rance. Put on all steam ahead for Mollera."

It was something, reflected Saxon, to have such toys to play with as
this thin ally of his could, for the moment at least, command.

"Now, I fully realize," said Rodman, as they left the captain's cabin
together, "that I'm embarking on the silliest enterprise of a
singularly silly career. But I'm no quitter. Cartwright," he
explained, "is one of the owners of the line. He's letting his yacht
be used for a few things where it comes in handy."

There was time to discuss details on the way down the coast in the
_Phyllis_. The yacht had outwardly all the idle ease of a craft
designed merely for luxurious loafing over smooth seas, but Cartwright
had built it with one or two other requisite qualities in mind. The
_Phyllis_ could show heels, if ever matters came to a chase, to
anything less swift than a torpedo-boat destroyer. Her mastheads were
strung with the parallel wires that gave her voice in the Marconi
tongue, and Saxon had no sooner stepped over the side than he realized
that the crew recognized in Mr. Rodman a person to be implicitly
obeyed.

If Rodman had seemed to be won over with remarkable suddenness to
Saxon's request that he undertake a dangerous rescue, it was now
evident to the painter that the appearance had been in part deceiving.
Here, he was more at Rodman's mercy than he had been on the steamer.
If Rodman's word had indeed been as he boasted, that of an admiral on
the _City of Rio_, it was, on the _Phyllis_, that of an admiral on his
own flagship. By a thousand little, artful snares thrown into their
discussions of ways and means, Rodman sought to betray the other into
any utterance or action that might show underlying treachery, and,
before the yacht had eaten up the route back to the strip of coast
where the frontier stretched its invisible line, he had corroborated
his belief that the artist was telling the truth. Had he not been
convinced, Rodman had only to speak, and every man from the skipper
to the Japanese cabin boy would have been obedient to his orders.

"We will not try to get to Puerto Frio harbor," explained Rodman. "It
would hardly be safe. We shall steam past the city, and anchor at
Bellavista, five miles beyond. Bellavista is a seaside resort, and
there a boat like this will attract less attention. Also, the
consulate is better suited to our needs as to the formalities of
entering and leaving port. There, we will take horses, and ride to