an agent
for the people of Anchuria, and but for political reasons he would
have demanded then and there the money. It was the design of his
party to secure the imperilled fund, to restore it to the treasury
of the country, and to declare itself in power without bloodshed or
resistance.

The couple halted at the door of the Hotel de los Estranjeros, and
the man struck upon the wood with the impatience of one unused to his
entry being stayed. Madama was long in response; but after a time her
light showed, the door was opened, and the guests housed.

Goodwin stood in the quiet street, lighting another cigar. In
two minutes a faint gleam began to show between the slats of the
jalousies in the upper story of the hotel. "They have engaged rooms,"
said Goodwin to himself. "So, then, their arrangements for sailing
have yet to be made."

At that moment there came along one Esteban Delgado, a barber, an
enemy to existing government, a jovial plotter against stagnation
in any form. This barber was one of Coralio's saddest dogs, often
remaining out of doors as late as eleven, post meridian. He was a
partisan Liberal; and he greeted Goodwin with flatulent importance as
a brother in the cause. But he had something important to tell.

"What think you, Don Frank!" he cried, in the universal tone of the
conspirator. "I have to-night shaved _la barba_--what you call the
'weeskers' of the _Presidente_ himself, of this countree! Consider!
He sent for me to come. In the poor _casita_ of an old woman he
awaited me--in a verree leetle house in a dark place. _Carramba!_--el
Senor Presidente to make himself thus secret and obscured! I think he
desired not to be known--but, _carajo!_ can you shave a man and not
see his face? This gold piece he gave me, and said it was to be all
quite still. I think, Don Frank, there is what you call a chip over
the bug."

"Have you ever seen President Miraflores before?" asked Goodwin.

"But once," answered Esteban. "He is tall; and he had weeskers,
verree black and sufficient."

"Was anyone else present when you shaved him?"

"An old Indian woman, Senor, that belonged with the _casa_, and one
senorita--a ladee of so much beautee!--_ah, Dios!_"

"All right, Esteban," said Goodwin. "It's very lucky that
you happened along with your tonsorial information. The new
administration will be likely to remember you for this."

Then in a few words he made the barber acquainted with the crisis
into which the