Minister Throgmorton frowned. He was a stout, pompous little man, with an odd little gray beard, which sprouted from his chin like a miniature whisk broom. “I am afraid that is out of the question,” he said. “I believe visitors are not welcome at El Torro, eh, general?” The minister of war bowed. “There is a strictly enforced rule to that effect, señor,” he replied. “I know there is,” said Gale, smiling. “That is why I have come to you, Mr. Throgmorton, to ask you to use your pull to get me in.” He hesitated; then, with a sudden show of candor: “I might as well be quite frank with you, sir. It isn’t merely idle curiosity which makes me desirous of visiting the fortress. I don’t know whether I have mentioned it to you before, but the study of prisons has always been my hobby. I have visited nearly all the big jails in the United States, and some in foreign countries. Some day I hope to get up a magazine article on the subject.” “Ah!” exclaimed General Replife, addressing the minister. “Then it is the dungeons of El Torro, not the fortifications, in which your friend is interested? I think that might be arranged, Señor Throgmorton. If you will vouch for this gentleman, there will be no objection to his being shown through the prison part of the fortress. I will make out a permit now.” Gale expressed his gratitude and delight; but, as a matter of fact, he was secretly disappointed. When entering the room, he had been fully aware of the identity of his host’s distinguished visitor, and he had made his request, not with the idea of having it granted, but with the expectation that when he heard it, Portiforo’s minister of war would be filled with consternation. In that case Gale would have had cause to believe that there was something in the tip which his paper had instructed him to investigate. But now, General Replife’s willingness to let him go through the prison caused him to doubt that Felix was confined there. “Present this order to the commandant of El Torro, and he will show you all that you wish to see,” said the minister of war graciously, handing him the paper which he had just made out. “I trust you will find there, señor, some interesting material for the magazine article you wish to write.” CHAPTER XIV. A MYSTERIOUS SUMMONS. The end of the Camera Chap’s first week in Baracoa found him not much nearer to the fulfillment of his mission than on the day of his arrival. He had made several trips on the crooked little railway which connected the capital with Porto Cabero, and as unobtrusively as possible had hung around the cafés and public places of the seaport. As the soldiers from the fortress, when off duty, patronized these places, he was in hopes that by mingling with them, and keeping his eyes and ears wide open, he might pick up something which would aid him in the performance of his task.