"Saying good-bye to Doña Eulalia," replied Jack, smiling. "Ah, by the way, here he is! Well, Sir Philip Cassim, Baronet, I see you are stabbed by a wench's black eye!"
"A little harmless conversation," protested Philip, guiltily; "don't make a mountain out of a mole-hill, Jack. I can take care of my heart; but your charming brunette friend has fascinated Peter."
"I don't see how that can be," said the doctor, dryly, "seeing I couldn't understand a word she was saying."
"The language of the eye, Peter. You must learn that. It is more interesting than butterflies."
"So you seem to think."
"Jack," said Tim, suddenly, "before we go to your cabin, take us to the telegraph-office, if there is one here."
"Of course there is one here. You want to wire to your editor?"
"Not yet! I want to arrange matters with the officials. There's going to be trouble here in a week, anyhow."
"So soon as that?" said Philip, starting. He had not heard the conversation with Don Miguel.
"Aye, and sooner," replied Duval, prophetically. "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Philip; for, as sure as I stand here, news is now on its way to Tlatonac of the loss of the navy."