CHAPTER VII.
AN INSULT TO THE FLAG.
But of their host’s interest in the papers the little group had no inkling. They contentedly sipped their sodas—which, to tell the truth, despite their provider’s recommendation, were rather warm—and watched Stanley furrowing his weather-beaten brow over the documents.
“Well,” said Ned at last, “what do you make of them?”
“Hold on a minute,” cried Stanley excitedly. Evidently he had stumbled across something that made the papers of strange interest to him.
“Why,” he shouted with a slap of his knees the next minute, “it looks like we’ve stumbled on somebody’s treasure trove.”
“What?”
“That’s what I said. This paper here, so far as I can make out, is the last will and testament of this old chap, de Guzman, who signs it. It wills all his fortune, real and personal, and that seems to be pretty big, to a Senorita Isabelle de Guzman.”
“Guzman!” exclaimed Ned, “seems to me I’ve heard that name a lot lately.”
“Why, yes,” put in Herc, “it’s the name of the leader of the revolutionists. They say he’s the worst enemy Americans down here have.”