f La Libertad and Puenta Arenas you must look at
dthose devil-feesh--_ach schrecklich_; dthey haf terrible great vings
vhat dthey wrap around vhat dthey eat."

"You speak almost as if you would not be there to point them out on
the spot," says Mrs. Steele, smiling as we pass the Trocadero and draw
up at the station.

"Qvite right! I am advise by a friend to stay and zee dthe Dthursday
bull-fight--I dthink I must."

He helps us out of the carriage without noticing my unspoken amazement
or Mrs. Steele's incredulous, "What nonsense."

"I vill put you in dthe train and then come back to zee your dthings
come." He leads the way to the "special" standing with snorting
engine on the furthest track. He seats us and is gone again. A servant
brings in our effects and the Baron follows.

"Madame," he says, dropping into the seat behind Mrs. Steele, "I haf
arrange to haf dthis man zee you to the ship--he spik leedle English
and I am told gude off him as sairvant. I haf give him all
direction--he vill take gude care off you and you vill reach _San
Miguel_ in gude time, as I promeese."

"But when are you coming?" I say.

"I come not back to _San Miguel_." He speaks to Mrs. Steele and does
not meet my look. "I haf telegraph to Panama for my yacht. I vill
vait here till she come."

"But I don't understand, Baron; this is very sudden, isn't it?" Mrs.
Steele looks greatly astonished.

"Not so fery! Dthis train go soon; I must zay gude-bye. Here ees dthe
leedle carve spoon from Escuintla you zay you like. I haf had much
plaisir to know you, Madame. Gude-bye!" He holds out his shapely white
hand and Mrs. Steele takes it warmly.

"Indeed, Baron, I'm quite breathless with surprise, and really very
sorry to lose you. Blanche and I will miss you sorely. If you ever
come to New York you know where to find me and a warm welcome. Our
kindest thoughts will follow you. Thank you for the spoon, although at
any other time I might hesitate to become the receiver of stolen
goods. Good-bye!"

"Gude-bye, Madame--gude-bye, Senorita." He holds my hand the briefest
moment, and I feel a big lump come in my throat at the sight of his
face. My voice wavers a little as I say:

"I am so sorry to say good-bye to you."

"Dthank you, Senorita. I haf somedthing off yours I must not forget."
He puts a hand in his breast pocket and brings out the gold-crested
letter-book. He takes from it a tiny roll of cigarette paper. "Vidth
all my boast I haf not