This must sink deep."
"It does," said Gregson. "What the deuce are you getting at,
Phil?"
"I'm arriving gradually and without undue haste to the point,
Greggy. I'm about to tell you why I induced you to join me up
here. I hesitate at the last word. It seems almost brutal, taking
into consideration your philosophy of beauty, to drop from all
this--from that blackness and mystery out there, from Donna
Isobels and pretty eyes, down to--fish."
"Fish!"
"Yes, fish."
Gregson, lighting a fresh cigarette, held the match so that the
tiny flame lighted up his companion's face for a moment.
"Look here," he expostulated, "you haven't got me up here to go--
fishing?"
"Yes--and no," said Philip. "But even if I have--"
He caught Gregson by the arm again, and there was a tightness in
the grip of his fingers which convinced the other that he was
speaking seriously now.
"Do you remember what started the revolution down in Honduras the
second week after we struck Puerto Barrios, Greggy? It was a girl,
wasn't it?"
"Yes, and she wasn't half pretty at that."
"It was less than a girl," went on Philip. "Scene: the palm plaza
at Ceiba. President Belize is drinking wine with his cousin, the
fiancee of General O'Kelly Bonilla, the half Irish, half Latin-
American leader of his forces, and his warmest friend.
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