ity which neither of the two men wished to entertain. 'It
wouldn't look well in the papers,' Hamilton said, shaking his head
solemnly. So they remained on at Paulo's, and Paulo kept the green and
yellow flag of Gloria flying as if the guest beneath his roof were still
a ruling potentate.

But it was not the stay of the Dictator that in any way perplexed Mr.
Paulo. Paulo was honestly proud of the presence of Ericson in his house.
Paulo's father was a Spaniard who had gone out to Gloria as a waiter in
a _cafe_, and who had entered the service of a young Englishman in the
Legation, and had followed him to England and married an English wife.
Mr. Paulo--George Paulo--was the son of this international union. His
father had been a 'gentleman's gentleman,' and Paulo followed his
father's business and became a gentleman's gentleman too. George Paulo
was almost entirely English in his nature, thanks to a strong-minded
mother, who ruled the late Manuel Paulo with a kindly severity. The only
thing Spanish about him was his face--smooth-shaven with small, black
side whiskers--a face which might have seemed more appropriately placed
in the bull rings of Madrid or Seville. George Paulo, in his turn,
married an Englishwoman, a lady's-maid, with some economies and more
ideas. They had determined, soon after their marriage, to make a start
in life for themselves. They had kept a lodging-house in Sloane Street,
which soon became popular with well-to-do young gentlemen, smart
soldiers, and budding diplomatists, for both Paulo and his wife
understood perfectly the art of making these young gentlemen
comfortable.

Things went well with Paulo and his wife; their small economies were
made into small investments; the investments, being judicious,
prospered. A daring purchase of house property proved one stroke of
success, and led to another. When he was fifty years of age Paulo was a
rich man, and then he built Paulo's Hotel, and his fortune swelled
yearly. He was a very happy man, for he adored his wife and he idolised
his daughter, the handsome, stately, dark-eyed girl whom, for some
sentimental reason, her mother had insisted upon calling Dolores.
Dolores was, or at least seemed to be, that rarest creature among
women--an unconscious beauty. She could pass a mirror without even a
glance at it.

Dolores Paulo had everything she wanted. She was well taught; she knew
several languages, including, first of all, that Spanish of which her
fat