They spent that night on the yacht, after an evening in the plaza, where the band continued to play. The next day, at eleven o'clock, Dick again visited Don Ferdinand Hondora, who leisurely began to examine the documents regarding the Valdez family. "It will be a difficult piece of work," he remarked finally, "but I think I can promise you a report in a month, Senor Hamilton." "A month! I've got to have it inside of a week!" cried Dick, and, after much argument, and lifting of his eyebrows, shrugging of his shoulders and throwing out of his hands, remarking the while that such a thing--such haste--was never heard of in Havana, the lawyer agreed to do his best. It was two weeks later before he made his final report, with Dick importuning him every day, for, after the yacht had been tied up at Havana seven days, our hero and his chums found they had exhausted the possibility of amusement in that Cuban city. True, they made excursions inland, and enjoyed the slow-going, easy life, but Dick wanted action, and his plan of going to some lonely island, and camping out, seemed to strike his friends as just right. So it was with no little satisfaction that the young millionaire was informed one day, by Don Ferdinand Hondora, that the case was closed, as far as he was concerned. "I have made diligent inquiry, Senor Hamilton," spoke the Spanish advocate, "and your Valdez family is not in this vicinity. They did live here, but they left about the time this island was acquired by the United States. There was much confusion of records at that time, and the best I can learn is that the family now consists of father and son, the Senors Miguel and Raphael Valdez." "But where are they now?" asked Dick, impatiently. "Ah, now we are coming to it," spoke the Spaniard, with his usual course of motions. Dick thought he might have "come to it" some time ago. "I learn," the lawyer went on, "that they were last heard of in Santiago de Cuba. If Senor Hamilton is pleased to go there next week, or the week after----" "Next week?" cried Dick. "I'll start to-night!" "Ah, such haste!" murmured the Spaniard, as he looked at his watch. "Very well. It is now the hour for the band to play, and for me to sip my chocolate, but if you will come in to-morrow I will be pleased to give you a letter to a lawyer friend of mine in Santiago. Come to-morrow----" "Can't you give me the letter now?" interrupted Dick. "Ah, Senor Hamilton, such haste! Already the band is playing, and I----" "If I can't get the letter now, I'll have to leave without it, Senor Hondora. I'm in a hurry!" "Ah, Santa Maria!" The lawyer's head nearly disappeared amid his shoulders, so high did he lift them, and his eyebrows were a half-circle, but he sat down, and slowly wrote out a letter by hand, giving it to Dick. "Don't you use a typewriter?" asked the young millionaire.