began to think that Weeks had refused to intercede for him and
intended to leave him to the mercies of his enemies. With
difficulty he managed to convey to a guard his desire to notify
some of the other Americans in the city, but as usual no heed was
paid to his request.

It was considerably after dark when a visitor was at last
admitted. He proved to be the English consul, whom Anthony had
never met.

"What are you doing here?" the new-comer inquired. Then, when the
facts had been laid before him, he exclaimed: "Why, I heard that a
Jamaican negro had been arrested, but I heard nothing about
mistreatment of a white man."

"Doesn't anybody know I'm here?"

"I'm sure no one does. Those heathens lied to you--they never
communicated with Weeks or anybody. They're afraid. This is an old
trick of theirs--man-handling a prisoner, then keeping him hidden
until he recovers. If he doesn't recover they get out of it on
some excuse or other, as best they can. Why, they killed a white
sailor not long ago--just plain clubbed him to death without
excuse, then asserted that he resisted arrest. They did the same
to one of our negroes. He died in the jail before I got wind of
it, and when I started an investigation they showed his signed
statement declaring that he had not been abused at all, and had
been given the kindest treatment. The matter isn't settled yet.
It's infamous! Why, I had hard work to get in at all just now. But
I'll have Allan here out in two hours or I'll know the reason.