rose a sudden
tumult. In an instant, with a crash of broken glass and china, the
lights were extinguished, and he heard the voice of Peter shrieking
his name. He sprang from the launch and started toward the garden. At
that moment a heavy body crashed upon the gravel walk, and there was
the rush of many feet.

"Roddy!" shrieked the voice of Peter, "they're taking us to jail.
They're coming after _you_. Run! Run like hell!"

In the darkness Roddy could see nothing. He heard what sounded like an
army of men trampling and beating the bushes. His first thought was
that he must attempt a rescue. He jerked out his gun and raced down
the wharf. Under his flying feet the boards rattled and Peter heard
him coming.

"Go back!" he shrieked furiously. "You can't help us! You've got work
to do! Do it!"

The profanity with which these orders were issued convinced Roddy that
Peter was very much in earnest and in no personal danger.

The next moment he was left no time for further hesitation. His flying
footsteps had been heard by the soldiers as well as by Peter, and from
the garden they rushed shouting to the beach. Against such odds Roddy
saw that to rescue Peter was impossible, while at the same time, even
alone, he still might hope to rescue Rojas.

He cast loose the painter of the launch, and with all his strength
shoved it clear. He had apparently acted not a moment too soon, for a
figure clad in white leaped upon the wharf and raced toward him. Roddy
sprang to the wheel and the launch moved slowly in a circle. At the
first sound of the revolving screw there came from the white figure a
cry of dismay. It was strangely weak, strangely familiar, strangely
feminine.

"Roddy!" cried the voice. "It is I, Inez!"

With a shout of amazement, joy, and consternation, Roddy swung the
boat back toward the shore, and by the breadth of an oar-blade cleared
the wharf. There was a cry of relief, of delight, a flutter of skirts,
and Inez sprang into it. In an agony of fear for her safety, Roddy
pushed her to the bottom of the launch.

"Get down!" he commanded. "They can see your dress. They'll fire on
you."

From the shore an excited voice cried in Spanish "Do I shoot,
sergeant?"

"No!" answered another. "Remember your orders!"

"But he escapes!" returned the first voice, and on the word there was
a flash, a report, and a bullet whined above them. Another and others
followed, but the busy chug-chug of the engine continued undism