“The worthy representative of your country here,” Portiforo continued, with a bow in the direction of the envoy, “has been kind enough to exert his personal influence in your behalf. While he fully agrees with me that officially he has absolutely no rights in the matter--that the nature of your crime puts you outside the protection of your government and permits us to do with you as we see fit, my esteem for Señor Throgmorton is so great that I have decided to grant his request to set you free, since he has asked it of me as a personal favor to him.” The prisoner, scarcely able to believe that what he heard was true, turned with a grateful smile to the American diplomat. “This is very good of you, sir,” he began. Minister Throgmorton silenced him with a curt gesture. “You can spare me your thanks,” he said, his face still maintaining its frozen expression. “I want you to understand clearly that my intercession is not prompted by any sympathy for you. On the contrary, I feel that whatever sentence the court might see fit to pass upon you would be no more than you richly deserve. I consider you, sir, a disgrace to your country and to the honorable profession which has the misfortune to number you among its members. My action in procuring your pardon is due entirely to--er--to other reasons.” The president smiled appreciatively, and his glance, wandering over to the table, noted that the official stenographer was taking down every word of this caustic speech. “You will observe, Señor Hawley,” he remarked pointedly, “that were your own countryman in my place, you could scarcely expect to receive the leniency which I am showing you. Perhaps, now, you are ready to withdraw the intemperate remark you made a little while ago about my mercy?” The Camera Chap smiled shrewdly. “I think I had better wait until I have heard the conditions on which I am to get my release. I suppose there will be conditions?” “The only condition,” said Portiforo, frowning at this cold response, “is that you get out of this country immediately. We will give you until to-morrow. There is a boat leaving for New York in the morning. If you are caught on Baracoan soil after that--well, what you saw take place in the prison yard this morning ought to give you a graphic idea of what you will have to expect.” Hawley opened his mouth as though about to say something, but changed his mind and merely bowed. “And I warn you that next time,” said Minister Throgmorton sharply, “if you expect any help from me you are going to be disappointed.” Portiforo chuckled. “I feel confident that there isn’t going to be any next time, eh, Mr. Hawley? As a man of common sense, you are no doubt fully convinced of the inadvisability of doing any more camera work in Baracoa.” “Could I stay if I were to give you my word that I wouldn’t use my camera while in this country?” the snapshot adventurer inquired.