as before, leaning on the rail, with his chin
sunk on his arms. His face was turned toward the fortress, and for the
first time since I had known him it was set and serious. And when, a
moment later, he passed me without recognition, I saw that his eyes were
filled with fear.

When we touched at Curacoa I sent a cable to my sister, announcing the
date of my arrival, and then continued on to the Hotel Venezuela. Almost
immediately Schnitzel joined me. With easy carelessness he said: "I was
in the cable office just now, sending off a wire, and that operator told
me he can't make head or tail of the third word in your cable."

"That is strange," I commented, "because it's a French word, and he is
French. That's why I wrote it in French."

With the air of one who nails another in a falsehood, Schnitzel
exclaimed:

"Then, how did you suppose your sister was going to read it? It's a
cipher, that's what it is. Oh, no, YOU'RE not on a secret mission! Not
at all!"

It was most undignified of me, but in five minutes I excused myself, and
sent to the State Department the following words:

"Roses red, violets blue, send snow."

Later at the State Department the only person who did not eventually
pardon my jest was the clerk who had sat up until three in the morning
with my cable, trying to fit it to any known code.

Immediately after my return to the Hotel Venezuela Schnitzel excused
himself, and half an hour later returned in triumph with the cable
operator and ordered lunch for both. They imbibed much sweet champagne.

When we again were safe at sea, I said: "Schnitzel, how much did you pay
that Frenchman to let you read my second cable?"

Schnitzel's reply was prompt and complacent.

"One hundred dollars gold. It was worth it. Do you want to know how I
doped it out?"

I even challenged him to do so. "'Roses red'--war declared; 'violets
blue'--outlook bad, or blue; 'send snow'--send squadron, because the
white squadron is white like snow. See? It was too easy."

"Schnitzel," I cried, "you are wonderful!"

Schnitzel yawned in my face.

"Oh, you don't have to hit the soles of my feet with a night-stick to
keep me awake," he said.

After I had been a week at sea, I found that either I had to believe
that in all things Schnitzel was a liar, or that the men of the Nitrate
Trust were in all things evil. I was convinced that instead of the
people of Valencia robbing them, they were robbing both the people of
Valenci