“That may be good government, but it is confoundedly un-American in sentiment,” remarks Ashley, scornfully, for he is an American through and through.
“The government’s course was clear,” Chambers mildly observes. “The President could do nothing less. I do not imagine, however, that the patrol will be much more than perfunctory.”
When Ashley reports at the Hemisphere office the next day he finds in his letter box two yellow envelopes. One is from the city editor and contains an assignment to interview Senor Rafael Manada of the Cuban revolutionary society in the United States. The senor is stopping at the Fifth Avenue and a full story on Cuban affairs from the New York end is wanted.
“Well this is something new, at any rate,” thinks Jack, and he tears open the second envelope. This contains a dispatch dated from Raymond, Vt., the night before, and Ashley whistles softly as he comprehends the concise but thoroughly interesting contents:
“See you to-morrow afternoon at your office. I have found Hathaway’s revolver. Barker.”
CHAPTER XVI.
THE BEGINNING OF THE TRAIL.
“Don Rafael Manada? Yes, sir! Front, show the gentleman to No. 48.”
A few minutes later Ashley is ushered into one of the most sumptuous and expensive suites in the big hotel.
He bows gracefully to the tall gentleman who advances to meet his visitor, bearing in his hand the card that has preceded him. Don Rafael is a man at whom even the least observant would be likely to take a second glance. Of perhaps 40 years of age, his hair of raven hue and unusual abundance is still unflecked by gray. The face is of olive hue, cleanly shaven save as to heavy mustachios, which by an odd freak of nature are snow white; heavy eyebrows of the same hue as the hair surmount eyes of piercing brilliancy; a long, aquiline nose, lips and mouth a trifle too sensuous for the rest of the features, complete a singularly interesting countenance.