“He may have meant to compromise you; to put doubts in my mind.”

“It’s possible, now I think of it,” Kit assented.  “I hope he didn’t succeed.”

“I know my friends, Don Cristoval.  But what did the fellow want?  I do not know all.”

“Your spies are pretty smart, but I expect our colloquial English puzzled them,” Kit remarked, smiling.  “However, I was going to tell you—­”

He narrated what Olsen had said and Alvarez looked thoughtful.

“Galdar must be nearly ready; he has been quicker than I imagined.  What are you going to do about the steamer?”

“I’ll wait until tomorrow.  If my uncle is well enough, he must decide.”

“But if he is no better?” Alvarez asked.

Kit gave him a level glance.  “Then I will send Mayne orders to run all risks and start, whether his engines are repaired or not.”

“Ah,” said Alvarez with a bow, “Olsen was foolish when he tried to bribe you!  I suppose this is your answer!  Well, it is lucky that a fast schooner sails to a port from which a telegram can be sent.  When your orders are ready I will see that they go.”

Next morning Kit found Adam lying half awake after a night of delirium.  The old man’s eyes were heavy, his brain was dull, and the doctor, who came in, made Kit a sign not to disturb him.  Kit went out and spent some time writing a message to Mayne.  It was necessary that the captain should know what he must do, but Kit was anxious to give no hint about the importance of speed that others would understand.  He meant to guard against his orders being read by spies in Olsen’s pay.

When he had sealed the envelope and addressed it as the president had told him, he went down to the patio and found a peon talking to a guard.

“This man is the mate of the Catalina and wants to see you,” said the guard, and when he went off Kit turned to the other, who looked like a sailor.

“My wife lives in the town and I have been at home for a day or two,” said the man.  “I am going back to the schooner now and was told you had a letter for the patron.”

Kit put his hand in his pocket.  Although he had expected the mayor-domo would come for the message, there was not much formality at the presidio, and the fellow was obviously a sailor.  Yet Kit hesitated and as he stood with his hand on the envelope thought the other’s eyelids flickered.  The flicker was almost too slight to notice, but it hinted at nervousness and Kit dropped the message back.

“Very well,” he said.  “Wait a few minutes.”

He went along the arcade and stopping near the end looked back.  The sailor had sat down on a bench and was lighting a cigarette.  This looked as if he did not mind waiting, and Kit wondered whether it was worth while to disturb the president, who was occupied.  He went on, however, and Alvarez signed him to sit down when he entered his room.  After a minute or two, he put down the document he was reading to his secretary.