I learned that she was of a noble family, rendered poor by the ravages committed in the course of the Cuban insurrection, a fact which may have helped to exasperate her spirit. But I sought in vain to draw her into any confidences on the subject of her mission to Havana. The moment I touched on that topic she became dumb, and made an excuse to leave me. During the next few days I observed the intimacy between Kehler and the American officers becoming closer. The German could speak English fluently, and this circumstance naturally recommended him as a companion in a place where Spanish and French are almost the only languages known to the inhabitants. There was a young lieutenant, or sub-lieutenant, in particular, who was constantly in Kehler’s company, viewing the sights of the town, or smoking with him on the hotel verandah. Suspecting that my man had some object in cultivating this lieutenant, I endeavoured to make his acquaintance myself, only to find my advances rebuffed in a manner which showed me plainly that Kehler had been at work disparaging me beforehand. One day as I was standing on the verandah I noticed the pair come out of the hotel together, and turn in the direction of the harbour. I followed at a discreet distance, and saw the officer conduct Kehler into a boat, manned by sailors from the _Maine_, in which they pulled off to the ship. I stood watching, and at the end of about an hour I saw them coming back, the face of the false priest wearing a serious expression. I took advantage of my acquaintance with him to meet the pair as they landed, and accost them carelessly. ‘You have been to have a look over the ship?’ I threw out. Kehler tried to pass on with a careless nod, but the lieutenant, less discreet, drew himself up with a severe glance at me. ‘Father Kehler has been good enough to visit a poor sailor who is lying sick on board,’ he said, in a tone evidently meant to rebuke my impertinence. I bowed with assumed respect. But as they went on their way I experienced a sensation of alarm. The pretext which had imposed on the officer was transparent enough as far as I was concerned. I realised that Kehler was steadily pursuing some well-thought-out design, and that he had contrived this visit to the man-of-war with some dark purpose which it was my business to discover. I determined at length, since Kehler’s friend was so strongly prejudiced, to seek out some other officer, preferably the commander, and take him into my full confidence. Unhappily events marched too swiftly for me. That very evening it was already too late. [Illustration: “‘Father Kehler has been good enough to visit a poor sailor who is lying sick on board,’ he said, in a tone evidently meant to rebuke my impertinence.”]