The day after Hawley’s departure from Baracoa, Lieutenant Ridder called at the United States legation with a message from the commander of the Kearsarge to Minister Throgmorton. On his way out, he encountered Virginia, and eagerly availed himself of the opportunity to renew his acquaintance with that captivating young woman.
The naval officer was flattered by the cordiality which she displayed toward him, but was astonished and concerned to observe that when he mentioned the name of his friend Hawley a frown came to her face and she hurriedly changed the subject, as though it were distasteful to her. He went back to his ship wondering what could have happened to bring about this change in her sentiments toward the man for whom she had previously manifested such warm regard. If Virginia had been asked to explain why she was displeased with the Camera Chap, she probably would have found difficulty in stating her grievance against him. As she had told him, she could not with logic or justice blame him for going away, knowing what would happen to him if he ventured to remain on Baracoan soil. Yet she was disappointed in him, and his departure had aroused within her a feeling of resentment.
Possibly it was because he had appeared to accept the situation with such irritating cheerfulness, or it may have been that she had formed such an exalted opinion of his heroic qualities that she had half expected—unreasonable though she knew such expectation to be—that, at the last moment, he would defy Portiforo and his order of banishment and not leave Baracoa without making one more attempt to rescue the unfortunate prisoner of El Torro.
If Lieutenant Ridder had been a less loyal and unselfish friend, he might have sought to take advantage of Virginia’s changed attitude toward the snapshot man and her evident liking for himself; for the daughter of the United States envoy had made such a great impression on him at their first meeting that he couldn’t help feeling envious of Hawley’s good luck. Not being at all the kind of fellow to seek to “butt in” on an absent friend’s romance, however, he made it a point to steer clear of the embassy, and when, several days later, a tinted, perfumed note was handed to him by an orderly on the battleship, a frown came to his face as he read its contents. The note was from Miss Throgmorton, and it ran as follows:
“My Dear Mr. Ridder: I am wondering why I have not seen you lately. Are they keeping you a prisoner on the ship? If not, and it is possible for you to come ashore this afternoon, I should like very much to have a talk with you.
“I am going for a ride into the country, after luncheon. If you could find it convenient to meet me, then come to San Cristobal, and be at the northern gate of the Botanical Gardens, between one and two o’clock. You will find an old colored man waiting there. He will provide you with a mount and conduct you to a place where we can talk without danger of being spied upon. I hope you won’t think me too unconventional in writing to you like this, but I positively must see you on a matter of life and death.”
At first his almost quixotic sense of fairness caused him to decide that he would send some excuse for not keeping this appointment, for he suspected that the last paragraph of the note must be more or less of an exaggeration; but presently he reproached himself for his lack of gallantry. He felt sure that Miss Throgmorton was too nice a girl to have urged such an unconventional meeting unless the circumstances justified it.
Promptly at one o’clock that afternoon, he arrived at the northern gate of the Botanical Gardens, and was met by old Uncle Peter, who conducted him to a near-by stable where two horses, already saddled, were waiting for them. Half an hour later, as they galloped along a desolate stretch of dusty road, the navy man caught sight of a girl on a pony coming toward them, and his pulses quickened as he recognized the trim, graceful figure.
“I suppose you are just burning with curiosity as to why I have sent for you,” Virginia said, with a smile, as they dismounted.
“Anxiety would be a better word,” he answered. “The tone of your note was so alarming that it is a great relief to me to find that you can still smile.”