plenipotentiary. Livingstone was of the same opinion. He had not lived
long in the nation's capital without observing the value of propinquity.
How many men he knew were now paymasters, and secretaries of legation,
solely because those high in the government met them daily at the
Metropolitan Club, and preferred them in almost any other place. And if,
after three weeks as his guest on board what the newspapers called his
floating palace, the senator could refuse him even the prize, legation
of Europe, there was no value in modest merit. As yet, Livingstone
had not hinted at his ambition. There was no need. To a statesman of
Hanley's astuteness, the largeness of Livingstone's contribution to the
campaign fund was self-explanatory.

After her wrestling-match with the hurricane, all those on board the
SERAPIS seemed to find in land, even in the swamp land of Porto Banos,
a compelling attraction. Before the anchors hit the water, they were
in the launch. On reaching shore, they made at once for the consulate.
There were many cables they wished to start on their way by wireless;
cables to friends, to newspapers, to the government.

Jose, the Colombian clerk, appalled by the unprecedented invasion of
visitors, of visitors so distinguished, and Marshall, grateful for a
chance to serve his fellow-countrymen, and especially his countrywomen,
were ubiquitous, eager, indispensable. At Jose's desk the great senator,
rolling his cigar between his teeth, was using, to Jose's ecstasy,
Jose's own pen to write a reassuring message to the White House. At
the consul's desk a beautiful creature, all in lace and pearls, was
struggling to compress the very low opinion she held of a hurricane
into ten words. On his knee, Henry Cairns, the banker, was inditing
instructions to his Wall Street office, and upon himself Livingstone
had taken the responsibility of replying to the inquiries heaped upon
Marshall's desk, from many newspapers.

It was just before sunset, and Marshall produced his tea things, and the
young person in pearls and lace, who was Miss Cairns, made tea for the
women, and the men mixed gin and limes with tepid water. The consul
apologized for proposing a toast in which they could not join. He begged
to drink to those who had escaped the perils of the sea. Had they been
his oldest and nearest friends, his little speech could not have been
more heart-felt and sincere. To his distress, it moved one of the ladies
to tears, and in