“Perhaps. It will take several days for the supply train to make the trip, but it will also take us too long to find a trustworthy messenger.”
“Do you not consider me trustworthy?”
“You!” cries Quesada, looking at the slender youth in astonishment.
“Yes, Don Manuel; I will be the courier.”
“No, no; I cannot permit it. What would Emilio say?”
“He will be too overjoyed to see me to think of scolding you. There is no danger. Simply the discomfort of the journey. I will start in the morning.”
Against his better judgment, Quesada consents, and as Carlos throws open the study door the vision of Mrs. Harding flits by.
Over the teacups half an hour later Isabel tells Don Quesada that, if there is a conveyance to be easily procured at Santos, she believes she will run into Santiago for a day’s shopping. And Quesada informs her smilingly that if she cares to arise with the sun she may find a conveyance in waiting, as Carlos is going to the city on business and will undoubtedly be charmed with her society on the short journey.
At Havana on the morning of the 8th of April.