“Her real name—what is it?” he asks, suddenly.
Juanita becomes serious again. “I must not divulge it, Jack, dear. I should not have told you what I have, but you looked so comical when you told me you had been jealous of Don Carlos. There, please don’t catechise me further.”
“I shall not,” replies Ashley. “Besides, it will be unnecessary for you to betray her identity.”
“Then you know—”
“I think I do. As I more than once remarked, I have an excellent memory for faces, although I am sometimes a dev—a diablo of a while in recalling the names that go with them.” And Ashley relapses into meditation.
“Well, here we are at Santiago,” announces Jack. “In a short time you can bid a temporary adieu to the soil of Cuba; and the sooner the better.”
And indeed, the streets of Santiago are in apparent possession of a riotous mob, swarming in and out of the cafes.
Ashley and Juanita find no obstacles in their path; half an hour later they are aboard the America, under the red, white and blue, and Juanita is in her father’s arms, relating breathlessly the thrilling incidents of the last few hours.
Ashley leaves them to their exchange of confidence and affection, and goes off to talk with Captain Meade. When he sees Don Quesada again that gentleman takes his hand and assures him that he is honored by his prospective entrance into the family.
“As for Cuba,” declares the Don, his eyes lighting with a trace of their old-time fire, “the cause of the patriots was never brighter. To be sure, I am a fugitive, and El Terredo yesterday suffered a severe defeat, the Pearl of the Antilles having been destroyed in an unequal engagement with three Spanish cruisers and gunboats. But General Masso is advancing upon Santiago, with 10,000 revolutionists, and the fall of the city is looked for within forty-eight hours. Already the Spanish warships are gathering preparatory to shelling the place should it come into the hands of the patriots, and foreign vessels are preparing to leave the harbor.”