“Why not? I should think——”
“Minister Throgmorton doesn’t like the Sentinel,” Paxton interrupted dryly. “He has good reason for his prejudice. We have been roasting him editorially ever since he was appointed. So, under the circumstances, I scarcely think he would move heaven and earth to help a Sentinel man.”
CHAPTER IV.
SEÑORA FELIX.
The Andean line steamship Colombia was about to weigh anchor when the Camera Chap came aboard. He was not the only passenger who narrowly missed being left behind. As his taxicab drew up at the wharf two women were just alighting from an electric brougham. One of them was a blonde, and the other a pronounced brunette. Hawley gave a start of surprise at sight of them.
“Bon voyage, dear,” the blond woman was saying. “I trust that everything will come out all right, and that you will soon be back in Washington. After all, your father’s condition may not be as serious as the telegram makes out. You know how doctors sometimes exaggerate.”
The dark woman smiled faintly. “I pray that it may be so,” she said; “but I am greatly worried. They would not have sent for me unless it was very serious. Au revoir, and thank you a thousand times for all your kindnesses.”
“All aboard, ladies!” the officer at the gangplank cried. “Please hurry.”
The women embraced, and the blonde, whom Hawley had recognized as the wife of the United States attorney general, reëntered the brougham. The other hurried up the gangplank, the Camera Chap following close behind her.
“Señora Felix!” he said to himself. “I didn’t expect to have her for a fellow passenger. Lucky, I guess, that I decided to take this boat.”
On board the señora was greeted by a younger woman, whom she addressed as Celeste, and who, Hawley learned later, was her maid. They went immediately to her stateroom.