Ancon to Balboa AND RETURN, investigation--$1.'"

The upshot of all which was, not feeling able with all my patriotism to
"set up" $45 worth of mixed drinks for Uncle Sam, I was forced to open
another investigation and gather from all the Z. P. authorities on the
subject, from Naos Island to Paraiso, the name and price of every known
beverage. Then when I had fitted together a picture puzzle of these
that summed up to the amount I had actually spent, I was called upon to
sign a statement thereunder that "this is a true and exact account of
expenditures during the month of May. So help me God."

But then, as I have said before, these things are not Z. P. faults,
they are the faults of government since government began.

It had become evident soon after the Inspector's return that unless
crime began to pick up down at the Pacific end of the Zone, I should
find myself again banished to the foreign land of Gatun. For there had
been a distinct rise in the criminal commodity at that end during the
past weeks. The premonition soon fell true.

"Take the 10:55 to Gatun," said the Inspector one morning, without
looking up from his filing case, "Corporal Macey will tell you about it
when you get there."

CHAPTER X

"Why, the fact is," said Corporal Macey, lighting his meerschaum pipe
until the match burned down to his fingers, "several little burglary
stunts have been pulling themselves off since the sergeant went on
vacation. But the most aggrayvaatin' is this new one of twinty-two
quarts of good Canadian Club bein' maliciously extracted from St.
Martin's saloon last night."

From which important beginning I fell quickly back into the old life
again, derelicting about Gatun and vicinity by day, wandering the
nights away in black, noisy New Gatun and along the winding back road
under the cloud-scudding sky. Yet it was a different life. Gatun had
changed. Even her concrete light-house was winking all night now up
among the I. C. C. dwellings. The breeze from off the Caribbean was
heavy and lifeless. The landscape looked wet and lush and rampant, of a
deep-seated green, and instead of the china-blue skies the dull,
leaden-gray heavens seemed to hang low and heavy overhead, like a
portending fate. On the winding back road the jungle trees still stood
out against the night sky, at times, too, there was a moon, but only a
pale silver one that peered weakly here and there through the scudding
gray clouds. The air grew m