The acting governor had not known that he was even in Porto Rico. The last he had heard of Senator Garnford, he was taking an active part in the deliberations of the distinguished body of which he was a member in the Capitol at Washington. Briggs was not long in bringing the visitor into the library. Portersham got up and shook hands heartily with the ruddy, white-haired man who came forward with a springy step that was much younger than his appearance. “Your cigar smells good,” laughed the senator. “May I have one?” He took a cigar from the open humidor on the table, and, as he lighted it by the wax candle that burned beside it, remarked: “Two things I have a weakness for--a good horse and a good cigar.” Portersham nodded and smiled. He liked the free-and-easy manner of this important lawmaker, and he was glad he had come. “What about a motor car, senator?” he asked, as his visitor took a chair. “It hasn’t knocked out the horse for you altogether, eh?” “Not in the least,” was the positive reply. “You can’t pat the neck of a motor car. At least, unless you call the hood its neck. You can pat that, if you like. And, even then, the pesky thing does not acknowledge the caress. Now, a horse----” At that moment the door clicked behind the retiring Briggs. The noise was slight, but a curious change came over Senator Garnford as he heard it. The smile left his face, his rather big body seemed to stiffen in his white suit, and his strong, white teeth bit into his cigar. “No chance of our being overheard in this room, is there?” he asked, in a grave, sharp tone. “Not the slightest,” replied the acting governor. “It was made soundproof when the palace was built. Many a secret meeting was held here in the days of the Spanish sovereignty of San Juan.” “I suppose so. Only right, too.” “I’ve looked into it since I’ve been here,” went on Portersham. “The walls, ceiling, and floor are lined with felt. You might shoot off a gun in here without its being heard inside.” “Fine!” smiled the senator. “How about the door?” “That is so thick that a person on the other side could not hear anything--even a very loud noise. The keyhole is blinded, of course, and I can slip the deadlatch with a touch of my finger. See!” He walked over to the door and touched a spring, which clicked rather loudly in response. “That makes it safe for anything you might have to say that must not be heard outside--state secrets, I mean?” remarked the senator. “Yes. You could commit a murder in here without any one knowing it--until the door was broken open.” Portersham said this a little impatiently. He was curious to hear what Senator Micah Garnford had to say to him. It was not often that so important a personage came with a special message from Washington.