a correspondent lead you into difficulty perhaps I may be of service to you."
"Thank you," acknowledges Jack. "But with my present limited means of identifying you, I should be more likely to be garroted or shot before I could send you word."
The senor smiles. "I am Gen. Murillo," he says. "Adios, Senor Ashley." And with a courtly bow the Spanish gentleman takes himself off.
"So," muses Ashley, looking after the retreating figure. "Gen. Juan Murillo, the chief of staff attached to the captain-general, is the patron of the beautiful Harding. I remember the Hemisphere noted his presence in New York. My lady's services must be booked for something out of the ordinary spy business. Murillo is in Santiago; so probably is she, but if this city is her base of operations she is likely to sail pretty close to the wind.
"Now, where on earth is Barker?" wonders Ashley. "Probably at the other end of the island, while the objects of his quest are at this end. The Semiramis rests serenely on the bosom of the bay, and Miss Hathaway and Messrs. Felton and Van Zandt are either aboard of her or are somewhere about the city. I believe I'll go out to the yacht and settle the question in my mind."
And he does. He is rowed out over the blazing sea by a sun-cured barquero and climbs to the deck of the Semiramis.
"Mr. Van Zandt?" repeats Capt. Beals, in response to Ashley's inquiry. "Left yesterday, sir: Where? Havana, I believe the destination was."
"And his passengers?" ventures Ashley. "I am a friend of theirs," he explains to Mr. Beals.
"His passengers went with him," the latter tells him.
Ashley is about to return to shore when he hears an exclamation and he sees coming toward him Don Rafael Manada, the distinguished member of the Cuban revolutionary society.
"Dios mio! Senor Ashley, I am delighted to see you," exclaims the volatile Manada, embracing him warmly. "What brings you here?"
