“Who is now plain Mrs. Jack Ashley,” corrects the newspaper man. “Pardon me one moment, general,” and he whispers to Juanita:
“Father Hilario looks very disconsolate; go and comfort him. And now, general,” to Murillo, “I am at your service.”
Ashley recounts briefly the exciting events that took place from the hour he left the ball-room until the arrival of his auditor. He says nothing of Mrs. Harding.
As the recital progresses Murillo’s face darkens.
“I am convinced,” declares Ashley, in conclusion, “that my arrest was wholly the work of that scoundrel Huerta.”
“And what do you propose to do now?” asks Murillo.
“Well, I have no special plans beyond settling accounts with Captain Huerta.”
“I will do the settling with Captain Huerta,” observes the general, dryly. “As for you—you must leave Cuba.”
“My duty to my paper will not permit me to leave at present. And even were I free, general, I should not desire to be understood as running away.”
Murillo makes a gesture of impatience. “Just like you Americans. You would all want to fiddle like Caesar while Rome was burning.”