of the lower country! How this vegeta-
tion exists is an enigma, scorched by the sun in
daytime, swept by an Arctic wind every night, and
for nine months of the year not a drop of rain or
water!
The path over which they were travelling was
of loose sharp stone, prismatic in shape.
Veloso cantered on through this most difficult
country. Rojas followed. He had left the reins
loose, confiding to the sagacity of his horse.
Bello brought up the rear.
As they went along, the path narrowed more
and more. At last the ascent became so marked
that they had to slow down to a walk. They
[232]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
breathing was quick, laboured, and spasmodic.
As they went higher the air became more rarefied
and every exertion required double effort. The
motion of the struggling horses was not the easy
smooth action of the slopes to where the horses
belonged. Rojas's leg hurt him; the chafing was
being renewed, and every movement of the horse
brought more intense pain. His chafed thigh felt
as though a red-hot iron were being applied to it.
He knew that by this time the skin must have
gone; and he felt his underclothes sticking to the
raw flesh; he suffered in silence. The pricks
from the sharp thorns on the lower part of his
legs were not even heeded by him, although often
they penetrated deeply. Another cause of dis-
comfort was the butt-end of the carbine knocking
against his bad leg. At last about two in the
morning, as science accounts night to be morn-
ing, as they made a turning in the path they saw
a light quite close. The horses must have seen it
at the same time, as they renewed their efforts
with vigour, and a few minutes later they arrived
at the carabinero's station.
Rojas could hardly dismount; and when he did
so, he had to hold on to the wall to avoid a fall.
He seemed to have lost control of his legs and
could scarcely walk. Bello helped him up the
steps and on towards a blazing fire inside the
carabinero's mess-room.
[234]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Don't get too close to the fire, Señor Rojas,"
said Veloso; "it's dangerous.”
“Why? I am chilled to death; can't you see I
can hardly walk? I want to get warm.”
"You are under my charge, Señor Rojas; and
have got to do as I say. Come; sit down and
drink this hot coffee, quick; we have only half an
hour here."
Rojas obeyed meekly and found new life on
drinking the hot brew. He was getting some ex-
perience; he knew it was best to follow the in-
structions of Veloso, who was an old Cordillera
man.
A quarter of an hour later a steaming cazuela
was placed on the table; Rojas, Veloso, and Bello
did full justice to it.
“Any news of Beckert?'' asked Rojas.
“No, didn't expect any here," answered Veloso.
"Fragaza would not take the main path, knowing
he was being followed; must have made detour;
taken him three hours; ought to pass ahead of
him by midday; make it two o'clock in the after-
noon; then go on slowly.”
Veloso ordered the fresh horses to be brought
round; and, going to an inner room, reappeared
with a saucer of melted fat and a bottle of pisco—
a white brandy made in the country. He filled
his caramayola—a leather-covered Aask, which the
carabineros use on Andean expeditions-handed
[235]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
the bottle to Bello to fill his and in an earnest
voice addressed Rojas:
"Señor," he said, “if you want to carry this
quest to a finish, put some of this grease on your
face.”
"I have already said I wouldn't; and I won't,”
answered Rojas.
"Put some over your eyes anyway," urged
Bello; "you won't smell it or feel it there."
"If you insist, I will do that,” said Rojas; and,
dipping his finger in the now congealing grease,
he smeared his eyelids and rubbed the fat in,
wiping them with the serviette.
“That's better," said Veloso. “It's half-past
two; next post six o'clock; fresh horses. Must
keep up the scheduled time my Major ordered.”
They started on their journey at a walk; the
horses were cold, it would not do to begin with a
canter at once. The wind had increased to half
a gale, and cut their faces like a knife; they could
feel its iciness penetrate through their clothes
right to the skin. Rojas shivered; he felt those
changes of temperature more than Veloso and
Bello, who did nothing but go up and down the
Cordillera. His clothes also were thinner, and
not in the least fit for the climate or the job. At
midday he had felt oppressive heat, the sun rays
had penetrated his clothes and he remembered
the heat of them on his back. How nice and
[236]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
warm they had been; how painfully cold it was
now! His leg felt better; at a walk he did not
even feel its soreness; and Beckert!
“Sergeant Veloso,” he called out, “had we not
better get on ?!!
“Right, sir."
Veloso had again taken the lead. The path
was fairly wide, two could ride abreast. It in-
clined gently upwards. After half an hour,
Veloso slowed down to a walk. Their way now
lay at an angle of forty-five degrees; it was a
direct climb up the mountain-side. Thorny
bushes were on each side close together; and
through these Veloso led on.
Rojas again began to suffer acutely. To hold
on to the horse's back he had to press his knees
tightly to the saddle. The horses climbed the
mountainside with a kind of kangaroo jump,
which renewed the pain. He felt the thorns enter
deeply into his legs. He felt certain that the
thorns chose the same place where other thorns
had pierced him before; these were minor
troubles. He held to the horse's mane; his head
and chest nearly flat on the upward-climbing
horse's neck. By holding tight with his hand he
could release the pressure on his leg. He felt
sure it was beginning to swell.
"Never mind; if I catch Beckert I shall be
satisfied, no matter what happens to me,” he
[237]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
a dozen 01.0, but it up again.
thought. He lifted his head to see how much
more there was to climb. They had been going
for about ten minutes and had not really made
any great progress. The mountains seemed
nearly perpendicular and the summit miles away.
Up, up, they went; and with every step renewed
pain. This was kept up for an hour, when Veloso
ordered a halt. They were about half-way up the
side.
“Is that the divisional line with Argentine?
The summit?" asked Rojas, pointing to the top
of the mountain range.
"There are about a dozen of these before we get
to the limits," laughed Veloso, “but it's not all
up; got to come down too; then get up again,
next range.”
The wind was chilling; and Rojas felt it more
now that he had not the exertion of holding on,
or the movement of the horse.
The horses' breaths came in two long jets of
white vapour; theirs also. Rojas's moustache was
frozen hard. He tried to pull the ice off; it
pained him and he desisted.
“Veloso, my moustache is frozen; what shall
I do?” he asked.
“Leave it; because it will freeze again; should
have shaved it off long before.”
Bello chuckled; so did Veloso.
They started again. Up they went for an-
[238]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
other three-quarters of an hour. They had ar- '
rived at the top. They looked down, and Rojas
wondered how they had got up. The sun was
rising; they could not see it, as it was below the
range in front of them, but the sky was becoming
light with a bright rosy tint.
Their way lay due east. As they looked for-
ward they could see the next range in the dis-
tance; the top like gold, the sun's rays gilding
the snow. Between lay the valley, a gloomy hol-
low, low, dark, and forbidding; hope of success
glimmered in the distance. “How much suffering
to reach it!” thought Rojas.
Down they started at a sharp canter; after five
minutes of it Rojas thought he would faint. The
lump made by the buckle and the stirrup-leathers
on the saddle under his thigh just touched his
wound. Every step, every movement, was an
agony; and in the intense cold of the morning he
could feel the perspiration flowing down his fore-
head. He held on to the back of the saddle, and
so found some ease for his leg. In this way he
rode until they reached and began ascending the
second mountain range; he transferred his hold
on to the mane.
At about five-thirty they arrived at the post.
This was half-way up the second range of moun-
tains and in a very sheltered spot. The building
was a brick semi-circular arch, its sixty feet of
[239]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Come to a room; a little massage; bandage leg;
then all right.”
Rojas stood up; and, insisting on walking un-
aided, followed Veloso. His leg was examined,
and revealed a wound the size of a saucer. To
this more grease was applied; and a tight bandage
placed around it. Then both Veloso and Bello
each massaged a leg; copious applications of
grease being used to prevent the skin from rubbing
off.
Rojas's focale never-failince were sitting
Half an hour later all three were sitting at a
table before the never-failing cazeula.
Rojas's face was pinched; his eyes looked dull,
large dark rings under them giving him a strange
look. His cheeks were sunken with suffering; his
complexion, usually pale, was a rosy healthy
colour, but it was more than rosy-it had a tinge
of purple. Veloso once more insisted on greasing
his face. Rojas stubbornly resisted.
"As you like," said Veloso. "Your leg is noth-
ing to what your face will be. Worse than a
mule. Caramba! you'll pay for it later on.”
On hearing this Rojas gave in; if his face was
going to be worse than his leg he would give way
to all petty aversions. He dipped his finger in the
grease and began rubbing his face with it gingerly.
The smell of the grease was not pleasing; but
Veloso had put the fear of worse pain before him,
and he did it thoroughly. When he had finished,
[241]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
and was being comforted with a cigar, the thought
of Beckert came back to him.
“Veloso! shouldn't we be getting on?”
“Yes, sir; horses will be around soon."
Rojas stood up and paced the room before the
fire. His legs were sore, very sore. As he paced
up and down, he found his movements becoming
freer; he exercised his legs and even tried a little
jumping. He was fit now, he thought. Another
little drop of pisco for the chill morning, and on
again in the fulfilment of duty.
"Do you think we are up to Beckert by now?''
he asked Veloso.
"Not far, anyway. Hasn't passed here; made
another detour; we may catch him any time
now."
“Let's get on then, quick!” said Rojas.
They started again. Rojas had some trouble
to mount his horse. He complained that the
bandage on his leg impeded his movements.
Veloso again led; and, after a few minutes,
started at a sharp canter. It was now full day-
light, and they felt the sun's rays striking with
full force. The wind, dry, cold, and rarefied,
blew on their faces; and Rojas felt the contrast.
They had gone about an hour at a smart pace,
when Veloso, holding up his right hand, suddenly
came to a sharp halt. The others pulled up, and
they saw a dead horse on the road.
[242]


CHAPTER XXXIX
ELOSO dismounted, and, handing his
reins to Bello, asked them to keep back.
He advanced very slowly and carefully
up to the dead horse where it lay on the road.
He placed his hand on the horse's head, and felt
the eyeball with his fingers. He then made a
turn around it, examining the ground and sur-
roundings most minutely. He walked up and
down in a semicircle for fully twenty minutes.
Every now and then he would pick up something
from the ground, examine it, hold it to his nose,
then throw it away.
At last he stood quite still, gazing into the far
distance towards the north-east.
They were nearly on the top of the range and
could see for miles, north, south, west. This
range ran northwards to a distance of twenty miles
from where they stood. The river Bio-Bio had
cut the mountain in two, leaving a chasm some
six thousand feet deep by a thousand feet wide.
The snows accumulating during the seven months
of winter melting in the summer form an enor-
mous torrent. Through the thousands of cen-
turies it has cut through six thousand feet of
CI
[243]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
granite and porphyry and the strata of bronze
and copper.
But neither Rojas nor Bello had an eye for the
beauty of the turbulent waters, churning their
way through the mountains, and gathering in their
flood the riches they deposit in the plains which
they fertilize.
“Caramba!” cried Rojas, impatiently, at last,
“when is he going to finish looking at the
scenery?»
He had scarcely spoken when Veloso turned
back to them and said:
"Horse belongs to gringo; been dead two hours.
They've been chased; got away; Fragaza changed
his horse here; Beckert put his saddle on Fragaza's
worn-out horse. There is the evidence," he said,
holding up a piece of hair caked with sweat and
dust.
“Which way did they go ?" asked Rojas.
“They have started this way," said Veloso,
mounting, and leading the way towards the north-
east; “but they must make a long detour; they
can't get through the Bio-Bio anywhere on this
side of the range. They can't get over the top
of the range northwards at all; ice stops them;
still, they took that road; you can see it yourself.”
He pointed to the ground.
Rojas looked at the ground where Veloso
pointed; but could see nothing except the prism-
[244]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
shaped stones and an occasional thornbush. The
ground was not such as to leave even the print
of an elephant's foot.
Still, Bello immediately agreed. His training
from youth had made him notice the tiny fungus-
like vegetation which should grow on the under
side of the small stones, instead of which the
green growth was lying facing the sun-sure proof
that someone had disturbed them, and not more
than two hours ago, as the sun and wind would
by this time have scorched them and turned the
bright emerald hue into a dark dull green.
Veloso, who had been looking northwards, sud-
denly made up his mind, and said:
“Come on; up we go like hell!"
He spurred his horse straight up the mountain-
side; it was the shortest way. "He wants to
reach the top and overlook the valley formed by
this range and the next,” thought Rojas. The
fugitives could not be more than ten miles away,
and in an atmosphere where you can see objects
at sixty miles with the naked eye, ten miles is
nothing
Their way was now nearly perpendicular; the
horses were used to this and took them up in the
kangaroo-like jumps which afforded Rojas such
intense pain. Veloso was cheering his horse on
with the usual "anda hijuna, anda hijuna,” which
was taken up by Bello; the strange chorus, ac-
[245]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
yond Veloso; but Veloso could see from the sum-
mit, where he now was, for a range of quite sixty
miles. Had he spotted them? Heavens! what
anxiety! what torment to a man of action to play
a passive part!
Suddenly a puff of smoke from Veloso's car-
bine; then the detonation! Rojas spurred his
horse, leading the other two, up to where Veloso
had fired.
But Veloso had jumped up, and run down the
incline, followed by Bello. They disappeared
from Rojas's view. As he came up to where they
had been lying, he saw what had happened at a
glance. About four hundred yards away a man
stood perfectly still with both hands up; at his
feet lay his horse apparently dead. Veloso and
Bello were running to him with their carbines
pointing at the man. About a mile away he could
see a horseman galloping furiously down the
mountain-side towards the northeast, towards the
chasm worn in the mountain by the waters of the
Bio-Bio. Rojas at once made up his mind. He
rode down, leading the two horses, to where
Veloso and Bello were. He gave the horses up
to Bello, and rode right up to the captured man.
"Take your hat off!” he commanded.
The man at once took it off, and he saw that it
was not Beckert. He wheeled his horse round,
and made off in hot pursuit of the fugitive horse-
[247]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
man, without a word. He spurred his horse, and
used his rebenqui-a long thick leather strap tied
to the end of the reins—as a whip, without mercy.
His bowler hat which had been black was a
greenish grey and looked ridiculously out of keep-
ing with its surroundings; his poncho flying in
the wind, his cheviot trousers torn to shreds and
showing patches of his underclothing, Rojas cut
a sorry figure enough; but to cap it all, his patent-
leather boots with light uppers were patent no
more.
The man Fragaza, his hands upheld, looked
after him in wonder; and at last burst out laugh-
ing. Veloso and Bello could not help joining in
the laugh. The galloping figure was grotesque
indeed. Still, this man was riding as though his
life depended upon it, or rather as if his life did
not depend upon it. He was riding recklessly,
without the slightest regard for his life; any false
step of his horse and he might lose it. A moment
later he was lost to view behind the undulating
mountain's side.
“Where in the devil has he gone to ?” asked
Veloso.
“After the little birds,” answered Fragaza,
meaning that the man had gone off his head.
[248]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
twenty minutes, Veloso never uttered a sound; the
drops of sweat rolled down his eyebrows and nose
and dripped on his legs; but of his great suffer-
ing not a whimper. As he drew out the bullet
he turned to his comrade.
“ Bello, a bandage and the powder.”
As Bello handed him these, he applied the bo-
racic powder over the wound; pressed some into
it; and bandaged it tightly. He dressed, and lay
down for two or three minutes.
Suddenly he roused.
“Didn't get you, did he, Bello?”
“Not so bad,” said Bello. “Only a scratch.”
“Let's see.”
Veloso raised himself on his elbow.
Bello pulled off his tunic, and pulled his shirt
open, revealing a long wound on the shoulder.
Veloso got on to his feet and examined the
wound.
“Nothing much,” said Veloso. .
Having wiped the wound clean, he applied the
powder, then bandaged the man. All carabineros
get a sort of first-aid instruction in the treatment
of accidents and wounds.
Veloso turned to the fallen man at his feet.
"Now for this treacherous old bird; but where
the devil is · Señor Rojas? He must know,” he
pointed to Fragaza, “ and we will make him tell;
come on, Bello!"
[251]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Veloso poured some pisco down Fragaza's
throat; he gave the fellow a good dose, then in-
stead of rubbing his hands to make him recover he
began plying the rebenqui over his body. He
smote with a will, not without a touch of ven-
geance.
After a minute or two the man opened his eyes.
Veloso never left off. The man writhed in pain;
the exertion was telling on Veloso and he stopped.
“Where is your companion ?” he asked.
As no answer was forthcoming, Veloso ordered
Bello to carry on with the leather-strap. Bello
had not lost any blood, and he was muscular; he
was angry; and he thirsted for revenge. He ap-
plied the thong in such fearful chastisement that
Fragaza quickly spoke.
"He was about a mile behind me; his horse was
lame; the other man with the funny hat has gone
after him,” he said painfully.
Veloso's face cleared.
“Bello, ride after him. No, wait!
“Which way would your fellow take ?"
“Any way; he don't know where he is; he's
lost.”
“Bello, go ahead; and meet me at Carbineros
No. 4 Station.”
[252]


CHAPTER XLI
N the meantime Rojas was galloping like one
possessed; he could see the fugitive every now
and again. From what he had gathered, the
man could not ride east because the range was im-
passable. He could not ride more than twenty
miles north, as here his way would be stopped by
the Bio-Bio, which is not fordable.
He would ride him down; his horse was fresh,
whereas the other's must be very nearly done.
On he went, his eyes fixed on Beckert's track.
After a few minutes he could see that he was
gaining on him.
These first moments of excitement had acted as
an anæsthetic to his wound and fatigue. He had
forgotten everything except the man galloping
ahead of him. He had forgotten the perils of this
chase. A false step of his horse and he might be
thrown down a thousand feet. If this were to
happen, then Beckert would get away. He
seemed to realise this all of a sudden. How rash
he had been! if only he had told Veloso and Bello,
they would have followed on to make sure of ap-
prehending the gringo, as they called Beckert; if
he had only done this he could have ridden the
[253]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
man down regardless of personal perils, or of his
escaping.
He confessed to himself that this was wholly
due to his ambitious, selfish motives. Yes, he had
wanted to catch Beckert single-handed, alone; to
bear all the glory, to be known not only as the first-
class city detective but also as an Andean hunter
of criminals. If he failed, and Beckert escaped,
his hopes of advancement and glory would be
shattered; it would be due to his own folly. If
he were successful, then all would be well. He
must succeed. He slowed his horse to a canter.
He could see Beckert about half a mile ahead.
Art times he lost sight of him owing to the undu-
lating sides of the mountains, but a moment or
two after he had him in full view again. There
was not even a track, much less a road. They
were traversing a steep mountain-side studded
with dwarf prickly vegetation; the horse shied
every now and then to keep out of the way of the
thorns.
Rojas's ardour was cooling fast. The nearess
of his prey, the imminence of the supreme moment
when he would have to maintain a duel to the
death with this murderer, reacted on his nerves.
He was a rotten shot; Beckert was an excellent
shot. The wound on his leg hurt him fearfully.
He slowed down to a walk; detached the carbine
from the holster, pulled the mechanism towards
[254]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
him, and the cartridge shot into its place, ready.
He held the carbine in one hand, and in infinite
pain he spurred his horse and started again at full
gallop.
Great was his surprise, after a few minutes'
hard riding, to see that the fugitive was only
some hundred yards away, and walking his horse
very slowly. He slowed his horse to a trot; and,
holding the carbine to his shoulder, fired a shot in
the air.
At once Beckert wheeled his horse round, and,
halting, facing him, held up his hands.
“Por los diez mil demonios, he is a coward,”
exclaimed Rojas gleefully. He kept at a trot,
pointing his carbine at him the while, and when
at some twenty yards' distance, called to Beckert
to dismount and throw down his arms. Beckert
at once threw down a small rifle, as used in rifle
ranges, and a revolver. Rojas asked him if those
were all the arms he had; and Beckert nodded.
“Look the other way and hold up your hands,”
commanded Rojas. As the man did so, Rojas
walked his horse up to Beckert, and, drawing a
pair of handcuffs from his saddle-bag told him to
put his hands behind his back and promptly
clasped the handcuffs on his wrists.
Rojas got off his horse, and searched him. He
found no firearms, only a dagger, which he took
away. He picked up the toy rifle and revolver,
[255]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
and slung the rifle on to his own saddle and the
revolver into the saddle-bag. He then lifted
Beckert on to the saddle of the weary horse that
had failed him, and mounting his own horse with
difficulty he took Beckert's reins and led Beckert
and Beckert's horse back the way they had come.
[256]


CHAPTER XLII
ECKERT had not uttered a word from the
moment he had heard the shot fired at him.
He had been in a speechless fright.
All the time that Rojas had his carbine pointing
at him he obeyed orders like a lamb. When
Rojas put his carbine back in its holster, Beckert
somewhat recovered his composure.
They had been riding in silence awhile when
Rojas heard Beckert's voice for the first time.
"If you are a saltedor [brigand], tell me what
ransom you want, and you will be paid,” he said.
Rojas answered in a level, cold voice:
"I am not a salteador; I am Inspector Rojas
of the Secret Service, and you are arrested for
the murder of Tapia.”
The German feigned surprise.
“For the murder of Tapia! Who do you take
me for?!
“For Beckert, for Wilhelm Beckert, Chancellor
of the German Embassy—and a dirty, foul, cow-
ardly swine."
"You are entirely mistaken; I am Ciro Lara;
and I have my papers here in my inside pocket;
examine them, and you will regret your mistake.”
[257]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
"I know all about Ciro Lara, your nephew-
he never existed except to provide you with a pass-
port; no, you scoundrel, you are going on with me
to Santiago, and then to hell, with ten lead bullets
in you for company."
"Señor Rojas, I will give you twenty thousand
dollars right now if you will let me go; I am Ciro
Lara, I don't know Beckert. I have very impor-
tant business, very pressing business, in Argentina.
Any delay may entail a great financial loss to me.
If I get to Argentine tomorrow, I make two hun-
dred thousand dollars — a stroke of business
which only comes once in a lifetime. You are on
the wrong track; I must get to Argentine or I shall
be ruined. Why, I would give you twenty thou-
sand dollars if you get me safely there by to-
morrow. What say you?”
"I say you are a dirty lying dog, and a mur-
derer besides, and that you are coming to Santiago
with me, and then going a long voyage — as long
as the one on which you sent poor Tapia.”
The wretched German evaded the charge as if
he were not concerned in it.
"You don't believe I have the money," he
said; “just search me and you will find it; do,
and you will see I am telling the truth."
“Caramba! I will,” said Rojas, wheeling round.
If he, Rojas, had the money, Beckert could not
tempt others.
[258]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Beckert's face lighted up with joy.
Rojas moved his horse up alongside Beckert and!
asked where the money was. Beckert told him,
and he took it out and counted. There were
thirty thousand dollars in Argentine notes, about
twelve thousand dollars in Chilean paper money,
and three drafts on a German bank in Buenos
Ayres for eighty thousand dollars each.
“Now are you satisfied that I can pay you?''
asked Beckert.
“No, I am not.”
“What do you mean? that is good money!”
“I know it is; I also know it is not yours, so
come along."
“But, Señor Rojas, you promised you would
take me to the boundary.”
“I did nothing of the kind.”.
“Ach! Gott in Himmel,” sobbed Beckert and
burst into tears. “Robbed! robbed!” he mut-
tered, "robbed after all I have gone through!”
It was ludicrous to see this man's face streaming
with tears. They tickled him on their way down
his cheeks and drove him to the strangest contor-
tions; his hands being handcuffed behind his back,
they were useless to him.
“What you have gone through is nothing yet
to what you have before you,” said Rojas.
"Herr Rojas, please let me go; you have all the
money now; please!"
[259]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
answa
Rojas did not answer. Beckert continued
whimpering, begging for his release; crying hys-
terically; appealing again; all to no purpose. At
last he fell silent.
In the distance they could see Bello coming to-
wards them; a few minutes later he was congratu-
lating Rojas on his capture.
Rojas explained how easy it had been, and what
a coward Beckert had turned out to be.
“They are all the same," said Bello; "it's mar-
vellous what a cowardly lot murderers are."
“I am not a murderer,” said Beckert.
“But you are Beckert?"
“Yes I am; and I killed Tapia in self-defense.”
“Did Tapia assault you?”
“When I went into the office in the morning I
found Tapia and another man breaking into my
desk. I seized a hammer that was on the mantel-
piece and tried to defend myself. They both
attempted to kill me; but I was very lucky. I hit
Tapia on the head with the hammer and the other
man ran away. When I was alone with the dead
body I was panic-stricken at what I had done;
and instead of notifying the police I ran away. I
must have been mad with fright. There! that is
what happened. Now take off these handcuffs.
I am a German diplomat; and I have no fear
whatever of the consequences. I appeal to you,
Señor Rojas, for my diplomatic immunity.”
[260]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
No answer.
“You forged the Ambassador's signature on the
passport of Ciro Lara's, what for ?"
Beckert remained silent.
“This revolver and rifle are brand new; what
did you buy them for?”
No answer.
“And then again are we to believe that Tapia,
after you killed him, got up and set fire to the
offices? Do you say that Tapia rose from his
eternal sleep and dressed himself in your clothes;
took your ring and put it on, as well as the articles
of jewellery you used to wear?”
Beckert's face was downcast and he did not
utter a sound.
"Are we to believe that Tapia, after he was
dead," continued Rojas, “got up, took the ham-
mer, with which you killed him, and broke to bits
the bones on his leg on the same spot and on the
same leg which you broke some time ago? And,
still more marvellous, do you say that, after break-
ing his leg, he used the hammer on his own teeth,
broke nearly all of them right off by the roots?
And, still more marvellous, after all this he poured
petrol down his own throat and soaked himself
with it as well as a lot of incriminating papers, not
incriminating to him, but to you; and, after pour-
ing petrol over them, set fire to his dead body?”
[262]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
“Stop! Stop! for God's sake,” exclaimed
Beckert.
"And then Tapia lifted his arm, his right arm,
to heaven and prayed for vengeance; and God
heard him. That arm was what gave us the clue.
Shall I tell you how you killed him?
Beckert did not answer.
“Silence means consent. When Tapia came
back from the bank at about nine-twenty, you
asked him to open the lower drawer of your desk,
which you said was stuck, but which in reality you
had locked. When he was straining his utmost to
serve you, you dealt him a blow on the back of
the head, then a second blow fiercer than the first,
then with a dagger, which now has no point, you
finished him by striking deep and leaving the point
two inches inside that faithful man's heart. You
then stripped him, and dressed him in your
clothes; after this you dragged him by the right
arm and put him in the empty fireplace; it was
lucky for you that the fireplace was large and
built for burning large logs but it was not large
enough for your purpose. You took the screen
which usually stood there, and hid your victim
behind it; but his right arm kept coming down,
and when it did not shove the screen away it
showed; you could not hide the body effectively.
You then got down on your knees and shoved the
(263)


THE WHISPERING DEAD
the door that leads into the small hall, threw a
match on the petrol trail, and, crossing the hall,
opened the outer door, went out, locked it, and,
putting the key in your pocket, walked away. At
the corner you stopped, and waited to see the ef-
fects of your workmanship. This did not take
long; ten minutes had not gone by before the fire
was well started. You then walked away, satis-
fied with your work, and only regretted that there
was but one victim instead of two, because, if you
had also killed and burnt von Bodmann, your dis-
appearance would have been quite secondary.
My work would have been more difficult. There
is just a chance that you might have been consid-
ered dead for ever; just a chance-a very remote
chance.”
Beckert rode on in silence — he spoke never a
word.
[266]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
ning to blister, and his nose was scarlet and swol-
len. The lids of his eyes were also burning to an
alarming extent, and swelling slightly. He did
not trouble about any of these symptoms how-
ever; in fact his only trouble was his leg, which
was giving him most excruciating pain.
After an hour's ride, Beckert's horse fell, and
would not get up again. Beckert was then
handcuffed by one hand to the girth of Bello's
saddle, and they resumed their journey, having to
measure their speed by Beckert's walking powers.
It was after midday by the time they arrived at
the post of carabineros, which they had left in the
early morning.
Rojas was dead-beat; he could not get off his
horse. His eyelids were so swollen that he could
only see through the smallest slit which he kept
open with the greatest effort. His nose was cov-
ered with blood. The sunburn had itched, and he
had scratched. His lips were twice their natural
size, and were also bleeding. His leg was so
swollen that his boot had been burst open; the
buttons on them had given way to the pressure
from his bleeding ankle. He was helped off his
horse, his leg rebandaged by Veloso, and the pana-
cea for all ills, pisco, administered to him inter-
nally, and some vaseline externally.
After four hours' rest, they started again on
their journey. Beckert being provided with a
[270]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
horse. Rojas's suffering was indescribable. Only
his big heart kept him from succumbing. He had
said he would go through it, and he never flinched.
Veloso admired this hero to duty. He urged him
to stay behind and rest for a few days, but all to
no purpose; Rojas had said that he would get
Beckert, and take him back to Santiago; and he
was adamant. That night, at the next post of
carabineros, Rojas had to be tied down to the
bed, his hands crosswise, lest he should tear his
face to pieces. His leg was so inflamed that it
had set up a fever; his brain wandered; he
begged and begged that Beckert should be brought
to him and be handcuffed to his own wrist.
In his rambling brain the idea of Beckert escap-
ing was paramount. Veloso, to calm him, after
endless refusals submitted to his wish, and had
Beckert brought in and handcuffed to Rojas.
Two carabineros were posted in the room to keep
watch over the prisoner, and to attend to the de-
tective's wants.
The first hour must have been unpleasant for
the Chancellor. Rojas kept on in a disjointed
way recounting most vividly and with the minu-
test details every step in the murder as he had re-
constructed it. At last, as the night wore on, he
fell into a restless sleep.
[271]


CHAPTER XLIV
EXT morning they started on their down-
ward journey. Although weak, and still
in a feverish condition, Rojas insisted in
forming part of the escort of Beckert. His con-
dition was pitiable; his leg was so swollen that the
trousers had to be ripped open at the side and laced
up the thigh with string; his face was one scar.
Notwithstanding all this suffering, for four
days they so journeyed; arrived at Punta de
Ricles and there entrained. Rojas's dogged pluck
never Alinched or weakened; during these four
days on horseback he never uttered a murmur of
complaint, nor even alluded to his sufferings.
On their arrival at the railway station at Punta
de Ricles they were met by the local police au-
thorities, who at once proceeded to place the
prisoner's feet in irons. Beckert protested an-
grily and threatened them with the grave conse-
quences of their insult to his diplomatic immunity,
whereupon he was shown a copy of the German
Ambassador's note to the Foreign Office:
Imperial German Embassy,
in Chile, Santiago, February 16th, 1909.
Sir,
I have the honour to inform your Excellency
[272)


THE WHISPERING DEAD
that I have to-day received the following orders
from my Government. In conformity with Ar-
ticle One of the code for criminal procedure,
Chilean Jurisdiction does not extend to Beckerts
person by reason that he was a diplomatic em-
ployee of the German Government, and therefore
according to International Law was liable only to
German Jurisdiction. Notwithstanding this, tak-
ing into consideration that the crime committed by
Beckert has so deeply and justly moved public
opinion and the national feeling of the Chileans,
the Imperial Government, in order to give a mani-
fest proof of amity and respectful trust, has de-
cided formally to renounce in this exceptional
case all the rights which Beckert might derive
from the official position which he held.
From this moment Beckert is deprived of all
official status; and my Government consequently
has no objection to his being prosecuted in Chile
as though he had never held any position at the
German Embassy in this capital.
I have great pleasure, your Excellency, to
avail myself of this opportunity to express to your
Excellency my most sincere sentiment of special
gratitude for all the efforts which have culminated
in the detection of this unfortunate crime and the
apprehension of the culprit. I must also manifest
my profound admiration of the capability of the
Secret Police.
[273]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
Allow me, your Excellency, to reiterate my
feelings of highest consideration and esteem.
Bodmann.
To His Excellency,
The Minister for Foreign Affairs,
Señor Rafael Balma.
As Beckert finished reading, he sat down; and,
burying his face in his hands, sobbed silently, his
shoulders shaking convulsively; the last ray of
hope was gone!
He was lodged at San Pablo prison the next
day.
[274]


CHAPTER XLV
S Beckert sat in his lonely cell, his haggard
eyes gazed on his doom. The shadows
came and went; and each long day for
long months he died many times. He pitied him-
self. He knew that he was alone in his pity-
not another living soul gave him a grain of it.
He knew that not a living soul would shed a tear
for him—and the day of punishment crept ever
nearer. Whatever the “ good old German God”
might do for him in Germany, he had no sway in
Chile.
He could hear this champion of justice who had
dogged his steps like a sleuth-hound, reconstruct-
ing his hideous crime, getting into his vile skin
and speaking in words the abomination that he
himself had feared to put into cold logic. He
saw this man Rojas peer into the very deeps of his
black soul. He never erred by a hair's breadth-
never made a slip—he might have been present
behind that screen all the time.
Beckert knew that the Kaiser's Ambassador,
steeped in the morale of Ruthlessness as he him-
self was, hearing how Beckert had planned with
like ruthlessness the Ambassador's own violent
[275]


THE WHISPERING DEAD
planned to every detail, written in black and
white? all cut and dried to put all Chile thus
under heel. Had he not, indeed, had the plans
for it in his own keeping—the approved plans?
For two weary months his haggard eyes gazed
on the hideous thing, went over it again and
again; his brain committed the murder again and
again, and his terror-stricken soul died for it again
and again.
At the end of two months he left his cell for the
last time—stepped out of it, his mouth parched,
his limbs a-tremble, and, being stood against the
wall, was shot down by the levelled rifles of his
executioners, dying a felon's death-himself his
only mourner. ...
And the German Embassy and the people who
bred him, this flower of their strange culture!
Well, they forgot to pay Tapia's widow the two
thousand pounds a year that they had demanded
for the German Chancellor's “widow.” They
forgot to send a word of apology to the Govern-
ment they had insulted by their insolent and over-
bearing attitude and conduct when they thought
that the Embassy porter, Tapia, had murdered
the German Chancellor, Beckert. That the Ger-
man Chancellor Beckert had murdered the Em-
bassy porter, Tapia, was quite another affair.
They forgot that, as long as the snow is white
upon the Andes, the name of Germany will stink
[278]















[ ᏴᏫᏰᏃ ᎾᎢ