“Wait a moment, and you will see. In Costaveza there are, however, many very important American interests--mining, lumber, asphalt and so on. In the event of the rebels gaining power--which Heaven soon send--the policy of the new government would be Costaveza for the Costavezans. You follow me?” “You mean that if the rebellion succeeds the property of the Americans, which they have paid for and developed, will be confiscated. Is that it?” questioned Ned. “Exactly. Now, as I said, the United States dares not openly interfere. Her treaties with other nations prevent that. But just the same, she wishes to look after her citizens.” “You bet she does,” put in Herc fervently. “Now, the rebels are well armed. They have modern guns and equipment of every kind. Where has this been coming from?” “Search me,” blurted out Herc, on whose freckled countenance the other’s dark eyes had fixed themselves. “Hush, Herc!” reproved Ned. “Go on, sir.” “It has come from the outside, from the good friends of the rebellion. Now, the only way to prevent the rebels winning the day is to head off their arms. Therefore, the American government sends a destroyer down there to guard her interests--but secretly, mind you.” “Why don’t they send the fleet down there and blow the rebels into the sea?” asked Herc, who had not noted a fact which Ned’s keen observation had instantly taken in, and that was that the dark-skinned man was decidedly pro-rebel in his feelings. Carefully as he had tried to mask it in his talk, this fact stuck out to Ned as plainly as the nose on his face. “That would not be diplomacy,” rejoined the stranger airily. “No, but fine judgment,” added Herc sagely. “Now, the point is this,” resumed the stranger, not noticing, or not deigning to notice, Herc’s remark, “we want to know what is going on on board the _Beale_ every moment that she lies off the coast of Costaveza.” “Oh, you do, do you?” thought Ned to himself. But aloud he said innocently: “Did you say we, sir?” “Yes. Why should I disguise it?” said the stranger, his eyes lighting up enthusiastically. “I am a patriot. The heart of Jules Charbonde bleeds for his unhappy country, and so----” “And so, being a patriot yourself,” snapped out Ned, with blazing eyes, “you have come to ask us to betray our country.” “Oh, no. Do not use so harsh a word, I beg of you. Not betray, but report what she is doing.” “That is a very fine distinction,” said Ned in musing tone. The other, struck by his thoughtful tone and posture, too hastily assumed that his errand was complete. He extended a roll of bills and shoved them across the table, having first cautiously looked around him. “You will make your reports when you arrive at Boca del Sierras, the principal city of Costaveza,” he said, “when your shore boat docks, a man will approach you and say, ‘A carriage, senors.’ You will go with him, and he will bring you to a place outside the city. Then you can make your reports, and----”