omplished. All his thoughts dropped,
almost with the audible smooth clicking of meshed steel gears, into
place. The last degree of joy was replaced by a fresh calm maturity.
He would never, it was obvious, be a leader of soldiers, and he had no
desire to become the visible head of government; no, his intention was
other than that of Carlos de Cespedes. He viewed his future self
rather as a powerful source of advice with a house on the Prado. It
was curious how coldly, exactly, he planned so much; and he stopped to
examine his ambition even more closely and to discover if it were
merely absurd.

It struck him that it might be he had lost too much, that already he
had become selfish, ambitious for himself, and he recalled the
religious aspect so quickly gone. No, he decided, his effort was
to bridge that space, already recognized, between desire and
realization. Anyhow, he determined to speak of this as well to
Andres during their bath. The April temporale lay in an even heat
over the city, and the end of the Paseo Isabel was crowded by the
quitrins of women, the caleseros, in their brilliant livery, sleeping
in whatever shade offered. The Escobars had a private bath, but
Andres preferred the larger bano publico, where it was possible to
swim, and there Charles found him. The basin had been hollowed from
the coral rock; it was perhaps eighteen or twenty feet square, and
the height of the water, with a passage for a fresh circulation cut
in the front wall, was level with the calm reach of the sea.

The pool, as clear as slightly congealed and cooled air, open to the
horizon, was roofed, with a railed ledge and steps descending into the
water, and Andres Escobar sat with his legs half immersed. He greeted
Charles conventionally, concealing the pleasure which shone in his
eyes.

"I stopped at your dressing-room," Charles Abbott told him; "anything
might be taken from the pockets of your coat."

The converse of this possibility, that something had been put into a
pocket, he conveyed. Andres nodded indifferently. The other slid into
the water, sinking and swimming beneath the surface to the farther
end. It was delicious. Swimming was his only finished active
accomplishment; and, with a half concealed pride, he exhibited it in
skilful variations. Even the public bath, he felt, was too contracted
for the full expression of his ability. In addition to this, it was
necessary to talk confidentially to Andres. And so, with a wa