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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Yes, Yohness," says Don Pedro, spellin' it out loud, "Y-o-n-e-s. You see, in Spanish we call it Yohness." He don't say it just like that, either, but that's as near as I can get it. Anyway, you'd never recognize it as Jones. "Well," I goes on, "I don't know of anybody around the place now who would fit your description.
How do you hook up the Corrugated Trust with any such wild " "See," says Don Pedro, producin' a yellow old letter. "This came to Donna Mario just before the war. It is on the note paper of your firm." "Why, that's so!" says I. "Must have been when we were in the old building, long before my time. But as far as Say, the name ain't Yohness. It's Jones, plain as day."
He looks me over sort of doubtful, stroking the zippy little chin tuft as he does it, but he ends by shruggin' his shoulders resigned. "I come," says he, "in quest of Señor Captain Yohness." "Yohness?" says I, tryin' to look thoughtful. "No such party around here that I know of." "It must be," says he. "That I have ascertained." "Oh, well!" says I. "Suppose we admit that much as a starter.
All he lacked to go on the wagon was an address tag and a "Prepaid" label gummed on his tummy. "Sorry," says Yohness, rollin' him into the shrubbery with his toe, "but you mustn't act so mussy when the young lady has a caller." "Ah! Eso es espantoso!" says Donna Mario, meaning that now he had spilled the beans for fair. "You must fly. I must we must both flee." "Oh, very well," says Yohness.
It's a way they have, I understand. And this Yohness guy, he don't do a thing but keep the date. Course, he must have known that as a war risk he'd have been quoted as payin' about a thousand per cent. premium, but he takes the chance. It ain't a case of bein' able to stroll in any time, either.
Yohness party is an American who hails from New York. Don't sound reasonable, I admit, with a monicker like that, but I let the old boy spin along. Yohness had gone to Cuba years ago, way back before the Spanish-American war. I take it he was part of a filibusterin' outfit that was runnin' in guns and ammunition for the Cubans to use against the Spaniards.
"And I expect he was willin' to call it a night after that, eh?" says I. "Reg'lar thrill hound, wasn't he? What became of him?" "Ah!" says Don Pedro. "It is for that I come to you." "Oh, yes, so you have," says I. "I'd most forgotten. Yes, yes! You still have the idea I can trace out Yohness for you? Suppose I could, though, how would you be sure it was the same one, after so many years?
Yohness might not have been particular whether he went on livin' or not. He hadn't acted as though he cared much. But he wasn't going to let a nice girl like the Donna Mario get herself carved up by an impulsive relative who wore fuzzy face whiskers and a yellow sash instead of a vest.
In fact, he mentions Dynamite Johnny O'Brien as the leader of the crowd. I think that was the name. Listens like it might have been, anyway. Well, he says this Señor Yohness is some reckless cut-up himself, for he not only runs the blockade of Spanish warships and lands his stuff, but then has the nerve to stick around the island and even take a little trip into Havana.
Her uncle was driven back to Spain. Later her friend died, but she left to Donna Mario her estate, many acres of valuable sugar plantation, and the house, Casa Fuerta. It is this estate which Donna Mario in turn has willed to her valiant lover. I am one of the executors. So I ask you where is El Capitan Yohness?" "Yes, I know you do," says I. "But why ask me?
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