ething of a dub?"

"I'd rather not discuss him."

"Exactly. And I, being in the talkative way, am going to tell you that
he has made blunders before now; that at least one man died under his
nice little fat hands who shouldn't have died outside of jail; that
long ago I had my suspicions and began instituting inquiries; that now
I am fully prepared to learn that Caleb Patten has no more right to an
M.D. after his name than I have."

"You must be mistaken. I hope you are. Men used to do that sort of
thing, but under existing laws . . ."

"Under existing laws men do a good many things in and about San Juan
which they shouldn't do. I have found out that there was a Caleb
Patten who was a young doctor; that there was a Charles Patten, his
brother, who was a young scamp; that they both lived in Baltimore a few
years ago; that from Baltimore they both went hastily no man knows
where. This gentleman whom we have with us might be either one of
them. . . . Here comes Ignacio. _Que hay_, Ignacio!"

"_Que hay_, Roderico?" responded Ignacio, coming to lean languidly
against the veranda post. He removed his hat elaborately, his liquid
eyes doing justice to Virginia's dainty charm. "_Buenos tardes,
senorita_," he greeted her.

"What is new, Ignacio?" queried Norton, "No bells for you to ring for
the last ten days! You grow fat in idleness, _amigo mio_."

Ignacio sighed and rolled his cigarette.

"What is new, you ask? No? _Bueno_, this is new!" He lifted his
eyes suddenly and they were sparkling as with suppressed excitement.
"The Devil himself has made a visit to San Juan. _Si, senor; si,
senorita_. It is so."

Virginia smiled; Norton gravely asked the explanation. Why should his
satanic majesty come to San Juan?

"Why? _Quien sabe_?" Ignacio shrugged all responsibility from his
lazy shoulders. "But he came and more bad will come from his visit,
more and more of evil things. One knows. _Seguro que si_; one knows.
But I will tell you and the senorita; no one else knows of it. It was
while in the Casa Blanca men are shooting, while Roderico Nortone will
make his arrest of poor Vidal who is dead now." He crossed himself and
drew a thoughtful puff from his cigarette. "I run fast to ring the
bells. I come into the garden and it is dark. I come under the bells.
And while my hand cannot find the rope . . . _Si, senor y
senorita_! . . . before I touch the rope the Captain begins to ring!
Just a little;