the traces of the handcuffs and the gash in his scalp.

The commandant turned to his men and addressed them at some
length, calling them to task, as Allan later informed his
companion, for using their clubs in a manner to mark their
prisoners so conspicuously. Then he followed them into the
corridor, closing the grating behind him.

The hours passed, and daylight came with no word from the American
consul. By this time the two prisoners were really in need of
medical attention. Their contusions pained them severely. Kirk
felt as if one or more of his ribs were broken, and his suffering,
combined with hunger, prevented sleep. He became feverish and
fretful, but his demands for communication with the outside world
were calmly ignored, although he felt certain that his wishes were
fully understood. When the morning had passed without his being
arraigned for a hearing he grew alarmed. Evidently he had been
flung into confinement and forgotten.

Eventually Kirk and Allan were given food, but still no one came
to their relief. Apparently no message had been delivered. This
treatment was so atrocious, so at variance with Anthony's ideas of
his own importance, that he felt he must be suffering from
nightmare. How dared they treat an American so, no matter what the
charge? Why didn't they try him or give him a hearing? These
insolent, overbearing Panamaniacs had no regard for law or
humanity, and this was no longer a question of petty injustice; it
was a grave infraction of civilized equity.

But the afternoon wore on without an encouraging sign, till Kirk