"I suggest that you see the Home Secretary and get this action quashed. Otherwise, please regard our offer to treat with you as withdrawn, and, if necessary, we shall appeal to His Majesty the King himself, to see that there is no party jugglery with so vital a national issue as this recovery of the sacred lake of Tangikano. As to the charge of theft and assault, that, of course, is absurd, and must fail. "Yours obediently, Jose Zouche Casteno." This note was read very carefully by the officers in charge of the station. But they had evidently received some secret instructions about us, for they pretended to treat it quite as an ordinary and commonplace communication, and permitted Casteno himself to enclose it in an envelope and hand it to a constable to carry to the Foreign Office. Then we were conducted to a cell and left to our own devices, and for a time we kept ourselves lively enough, speculating on what would be the issue of the strong commanding line we had taken. But as hour after hour slipped by and we received no sign from the outer world our hearts began to sink within us. Maybe, too, the atmosphere of that small, tightly-barred cell, with its narrow walls and depressing suggestions, had its baneful effect upon us. At all events, a sensation of fear seemed to seize us. We felt caged--bound--removed from the live, throbbing world of action to which we had grown so accustomed, and then, thus deprived of movement, we insensibly began to languish. All at once we realised what freedom really means--that it yields of itself a thousand pleasures, as a fish is surrounded by the unconscious sustenances of the sea. Finally, as the night began to close in, a heavy step was heard in the whitewashed passage outside, and the wicket door was thrust open. "Here is tea for two," cried a gruff voice, "also a letter for Jose Casteno." And I hastened to the entrance and received a tray on which stood two coarse mugs of tea and three or four huge slabs of real police-station bread and butter. Trembling with excitement Casteno seized the letter that had been brought for him and tore open the envelope, on the flap of which was embossed in red the Royal Arms, with the words "Foreign Office" let into the outer circle. Then he unfolded the note, which, in response to a gesture from him, I read over his shoulder. "_Foreign Office, Whitehall, SW_. "Sir,--I am desired by His Majesty's Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs to acknowledge your letter of this day's date and to inform you that the subject-matter thereof has no connection with him in either a personal or official capacity. "I have the honour to remain, Sir, Your most obedient servant, Reginald Wyke, Assistant Secretary. "_To_ Jose Zouche Casteno, The Police Station, Bow Street, WC." "What a terrible snub," I cried, pushing the tray on to the wooden bedstead. "What can it mean?"