chose the worst possible time for this escapade. I suppose it will
mean diplomatic difficulties and all that, and once we lose old
Alfarez--"

"We will lose him anyhow," snapped the woman. "I've seen it
coming, although you could not. I'll break Ramon for this."

"Then you'll break us." Cortlandt stared gloomily at his wife, who
met his gaze squarely. "Do you think Anthony is worth it?"

"My dear Stephen, they nearly killed that poor boy, and I sha'n't
allow it. Don Anibal Alfarez is not the only presidential timber
in the republic. If he breaks with us it will cost him dearly. You
think he is friendly, but I know that deep down in his crafty old
heart he despises all us Americans and is only waiting a chance to
gratify his spleen. The moment he dares, he'll turn against us."

Cortlandt's frosty countenance showed signs of unusual agitation
as he answered: "You're mad! You threaten to ruin everything. You
understand perfectly--there's no use of my explaining. Let me call
on him this afternoon. He will instruct his son."

"No! He would procrastinate, as usual. There would be the
customary delays and excuses, and meanwhile Anthony would be in
jail at Colon. They would have a defence all prepared. Besides, if
it's to be a fight we must have all the weapons possible--and this
affair may prove a good one. Anyhow, you mustn't ask a favor of
him at this time; he must ask, not you."

The telephone rang, and the speaker snatched the receiver from its