“My boy,” he whispered, “my boy! For you were lost,” he murmured, “and have returned to me.” I heard Lowell running away, and the door of the guard-room banging behind him, I heard the cheers of the people who, it seems, already knew of the duel and understood the tableau on the barrack steps, but the thought that Laguerre cared for me even as a son made me deaf to everything, and my heart choked with happiness. It passed in a moment, and in manner he was once more my superior officer, but the door he had opened was never again wholly shut to me. In the guard-room I presented Lowell to the president, and I was proud to see the respect with which Lowell addressed him. At the first glance they seemed to understand each other, and they talked together as simply as would friends of long acquaintance. After they had spoken of many things, Laguerre said: “Would it be fair for me to ask you, Mr. Lowell, what instructions the United States has given your commanding officer in regard to our government?” To this Lowell answered: “All I know, sir, is that when we arrived at Amapala, Captain Miller telegraphed the late president, Doctor Alvarez, that we were here to protect American interests. But you probably know,” he added, “as everyone else does, that we came here because the Isthmian Line demanded protection.” “Yes, so I supposed,” Laguerre replied. “But I understand Mr. Graham has said that when Mr. Fiske gives the word Captain Miller will land your marines and drive us out of the country.” Lowell shrugged his shoulders and frowned. “Mr. Graham--” he began, “is Mr. Graham.” He added: “Captain Miller is not taking orders from civilians, and he depends on his own sources for information. I am here because he sent me to ‘Go, look, see,’ and report. I have been wiring him ever since you started from the coast, and since you became president. Your censor has very kindly allowed me to use our cipher.” I laughed, and said: “We court investigation.” “Pardon me, sir,” Lowell answered, earnestly, addressing himself to Laguerre, “but I should think you would. Why,” he exclaimed, “every merchant in the city has told me he considers his interests have never been so secure as since you became president. It is only the Isthmian Line that wants the protection of our ship. The foreign merchants are not afraid. I hate it!” he cried, “I hate to think that a billionaire, with a pull at Washington, can turn our Jackies into Janissaries. Protect American interests!” he exclaimed, indignantly, “protect American sharpers! The Isthmian Line has no more right to the protection of our Navy than have the debtors in Ludlow Street Jail.” Laguerre sat for a long time without replying, and then rose and bowed to Lowell with great courtesy.