a man had stumbled in the market-place over the dead body of a woman—­choked, no doubt; two of the judge’s Russian prisoners, unaccustomed to volcanic phenomena, had gone stark staring mad and disembowelled one another with a carving knife.  Mr. Muhlen, who presently turned up in anything but his usual sprightly humour, was furnished with a full and corrected version of this last affair, to the effect that there were not two, but fourteen, of these victims; that prior to their frenzied act they had partaken of bread and salt and sung the national anthem; that the instrument chosen was not a carving knife but a rusty chisel.  None of his listeners seemed to be greatly moved by what, under ordinary circumstances, would have been a valuable contribution to the entertainment.  They were waiting for the appearance of their president, the Commissioner, the life and soul of the place, who would be able to give them an official apology for this scandalous outbreak of nature.  The Commissioner, for once in his life, failed to perform his duty.

That unfortunate man was sitting at home, in the remote villa known as the “Residency,” profoundly troubled in mind.  He leaned over his study table, which was lighted by a lamp; his eyes peered dejectedly, through the windows beyond, into the gloom.  Before him lay the skeleton draft of his annual report to the Nicaraguan Minister of Finance, a gentleman who developed a passionate craving, once a year, to be informed of the condition of Nepenthe in regard to matters such as shipping and trade returns, zymotic diseases, and the methods locally employed for combating beri-beri.

The elaboration of this report had hitherto given Mr. Freddy Parker no trouble whatever.  It was an understood thing between himself and his protector, Senor Pomponio de Vergara y Puyarola, that his labours need not be otherwise than purely formal.  To every one of the intelligent queries on the part of a paternal government it had been his custom, therefore, to append the magic word nil.  Banking system—­nil.  Meat export—­nil.  Cotton industry—­nil.  Agriculture—­nil.  Canal traffic—­nil.  Teak trade—­nil.  Emery mines—­nil.  Fisheries—­nil.

He could trust Senor de Vergara to arrange matters, in the event of any complaint arising as to the unwarranted ambiguity or succinctness of the Nepenthean Report.

Bad news had just reached him; very bad news indeed.  His friend and protector had been stabbed to death, after the approved fashion of Nicaraguan politicians, by a couple of assassins in the pay of that minister’s rival, a bankrupt tradesman who, desirous of bettering his fortunes, conceived that he would make as good a Finance Minister as anyone else and had, in fact, already usurped that post.  Worse news could hardly be imagined.  The prognosis was most unfavourable.  For Mr. Parer shrewdly argued that a rival of the late Don Pomponio would look askance at those whom