The Camera Chap frowned. “How do you know that?” he demanded indignantly. “Did you dare look——” Then he abruptly cut himself short, resolved not to quarrel with the man to whom, he believed, he partly owed his freedom, and possibly his life.
“I couldn’t help noticing the handwriting as I accidentally glanced over your shoulder,” Gale explained.
“You didn’t read the letter, did you?” Hawley inquired. His tone was anxious, for he had not heard the reporter step up behind him, and, consequently, had no way of knowing how long he had been there.
“Certainly not,” Gale replied in an aggrieved tone. “Don’t you give me credit for having any breeding?”
Except for this slightly unpleasant incident, Gale and the Camera Chap got along well together until the Eldorado stopped at San Juan, Porto Rico. There the News man made a queer discovery. When the vessel weighed anchor and started out for her trip to New York, Hawley was not on board. He had gone ashore, explaining that he desired to make a purchase, and had mysteriously disappeared.
When the ship’s officers and the other passengers learned of this disappearance, they were inclined to believe that the snapshot man’s failure to show up was entirely accidental. But Gale, evidently, was not of that opinion, for, with a malicious smile on his face, he hurried to the wireless room and sent off a dispatch. The message was addressed: “Portiforo, National Palace, San Cristobal,” and ran as follows:
“Hawley missing at San Juan. Have reason to believe he is on his way back to Baracoa. Look out for him.
“Gale.”
After sending this warning to the sly fox at Baracoa he felt more cheerful. He had not a desire in the world to help the president of the little southern republic in any way; it was entirely his own satisfaction that was to be furthered by his actions.