taken away her husband; now it was a lover; the world must pay.




CHAPTER III

THE GUN RUNNERS


"We'll land here, Mrs. Dunlap."

Ramon Santos, terror of the Washington State Department and of a
half dozen consulates in New York, stuck a pin in a map of Central
America spread out on a table before Constance.

"Insurrectos will meet us," he pursued, then added, "but we must
have money, first, my dear Senora, plenty of money."

Dark of eye and skin, with black imperial and mustache, tall,
straight as an arrow, Santos had risen and was now gazing down with
rapt attention, not at the map, but at Constance herself.

Every curve of her face and wave of her hair, every line of her trim
figure which her filmy gown seemed to accentuate rather than conceal
added fire to his ardent glances.

He touched lightly another pin sticking in a little, almost
microscopic island of the Caribbean.