"I do not h'understand 'ow."

"Why didn't he notify me at once? If I had only known--"

"Those 'eartless Spiggoties would not h'allow it. Oh, you will
h'assist the poor mon! Say it. Praise be to God, he is bleeding in
the prison--"

"Yes, yes, certainly."

Allan reached clumsily this time to kiss the hem of her skirt, but
she stepped aside quickly, fumbling meanwhile in her purse for a
bank-note, while he exclaimed:

"God bless you, good mistress. He told me to find you and present
his recital."

"Here, take this money and go back to Colon by the first train. We
may need you. Now go! I'll be there ahead of you."

She picked up her white skirts and ran up the hotel stairs as if
pursued, bursting in upon her husband so impetuously that he rose
in surprise, inquiring:

"What is it?"

"Young Anthony is in jail in Colon," she panted. "He's been locked
up for three days, and they won't let him out."