“I thought you knew,” said Sherwen. “All the town is ringing with the news. It just came in to-night. Holland has declared a blockade until Caracuña apologizes for the interference with its cable.”
“And nothing can pass?” asked Mr. Brewster.
“Nothing but an aeroplane or a submarine.”
There was a silence. Miss Polly Brewster broke it with a curious question:—
“What day is day after to-morrow?”
Several voices had answered her, but she paid little heed, for there had slipped over her shoulder a brown thin hand holding a cunningly woven closed basket of reedwork. A soft voice murmured something in Spanish.
“What does he say?” asked the girl “For me?”
“He thinks it must be for you,” translated Raimonda, “from the description.”
“What description?”
“He was told to go to the hotel and deliver it to the most beautiful lady. There could hardly be any mistaking such specific instructions even by an ignorant mountain peon,” he added, smiling.