C. C.," argued Roddy, "his being
free, or in prison, does not interest them in the least. While, on the
other hand, if Rojas _is_ the candidate father is backing, the sooner
he is out of prison the better for everybody.

"Anyway," added Roddy, with the airy fatalism of one who nails his
banner to the mast, "if my father is going to lose two millions
because you and I set an old man free, then father is going to lose
two millions."

Having arrived at this dutiful conclusion Roddy proposed that,
covertly, in the guise of innocent sight-seers, they should explore
the town, and from a distance reconnoitre the home of Senora Rojas.
They accordingly hired one of the public landaus of Willemstad and
told the driver to show them the places of interest.

But in Willemstad there are no particular places of interest. It is
the place itself that is of interest. It is not like any other port in
the world.

"It used to be," Roddy pointed out, "that every comic opera had one
act on a tropical island. Then some fellow discovered Holland, and now
all comic operas run to blonde girls in patched breeches and wooden
shoes, and the back drops are 'Rotterdam, Amsterdam, any damn place at
all.' But this town combines both the ancient and modern schools. Its
scene is from Miss Hook of Holland, and the girls are out of Bandanna
Land."

Willemstad is compact and tiny, with a miniature governor and palace.
It is painted with all the primary colors, and, though rain seldom
falls on Curacao Island, it is as clean as though the minute before it
had been washed by a spring shower and put out in the sun to dry.
Saint Ann Bay, which is the harbor of Willemstad, is less of a bay
than a canal. On entering it a captain from his bridge can almost see
what the people in the houses on either bank are eating for breakfast.
These houses are modeled like those that border the canals of The
Hague. They have the same peaked roofs, the front running in steps to
a point, the flat facades, the many stories. But they are painted in
the colors of tropical Spanish-America, in pink, yellow, cobalt blue,
and behind the peaked points are scarlet tiles. Under the southern sun
they are so brilliant, so theatrical, so unreal, that they look like
the houses of a Noah's Ark fresh from the toy shop. There are two
towns: Willemstad, and, joined to it by bridges, Otrabanda. It is on
the Willemstad side that the ships tie up, and where, from the deck to
the steamer, one ca