I thought of Robbins—and hoped he was enjoying himself after his own fashion out on the streets.
Several times I heard voices without, and once I sat up as a couple of citizens stopped before the door, for I distinctly heard one say in Spanish:
“This is the house—I saw him enter.”
Presently they went on.
No doubt it was only curiosity or hero worship—they wished to know where the new president lodged.
Something made me get up and glance out of the window—the two figures neared the lights by the cathedral, and when I discovered that one of them wore the remarkable hat of a padre I felt a little uneasiness.
That might be the rock on which my ship of state would founder, for no man has as yet been able to successfully antagonize the religious elements in one of these hide-bound republics.
Perhaps half an hour more passed—I could not say exactly, as I had no means of measuring time.
Then I heard quick footsteps that I knew must indicate Robbins’ coming; instinctively I felt there was something wrong, else he would not return in such a hurry.
I stepped over and opened the door just as he arrived outside, and as the light in the room fell on his rugged features I realized that my guess must have been pretty near the truth.