Maccario lifted one shoulder expressively. “One is not always discreet, my friend. There is, however, an important question. The Señor Harding who knows his own countrymen believes there will be war?” “I believe it is inevitable,” said Harding dryly. A trace of darker color crept into the Cuban’s olive face, while Harper, who slowly straightened himself, tapped him on the back with a big hand. “Then you’ll get your liberty! You’re not going to find a Spaniard in Cuba when we’re through,” he said. There was a brief silence, but the intentness in the men’s eyes and the hardening of their lips were significant. Then Harding, reaching across the table, grasped Appleby’s hand. “I am in your debt, and it’s not going to hurt me to remember it,” he said. “There are not many men who could have taken up my hand, and played it out for me as you have done, but I’m not astonished. I had my notions about you when I left you in charge at San Cristoval. Well, that leads up to something. My affairs in this country are ’most getting too big for me, and I’m open to take a partner and deal with him liberally. It’s not money I want, but daring conception, and the nerve to hold on and worry through a risky plan. I guess you know the man who would suit me, Mr. Appleby.” A little gleam crept into Appleby’s eyes, but it faded again as he glanced at Maccario. “It is a tempting offer, but I belong to the Sin Verguenza yet,” he said. “Can you leave it open, Mr. Harding?” “For how long?” “Until Santa Marta has fallen, and the Sin Verguenza are undisputed masters of this region.” He spoke in Castilian, feeling that Maccario’s dark eyes were upon him, and Harding smiled. “Well,” he said a trifle dryly, “I guess you couldn’t help it, and I can’t afford to let any of the other men who will follow my lead when we’re through with the war get hold of you. When you have taken Santa Marta come straight along to me, and if we can’t fix up something that will suit both parties it will astonish me. Now, I’m feeling sleepy, and I’ve a good deal of figuring to go through with you to‐morrow.” Appleby rose and went with him to the room Pancho had made ready, while when they reached it Harding sat down wearily. “I have another thing to tell you, Appleby,” he said. “My daughter Nettie seems to think a good deal of you.” “Miss Harding was kind enough to permit me to call upon her once or twice at the banker’s house,” said Appleby quietly. Harding’s eyes twinkled. “If you had gone there every day it wouldn’t have worried me. Your head is tolerably level, and Nettie has rather more sense than most young women, but that is not the point, anyway. When she was leaving England she wrote to me, and told me I might let you know there were people over there, and one, I believe in particular, who had heard the truth about you.” Appleby stood still a moment, with a flush on his forehead and a curious glow in his eyes. “Miss Harding told you nothing more, sir?” he said.