trimmed a vista,
that ended at the cleared environs of Coralio, on the banks of the
mangrove swamp. At the other end of the aerial tunnel they could see
the grave and wooden headpiece that bore the name of the unhappy
President Miraflores. From this window when the rains forbade the
open, and from the green and shady slopes of Goodwin's fruitful
lands when the skies were smiling, his wife was wont to look upon
that grave with a gentle sadness that was now scarcely a mar to her
happiness.

"I loved him so, Frank!" she said, "even after that terrible flight
and its awful ending. And you have been so good to me, and have made
me so happy. It has all grown into such a strange puzzle. If they
were to find out that we got the money do you think they would force
you to make the amount good to the government?"

"They would undoubtedly try," answered Goodwin. "You are right about
its being a puzzle. And it must remain a puzzle to Falcon and all
his countrymen until it solves itself. You and I, who know more than
anyone else, only know half of the solution. We must not let even a
hint about this money get abroad. Let them come to the theory that
the president concealed it in the mountains during his journey, or
that he found means to ship it out of the country before he reached
Coralio. I don't think that Falcon suspects me. He is making a close
investigation, according to his orders, but he will find out
nothing."

Thus they spake together. Had anyone overheard or overseen them as
they discussed the lost funds of Anchuria there would have been a
second puzzle presented. For upon the faces and in the bearing of
each of them was visible (if countenances are to be believed) Saxon
honesty and pride and honourable thoughts. In Goodwin's steady eye
and firm lineaments, moulded into material shape by the inward
spirit of kindness and generosity and courage, there was nothing
reconcilable with his words.

As for his wife, physiognomy championed her even in the face of their
accusive talk. Nobility was in her guise; purity was in her glance.
The devotion that she manifested had not even the appearance of that
feeling that now and then inspires a woman to share the guilt of her
partner out of the pathetic greatness of her love. No, there was a
discrepancy here between what the eye would have seen and the ear
have heard.

Dinner was served to Goodwin and his guest in the _patio_, under cool
foliage and flowers. The American begged