Grahame went in to dinner feeling anxious. Sarmiento had not returned, but he would probably come in before the meal was over, and Gomez was sitting by Cliffe near the head of the table. Blanca sat opposite Walthew, and Grahame found a place next to Evelyn, who had not joined Cliffe because she disliked Gomez. Though his manners were polished, there was something sinister about him, a hint of craft and cruelty, and she did not approve of his association with her father.

"Have you met the gentleman yonder?" she asked Grahame.

"SeÑor Gomez? I know who he is, but have not spoken to him."

"That's curious, because he has been looking at you as if he were interested."

This confirmed Grahame's suspicion, and he felt uneasy. He did not want Gomez to study him, and he would not have come in to dinner only that he must warn Sarmiento. If he and his friends were to succeed in their undertaking, their connection with Don Martin must remain unknown; for it would not be difficult to catch them landing arms should their object be suspected. He wondered where Macallister was, for the engineer could be trusted in an emergency, and presently he saw him coming in. There was no vacant place near Grahame, and Macallister sat down some distance off.

"You may have been mistaken, Miss Cliffe," Grahame suggested. "Somehow, I imagine that Gomez is not a favorite of yours."

"That's true, though I hardly know him," she answered with a smile. "One is now and then seized by a quick prejudice, and I think the reason I mentioned the man was because I wanted your opinion."

"Did you think it worth having?"

"I can't judge. Perhaps I really wanted to be agreed with. When you have no good ground for making up your mind about a thing, it's pleasant to find your conclusions confirmed."

"Well, I believe you can trust your feelings. Gomez can't be a nice man if all one hears is true. But what turned you against him—the dash of dark blood?"

"No, not altogether. I felt repelled, as one feels repelled by a snake or a toad."

Grahame made a sign of understanding. There was, he thought, something very refined in the girl's character; an instinctive fastidiousness. She walked in the light and shrank from all that lurked in the shadow. It was her inner self that had recoiled from the swarthy politician and reason had nothing to do with the matter.

"Your father seems to be on good terms with the fellow," he remarked.

"Yes; it puzzles me. However, I suppose he is forced to deal with all kinds of people——"She paused, and Grahame changed the subject. He might have obtained some information by judicious questions, but he could not take advantage of the girl's frankness by leading her to reveal anything she knew about her father's affairs. This would taint their friendship, which he valued.

After a time, she looked at him with a twinkle of amusement.

"I watched a little comedy shortly before dinner."

"Did you?" said Grahame. "Comedies are not unusual when one knows how to look for them, but they don't catch everybody's eye."

"This one was rather obvious; I mean the transformation of a staid Scottish engineer into a Cuban sugar-planter of convivial habits."

"Mack isn't really staid. It looks as if you didn't quite understand the Scottish character. Under its surface sobriety one's apt to find a very reckless humor. I'm a Borderer, and rather proud of it, you know. But how did the beginning of the first act strike you?"

"It seized my interest. The plot was not unusual; confused identity is a favorite theme, but I noticed some histrionic cleverness. The rake of the sombrero and the hang of the big cloak were good. They carried a hint of mild dissipation; one recognizes artistic talent in these light touches."

Grahame laughed.

"I'm not sure it was all art; experience may have had something to do with it. Mack's not an ascetic."

"But how did the play go off?"

"It was a success, I think."

"In one act?""No," said Grahame thoughtfully. "I imagine it isn't played out yet, and the other acts may not be in so light a vein."

"As you didn't expect an audience, perhaps I'd better promise not to talk about your play. You may have felt some diffidence about asking that."

"Thank you," said Grahame quietly. "You're very quick."

Evelyn smiled. There was something about the man which appealed to her. Perhaps it was the mystery that seemed to shroud him and the Enchantress. She noticed now that he was casting furtive glances about the dining-room.

As a matter of fact, Grahame was worried about Don Martin. The flowers, plates of fruit, and tall wine carafes obstructed his view, but he could see that Sarmiento had not come in. Gomez was talking to Cliffe, but his eyes wandered about the table. For a moment they rested on Blanca, and Grahame felt angry, as if the fellow's glance were an insult to the girl. Then it was fixed observantly upon himself, and he hid his antagonism.

Dinner was a lengthy function, but the last course was served, and some of the guests were smoking and some leaving their places to speak to their friends, when Sarmiento came in. He walked toward Grahame, who was glad of the general movement, which might help him to deal with the situation. Looking round quickly, he noted that Gomez had turned to Cliffe; and then, getting up carelessly, he stood between the secretary and Don Martin. He faced Sarmiento, and the latter stopped when he saw Grahame's frown. A life of political intrigue had made him keen-witted, and with a negligent movement he turned and went back, speaking to a waiter as he passed.

Evelyn rose and waited by her chair. Something she did not understand was going on, and the hint of intrigue excited her. She trusted Grahame, and she thought his object was good. Moreover, she guessed that it had something to do with thwarting Gomez, and she meant to help him if she had an opportunity.

The secretary suddenly pushed back his chair, and Grahame felt his heart beat. Sarmiento was not far from the door, and his back was toward his enemy, but he would have to turn at the end of the table, and that would bring his profile into view. It seemed that he recognized the danger, though Grahame did not think he had seen Gomez, for he bent down, turning his head as he tightened his sash. His face was still hidden when he reached the door, but Grahame, looking round, saw Gomez walk quickly down the room. Other people were now leaving, and Grahame joined them, hoping that he might get out before his antagonist. He was unaware that Evelyn, who guessed his intention, was close behind him.

There was more room on Gomez's side of the table, and Grahame was delayed by several ladies whom he could not push aside. He would have risked some apparent rudeness, but dared not make a disturbance. Gomez had almost reached the door when a man collided with him and barred the way, and Grahame smiled as he heard an apology in bad Castilian, for he saw that Macallister had given Sarmiento a few more seconds' start.

Evelyn had slipped round the group of women while Grahame was trying to avoid one of them, and she was now in front of Gomez, who was hurrying along the passage. The man was close to her when she stopped and bent down with a warning cry.

"Take care, seÑor! I have dropped a ring."

Gomez could not get past her, and his eyes blazed with fury. His polish was superficial, and Evelyn saw something of the savagery beneath. She flinched, but plucked up her courage.

"It is a valuable ring, and will break if you tread on it," she said.

"Move then!" Gomez commanded harshly; and when she stepped back her dress uncovered the ring. Its setting was of small emeralds and diamonds, and might easily have been crushed.

Gomez picked up the ring and gave it to her with a bow. Then he hurried on; but when he reached the patio it was empty, and Grahame, standing at the other end of the passage, heard his ugly exclamation. The next moment Evelyn passed him, coming back, but her manner indicated that she did not wish to speak.

After a time Grahame strolled out from the front of the hotel, and looked round as he turned a corner. Nobody followed him; and, as he expected, he found Sarmiento waiting in the shadow some distance farther on.

"What was the danger?" the Spaniard asked.

"Gomez was in the dining-room."

"Ah!" said Sarmiento. "Did he recognize me?"

"I don't think so, but I can't be sure. He was suspicious. But it's hardly prudent to stand talking in the street."

They entered a shabby cafÉ, and, choosing a quiet corner, ordered wine."If our friend's suspicions are aroused, he'll lose no time in following them up," Sarmiento said; and Grahame noticed that although the cafÉ was almost empty he avoided the secretary's name. "A Pinillo boat sails at daybreak and passengers go on board to-night. It seems to me that I'd better embark."

"But the Pinillo liners don't call at your port!" Grahame said.

Sarmiento smiled.

"It may puzzle our friend if he watches the mole. When I have been on board I will return quietly, but not to the hotel. I know this city, where I have trustworthy acquaintances. I may be able to learn the business that has brought him here."

"But what about your daughter?"

"I do not think our friend knows her, and our name is not on the hotel book. There is a Cuban lady I can leave her with."

"One would imagine that watching the fellow might be dangerous. There are half-breed rascals in the port who wouldn't hesitate about sandbagging or stabbing you for a few dollars. But, after all, you run some risk at Rio Frio."

"I am safe there, for a time," said Sarmiento. "The opposition dare not arrest me, and the citizens would have to be satisfied if I disappeared. There would be a riot, and the Government is not ready to use force yet."

"I see," said Grahame. "It's evident that you are popular; but the leaders of movements like yours are sometimes willing to sacrifice a comrade for the good of the cause. It might not suit them to have their hand forced by a tumult.""Such things happen. But my hold is on the people. They would not be appeased."

"May I ask how you got that hold?"

"I will tell you, seÑor. My family is of some importance, and at first I was not an active liberator. The peons on my father's estate were, in a sense, his subjects: ignorant, superstitious people with childish passions; but they trusted him, and it was our tradition that they should be treated well. As I grew up, however, I saw that much had not been done. They wasted effort, suffered needless pains, and died of diseases that might be stamped out. In my inexperience I resolved that I would teach them to live healthily and well."

"I dare say you found it hard."

Sarmiento smiled.

"That is very true. I was young and an enthusiast, and it hurts to be misunderstood. Even the poor I tried to benefit regarded me with suspicion; but this was not the worst. One is not supposed to be disinterested in my country; the man who works for others is a dangerous person. His aim is to gain power, and those who have it watch him with a jealous eye. Well, I found my schemes thwarted by corrupt officials, money one could do much good with must be spent in bribes, and at last I saw that before improvement was possible our government must be reformed. I am not naturally a politician, seÑor; I was forced to become one."

Grahame made a sign of agreement.

"I think I understand," he said.

"It was uphill work, but the peasants I had helped began to trust me, thoughtful men gave me their support, and some joined because they hated all in authority. I was becoming an influence, and it was supposed I could be bought. Petty honors were offered and an official post. When it was found that these things did not tempt me, I became a danger to the State."

"And the President tried a different plan!"

"Sometimes I feared for my liberty, and sometimes for my life. I have had to take refuge in Cuba and the United States; much of my money has been spent. But the determination to win freedom and good government spreads. We are growing strong, and soon the reckoning with our oppressors will come."

"Will things be very much better afterward?"

Sarmiento spread out his hands.

"Who can tell? One strives and hopes for the best. It is all that is possible. Some day, perhaps, comes a small instalment of what one fights for."

Grahame did not answer, and his companion sank into the melancholy that often characterized him. He was engaged in an arduous struggle, and Grahame suspected that disappointment would meet him even in hardly won victory. The man was sincere, and had sacrificed much for his country's sake; but he could not work alone, and it might happen that his helpers, tasting power, would restore the abuses he had destroyed. It looked as if he knew this, but did not let it daunt him.

After a long silence Sarmiento took out his watch.

"I think I had better go on board the Pinillo boat now," he said. "Our business is done, and it is well that you sail to-morrow. When we are ready for the next cargo, you will hear from us."

Pulling down his hat, he left the cafÉ with his cloak thrown loosely over his shoulder, but Grahame noticed that he was careful to keep his right hand free.