Dick sent a note to Don Sebastian by a messenger he could trust, and soon after dark met him, as he appointed, at a wine-shop on the outskirts of the town, where they were shown into a small back room.
“I imagine you are now satisfied,” the Spaniard said. “The liner has been chased and people on board her have been killed.”
“I’m ready to do anything that will prevent another raid. To some extent, perhaps, I’m responsible for what has happened; I might have stopped and seen the mate or captain, but then I’d have lost the man I was after. What do you think became of my note?”
Don Sebastian looked thoughtful. “The boy may have lost it or shown it to his comrades; they carry a few Spanish stewards for the sake of the foreign passengers, and we both carelessly took too much for granted. We followed the spy we saw without reflecting that there might be another on board. However, this is not important now.”
“It isn’t. But what do you mean to do with Kenwardine?”
“You have no cause for troubling yourself on his account.”
“That’s true, in a way,” Dick answered, coloring, though his tone was resolute. “He once did me a serious injury, but I don’t want him hurt. I mean to stop his plotting if I can, but I’m going no further, whether it’s my duty or not.”
The Spaniard made a sign of comprehension. “Then we need not quarrel about Kenwardine. In fact, the President does not want to arrest him; our policy is to avoid complications and it would satisfy us if he could be forced to leave the country and give up the coaling station.”
“How will you force him?”
“He has been getting letters from Kingston; ordinary, friendly letters from a gentleman whose business seems to be coaling ships. For all that, there is more in them than meets the uninstructed eye.”