Minister Throgmorton shook his head. “On the contrary, my dear, I am informing Washington that we can do nothing for him, except to make sure that he gets a fair trial,” he said coldly. “The young man has only himself to blame for his predicament. If he is guilty of the serious offense with which he is charged--and I am given to understand that the government of Baracoa has the strongest kind of a case against him--he must suffer the consequences. The United States government cannot afford to affront a friendly nation by acting in behalf of a mercenary adventurer who has been caught red-handed as a spy for the revolutionists.” “But Mr. Hawley isn’t a mercenary adventurer,” Virginia protested. “Nor is he a revolutionary spy. I happen to know that he----” She stopped short, suddenly realizing the danger of completing what she had started out to say. In her zeal to save her plucky friend, she had been about to take her father into her confidence concerning the worthy mission which had brought the snapshot wizard to Baracoa, but just in time she recalled that she had made a promise to Hawley that, no matter what happened, she would not give away his secret. Observing her hesitancy, Throgmorton looked at her keenly. “You happen to know that he is--what?” he demanded sharply. “I happen to know that he is a newspaper man,” the girl replied evasively. “A _Sentinel_ man, you mean,” the diplomat rejoined tartly. “That certainly is nothing in his favor. My own experience with that sensational sheet has been quite sufficient to convince me that everybody connected with it is capable of almost anything.” Virginia’s blue eyes flashed indignantly. “And that is why you are taking this attitude toward Mr. Hawley,” she said bitterly. “Just because the paper he represents has been unkind to you in its editorial columns you have made up your mind not to interfere in his behalf. It is incredible to me, father, that you could be as small as that.” The diplomat frowned. “I think you forget yourself, my dear Virginia,” he said with dignity. “Your insinuation is not only disrespectful, it is preposterous. I hope that I am conscientious enough not to allow my personal prejudices to influence me in the discharge of my duty. By the way,” he added sharply, “might I inquire why you appear to be so greatly interested in the fate of this spy? Surely it cannot be possible that you number him among your friends?” “I do,” the girl answered warmly. “He is the bravest, most unselfish man I have ever met, and I am proud to be able to say that he is my friend. And what’s more,” she added, a light of determination in her blue eyes, “whether you will do anything for him or not, he’s not going to be made the victim of Portiforo’s vengeance if I can help it.”