lle laughed softly. "From a book entitled 'Confessions of a Roman
Catholic Priest,' written anonymously, but, they say, by a young
attache of the Vatican who was insane at the time. I never learned his
name. However, he was apparently well informed on matters Colombian."

"And what do you call the law?"

"The law of _'en manos muertas'_," replied Lafelle.

"Well," exclaimed Ames, "again I take off my hat to your churchly
system! And now," he continued eagerly, "cable the Pope at once. I'll
have the operator send your code ashore by wireless, and the message
will go to Rome to-night. Tell the old man you've got influence at
work in Washington that is--well, more than strong, and that the
prospects for defeating the immigration bill are excellent."

Lafelle arose and stood for a moment looking about the room. "Before I
retire, my friend," he said, "I would like to express again the
admiration which the tasteful luxury of this smoking room has aroused
in me, and to ask, if I may, whether those stained-glass windows up
there are merely fanciful portraits?"

Ames quickly glanced up at the faces of the beautiful women portrayed
in the rectangular glass windows which lined the room just below the
ceiling. They were exquisitely painted, in vivid colors, and so set as
to be illuminated during the day by sunlight, and at night by strong
electric lamps behind them. "Why do you ask?" he inquired in wonder.

"Because," returned Lafelle, "if I mistake not, I have seen a portrait
similar to that one," pointing up at one of the windows, where a sad,
wistful face of rare loveliness looked down upon them.

Ames started slightly. "Where, may I ask?" he said in a controlled
voice.

Lafelle reflected. In his complete absorption he had not noticed the
effect of his query upon Ames. "I do not know," he replied slowly.
"London--Paris--Berlin--no, not there. And yet, it was in Europe, I am
sure. Ah, I have it! In the Royal Gallery, at Madrid."

Ames stared at him dully. "In the--Royal Gallery--at Madrid!" he
echoed in a low tone.

"Yes," continued Lafelle confidently, still studying the portrait, "I
am certain of it. But," turning abruptly upon Ames, "you may have
known the original?"

Ames had recovered his composure. "I assure you I never had that
pleasure," he said lightly. "These art windows were set in by the
designer of the yacht. Clever idea, I thought. Adds much to the
general effect, don't you think? By the way, if a portr