ur plans?"

"Plans!" exclaimed Saxon scornfully; "plans, sir, is plural. I have
only one: to catch the next boat that's headed north. Why," he
explained, "there is soon going to be an autumn in the Kentucky hills
with all the woods a blaze of color."

The minister's eyes took on a touch of nostalgia.

"I guess there's nothing much the matter with the autumn in Indiana,
either," he affirmed.

They walked on together at a slow gait, for the morning sun was
already beginning to beat down as if it were focused through a
burning-glass.

"And say," suggested Mr. Pendleton at last, "if you ever get to a
certain town in Indiana called Vevay, which is on some of the more
complete maps, walk around for me and look at the Davis building. You
won't see much--only a hideous two-story brick, with a metal roof and
dusty windows, but my shingle used to hang out there--and it's in
God's country!"

Before they had reached the legation, Saxon remembered that his plans
involved another detail, and with some secrecy he sought the cable
office, and wrote a message to Duska. Its composition consumed a
half-hour, yet he felt it was not quite the masterpiece the occasion
demanded. It read:

"Arrived yesterday. Slept in jail. Out to-day. Am not he."

The operator, counting off the length with his pencil, glanced up
thoughtfully.

"It costs a dollar a word, sir," he vouchsafed.

But Saxon nodded affluently, for he knew that the _City of Rio_ sailed
north that afternoon, and he did not know that her sister ship, the
_Amazon_, with Duska on board, was at this moment nosing its way south
through the tepid water--only twenty-four hours away.

As the _City of Rio_ wound up her rusty anchor chains that afternoon,
Saxon was jubilantly smoking his pipe by the rail.

In the launch just putting off from the steamer's side stood the Hon.
Mr. Pendleton, waving his hat, and Jimmy Partridge wildly shouting,
"Give my regards to Broadway!" The minister's flag, which had floated
over the steamer while the great personage was on board, was just
dipping, and Saxon's hand was still cramped under the homesick
pressure of the farewell grips.

Suddenly, the traveler had a feeling of a presence at his elbow, and,
turning, was profoundly astonished to behold again the complacent
visage of Mr. Rodman.

"You see, I still appear to be among those present," announced the
filibuster, with some breeziness of manner. "It's true that I stand
before you, 'my s