"I've got to sleep," stoutly maintained the other. "Somebody will
have to take care of me; I can't sit up all night."

"See here, my friend, I don't know what your game is, but you
can't sting me." The agent finished locking up, then walked away,
leaving his visitor to reflect anew upon the average human being's
ignoble lack of faith in his fellows.

It was growing dark. From farther down the water-front the lights
of the Wayfarers Club shone invitingly, and Kirk decided to appeal
there for assistance. In spite of Weeks's warning, he felt sure he
could prevail upon some of the members to tide him over for the
night, but as he neared the place he underwent a sudden change of
heart. Slowly mounting the stairs ahead of him like a trained
hippopotamus was the colossal, panting figure of the American
consul, at sight of which Kirk's pride rose up in arms and forbade
him to follow. Doubtless Weeks had spread his story broadcast; it
was manifestly impossible for him to appeal to his recent card
partners--they would believe he had deliberately imposed upon
them. It was humiliating, yet there seemed nothing to do except to
await the Cortlandts' return, and, if he failed to reach them by
telephone, to spend the night in the open. It occurred to him that
he might try to locate Stein or some other of his late fellow-
passengers, but they were probably scattered across the Isthmus by
this time.

A band was playing in the plaza when he came back--a very good
band, too--and, finding a bench, he allowed his mind the relief of
idly listening to the music. The square was filling with Spanish