“All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought North with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You notice that they’ve lived so long apart from the world that their original dialect has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We bring a few of them up to speak English--my secretary and two or three of the house servants. “This is the golf course,” he continued, as they strolled along the velvet winter grass. “It’s all a green, you see--no fairway, no rough, no hazards.” He smiled pleasantly at John. “Many men in the cage, father?” asked Percy suddenly. Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary curse. “One less than there should be,” he ejaculated darkly--and then added after a moment, “We’ve had difficulties.” “Mother was telling me,” exclaimed Percy, “that Italian teacher--” “A ghastly error,” said Braddock Washington angrily. “But of course there’s a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he fell somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there’s always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn’t be believed. Nevertheless, I’ve had two dozen men looking for him in different towns around here.” “And no luck?” “Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent they’d each killed a man answering to that description, but of course it was probably only the reward they were after--” He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about the circumference of a merry-go-round, and covered by a strong iron grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his cane down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed. Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below. “Come on down to Hell!” “Hello, kiddo, how’s the air up there?” “Hey! Throw us a rope!” “Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sandwiches?” “Say, fella, if you’ll push down that guy you’re with, we’ll show you a quick disappearance scene.” “Paste him one for me, will you?” It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could tell from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and voices that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more spirited type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a button in the grass, and the scene below sprang into light. “These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune to discover El Dorado,” he remarked. Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped like the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with cynical humour, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to be a well-fed, healthy lot.