"He rode over to the ruins of Copan last week," explained Garland, "where the Harvard expedition is. But he's coming back to-morrow on purpose to see you." The consul had started toward the door when he suddenly returned. "And there's some one else coming to see you," he said. "Some one," he added anxiously, "you want to treat right. That's Monica Ward. She's Chester Ward's sister, and you mustn't get her mixed up with anything I told you about her brother. She's coming to ask you to help start a Red Cross Society. She was a volunteer nurse in the hospital in the last two revolutions, and what she saw makes her want to be sure she won't see it again. She's taught the native ladies the 'first aid' drill, and they expect you to be honorary president of the society. You'd better accept." Shaking his head, Garland smiled pityingly upon the new minister. "You've got a swell chance to get your treaty," he declared. "Monica is another one who will prevent it." Everett sighed patiently. "What," he demanded, "might her particular crime be; murder, shoplifting, treason--" "If her brother had to leave this country," interrupted Garland, "she'd leave with him. And the people don't want that. Her pull is the same as old man Goddard's. Everybody loves him and everybody loves her. I love her," exclaimed the consul cheerfully; "the President loves her, the sisters in the hospital, the chain-gang in the street, the washerwomen in the river, the palace guard, everybody in this flea-bitten, God-forsaken country loves Monica Ward--and when you meet her you will, too." Garland had again reached the door to the outer hall before Everett called him back. "If it is not a leading question," asked the minister, "what little indiscretion in your life brought you to Amapala?" Garland grinned appreciatively. "I know they sound a queer lot," he assented, "but when you get to know 'em, you like 'em. My own trouble," he added, "was a horse. I never could see why they made such a fuss about him. He was lame when I took him."