In the case of Señor Hawley, however, the government of Baracoa announced there could be no deviation from the sentence of the court. This was the second time he had offended, and President Portiforo felt that he must be made an example of, “as a lesson to all those who espoused the revolutionary cause.”
Virginia was in despair when she heard the tidings from her father. “I have done my best,” the latter assured her. “I have argued and pleaded with President Portiforo on behalf of Hawley, but find it impossible to persuade him to mitigate the sentence of that unfortunate young man.”
“Couldn’t you have got him to postpone the carrying out of the sentence for a few days?” the girl said bitterly. “That would have given us time to do something.”
The diplomat shook his head. “I did my best,” he repeated. “Portiforo positively refused to grant even a stay of execution in Hawley’s case. I had great difficulty in persuading him to extend clemency to Ridder, and that was the most that I was able to accomplish. He was absolutely obdurate as regards the other prisoner. He informed me that he wouldn’t grant any mercy to Hawley, even if the President of the United States were to ask it of him as a personal favor.”
He viewed his daughter’s distress with solicitude. “I am extremely sorry, my dear,” he said gently; “although I am not favorably impressed with Mr. Hawley, and still less so with the odious yellow journal he represents. I should have liked to get him out of his scrape, for your sake—now that you have confided to me the depth of your feeling toward him.”
Preceding Minister Throgmorton’s visit to the palace, Virginia, in her desire to save the Camera Chap, had laid bare to her father the innermost secret of her heart. He had been amazed by the revelation. He had known all along, of course, of the friendship that existed between her and Hawley, but inasmuch as they had known each other only a few weeks, he had not suspected the full extent of her regard for the photographic adventurer. His daughter’s happiness being more to him than any other consideration, he had put aside his own prejudices and really had done his utmost to persuade his friend Portiforo to spare Hawley’s life.
“There is just one concession that I was able to wring from the president,” the minister now announced. “It isn’t much, my poor girl, but it may give you a little comfort: He has consented to permit you to see the prisoner. Personally, my dear, I would advise against your availing yourself of this privilege. Such a meeting, I fear, would only add to your distress. However, I will permit you to follow your own wishes in the matter. If you desire to go to the prison, here is a pass which the president made out for you.”
Virginia took the paper from him with pathetic eagerness, and less than five minutes later she was speeding on her way to the fortress.
The meeting between her and the president’s photographic envoy took place under somewhat disadvantageous circumstances. Two of the prison officials insisted on being present during the interview, and Virginia was not allowed to enter the cell; she had to converse with the condemned man through the bars.
She found the Camera Chap apparently resigned to his fate. His face was pale and haggard, but he bore himself with a cheerfulness that amazed her, great as was her estimate of his courage.