“An insurrecto spy! Well, of all the----” the president’s photographic envoy began. Then he abruptly cut himself short as the advantages of having this interpretation placed upon his act suddenly occurred to him--advantages to others, although possibly not to himself. “And no doubt Señor Hawley is aware of what happens to those who are convicted on that serious charge,” his visitor suggested quietly. The prisoner imitated the other’s shrug. “Oh, well, I guess I’ll be able to stand it,” he said optimistically. “I can’t truthfully say that the accommodations of this hostelry are pleasant, but no doubt I shan’t find them so bad after I get used to them.” “I am afraid the señor is laboring under a slight misapprehension,” he remarked. “In the event of his conviction he would have no chance to get used to these accommodations. He would be tried under martial law, and--under martial law a spy’s punishment is not imprisonment.” The Camera Chap looked uncomfortable as he caught the significance of this remark, but almost immediately he regained his composure. “Well, you’ve got to convict me first,” he remarked confidently. “You can’t hang a man on suspicion alone--at least, you can’t do it if that man happens to be a citizen of the U. S. A. If you dare to convict me without sufficient proof I venture to predict that something is going to happen to Baracoa.” The assurance with which he said this was not wholly feigned. While he realized that in the event of his guilt being proven his government would be powerless to protect him, he felt sure that Washington would demand the strongest kind of proof before they would permit the sentence to be carried out. And he had a shrewd suspicion that the enemy had only a circumstantial case against him. He felt positive that in the gloom it had been impossible for Captain Reyes or the sentry to recognize him, so that unless Virginia Throgmorton had been compelled to reveal his identity there was no direct evidence that it was actually he who was the mysterious photographer who had visited El Torro. “Señor Hawley can rest assured that we shall be able to produce sufficient proof of his guilt,” Lopez boasted. “To begin with, we can show that he stands high in the confidence of the insurrectos.” “Indeed!” the prisoner exclaimed, carefully weighing this statement. “Might I inquire how you expect to prove that?” “By the fact that he was in conference with one of their most active leaders, the other day. I refer to the infamous Doctor Gaspard Bonsal. I presume, señor, that you will not attempt to deny that you visited him when I tell you that you were seen surreptitiously leaving his house on the night of his arrest.” In spite of himself the Camera Chap was unable to avoid a start of astonishment, for until that moment the fact that his visit to the venerable physician was known to the enemy had not entered his mind. “If I was seen, how is it that I, too, was not arrested?” he demanded.