"I didn't know he had," Clare answered. "But won't you sit down?" He moved a chair to a spot where his white clothes were less conspicuous, though Clare noted that he did so carelessly and not as if he wished to hide himself. Then he put a small linen bag on the table. "This is some money that belongs to Herr Kenwardine; you may find it useful. It is not good to be without money in a foreign town." Clare looked at him with alarm. He was fat and generally placid, but his philosophical good humor was not so marked as usual. "Then you have heard from my father?" "Yes. I have a cablegram. It was sent in a roundabout way through other people's hands and took some time to reach me. Herr Kenwardine left Kingston last night." "But there is no boat yet." Richter nodded. "He is not coming to Santa Brigida. I do not think that he will come back at all." For a moment or two Clare felt unnerved, but she pulled herself together. She realized now that she had long had a vague fear that something of this kind would happen. "Then where has he gone? Why didn't he write to me?" she asked. "He has gone to Brazil and will, no doubt, write when he arrives. In the meantime, you must wait and tell people he is away on business. This is important. You have some money, and the house is yours for a month or two." "But why has he gone? Will you show me the cablegram?" "You could not understand it, and it might be better that you should not know," Richter answered. Then he paused and his manner, which had been friendly and sympathetic, changed. His short hair seemed to bristle and his eyes sparkled under his shaggy brows as he resumed: "Herr Kenwardine was forced to go at the moment he was needed most. Your father, fraeulein, is a bold and clever man, but he was beaten by a blundering fool. We had confidence in him, but the luck was with his enemies." "Who are his enemies?" "The Englishman, Brandon, is the worst," Richter answered with keen bitterness. "We knew he was against us, but thought this something of a joke. Well, it seems we were mistaken. These English are obstinate; often without imagination or forethought, they blunder on, and chance, that favors simpletons, is sometimes with them. But remember, that if your father meets with misfortunes, you have Brandon to thank." The color left Clare's face, but she tried to brace herself. "What misfortunes has my father to fear?" Richter hesitated, and then said deprecatingly: "I cannot be as frank as I wish. Herr Kenwardine's work was most important, but he failed in it. I know this was not his fault and would trust him again, but there are others, of higher rank, who may take a different view. Besides, it will be remembered that he is an Englishman. If he stays in Brazil, I think he will be left alone, but he will get no money and some he has earned will not be sent. Indeed, if it were known, fraeulein, I might be blamed for paying you this small sum, but I expect you will need it."