“_Pourquoi pas?_” Monsieur Delmar would give the boy a letter to Colonel St. Vrain. The colonel would take him in his train without doubt. The Frenchman was leaving New Orleans at once, the following morning, and the letter was therefore written upon the spot, and Monsieur Delmar took his departure. With the missive thrust into his pocket Steven prepared to leave the offices and return home to wait his father’s arrival. They would talk the project over. As he donned the tall hat of the dandy of the day, Mr. Morley rapped, ushering into the room a gentleman who wore a wide hat pulled down over his eyes. A dark cloak thrown over his shoulder was held across the lower part of his face in spite of the warmth of the day. “You will see the gentleman?” inquired the courteous Morley. The visitor waited until the door closed behind the clerk, and then, without removing his hat or releasing his hold on the cloak clutched beneath his chin, took the chair Steven proffered. “Señor,” he began in Spanish, “I expected to see a grown man, pardon, and you are but a youth.” “You are looking for my father, sir,” Steven replied. “I am Steven Mercer, _a sus ordenes_, at your service,” for Steven spoke Spanish as well as French. He bowed. “May I not serve you in my father’s place?” At this the visitor removed his hat, threw back his cloak, revealing a long dark face with an extremely high forehead. “Señor,” he repeated, “I am Gomez Pedraza, recently elected President of the Republic of Mexico”--Steven gasped and rose to his feet--“and still more recently abdicated. I am fleeing to England because military force and the machinations of my opponent have forced me from the position to which I was rightfully elected. I have but a short time here in New Orleans, and, to be brief, I have a favor to ask of your father. I have been assured by faithful friends that he is a man of the utmost probity, and”--he eyed Steven keenly--“I am inclined to believe that one may repose the same confidence in the son.” Curiously affected by the statement of Señor Pedraza, Steven was actually trembling as he replied, “Señor, I will try to serve you as my father would were he here, and I beg of you to tell me in what way that may be.” “I wished to learn,” replied the visitor, “whether your father is engaged in an expedition of trade to our northern province of New Mexico. There is an overland route from this country, the Santa Fe Trail--you may have heard of it--over which much goods are being carried to our northern territories. Has Señor Mercer dealings with any trader in whom he has implicit trust--one who is trading with New Mexico?” “My father himself does not send goods to the West,” Steven replied, “but he sells to the merchants engaged in trade on the prairies and at the fur-trading stations. Just today he has supplied enough for several loads to a buyer for the traders to New Spain.”