“But that is nothing, after all,” went on Marcos hurriedly. “The thing is that the revolutionary party in Joyalita are to hold a meeting on the eighteenth of this month, at which they will practically give the country into the hands of our neighbor, Carita. That is the scheme. If I am there, I must sign the reply to Carita’s proposition, and, of course, it will be in the negative.”
“And if you are not there?”
“Then the president of the council, who is a secret enemy of mine—as I have just found out—will sign it for me, and he will accept the other side’s proposal.”
“It is a difficult situation,” murmured Nick.
“Difficult or not, it must be solved,” broke in Marcos. “I intend to go. The capital of Joyalita is Penza, and I must be there at twelve noon on the eighteenth.”
He forced himself to a sitting posture and threw aside the bedclothes.
“Mr. Marcos!” protested Nick.
“Don’t try to stop me, Carter! My mind is made up!”
But Marcos’ body was not as strong as his will.
As he swung himself out of bed and put his feet to the floor, the pallor of faintness came over his face, and he would have pitched forward in a heap had not the detective caught him.