“Admiral,” she began eagerly, “tell me about your friend. Why is he here? Why don’t they give him a place worthy of him? I’ve seen many of our representatives abroad, and I know we cannot afford to waste men like that.” The girl exclaimed indignantly: “He’s one of the most interesting men I’ve ever met! He’s lived everywhere, known every one. He’s a distinguished man, a cultivated man; even I can see he knows his work, that he’s a diplomat, born, trained, that he’s——” The admiral interrupted with a growl. “You don’t have to tell ME about Henry,” he protested. “I’ve known Henry twenty-five years. If Henry got his deserts,” he exclaimed hotly, “he wouldn’t be a consul on this coral reef; he’d be a minister in Europe. Look at me! We’re the same age. We started together. When Lincoln sent him to Morocco as consul, he signed my commission as a midshipman. Now I’m an admiral. Henry has twice my brains and he’s been a consul-general, and he’s _here_, back at the foot of the ladder!” “Why?” demanded the girl. “Because the navy is a service and the consular service isn’t a service. Men like Senator Hanley use it to pay their debts. While Henry’s been serving his country abroad, he’s lost his friends, lost his ‘pull.’ Those politicians up at Washington have no use for him. They don’t consider that a consul like Henry can make a million dollars for his countrymen. He can keep them from shipping goods where there’s no market, show them where there is a market.” The admiral snorted contemptuously. “You don’t have to tell ME the value of a good consul. But those politicians don’t consider that. They only see that he has a job worth a few hundred dollars, and they want it, and if he hasn’t other politicians to protect him, they’ll take it.” The girl raised her head. “Why don’t you speak to the senator?” she asked. “Tell him you’ve known him for years, that——” “Glad to do it!” exclaimed the admiral heartily. “It won’t be the first time. But Henry mustn’t know. He’s too confoundedly touchy. He hates the _idea_ of influence, hates men like Hanley, who abuse it. If he thought anything was given to him except on his merits, he wouldn’t take it.” “Then we won’t tell him,” said the girl. For a moment she hesitated. “If I spoke to Mr. Hanley,” she asked, “told him what I learned to-night of Mr. Marshall, would it have any effect?” “Don’t know how it will affect Hanley,” said the sailor, “but if you asked _me_ to make anybody a consul-general, I’d make him an ambassador.” Later in the evening Hanley and Livingstone were seated alone on deck. The visit to Las Bocas had not proved amusing, but, much to Livingstone’s relief, his honored guest was now in good-humor. He took his cigar from his lips, only to sip at a long cool drink. He was in a mood flatteringly confidential and communicative.