"With all this in mind, I tore up the fair Cuban's letter and threw it into the waste-basket. At that very moment a page hurried to my side and handed me a card.
"Manuel Villasante was waiting to see me!
"I went out to him most reluctantly. He greeted me with enthusiasm; his delight amounting almost to rapture. I am afraid I did not meet him half way, nor anywhere near it. He did not appear to notice it.
"'My dear, dear friend,' said he, 'this is a sublime moment! To see you, the gay companion, the good fellow, the butterfly, I may say, of other days, a member of this great body is certainly soul-stirring! So you have realized your ambition? What next? The Senate? And then—then?' he pointed upward, 'higher yet? and still higher? Ha! The White House? Who knows?' he whispered prophetically.
"I cast my eyes modestly to the floor.
"'This is quite enough for me, or any other good American; but, Senor, tell me about your father and the Senorita, your sister; are they well? And how long have you been in Washington? It is certainly good to see you again.'
"'We are all here for a few days—my father, my sister, and I. You know we are living in New York this winter?'
"'In New York, eh? Fine! It is strange,' I continued, 'but I was thinking of you and your family the very moment your card was brought in.'
"'Ah, my friend,' he said mysteriously, 'you know what it is, do you not? It is the mental telepathy. I have known of things most wonderful to happen by the mental telepathy. Only yesterday my sister Mercedes——'