“I don’t understand,” returned Phil, who had not followed Sydney’s thoughts. “It’s perfectly clear,” said Sydney, convincedly. “La Fitte and Company are composed of foreigners, mostly Frenchmen; they have engaged Juarez to do the work of prejudicing the insurgents against Americans. If this rascal succeeds and the insurgents gain the reins of government, the concession will be taken from the American Syndicate and given to La Fitte and Company. This concession right is a very valuable one, worth many millions of dollars a year to those who are lucky enough to obtain it.” “Syd, you are a wonder,” cried Phil, admiringly. “Come, we have no more business here.” They turned about and walked past the unloaded launch. The vice-consul, who had been inside the warehouse, came to the door as our lads passed. He glanced at them, a startled look on his face, then he smilingly raised his hat. “Good-morning,” he greeted in English, with a marked foreign accent. “You are off the ‘Connecticut,’ no? We are delighted to see our flag on such a fine large ship. If I can be of the slightest service I shall be highly honored,” he added in the suave tones of a Spanish grandee. Our boys stopped and returned his greeting, thanking him for his considerate offer. Then they continued their walk. Phil looked over his shoulder and surprised a sinister expression on Juarez’s face, before he could hide it in a smile of parting. “I am sorry that fellow saw us; he may suspect that we know something of his secret,” confided Phil, as he and Sydney regained the street of the water front. They had been on board their ship but a short while when the minister’s launch, with his flag flying in the bow, was reported heading for the “Connecticut.” The marine guard and the band were quickly paraded on the quarter-deck and the officers, headed by Captain Taylor, all in full uniform, were at the gangway to do honor to the high American official. The vice-consul accompanied the minister, and as he followed his chief through the formality of hand-shaking, Phil saw him grasp Lazar’s hand cordially and tell him in Spanish how glad he was to see him again. Lazar smiled in his cold way, but Phil thought the ensign did not seem overjoyed to renew the acquaintance. “So Lazar has known this scoundrel before,” thought Phil. “I wonder how much he knows of him.” The thought was answered soon enough, and in a way that showed Lazar in his true character. Phil had gone below to his room and was writing his weekly letter home, which of late his new and eventful life had caused him to neglect. He was seated at his desk under the ventilator shaft, which brought fresh air from above. It opened into one of the numerous ventilator-cowls on the quarter-deck. He could hear indistinctly above him the voices of two men, pacing the quarter-deck, but they did not disturb him until they stopped directly over his ventilator shaft, and he recognized at once the voices of Lazar and the vice-consul.