“The American warship sunk at Havana with all her crew!” he said. “No, a few, it seems, were saved. American suggestions that she was destroyed by a torpedo insulting to Spain. It is believed to be an explosion in the magazine. There will be demands for compensation. Attitude of the Americans unreasonable.” [Illustration: “THE BIG GAUNT AMERICAN AND SLIM LATIN REELED THROUGH THE CAFÉ.”] Harper rose up suddenly, a tall, commanding figure, with his face very grim, and brought a great fist crashing down upon the table. “Good Lord!” he said hoarsely. “They’ve sunk the ‘Maine’!” Then striding forward he rent half of the journal from the man who held it. He thrust it upon Appleby, who followed him, and his face was almost gray with anger as he waved the rest aside. “Read it! I can’t trust my eyes,” he said. Appleby took the journal, and there was once more silence in the café, for Harper stood with his big hand clenched on the neck of a heavy decanter while his comrade read aloud in Castilian. The account was brief, and had evidently been written tactfully, but there were mixed with its expression of regret vague hints that in case of unwarranted American demands the Administration would remember what was due to Spanish dignity. “It’s horrible, Harper! Still, it must have been an accident,” he said. Harper stood very straight, with a blaze in his eyes and the veins on his forehead swelling. “No,” he said, and his voice rang through the café, so that men swung round and stared at him outside. “The devils sunk her. By the Lord, we’ll whip them off the earth!” He spoke in English, but his voice and attitude were significant, and a slim young officer of cazadores rose up at a table close beside him, and glanced at the rest. “We shall know how to answer the insolence of these Americans, señores,” he said, and held up his wine‐glass as he turned to Harper. “It is demanded that you join us—Viva la España!” The table went over, and the glass fell in shivers as Harper sprang. Next moment a frantic clamor broke out, and he had the officer by the waist and arm. A brown hand clutched at the sword, but dropped inert again, and the big gaunt American and slim Latin reeled through the café, overturning seats and tables as they went. Then they fell with a crash against the balustrade, and, though even Appleby could not quite understand how his comrade accomplished it, the officer of cazadores was swung from his feet, and went down full‐length upon the pavement outside. A roar went up from the crowd, but while Appleby, who set his lips, wondered what the result of Harper’s folly would be, two of the lights went out suddenly, and a hand touched his arm. “It is not advisable to stay here,” a low voice said. “There is a door at the back. Come with me.”