the beach. It is but a mile to the consul's residence by that route. They'll be safe at the consul's."
All this is delivered in low, rapid tones and as Van Zandt moves away the soldier turns and sees the drunken cavalier standing within a few feet of him, a malicious smile upon his evil face. "Hello! What the devil are you playing the spy for?" cries he of the scar, and passes on with the muttered thought: "I wonder if the chap understands English."
When Van Zandt rejoins Mr. Felton and Louise he finds the old man as white as death and his head sunk upon his breast, while Miss Hathaway is in a semi-hysterical condition.
"I'm so glad you have returned," says the latter, as she comes forward to greet him and she tells him of the encounter with the Spaniard.
"The scoundrel!" grits Van Zandt, starting toward the cafe. But he remembers that he has more serious business on hand than thrashing a drunken trooper, and he turns gravely to his companions:
"Miss Hathaway, and you, Mr. Felton, I must ask you to proceed immediately to the residence of the American consul. I have a little matter that demands my presence here for another half-hour, and meanwhile it will not be safe for you to remain. Nor will it be well to go by the main road. The city is in the hands of a mob. The scoundrel who insulted you is a fair example. I was warned by one of the men within—an Englishman, I should judge from his voice and manner."
Mr. Felton and Miss Hathaway regard Van Zandt apprehensively, and Louise wonders at the pallor of his face and the strange look in his eyes.
"You know where the residence of the consul is. You must follow yonder path through the garden, and strike the trail down the hillside to the sea; it is only a short walk. I will rejoin you there within the hour—if I live," says Van Zandt, with a significance not understood by his auditors.
Without a word Cyrus Felton rises and, followed by
