feelings. "I can see that you know how much I think of you--how much
I--"

"No, no," she implored. "Don't talk to me that way. Remember--there
is work to do. After it is over--then--"

"Work!" he scorned. "What is the whole of Central America to me
compared to you?"

"Captain Gordon!" she stood facing him. "You must not. Listen to me.
You do not know--I--please, please leave me. Let me think."

She did not dare accept him; she could not reject him. It seemed
that with an almost superhuman effort Gordon gripped himself. But he
did not go.

Constance was distracted, what if Santos with his fiery nature
should find Gordon talking to her alone? She must temporize.

"One week," she murmured. "When the Arroyo sails--that night--I
shall give you my answer."

Gordon shot a peculiar glance at her--half doubt, half surprise. But
she was gone. As she hurried unexpectedly out of the Junta she
fancied she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. It must have been
Drummond. Every move at the Junta was being watched.

At the boarding house all night she waited. She must see Santos.
Plan after plan whirled through her brain as the hours dragged.