conspirator. "I have tonight shaved ~la barba~--what you call the
'weeskers' of the ~Presidente~ himself, of this countree! Consider!
He sent for me to come. In the poor ~casita~ of an old woman he
awaited me--in a verree leetle house in a dark place. ~Carramba!~
--el Senor Presidente to make himself thus secret and obscured!
I shave a man and not see his face? This gold piece he gave me, and
said it was to be all quite still. I think, Don Frank, there is what
you call a chip over the bug."

"Have you ever seen President Miraflores before?" asked Goodwin.

"But once," answered Esteban. "He is tall; and he had weeskers,
verree black and sufficient."

"Was any one else present when you shaved him?"

"An old Indian woman, Senor, that belonged with the ~casa~, and one
senorita--a ladee of so much beautee!--~ah, Dios!~"

"All right, Esteban," said Goodwin. "It's very lucky that you
happened along with your tonsorial information. The new
administration will be likely to remember you for this."

Then in a few words he made the barber acquainted with the crisis
into which the affairs of the nation had culminated, and instructed
him to remain outside, keeping watch upon the two sides of the hotel
that looked upon the street, and observing whether any one should
attempt to leave the house by any door or window. Goodwin himself
went to the door through which the guests had entered, opened it and
stepped inside.