“Than talking with you in the moonlight?” interpolated Dan.

“About the moonlight,” corrected the girl. . . .  “If we are to be friends you must not devise responsibilities—­unadvisably.”

Dan made a slight gesture, as though to assure her she had made her meaning quite clear.

“If we are to be friends, Miss Howland, you must not devise restrictions unadvisably.”

Dan was still smiling, and he was speaking easily.  But no man had ever spoken to her in that way before.  She flushed, and her eyes sparkled angrily as he ceased.  Her glance did not disconcert him.  He stood looking at her—­not masterfully, but with the quiet dignity of conviction.  It was plain that if their association were to continue, it must be at the price of something more than the scientific, aloof, touch-and-go interest which had hitherto characterized her attitude toward him.

She must be his friend in all that the term implies.  Until to-night, had the alternative been proposed, she would have had no hesitation in deciding, if only because she had no viewpoint other than their relative positions in the past year.

But his words had opened a new perspective.  She could see that he might be regarded in a different light, that he already so regarded her.  The transformation bewildered her, and when the heated reply died behind her lips and she smiled quiveringly instead, she felt for the first time in her life the thrill which all women, however strong, have when they yield to the dominant personality of a man.  She tried to fight back the overpowering, undefinable surge; she succeeded partially.  All she could now ask was time to think to recover her equilibrium.  She put out her hand involuntarily and touched Dan lightly on the arm.

“Let us not say anything more about it,” she said.  “Tell me—­tell me something about San Blanco.”

As she ceased speaking, she turned slowly toward the banquet hall.  Dan, following her, complied with what he knew to be a purely perfunctory request, talking in an easy conversational tone.

“I have looked into the history of the country a good bit,” said he.  “It is quite interesting.  They have had just twenty-three presidentes and four dictators, and there have been twelve assassinations.  I believe candidates for the office are liable to arrest for attempted suicide—­”

The girl paused at the window.  She had not been listening.  Her eyes, were fastened upon the figure of a man whose skulking form she had made out where the glow of the window almost opposite the speakers’ table fell upon the garden.  Now she saw him again.  He had a gun in his hands and was beginning to kneel.

Breathless and rigid the girl slowly stretched out her hand and touched Dan on the shoulder; with the other she pointed silently at the crouching figure.  The gun was now being raised to aim, probably at the Presidente, who was speaking, possibly at Mr. Howland.  Dan apprehended the situation at once.  In the flash of an eye he was making for the assassin like an antelope.  Hearing the approaching footfalls, the man turned his head, and then, with a cry, Virginia saw him arise and shift his weapon toward Dan.