query, "And Truenos, is he at the palace?" General Murillo informs him that the captain-general has been called to Mentos, ten miles distant, on business of an important nature, and will probably be late in arriving at the festivities, which will not, however, be delayed.
The first flash of hope comes to Ashley at this intelligence, and he dines with a lighter heart. After half an hour of chat on commonplace topics, he manages to ask with well-played indifference:
"At what time did Truenos leave for Mentos, general?"
"Early this afternoon."
Ah, then it is not yet too late. Ashley breathes easier.
"Well, general, you are a loyal adherent of Spain and I am an out-and-out American. There is no chance for an argument between us. Let me fill your glass and we will drink a toast to all honest men and women, whether Spaniards or Cubans."
"With pleasure, Senor Ashley. To all honest men—and women."
"Which does not include your amiable friend, Mrs. Harding," thinks Ashley, as he raises the glass to his lips.
The dinner finished, the two men separate, while Ashley exchanges his travel-worn garments for an evening dress. Half an hour later he and General Murillo leave for the palace.
"I have a vague suspicion that I am booked for an exciting evening," muses Jack, as he enters the brilliantly lighted sala of the palace and is duly presented by Murillo.
The dancing has already begun, but Terpsichore is the last goddess he is desirous of wooing on this particular evening. His gaze wanders solicitously about the crowded room and rests at last upon her whom he seeks—Juanita.
"She is simply stunning to-night," he mutters, nervously tugging at his mustache.
And indeed Juanita is radiantly beautiful. Her dark
