The Consul | Page 9

him to the Court of St. James. And old
Hardy, too, tackled me about him. So did Miss Cairns.
And then Marshall himself got me behind the wheel-house, and I
thought he was going to tell me how good he was, too I But he didn't."
As though the joke were on himself, the senator laughed appreciatively.
"Told me, instead, that Hardy ought to be a vice-admiral."
Livingstone, also, laughed, with the satisfied air of one who cannot be
tricked.
"They fixed it up between them," he explained, " each was to put in a
good word for the other." He nodded eagerly. "That's what I think."
There were moments during the cruise when Senator Hanley would
have found relief in dropping his host overboard. With mock deference,
the older man inclined his head.
"That's what you think, is it?" he asked. "Livingstone," he added, "you
certainly are a great judge of men!"
The next morning, old man Marshall woke with a lightness at his heart
that had been long absent. For a moment, conscious only that he was
happy, he lay between sleep and waking, frowning up at his canopy of
mosquito net, trying to realize what change had come to him. Then he
remembered. His old friend had returned. New friends had come into
his life and welcomed him kindly. He was no longer lonely. As eager
as a boy, he ran to the window. He had not been dreaming. In the
harbor lay the pretty yacht, the stately, white-hulled war- ship. The flag
that drooped from the stern of each caused his throat to tighten, brought
warm tears to his eyes, fresh resolve to his discouraged, troubled spirit.
When he knelt beside his bed, his heart poured out his thanks in
gratitude and gladness.
While he was dressing, a blue-jacket brought a note from the admiral. It
invited him to tea on board the war-ship, with the guests of the
SERAPIS. His old friend added that he was coming to lunch with his
consul, and wanted time reserved for a long talk. The consul agreed
gladly. He was in holiday humor. The day promised to repeat the good
moments of the night previous.
At nine o'clock, through the open door of the consulate, Marshall saw
Aiken, the wireless operator, signaling from the wharf excitedly to the
yacht, and a boat leave the ship and return. Almost immediately the

launch, carrying several passengers, again made the trip shoreward.
Half an hour later, Senator Hanley, Miss Cairns, and Livingstone came
up the waterfront, and entering the consulate, seated themselves around
Marshall's desk. Livingstone was sunk in melancholy. The senator, on.
the contrary, was smiling broadly. His manner was one of distinct relief.
He greeted the consul with hearty good-humor.
"I'm ordered home!" he announced gleefully. Then, remembering the
presence of Livingstone, he hastened to add: "I needn't say how sorry I
am to give up my yachting trip, but orders are orders. The President,"
he explained to Marshall, " cables me this morning to come back and
take my coat off." The prospect, as a change from playing bridge on a
pleasure boat, seemed far from depressing him.
"Those filibusters in the Senate," he continued genially, "are making
trouble again. They think they've got me out of the way for another
month, but they'll find they're wrong. When that bill comes up, they'll
find me at the old stand and ready for business!" Marshall did not
attempt to conceal his personal disappointment.
"I am so sorry you are leaving," he said; "selfishly sorry, I mean. I'd
hoped you all would be here for several days." He looked inquiringly
toward Livingstone.
"I understood the SERAPIS was disabled," he explained.
"She is," answered Hanley. "So's the RALEIGH. At a pinch, the
admiral might have stretched the regulations and carried me to Jamaica,
but the RALEIGH's engines are knocked about too. I've GOT to reach
Kingston Thursday. The German boat leaves there Thursday for New
York. At first it looked as though I couldn't do it, but we find that the
Royal Mail is due to- day, and she can get to Kingston Wednesday
night. It's a great piece of luck. I wouldn't bother you with my troubles,
"the senator explained pleasantly, "but the agent of the Royal Mail here
won't sell me a ticket until you've put your seal to this." He extended a
piece of printed paper.
As Hanley had been talking, the face of the consul had grown grave. He
accepted the paper, but did not look at it. Instead, he regarded the
senator with troubled eyes. When he spoke, his tone was one of
genuine concern.
"It is most unfortunate," he said. "But I am afraid the ROYAL MAIL
will not take you on board. Because of Las Bocas,"