Early the next morning, Virginia sent a trusted messenger to the Hotel Nacional, with a note for Hawley. The messenger was instructed to bring back the note to her if the Camera Chap was not there. The girl realized the imprudence of this act, but she felt that she must know without delay what had become of the daring man of whose fate she was in absolute ignorance. Half an hour later her messenger, an old negro manservant, whom her father had brought with him from the United States, and who had been in the service of the Throgmortons since Virginia’s birth, returned to the embassy and handed back her note.
“He is not there?” she exclaimed. “Hasn’t he been back to the hotel since last night?”
The old servant nodded. “Yes; he has been back, Miss Virginia; but he is not there, now,” he whispered. “He has been arrested. The clerk informed me that soldiers came to Mr. Hawley’s room late last night and took him away to the arsenal.”
Virginia’s first sensation upon hearing this was one of intense relief. The situation was bad enough, to be sure, but the thought of the Camera Chap being in a prison cell was not nearly so disquieting as the fear that he might have been drowned or killed.
“Arrested!” she cried. “On what charge, Uncle Peter?”
The old negro shook his head. “I couldn’t find out what they done accuse him of, Miss Virginia,” he replied. “The clerk didn’t know.”
She did not have to wait long, however, to be informed on this point, for just then Gale entered the room. He appeared to be greatly excited.
“Heard the news, Virginia?” he asked. “A friend of yours was arrested last night.”
“A friend of mine?” the girl echoed, with an inflection of wonder. “Who was that?”
The reporter grinned. “A young man named Frank Hawley, sometimes known as the Camera Chap,” he announced. “From what I hear, he’s in pretty bad.”