I saw they were ladies handsomely dressed and wearing flashing jewels, doubtless the wives of the leading business men of Bolivar; and the sight of those sparkling gems made me chuckle as I remembered that we were apparently sustaining the character of rogues, for who else would enter a worthy mayor’s house in the secret fashion we had done?

And the thought occurred to me that we were bound to have considerable trouble in leaving the building, even though we succeeded in accomplishing our design of reaching the fair prisoner.

Another startling thought occurred to me—somehow, these brave ideas are apt to leap into existence after one has gone too far to retreat—what if, after all, this lady who wrote such a touching appeal for aid should turn out to be some member of the alcalde’s own family circle, with a singular hallucination, sending out these letters by wholesale under fortune hunter’s zeal—in short, crazy?

Were we the only ones victimized?

Then my common sense arose and throttled this base suspicion; it was an American woman appealing to the chivalry of her countrymen, and I was a fool to believe anything to the contrary. The fact of the house owner being the alcalde did not prevent him from meriting the name of a rascal. I had known governors whose hand itched for spoils, and who were not above the common follies of life. Well, at any-rate, we would soon know. All seemed to be going smoothly, and presently we would be able to meet the writer of the note face to face.

Various reflections came to me as we skulked along, now creeping up a back flight of stairs, seldom found in a Bolivar house, and anon scouring a dark corridor that turned and twisted in a manner positively confusing.

Once we came out upon a narrow porch that looked down upon the patio or court always found in the dwellings of well-to-do Spanish-Americans, and fashioned after the Moorish type, from which it was copied centuries ago, when those people overran Southern Spain.

Here plashed the fountain amid luxuriant flowers and cosy seats, where I could see a number of couples taking their ease. But there was danger of discovery here, and we did not linger, but once more entered the corridor.

Finally the girl stopped before a door, and I knew we had reached the climax of our adventure. Presently we would see our countrywoman, in whose interest Robbins and myself had entered upon this Quixotic cruise. Really, it was quite exciting and would doubtless arouse a languid interest upon future occasions when I smoked my cigar and pondered upon this night’s work. I turned to look at my good comrade. The light was not of the best, but I could see that Robbins was looking as serious as an owl; this sort of thing appealed to his chivalrous nature; he should have lived in the days of the crusades, and my word for it, he would have won renown as a model knight, ever ready to flash his sword in beauty’s cause.

For Robbins, I was fain to believe, had never as yet had an affair of the heart and was full of old-fashioned ideas about womankind that were in vogue during our great grandmothers’ time, but seem woefully out of date among the butterflies of society’s swirl to-day.