“Perhaps you have lost not so very much—yes?” he asked sympathetically.

“Perhaps not,” Denis Keen smiled. “Just a letter, Señor.”

Señor Goncalves looked astonished, then comprehending.

“Ah, but the letter is important—no?”

“Yes,” Denis Keen smiled, “it is important. You know nothing about this man Pizella?”

“Nothing except he is half-caste and that speaks much, Señor,” said Goncalves genially. “They do quite funny things, these half-castes.”

“Such as espionage?” Denis Keen asked quietly, yet forcefully.

Hal watched the dapper Brazilian narrowly, but caught not one betraying movement. The man’s swarthy face showed only a sincere concern that these aliens should be distressed in his beloved country.

“The half-castes they are all rebels perhaps,” said the man at length. “But that they should bother the Señors—ah, it is deplorable. For why should the half-caste Pizella....”

“Perhaps he had reason to believe I had something to do with your government,” interposed Denis Keen. “I have—as a friendly neighbor. But my letter—it was one of introduction to the interventor at Manaos. With his aid I am to get together a party suitable to my purpose. I am interested in anthropology, Señor, just a dilettante, of course, and my nephew, Hal, inherits the curse.”

Señor Goncalves laughed with great gusto and twisted his tiny moustache until each end resembled sharp pin points.

“Ah, but that is interesting, Señor,” said he genially. “But as for your letter—ah, it is nothing, for I myself know the interventor—I can take you to him.”

“That is indeed kind, Señor,” said Denis Keen relaxing. “Very kind.”

“Ah, it is nothing, Señors, quite nothing. I should be delighted to help my neighbor Americanos on their interesting journey into the Unknown. And now shall we enjoy the rest of the journey to Manaos—no?”

“Yes,” Denis Keen chuckled. “We shall indeed.”

Hal smiled wryly—he was still smiling when the Señor had 

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