that in Vera Cruz. If he were wanted here for a crime, there
are hundreds of citizens who would gladly hide him in their homes.
On any day in the week Cosetta could easily recruit a hundred
men for his band. Perhaps he is now in town on that errand."

"I have an idea that the fellow is dangerous," Darrin nodded.
"Still, here in Vera Cruz, with scores of American sailors usually
in sight on the streets, it seems to me hardly likely that Cosetta
would instruct his men to attack me. The sailors would interfere.
Certainly they would lay hold of the assassin."

"Ah, but the sailors do not come ashore armed," the consul warned
his visitor. "On the other hand, most of the Mexicans go about
to-day with arms concealed about them. A fight between a sailor
and a Mexican might, just now, be enough to start a riot."

Dave listened attentively. He was not in the least alarmed by
the possibility of an attack being made upon his person, but he
had the natural distaste of a naval officer for being the innocent
cause of strained relations between his country and another nation.

When the stenographer brought in the papers that had been dictated
to him, the consul looked them through, then signed them.

"Here is a packet of communications for your captain," said the
consul, handing a bulky envelope to Darrin. "One of the communications
enclosed, Mr. Darrin, is of so important a nature that you will
have an added reason for keeping your weather eye open against
any form of trouble that Senor Cosetta might start for you in
the streets."

"At any time and in any place," Dave smiled, earnestly, "I would
take the best possible care of official papers entrusted to me."

"I am aware of that, Mr. Darrin," replied the consul smiling.
"But the paper in question is one that it would greatly embarrass
the United States to have fall into improper hands. That is my
only excuse for having cautioned you so particularly."

Seaman Rogers was waiting at the door. He saluted when Ensign
Darrin appeared, then fell in a few paces behind his officer.

A short distance away a carriage stood before the door of a private
banker. A woman of perhaps thirty came out through the doorway,
carrying a small handbag.

Seeming almost to rise from the ground, so suddenly did he appear,
a ragged Mexican bumped violently against the woman.

There was a scream, and in a twinkling the ragged Mexican was
in full flight, carrying the handbag as he ran.

"