“Straight down Fifth Avenue we went, as far as Washington Square. Then the three of us turned into a side street, and came to a stop. The woman’s cab had halted outside the door of a dingy-looking house in a neighborhood which had seen better days, but which now consists mostly of cheap rooming houses. The bearded man’s cab had drawn up about fifty yards away. He jumped out quickly, and I alighted, too, as inconspicuously as possible. A surprise awaited us both. The first cab was empty. The woman had disappeared.” Bates laughed knowingly. “She must have been wise to the fact that she was being shadowed, and took advantage of a chance to drop out somewhere along the trail.” “Of course. It’s an old trick. You ought to have seen our bearded friend’s face when he found that he had been fooled. He said a lot of things to himself in Spanish. I have enough knowledge of that language to know that his utterances weren’t fit for publication. Wonder if he’s shadowing her again now.” “Most likely,” said Bates. “I suppose he’s one of Portiforo’s spies. Naturally, the present government of Baracoa would be interested in the movements of Señora Felix. I presume they hope, by watching her, to get a line on where her husband is.” “You think she knows that?” “It is more than a bare possibility. Felix hasn’t been heard of since he landed from his yacht on the south coast of France two years ago, but it is exceedingly likely that he has been in communication with his wife. I understand they were a very devoted couple. In fact, it was a surprise to everybody that when he skipped he didn’t take her along. Well, here we are at the White House grounds. See you later, old man. I am burning up with curiosity to know what the president wants of you.” Bates’ curiosity in that respect was not destined to be gratified that day, nor for many days after. When the Camera Chap returned from his interview with the president, and dropped in at the _Sentinel_ bureau, he was provokingly uncommunicative. “It was a fine lunch,” he said. “The White House chef certainly knows his business; and the president is a genial host. He is one of the most democratic men I have ever met.” “But what did you talk about?” Bates asked impatiently. “I know very well that he didn’t send for you merely to make your acquaintance. What did he want, old man? You can trust me, you know.” “Of course I can,” the Camera Chap agreed cheerfully. “We discussed many things--ranging all the way from Park Row to South America.” “South America!” the correspondent exclaimed eagerly. “What did he have to say about that?” Hawley’s eyes twinkled. “He asked me whether I’d ever been out there, and when I told him no he expressed great surprise, saying that I certainly ought to make it a point to go; that he felt sure I would find many interesting things to photograph in that part of the world.”