The spell of darkness lay upon the
banquet hall. A few men and women were loitering in the court,
awaiting developments. Oddington was there, and another man of the
party, but the rest, including the Howlands, had evidently gone to
their rooms.
"Miss Howland told us you made rather an interesting tackle,
Merrithew," said Oddington as Dan nodded to him. "I am sorry I missed
it. Where is your prisoner?"
Dan smiled. "The tackle was so artistic," he said, "that I jarred most
of my senses out of me. He got away. Here's his gun," and Dan held up
an old-fashioned carbine.
Oddington glanced at the weapon.
"Howland will be sorry you let your man escape, if only because he
prevented the carefully prepared speech he had been laboring over. It
was pretty nervy of you, although Howland tells me they are all the
time potting at Rodriguez and missing him. Still, I should think they
would give you the Order of San Blanco."
"I think I can struggle along without it," said Dan. "Good-night."
He turned toward the harbor and the _Tampico_. The moon had now broken
from the clouds which had partially hidden it all evening, and the
hotel grounds and the slope leading to the water front were bathed in
light. Dan's mood was rather bitter. They might have waited for him,
he thought.
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