Hamilton and Sir Rupert Langley came out of
the Dictator's rooms together. Dolores knew that the Dictator had been
out of the hotel for some hours. Mr. Paulo disappeared. Dolores knew Sir
Rupert perfectly well by sight, and knew who he was, and all about him.
She had spoken now and again to Hamilton. He took off his hat in
passing, and she, acting on a sudden impulse, asked if he could speak to
her for a moment.

Hamilton, of course, cheerfully assented, and asked Sir Rupert to wait a
few seconds for him. Sir Rupert passed along the corridor and stood at
the head of the stairs.

'Only a word, Mr. Hamilton. Excuse me for having stopped you so
unceremoniously.'

'Oh, Miss Paulo, please don't talk of excuses.'

'Well, it's only this. Do you know anything about a Captain Sarrasin,
who stays here a good deal of late?'

'Captain Sarrasin? Yes, I know a little about him; not very much,
certainly; why do you ask?'

'Do you think he is a man to be trusted?'

She spoke in a low tone; her manner was very grave, and she fixed her
deep, dark eyes on Hamilton. Hamilton read earnestness in them. He was
almost startled.

'From all I know,' he answered slowly, 'I believe him to be a brave
soldier and a man of honour.'

'So do I!' the girl said emphatically, and with relief sparkling in her
eyes.

'But why do you ask?'

'I have heard something,' she said; 'I don't believe it; but I'll soon
find out about his being here as a spy.'

'A spy on whom?'

'On his Excellency, of course.'

'I don't believe it, but I thank you for telling me.'

'I'll find out and tell you more,' she said hurriedly. 'Thank you very
much for speaking to me; don't keep Sir Rupert waiting any longer.
Good-morning, Mr. Hamilton,' and with quite a princess-like air she
dismissed him.

Hamilton hastily rejoined Sir Rupert, and was thinking whether he ought
to mention what Dolores had been saying or not. The subject, however, at
once came up without him giving it a start.

'See here, Hamilton,' Sir Rupert said as he was standing on the hotel
steps, about to take his leave, 'I don't think that, if I were you, I
would have Ericson going about the streets at nights all alone in his
careless sort of fashion. It isn't common sense, you know. There are all
sorts of rowdies--and spies, I fancy--and very likely hired
assassins--here from all manner of South American places; and it can't
be safe for a marked man like him to go about alone in that free and