"I say, can you lend me some slippers? I can't appear before the ladies like this."
Will glanced down at his long boots, which had dried green after their immersion.
"Don't worry, my dear boy, I'm alone: the ladies aren't here."
Will looked disappointed rather than relieved. The two went together into the patio; a servant placed chairs for them at a little round table, upon which coffee, bread, cheese, and fruit had already been laid.
"Yes," continued Antonio de Mello, speaking now in Spanish, "I thought I had better send my mother and sister away. There's a storm brewing."
"A revolution?"
"Undoubtedly a revolution, my friend. The President has made an enemy of every villain in the country, and General Carabaño, who is as big a rascal as Venezuela has ever known--and that's saying a good deal--is beginning to make things lively."
"In Caracas?"
"No, not yet. He has raised his flag about fifty miles from here, and if he can get a big enough army together he'll make for the capital and try to overthrow the Government. And I tell you, my friend, there's trouble ahead for your railway. Carabaño is hand in glove with the late Jefe, who doesn't love your Company."
"But why did you think it necessary to send the ladies away?"