“Somewhat, I must confess, señora, in view of the warning you sent me not to attempt to communicate with you,” he replied. “I felt that I must see you, in spite of the great risk,” she said. “I feared that there was slight chance of persuading you to grant the great favor I am compelled to ask of you, unless I made the appeal in person. I am confident that no matter what it will mean to you, you will not refuse to be moved by the pleadings of a most unhappy woman. So I induced our good friend, Doctor Bonsal, to arrange this meeting.” The venerable physician acknowledged this reference to himself by a bow. “It was the only safe way, sir,” he explained simply to Hawley. “The señora’s home is watched so closely that it would have been out of the question for her to receive you there. As I am in attendance, professionally, upon her father, and it is known that she calls here frequently to consult me about his condition, it looked to me like a feasible plan to have you meet here.” “An excellent idea,” the Camera Chap returned. “You spoke of a favor you wished to ask of me, señora. Without waiting to hear what it is, I assure you that if it lies within my power to grant it----” “It does,” she interrupted eagerly. Then, with startling abruptness: “I want you to leave Baracoa immediately, Mr. Hawley. I want you to give up this mad attempt to help my unfortunate husband. No good can come of it--nothing but a great deal of harm. The steamship _Panama_, bound for New York, is due to arrive at Puerto Cabero to-morrow. If you are sincere in your desire to be of service to us, you will prove it by engaging passage on her.” The Camera Chap smiled regretfully. “I am afraid I cannot promise to do that, señora--not unless there is a very good reason. May I inquire why you have so suddenly lost faith in me? The other day, on the _Colombia_, you sent me a message that your only hope was in my ability to carry out the mission intrusted to me; and later you sent me another message that you had the greatest confidence in me. What can have happened to cause you to change your mind?” The señora sighed. “I have not lost confidence in you,” she said. “From what I have heard of your great skill and courage, I think it quite likely that you would succeed in doing what you have been sent to do.” The Camera Chap stared at her in astonishment. “Then why----” he began. “Because whether you succeed or fail,” she broke in passionately, “the result must be the same. When I urged you, the other day, to persevere in your desperate undertaking, I had not stopped to consider that. I believed, then, that your success would bring about my poor husband’s freedom. But now”--she paused, and a look of great fear came into her dark eyes--“now I know that inevitably it would mean his death. Whatever the outcome of your adventure, its price would be my husband’s life--and that is too great a price to pay, even for his vindication.”