Sinclair considered for a moment. `I'd like to, but it would be taking a big risk. What is there in it for me?'
Fishing out of his trouser pocket the least valuable of the bracelets, Adam showed it under the table and said, `This. I've friends in New York to whom I'll take you and I'll guarantee that they'll give you at least a thousand quid for it.'
As the young man looked at the jewel, he drew a deep breath. Considering their responsibilities, the officers in small ships are about the worst paid class in the world, and there was a bonnie lass in Glasgow that Bruce Sinclair was saving up to marry.
`All right,' he said, `but how is it to be done?'
`That's for you to say,' Adam replied. `But there can be nothing against your asking me on board some time when things are quiet, and it won't be noticed if I don't go ashore again. You'll have to think of a place where I can hide for twenty four hours. I'll come out then, and I'm quite capable of working my passage.'
`What about when we dock in New York?'
`Leave that to me. I'll find a way of getting ashore. Maybe in one of those crates of fruit you are loading. Or, if you lay off, I'm a good swimmer and could swim ashore.'
Again Sinclair remained thoughtful for a minute, then said, `Coming aboard at night would look a bit fishy. Tomorrow at about three in the afternoon would be best. Everyone will be having a shut eye then, even the deck watchman who is supposed to keep a look out while we are in port. We don't want any of the crew to see you come aboard, though; so you'd better get a boat
man to take you out to the ship and I'll be waiting for you.'
So the matter was arranged, and an hour later Adam saw Sinclair off from the dock.
The following afternoon, hopeful but nervous about the outcome, he hired a small motor boat which chugged with him out to the President Cleveland, as the American ship was named. When he reached her, he told the boatman that he might have to remain on board for some hours, and that when he had done his business one of the ship's boats would bring him ashore; then he paid him off.
Sinclair, looking far from happy, received Adam as he came over the side. But after they had had a few drinks in the deserted Mess under the stern deck, he cheered up considerably and said, `There is a spare cabin not far from mine which should be occupied by a Fourth Officer. But in this tub we don't run to one, and I don't think anyone has even looked into it for weeks; so you should be quite all right there.'
A quarter of an hour later Adam was installed, lying in the narrow bunk and, delight of delights, after being without books for so long, starting to read one of half a dozen which he had bought that morning. With him he had also brought food enough to see him through the next forty eight hours; and the President Cleveland, having completed her loading, was due to sail on the tide early the following morning.
After reading until sunset he had a meal, then undressed, got under the blankets and went to sleep. A few hours later he was rudely awakened by the door of the cabin being unceremoniously pulled open. Starting up, he blinked a few times, then saw that a big, heavy fowled man who, from the rings on his sleeves, he knew must be the Captain of the vessel, and a much gold braided Mexican Customs officer, were framed in the doorway. Behind them were grouped several other men.
`What's this?' the Customs officer snapped at the Captain. `You told me this cabin was empty.'
`So it should be,' retorted the American in atrocious Spanish. Scowling at Adam, he demanded, `Who are you? What the hell are you doing here?'
Adam's mind jumped to it that he had been caught in a search that Sinclair could not have foreseen. Instantly he decided that he must protect the young Scot who had befriended him, so he refused to explain how he came to be there. His stubborn refusal to answer all the subsequent questions fired at him resulted in the gold braided Customs officer drawing a revolver, covering him with it and ordering in a junior to search his belongings.
Within two minutes the Customs man came upon the jeweled
serpent head and the bracelets. With a cry of triumph, he held them aloft.
`Now what have you to say?' sneered the senior Customs officer at the unhappy Captain. `We were tipped off that your ship was smuggling out valuable antiques which should belong to the Mexican government. Evidently the people for whom you are acting do not trust you, so sent this man to carry the most valuable pieces himself, and keep a watch on you. I have no doubt now that we will find many lesser Mexican objects d'art hidden among your cargo.'
Adam was then locked in the cabin and left to brood on his extraordinary bad luck in having tried to get away in a ship which was under suspicion as an antique runner. Hours later two policemen came to the cabin, handcuffed him and took him up on deck.
There, under the arc lights, he saw that many of the fruit crates had been broken open and set out on the deck were a score of pieces of fine pottery, several small jade images of gods, obsidian axe heads, knives and other items which had evidently been destined for antique dealers in New York; and the Customs men were still searching.
He was taken ashore and, half an hour later, put in the local lock up. Next morning he was questioned but refused to give an account of himself. That afternoon he was transferred to the police headquarters in Vera Cruz. Again he was questioned and again he refused to talk.
They photographed him, took his fingerprints and sent them to the capital with a full description of the jewels that had been found in his possession, to find out if he could be identified as an habitual criminal.
Two days later he was brought from his cell to face the ex pugilist who had been his warder in Mexico City after he had been brought there from Merida. In vain he denied that he had ever before set eyes on this human gorilla. His denial was ignored. That night he was sent back under guard to Mexico City, to stand his trial as the man who had incited rebellion in the role of Quetzalcoatl.
CHAPTER 22
Out on a Limb
FOR the second time Adam made the flight to Mexico City handcuffed and under guard. Soon after he arrived at Police Headquarters, he was brought before the bald General Gomez, from whom he had last parted after a convivial supper. He was then formally charged with: conspiring against the government; subversive activities; inciting the civil population to rebellion; breaking out of prison; inciting the Armed Forces to mutiny and creating a public disturbance. It seemed a formidable list, but he had little doubt that, to their own satisfaction, they would be able to prove the lot.
On this occasion he was not subjected to prolonged and searching questioning, which, he rightly guessed, was due to the authorities already having all the evidence they needed to convict him. He was simply asked if he wished to make a statement.
All he could do was to tell a near enough version of the truth, although he did not expect to be believed, and, during his long recital, the Police Chief showed by his bored manner that he considered listening to it a waste of time. However, he agreed to Adam's request that the British Embassy should be informed of his situation.
The following morning the Embassy solicitor, a Mr. Wilkinson, who was a partner in a Mexican firm, came to see him, and they went over in detail a copy of Adam's statement.
Wilkinson obviously took a dim view of his prospects. Now that Hunterscombe could not vouch for Adam's innocence, the only ways in which his guilt could even be brought in doubt was ( 1 ) by testimony from Chela, (2) by evidence that he had been held in the monastery against his will, and (3) that he had, belatedly, fought the priests on the top of the pyramid; but Chela's testimony would be regarded as biased in his favour, it was very unlikely that anyone at the monastery would be inclined to speak in his defence and it would be urged that he had turned against the priests only when he had found that, by taking the role of Quetzalcoatl, he had fallen into a trap which was about to cost him his life.