The water was too shoal for a large boat to get very far inshore, and Glennie was among the first to tumble into the launch that soon hove alongside. When he had scrambled off the launch at the landing, he hailed a queer-looking cab and ordered the dusky driver to carry him, as rapidly as possible, to the fonda Ciudad Bolivar.
The ensign did not pay much attention to the scenery as he was jostled along—his mind was too full of other things for that—and presently he went into the wood and stone building that faced the plaza and proceeded to make frantic inquiries regarding a waiter by the name of Tolo.
To all of these eager questions the Venezuelan proprietor of the hotel gave a negative shake of the head.
"There must be some mistake—the Señor Americano has surely been wrongly informed. There has never been such a person as the Japanese employed in the fonda. The waiters were all Venezuelans, and no Japs were ever employed. Perhaps this Tolo had worked in the old hotel that had been burned during the great fire?"
Glennie's trail, faint enough at best, had run into thin air. He was at the end of it, and it had led him nowhere. Going off into one corner of the wineroom, the ensign dropped down at a table in an obscure corner, rested his chin in his hands, and wondered dejectedly what he should do next.
He was not very well acquainted with Orientals, or the brand of guile they used. He had heard of Japs insinuating themselves into fortifications flying the United States flag and making drawings and jotting down memoranda of the guns, stores, and number of men. He had laughed contemptuously at such yarns, although heartily agreeing with the expediency that had suggested such a move on the part of the men from Nippon. Like all others in the sea and land service of the Great Republic, Ensign Glennie knew that it wasn't so much the forts, or the guns, or the ammunition, as it is the unconquerable spirit of the men behind the guns that count.
But where was the tactical advantage to be gained by a Jap in stealing an envelope addressed to a consular agent tucked away in a Brazilian town at the mouth of the Amazon? The only advantage which Glennie could think of was that of pecuniary gain. Tolo had stolen the packet in order to demand money for its return. Glennie had plenty of money, and he began to think he had fallen into a grievous error by running away from La Guayra without giving Tolo a chance to communicate with him.
And yet there was the information developed by the La Guayra police, to the effect that Tolo had sailed for Port-of-Spain. However, this might be as unreliable, as that other supposed discovery, namely, that Tolo was working at the fonda Ciudad Bolivar.
Nevertheless, no matter what theories Glennie might have, now that he was in Port-of-Spain, and could not get out of the town again until the next steamer sailed, it would be well to look around and thus make assurance doubly sure that Tolo was not on the island.
Although Ensign Glennie was not at all sanguine, he immediately left the fonda and conferred with the city officials. A description of Tolo was given, handbills offering a reward for his apprehension were struck off and posted in conspicuous places, and the island telegraph lines and the cables to the mainland were brought into requisition.