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The
lady
stepped
forward
,
and
laid
one
hand
upon
the
shoulder
of
her
hesitating
companion
.
She
pointed
to
the
table
.
"
Tell
me
the
truth
--
the
truth
,
"
she
said
,
in
a
low
voice
.
"
Whose
money
is
that
?
"
The
man
did
not
answer
.
He
gave
a
deep
,
long-drawn
sigh
,
leaned
and
kissed
her
on
the
forehead
,
stepped
back
into
the
other
room
and
closed
the
door
.
Goodwin
foresaw
his
purpose
,
and
jumped
for
the
door
,
but
the
report
of
the
pistol
echoed
as
his
hand
touched
the
knob
.
A
heavy
fall
followed
,
and
some
one
swept
him
aside
and
struggled
into
the
room
of
the
fallen
man
.
A
desolation
,
thought
Goodwin
,
greater
than
that
derived
from
the
loss
of
cavalier
and
gold
must
have
been
in
the
heart
of
the
enchantress
to
have
wrung
from
her
,
in
that
moment
,
the
cry
of
one
turning
to
the
all-forgiving
,
all-comforting
earthly
consoler
--
to
have
made
her
call
out
from
that
bloody
and
dishonoured
room
--
"
Oh
,
mother
,
mother
,
mother
!
"
But
there
was
an
alarm
outside
.
The
barber
,
Estebán
,
at
the
sound
of
the
shot
,
had
raised
his
voice
;
and
the
shot
itself
had
aroused
half
the
town
.
A
pattering
of
feet
came
up
the
street
,
and
official
orders
rang
out
on
the
still
air
.
Goodwin
had
a
duty
to
perform
.
Circumstances
had
made
him
the
custodian
of
his
adopted
country
's
treasure
.
Swiftly
cramming
the
money
into
the
valise
,
he
closed
it
,
leaned
far
out
of
the
window
and
dropped
it
into
a
thick
orange-tree
in
the
little
inclosure
below
.
They
will
tell
you
in
Coralio
,
as
they
delight
in
telling
the
stranger
,
of
the
conclusion
of
that
tragic
flight
.
They
will
tell
you
how
the
upholders
of
the
law
came
apace
when
the
alarm
was
sounded
--
the
Comandante
in
red
slippers
and
a
jacket
like
a
head
waiter
's
and
girded
sword
,
the
soldiers
with
their
interminable
guns
,
followed
by
outnumbering
officers
struggling
into
their
gold
lace
and
epaulettes
;
the
barefooted
policemen
(
the
only
capables
in
the
lot
)
,
and
ruffled
citizens
of
every
hue
and
description
.
They
say
that
the
countenance
of
the
dead
man
was
marred
sadly
by
the
effects
of
the
shot
;
but
he
was
identified
as
the
fallen
president
by
both
Goodwin
and
the
barber
Estebán
.
On
the
next
morning
messages
began
to
come
over
the
mended
telegraph
wire
;
and
the
story
of
the
flight
from
the
capital
was
given
out
to
the
public
.
In
San
Mateo
the
revolutionary
party
had
seized
the
sceptre
of
government
,
without
opposition
,
and
the
vivas
of
the
mercurial
populace
quickly
effaced
the
interest
belonging
to
the
unfortunate
Miraflores
.
They
will
relate
to
you
how
the
new
government
sifted
the
towns
and
raked
the
roads
to
find
the
valise
containing
Anchuria
's
surplus
capital
,
which
the
president
was
known
to
have
carried
with
him
,
but
all
in
vain
.
In
Coralio
Señor
Goodwin
himself
led
the
searching
party
which
combed
that
town
as
carefully
as
a
woman
combs
her
hair
;
but
the
money
was
not
found
.
So
they
buried
the
dead
man
,
without
honours
,
back
of
the
town
near
the
little
bridge
that
spans
the
mangrove
swamp
;
and
for
a
real
a
boy
will
show
you
his
grave
.
They
say
that
the
old
woman
in
whose
hut
the
barber
shaved
the
president
placed
the
wooden
slab
at
his
head
,
and
burned
the
inscription
upon
it
with
a
hot
iron
.
