to leave the alameda and
turn up a street.

The street was narrow, hot, and dirty. There was a smell of decaying
rubbish and the rancid oil used in cooking. One side was in shadow, and
almost unbroken walls rose from the rough pavement. For the most part,
the outside windows were narrow slits, since the houses got light from
the central patio. Here and there an oil-lamp marked a corner, but that
was all, and Kit kept in the moonlight and looked about keenly when he
passed a shadowy door. Perspiration trickled down his face and he felt an
unpleasant nervous tension. Yet nobody came near him and when he
cautiously glanced round nobody was lurking in the gloom. He began to
think he had cheated Olsen, but admitted that it was too soon to slacken
his watchfulness.

At one corner, he saw two figures in shabby white uniform, and hesitated.
In Spanish-American countries, the government generally maintains a force
of carefully picked men, entrusted with powers that are seldom given to
ordinary police. They patrol in couples, carry arms, and are sometimes
called _guardias civiles_ and sometimes _rurales_. Kit knew he could
trust the men, but doubted if they could leave their post; besides he did
not want Olsen to know he thought it needful to ask for protection. Now
he came to think of it, he had seen the _rurales_ outside the cafe and at
another corner. Perhaps this was why he had been left alone.

He went on, rather reluctantly, and by and by reached the broad square in
front of the presidio. The old building was clear in the moonlight; Kit
could see a sentry on the terrace and a faint glow in the slit in the
wall that marked Adam's room. It was hardly two-hundred yards off and he
would be safe before he reached the arch, but a grove of small palms and
shrubs ran between him and the square. There were rails behind the trees
and the nearest opening was some distance off. A high blank wall threw a
dark shadow that stretched across the road by the rails and met the gloom
of the trees.

Kit looked about, without stopping or turning his head much. There was
nobody in sight, but he somehow felt that he was not alone. It was a
disturbing, and apparently an illogical, feeling that he must not
indulge, and pulling himself together he went on, with his fist clenched.
He was not far from the gate, and although he listened hard could only
hear his own steps and voices in a neighboring street. Yet his nerves
tingled and his muscles got