ink, and between his fingers
a long cigar. Opposite him, in another chair, was stretched young
Vicenti. At midnight, on his way home from visiting a patient, the
doctor, seeing a light in the court-yard of Roddy's house, had
clamored for admittance. To Peter the visit was most ill-timed. Roddy
had now been absent for four hours, and the imagination of his friend
was greatly disturbed. He knew for what purpose Roddy had set forth,
and he pictured him pierced with a bullet as he climbed the garden
wall, or a prisoner behind the bars of the _cartel_. He was in no mood
to entertain visitors, but the servants were in bed, and when Vicenti
knocked, Peter himself had opened the door. On any other night the
doctor would have been most welcome. He was an observing young man,
and his residence in the States enabled him to take the point of view
of Peter and Roddy, and his comments upon their country and his own
were amusing. For his attack upon General Rojas he had been greatly
offended with Roddy, but the American had written him an apology, and
by this late and informal visit Vicenti intended to show that they
were again friends.

But, for Peter, it was a severe test of self-control. Each moment his
fears for Roddy's safety increased, and of his uneasiness, in the
presence of the visitor, he dared give no sign. It was with a feeling
of genuine delight that he heard from the garden a mysterious whistle.

"Who's there?" he challenged.

"Is anybody with you?" The voice was strangely feeble, but it was the
voice of Roddy.

"Our friend Vicenti," Peter cried, warningly.

At the same moment, Roddy, clad simply in his stockings, and dripping
with water, stood swaying in the doorway.

"For Heaven's sake!" protested Peter.

Roddy grinned foolishly, and unclasping his hands from the sides of
the door, made an unsteady start toward the table on which stood the
bottles and glasses.

"I want a drink," he murmured.

"You want quinine!" cried Vicenti indignantly. "How dared you go
swimming at night! It was madness! If the fever----"

He flew into the hall where he had left his medicine-case, and Peter
ran for a bathrobe. As they returned with them there was a crash of
broken glass, and when they reached the _patio_ they found Roddy
stretched at length upon the stones.

At the same moment a little, old man sprang from the garden and knelt
beside him. It was Pedro.

"He is dead!" he cried, "he is dead!"

His grief was so real t