Сердца трёх / Hearts of three

* * *

Two days later, after the news that all the men of Leoncia’s family were away, Francis had himself landed on the beach where he had first met her. As Francis scrawled on a sheet of paper from his notebook, “I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan, and I have a message for you from him,” he heard Leoncia’s cry. Note and pencil fell to the sand as he sprang toward the direction of the cry. Soon he saw her. Leoncia’s face was colorless.

“What is it?” Francis demanded. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?”

She pointed at her bare knee with two tiny drops of blood.

“It was a viperine,” she said. “A deadly viperine. I shall be a dead woman in five minutes, and I am glad, glad, for then my heart will be tormented no more by you.”

She sank down in a faint.

Francis pulled out his handkerchief and tied it loosely around her leg above the knee. Next, he opened the small blade of his pocket-knife, burned it with several matches, and cut carefully into the two lacerations made by the snake’s fangs.

The girl began to move restlessly. “Lie down,” he commanded, as she sat up.

At the same instant the Indian lad ran out of the jungle, swinging a small dead snake by the tail and crying:

“Labarri![43 - labarri – лабарри] Labarri!”

At which Francis assumed the worst.

“Lie down, and be quiet!” he repeated harshly. “You haven’t a second to lose.”

But watched only the dead snake.

“You dare!” she threatened him. “It’s only a baby labarri, and its bite is harmless. I thought it was a viperine. They look alike when the labarri is small.”

The constriction of the circulation by the tourniquet pained her, and she glanced down and discovered his handkerchief knotted around her leg.

“Oh, what have you done? It was only a baby labarri,” she reproached him.

“You told me it was a viperine,” he retorted.

She hid her face in her hands. He could say that she was laughing.

“And now, we’ll talk business, Miss Solano,” he said in changed tones. “And you will listen. Please, don’t interrupt me.” He stooped and picked up the note he had been writing. “I was just sending that to you by the boy when you screamed. Take it. Read it. It won’t bite you. It isn’t a viperine.”

Though she refused to receive it, her eyes involuntarily scanned the opening line:

“I am the man whom you mistook for Henry Morgan…”

“You… are… not… Henry?” she gasped.

“No, I am not. Won’t you please take it and read.”

“But the name? Your name?”

“Morgan, Francis Morgan.” He bowed. “As I explained there, Henry and I are distant relatives, or something like that. Moreover, Henry did not kill your uncle.”

To his bewilderment, a great doubt suddenly dawned in her eyes.

“Henry,” she accused him. “This is a devil’s trick you’re trying to play on me. Of course you are Henry.”

Francis pointed to his mustache.

“You’ve grown that since,” she challenged.

He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his left arm from wrist to elbow.

“Do you remember the scar?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Then find it.”

“I… I ask your forgiveness. I was terribly mistaken, and I’ve treated you…”

“That kiss was delightful,” he naughtily disclaimed.

“Do you have a message from Henry,” she changed the subject abruptly. “Is he innocent…? This is true? Oh, I want to believe you!”

“I am morally certain that Henry did not kill your uncle!”

“Then say no more, at least not now,” she interrupted joyfully. “First of all, you must go with me now to the house. And you can tell me about Henry on the way.”

* * *

Alvarez Torres was sitting on the broad piazza of the Solano Hacienda.[44 - on the broad piazza of the Solano Hacienda – на широкой террасе перед асьендой Солано] What he saw was Leoncia and Francis. Next and Torres could scarcely believe his eyes, he saw Francis take a ring, and Leoncia extend her left hand and receive the ring upon her third ringer. Engagement finger it was!

What had really occurred was the placing of Henry’s engagement ring back on Leoncia’s hand. And Leoncia, she knew not why, was not very glad to receiving the ring.

Torres tossed the dead cigarette away, twisted his mustache fiercely, and advanced to meet them across the piazza.

“One does not expect to see a shameless murderer here.”

Francis smiled.

“Another lunatic in this lunatic land,” he said. “The last time, Leoncia, that I saw this gentleman was in New York. He was really anxious to do business with me. Now I meet him here and the first thing he tells me is that I am a shameless murderer.”

“Senor Torres, you must apologize,” she declared angrily. “We don’t insult guest in the house of Solano.”

“Senor Torres,” Francis said. “I know what your mistake is. You think I am Henry Morgan. I am Francis Morgan, and you and I, not long ago, transacted business together in Regan’s office in New York.”

Torres, overwhelmed for the moment by his mistake, uttered apologies both to Francis and Leoncia.

“And now,” said Leoncia, “Senor Torres, we will tell you about Henry.”

While she departed, Torres found he was more amazed and angry than ever. A newcomer, a stranger put a ring on Leoncia’s engagement finger! He thought quickly and passionately for a moment. Leoncia, whom to himself he always named the queen of his dreams, had engaged herself to a strange Gringo from New York. It was unbelievable, monstrous. He clapped his hands, summoned his hired carriage.