"Well, I'll tip you off. The only men who held any direct proof about--about the $200,000 in gold that left about the same time you did"--Saxon winced--"went into oblivion with the last revolution. Time is a great restorer, and so many similar affairs have intervened that you are probably forgotten. But, if I were you, I would get through my affairs early and--beat it. It's a wise boy that is not where he is, when he's wanted by some one he doesn't want." Saxon made no reply. "Say," commented the irrepressible revolutionist, as they strolled into the arcade at the side of the main plaza, "you've changed a bit in appearance. You're a bit heavier, aren't you?" Saxon did not seem to hear. The plaza was gay with the life of the miniature capital. Officers strolled about in their brightest uniforms, blowing cigarette smoke and ogling the senoritas, who looked shyly back from under their mantillas. From the band-stand blared the national air. Natives and foreigners sauntered idly, taking their pleasure with languid ease. But Rodman kept to the less conspicuous sides and the shadows of the arcade, and Saxon walked with him, unseeing and deeply miserable. Between the electric glare of the plaza and the first arc-light of the _Calle Bolivar_ is a corner comparatively dark. Here, the men met two army officers in conversation. Near them waited a handful of soldiers. As the Americans came abreast, an officer fell in on either side of them. "Pardon, senors," said one, speaking in Spanish with extreme politeness, "but it is necessary that we ask you to accompany us to the Palace." The soldiers had fallen in behind, following. Now, they separated, and some of them came to the front, so that the two men found themselves walking in a hollow square. Rodman halted. "What does this signify?" he demanded in a voice of truculent indignation. "We are citizens of the United States!" "I exceedingly deplore the inconvenience," declared the officer. "At the Palace, I have no doubt, it will be explained." "I demand that we be taken first to the United States Legation," insisted Rodman. The officer regretfully shook his head. "Doubtless, senors," he assured them, "your legation will be immediately communicated with. I have no authority to deviate from my orders." CHAPTER X At the Palace, the Americans were separated. Saxon was ushered into a small room, barely furnished. Its one window was barred, and the one door that penetrated its thick wall was locked from the outside. It seemed incredible that under such stimulus his memory should remain torpid. This must be an absolute echo from the past--yet, he could not remember. But Rodman remembered--and evidently the government remembered. About the same hour, Mr. Partridge called at the "Frances y Ingles," where he learned that Senor Saxon had gone out. He called again late in the evening. Saxon had not returned.