ame her puppets. Permitted for a little
while to play the tragi-comedy of life according to their own
inclinations, now the stern edict had gone forth that they were to act
their allotted parts in one of those fascinating if blood-stained dramas
that the history of nations so often puts on the stage. The future is
the most cunning of playwrights. No man may tell what the next scene
shall be. And no man, nor any woman, could guess the mad revel of hate
and war that would rage that night around the placid homestead of Las
Flores.

Behind the veranda was a huge ballroom, converted, by the exigencies of
the campaign, into a dining hall for the many inmates of the _finca_.
The Brazilian ladies, the sailors, some sick or wounded officers who were
not confined to bed, even the household servants, took their meals there
in common. Supper was served soon after nine o'clock. When cigars and
cigarettes were lighted, and the company broke up into laughing,
gossiping, noisy groups, the place looked more like a popular Continental
cafe than a room in a private mansion.

Though De Sylva, General Russo, San Benavides, and some score of members
of the President's staff who usually dined at the _finca_, were now
absent, there was no lack of lively chatter. A very Babel of tongues
mixed in amity. The prevalent note was one of cheery animation. Carmela
exerted herself to win popularity, and a President's daughter need not
put forth very strenuous efforts in that direction to be acclaimed by
most.

Iris was listening, with real interest, to Verity's description of the
finding of Macfarlane in the _Andromeda's_ boat by a Cardiff-bound
collier three days after he had drifted away from Fernando Noronha.

"The yarn kem to us through the Consul at Pernambuco," he said.
"Evidently, from wot you tell me, it's all right. Poor ole Mac 'ad a bad
time afore 'e was picked up, but 'e was alive, an' I'm jolly glad of it,
for 'e'll be a first-rate witness w'en this business comes up in court."

"Wot court?" demanded Coke sharply.

"The court that settles our claim, of course," retorted Verity, with a
quick ferret look at his fellow-conspirator.

"There'll be no claim. The President means to stump up in style. You
take my tip, an' shut up about courts," said Coke.

"It'll cost Brazil a tidy penny," remarked Bulmer thoughtfully. "Nobody
would ever imagine wot bags of gold an' parcels of di'monds sailors an'
firemen carry around in thei