suit Suarez and Steinbaum, the German consul at Cartagena. My escape may bother them a bit, but I cannot guess just how things will work out. What orders did Enrico’s lieutenant give you?” The foreman’s wits were rather mixed by his master’s extraordinary budget of news, but he answered readily. “He told me, señor, if I valued my life, to see that nothing was disturbed in the estancia till the president came or sent a representative.” “I thought so. That gives me a sporting chance.” Maseden had changed rapidly into his own clothes, an ordinary riding costume suitable to a tropical climate. He opened the safe, stuffed some papers into his pockets, also a quantity of gold, silver, and notes. Then he wrote a letter, and filled in a check. Having addressed and stamped the envelope, he handed it to his assistant. [Pg 43] [Pg 43] “In five minutes or less, you will be riding at a steady gallop towards Cartagena,” he said. “If possible, deliver that letter yourself to Señor Peguero, the American consul. By ‘possible’ I mean if you are not held up by soldiers or police on the way. Otherwise, keep it concealed, and post it when the opportunity serves.” Lopez knew the pleasant methods of his fellow-republicans. “They may search me, señor,” he said. “Not if you do as I tell you. Curse me fluently enough, and they’ll look on you as their best friend.” “Señor!” protested the old man. “Yes. I mean it. Call me all the names you can lay tongue to. When I leave this room I’ll follow you, revolver in hand. Be careful to scowl and act unwillingly. I want some food and a couple of bottles of wine, also a leather bottle full of water and a tin cup. Saddle the Cid, and see that three or four good measures of corn are put in the saddle-bags with the other things. “When I vanish rush to the stables, pick out a good mustang, and be in Cartagena within the hour. If not interfered with, take the letter to Señor Peguero. Don’t wait for an answer, but hurry at top speed to the Castle, where you must tell some one that I came back to the