Brandon of the Engineers

Dick pondered. He believed Kenwardine really was surprised to hear he had

nearly been crushed by the block; but the fellow was clever and had begun

to talk about the accidents. He must do nothing to rouse his suspicions,

and began a painstaking account of the matter, explaining that the

guard-rail had got loose, but saying nothing about the clamps being

tampered with. Indeed, the trouble he took about the explanation was in

harmony with his character and his interest in his work, and presently

Kenwardine looked bored.

"I quite understand the thing," he said, and got up as the man Dick was

waiting for came towards the table.

The merchant did not keep Dick long, and he left the café feeling

satisfied. Kenwardine had probably had him watched and had had something

to do with the theft of the sheet from his blotting pad, but knew nothing

about the attempt upon his life. After hearing about it, he understood

why the accident happened, but had no cause to think that Dick knew, and

some of his fellow conspirators were responsible for this part of the

plot. Dick wondered whether he would try to check them now he did know,

because if they tried again, they would do so with Kenwardine's tacit

consent.

A few days later, he was sitting with Bethune and Jake one evening when

Stuyvesant came in and threw a card, printed with the flag of a British

steamship company, on the table.

"I'm not going, but you might like to do so," he said.

Dick, who was nearest, picked up the card. It was an invitation to a

dinner given to celebrate the first call of a large new steamship at

Santa Brigida, and he imagined it had been sent to the leading citizens

and merchants who imported goods by the company's vessels. After glancing

at it, he passed it on.

"I'll go," Bethune remarked. "After the Spartan simplicity we practise at

the camp, it will be a refreshing change to eat a well-served dinner in a

mailboat's saloon, though I've no great admiration for British cookery."

"It can't be worse than the dago kind we're used to," Jake broke in.

"What's the matter with it, anyhow?"

"It's like the British character, heavy and unchanging," Bethune replied.

"A London hotel menu, with English beer and whisky, in the tropics! Only

people without imagination would offer it to their guests; and then

they've printed a list of the ports she's going to at the bottom. Would

any other folk except perhaps the Germans, couple an invitation with a

hint that they were ready to trade? If a Spaniard comes to see you on

business, he talks for half an hour about politics or your health, and

apologizes for mentioning such a thing as commerce when he comes to the

point."