“We can see nothing from this house,” he exclaimed, as the midshipmen entered the office, “and I have as yet heard no news of the battle. Mr. Lazar went out to the lines to observe, but as yet has not returned, and the firing has been stopped now for over a half hour.” Then his restless eyes were attracted to the disheveled uniform of the lads before him. “You have been in the battle?” he questioned eagerly. “Tell me quickly, must I send to the admiral to land his men? Are the rebels advancing into the city?”
“We witnessed the fight,” Phil answered promptly; “your fears are groundless, sir. General Barras has repulsed the enemy at every point;” he stopped and looked at the minister, a mischievous smile on his face; “the main attack was on La Mesa.”
The minister gasped.
“And on Tortuga Hill, what of that?” he exclaimed in alarm.
“The attack there was a well devised feint that came near defeating the government,” Phil explained, and then he tersely described the battle, but said nothing of the part they had taken.
“Then I might have brought defeat on the government arms in giving the information I had received from Señor Mareno,” he cried aghast. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” returned Phil dramatically, “that Mr. Mareno is in league with the rebels.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed the minister quickly. “His firm has too much at stake to cast their fortunes with such scoundrels.”
Phil was surprised that the minister could not see the villainy of Mareno; it was plain enough to him. Then he realized the minister did not possess the mass of incriminating evidence that they held against him. How could he show the true character of this man without betraying himself and his companions?
“What about the valuable concessions held by the American syndicate?” he asked, seeing a way to enlighten the minister. “Who has the power to give and take away this concession right?”