Consul Wyman sat in his study in deep thought. His heart was heavy and in his mind plan after plan to save the boys from their threatened fate was formed, only to be abandoned as not feasible. His wife sat with him aiding now and then by a suggestion. She, too, was deeply interested in the fate of the American boys, of whose adventures and self-sacrifice her husband had told her.

"Everything falls to the ground, Annie," he said finally. "There is only one hope and that is an appeal to the government."

"But you know the red tape and delay that means, John," said his wife.

"We have forty-eight hours from dawn to-morrow."

"Far too short a time to reach Washington through Spanish sources, I fear."

"I believe you are right."

"And you cannot stir Serano?"

"He is adamant."

"Then I can see nothing but an appeal to Weyler."

"There is scarcely time for that."

"There can be no delay."

"But the courier. I know of no one whom I can trust and who would act in the boys' interests. It is a diplomatic mission. There must be neither pleading nor threatening."

"Then you must go, John."

"That is what I have been thinking, my dear. I am glad you see it in the same way."

"When will you start?"

"Within an hour. If you will leave me now, I will prepare a brief to present to General Weyler."

Mrs. Wyman left the room and the consul drew his chair closer to his desk where a student lamp burned. The room was large, opening by a casement window upon a garden filled with luxuriantly growing plants and shrubs. The night was warm and the window stood open, admitting the heavy perfume of flowers. The lamp, which was the only light in the room, cast a bright circle on the desk. All the rest of the apartment was in deep shadow.

Mr. Wyman had been writing about half an hour when he turned to the window behind him as if he had heard an unusual sound. Then he returned to his writing. Again he swung around in his chair and listened. Then he rose and walked quickly to the window.

"Annie, is that you?" he called.

There was no reply.

"I am sure I heard a sound in the garden," he said to himself.

"Probably you are right, consul, although I tried to make as little noise as possible."

Mr. Wyman started back involuntarily. The words which were spoken in a whisper, seemed to come from a clump of bushes at the right of the window. Mr. Wyman peered into the darkness but could see no one.

"Who are you?" he asked loudly, "who comes stealing into my garden under the cover of darkness?"

"Are you alone?" was the only reply.

"And of what concern is that to you?"

"Sure, and if you were me you would concern yourself a good bit about it."

"Well, I am alone; now who are you and what is your business here at this time of night?"

For answer a dark form crept stealthily out from the shadow of the bush, leaped lightly in the window, and as quickly drew the hanging curtain across it, shutting out all view from the outside. Although the night was warm, the man wore a coat with the broad collar turned up so as to conceal his face, and a broad sombrero slouched down over his eyes. He kept close within the shadows in the corner of the room.

"Pardon me, Mr. Wyman, for entering your house in this unceremonious manner, but there was no other way that offered just at present. My mission is of the utmost importance, but it would not be well for either of us if I were discovered here. Can we depend upon being undisturbed?"

"How do you know that I wish to be undisturbed? You seem to know me, but refuse to disclose your identity. I cannot consent to this one-sided interview. Who are you?"

"If I tell you that I am a friend of the American boys, is that enough?"

"Quite. You need have no fear; we shall be undisturbed here."

The man, reassured, stepped forward and threw off his coat and hat. Mr. Wyman looked him over curiously for a moment and then pointed to a chair.

"Be seated, Captain Dynamite," he said, quietly.

O'Connor started back in some dismay.

"You know me?" he said. "How?"

"The boys described you to me very accurately. You have a pair of very staunch friends in those youngsters, sir."

"Yes, yes, I know," said O'Connor, eagerly. "Tell me of them—they are safe?"

"They are alive and well, but they are not safe."

"What do you mean?"

"In the first place tell me if Miss Juanita reached you in safety?"

"Yes, thank God, and she has told me much of what the boys have risked for her and me. That is why I am here."

"Yes, and there is not another man with a price upon his head who would place it in the lion's mouth as you are doing. Why did you come here alone? You can do no good single handed."

O'Connor leaned forward and whispered:

"But I am not alone. There are twelve picked men with me."

"Where are they?"

"Pardon me the liberty, but they are out there in your garden."

"How did you get here?"

"By methods known only to Indians and Cubans."

"Humph," said Mr. Wyman, somewhat annoyed, "I may not get clear of this affair without getting shot myself. But what can twelve men do?"

"Twelve such men as those can do much. But tell me, please, so that I may act with proper dispatch, just what the situation is in regard to the boys."

The men drew their chairs closer together and in a low tone Mr. Wyman began to tell in sequence the events that had transpired since he had been involved in the affair.

"So," said O'Connor, when Mr. Wyman had finished, "then I am not much too soon. Now, let us consider what is the best way to proceed. I shall probably have to ask you for a trifle of aid."

"But I must be off to Weyler. I have not a minute to waste if I wish to reach him in time."

"In time for what?" asked O'Connor, in surprise.

"In time to secure a reprieve."

"Nonsense, man."

"May I ask what is nonsense, Captain Dynamite?" said Mr. Wyman, whose dignity was injured.

"In the first place, it is nonsense to expect any aid from Weyler, who always staunchly supports his lieutenants, whether right or wrong, and in the second place, we do not want a reprieve. We've got to get them clean away from here before they will be safe—clean off the blooming island. I'll take them back to the old Mariella—that's the safest place for them. I wish to goodness they had never left her."

"But how, my good sir—how under the sun are you going to get them to the Mariella when they are locked up in a Spanish jail?"

"No jail is impregnable."

"But you cannot storm it in the face of a garrison of men with a handful of twelve."

"There are more than fifty times twelve almost within gunshot, but I still think the twelve will be sufficient for my purpose."

"Do you mean that the city is threatened by insurgents?" Mr. Wyman looked worried. "I must get my wife away, sir."

"Don't worry, consul. If it comes to that the American flag is sacred to the insurgents; but if there is any fighting it will be on the picket line only, I fancy."

"But what is your plan?"

"To take the boys out of that jail first."

"How?"

"Is it strongly guarded?"

"Inside and out. It is a military prison."

"How many men?"

"Four outside and four within, in charge of an officer."

"Oh, that's easy."

"But the first sound of a conflict would arouse the garrison, which is directly in the rear of the prison."

"There will be no sound of conflict after we get to work, Mr. Wyman."

"How can I aid you?"

"By securing permission to visit the boys in their cell. Can you do it?"

"I am not sure. General Serano's mood is not the best in the world just now. The boys have tantalized him beyond measure. He cannot seem to beat them, and aside from his official pride, his personal dignity has suffered. My position as defender of the youngsters has gained for me his ill-will. But I will try. What am I to do?"

"Simply leave the jail at a time that I shall fix. We will do the rest. You will not be involved in any way, except that you may be seemingly handled a little roughly, but that will only be done to divert suspicion from yourself. Do not resist."

"There will not be too much violence, I hope?"

"No more than is needed, sir. I do not like violence myself. There may be a broken head or two, but they are soon mended. It it now nine o'clock. What time does the watch change?"

"At midnight."

"Very well. Now, if you will permit me, I will call one of my men."

"Make what use you please of me and my house. I wish to aid you in any way I can."

O'Connor stepped to the window and drew aside the curtain. As he did so, a dark form darted into the shadow of a bush. O'Connor saw it and paused.

"There is someone in your garden beside my men," he whispered to the consul.

"Impossible. The servants have gone to bed."

"Someone was listening at this window."

"Whom can it be?"

"Someone who suspects you. Can you think whom it would be?"

"No." The consul shook his head nervously.

"Very well, we'll see."

O'Connor turned and darted out of the window. In a moment he returned holding General Serano's official spy by the scruff of the neck. The interpreter's genial smile had given place to a look of terror and he trembled with fear. O'Connor swung him around so that he faced the consul.

"Do you know him?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Mr. Wyman, as he looked the man over with an expression of disgust, "he is General Serano's man Friday." Then to the man he said sternly: "What are you doing here, in my garden, at this time of night?"

"Preoccupation, Mr. Wyman, preoccupation of the mind. I must have strayed in by mistake. I hope you will pardon me."

"Well, we will think that over, my man," interrupted O'Connor. "How long had you been listening at the window?"

"Listening! O, sir, far be it from me to listen at the window of our esteemed consul."

"You weren't very far from it just now."

"I had just discovered my error, sir, and was about to retrace my steps——"

"Having heard all that you wished," O'Connor broke in.

"I hope the gentleman is jesting. I should be grieved indeed if he held so evil an opinion of me."

"Please consider yourself grieved. Now, Mr. Wyman, I should like to still further impose on your hospitality. This gentleman, I believe, is very anxious to serve me—is that not true, Mr. Friday?"

"Oh, quite true, sir; it shall be my pleasure; but the name, sir, is not Friday—it is Villamonte."

"Mr. Wyman, can I trouble you for a short piece of rope?"

The consul left the room and returned with a piece of clothes-line about three feet long which he handed to O'Connor.

"Now Mr. Monte, I shall have to ask you to extend your hands behind you."

"Surely your excellency will not bind me?"

"My excellency sure will. Stick 'em out and be quick about it."

"I protest. General Serano shall hear of this outrage."

"I am quite confident of that, but I am not ready to lose your company yet, Monte."

O'Connor turned the man around much as he might have done a child, and bound his hands behind him. Then he led him to a chair into which he thrust him and lashed his hands tightly to the back, Villamonte jabbering vehemently in Spanish the while.

"Now, Mr. Wyman," said O'Connor, when he finished, "this gentleman's providential preoccupation of mind will relieve you from the necessity of visiting General Serano. I think he will be very glad to carry out any instructions I may give him." As O'Connor spoke, he carelessly removed a pistol from his belt, and as he examined it he held the muzzle so that it covered the trembling Villamonte, who cowered back in the chair.

"Won't you, Mr. Monte?"

"Whatever his excellency wishes shall be my pleasure," stammered the interpreter.

"Good; now we understand each other, Monte."