“My dear sir, you don’t owe any thanks to me,” the latter protested gruffly. “The man to whom you owe your freedom is Mr. Hawley. Anxious though I was to serve you, I could have done nothing if it hadn’t been for him.”
President Felix raised his faded eyes to the beamed ceiling of the cabin. “And to think that I misjudged the motives of that heroic young man!” he said remorsefully. “It seemed to me preposterous that he could save me with his camera. I did him the injustice of supposing that he was merely a professional photographer trying to get a sensational picture and not caring what happened to me afterward as a result of his exploit.”
“And yet you assisted him by standing at the bars of your dungeon and posing for his camera?” Captain Cortrell exclaimed, in a surprised tone.
A glow came to the liberated martyr’s eyes. “That was because I saw the possibility of being vindicated in the eyes of the world,” he replied. “That was all that I dared hope for, señor—vindication, not freedom. I believed that Mr. Hawley’s daring exploit would cause my enemies to resort to desperate measures, but I was in hopes that afterward—after my death—the picture might be published in the United States and my reputation cleared. Even if Mr. Hawley had done me only that service, it would have been enough,” he added fervently.
“Well, thank goodness, he was able to accomplish more than that,” said the naval officer heartily.
“How shall I ever be able to repay him?” said Felix brokenly.
While this conversation was taking place in the captain’s cabin, the Camera Chap was standing under the shadow of one of the warship’s great guns, looking into the blue eyes of Virginia Throgmorton, and earnestly assuring her that to her alone was due the successful outcome of his adventure.
“I was sure, when I handed you that pouch, that you would grasp the idea,” he said, a note of profound admiration in his voice. “Any other girl might have failed to understand.”
Virginia laughed and blushed at the same time. “I am so glad that I did understand,” she said earnestly. “It wasn’t cleverness, of course—it was just instinct. But suppose I had taken you literally and sent on that keepsake to your friend, Mr. Paxton, without examining it!” She shuddered at the thought.
Hawley smiled grimly. “In that event, I guess the Sentinel would have had a big picture scoop. Tom Paxton would have realized what that film meant, of course, as soon as he saw it, and would have played up the snapshot for all it was worth.” Suddenly he smiled as a thought came to him. “What has become of our friend Gale?”