“I—­I—­don’t understand.  I don’t want to understand.”

“There’s got to be a certain broad-mindedness in these matters,” he blundered on, with what seemed to her outraged senses an abominable jauntiness.  “But the risk was small for me, and, of course, for her, anything was better than the other life.  At that, I don’t see how the truth reached you.  What is it, Miss Polly?”

Rage, grief, and shame choked the girl’s utterance.

Without a word, she ran from the room, leaving her companion a prey to troubled wonder.

In the patio, she turned sharply to avoid a group gathered around Galpy, who, with a patch over one eye, was trying to impart some news between gasps.

“Got it from the bulletin board of La Liberdad,” he cried.  “Killed; body gone; devil to pay all over the place.”

“What’s that?” demanded the Unspeakable Perk, running out, coatless and goggleless.

“There’s been another riot, and Dr. Luther Pruyn is killed,” explained Sherwen.

“Who says so?”

“Bulletin board—­La Liberdad—­just saw it,” panted Galpy.

“Nonsense!  It’s a bola”

“The whole city is ringing with it.  They say it was a plot to get him out of the way to stop quarantine.  The Foreign Office is buzzing with inquiries, and Puerto del Norte is burning up the wires.”

“Puerto del Norte!  How did they hear?”

“Telephone, of course.  I hear Wisner is coming up,” said Sherwen.

“I’ve got to get a wire to the port at once,” cried the scientist.  “At once!”

“You!  What for?”

“To stop off Wisner.  To tell him it isn’t so.”

“You’re excited, my boy,” said Mr. Brewster kindly.  “Better lie down again.”

“It’s true, right enough,” said the Englishman.  “Sir Willet’s cochero saw the mob get him.”

“When?  Where?” asked Fitzhugh Carroll.

“Haven’t got any details, but the Government admits it.”

“I don’t care if the President and his whole cabinet swear to it,” vociferated the Unspeakable Perk.  “It’s a fake.  How can I get Puerto del Norte, Mr. Sherwen?”

“You can’t get it at all for any such purpose.  How do you know it’s a fake?”

“How do I know?  Oh, dammit!  I’m Luther Pruyn!”

He snatched off his glasses and faced them.

The little group stood petrified.  Mr. Brewster was first to recover.

“Crazy, poor chap!” he said.  “Luther Pruyn was my classmate.”

“That’s my father, Luther L.”

“Proofs,” said Sherwen sharply.

“In my coat pocket.  In the room.  Can I have your wire, Mr. Sherwen?”

“It’s cut.”

“Come to the railway wire,” offered Galpy.  “My eye!  Wot a game!”

The two men ran out, the scientist leaving behind coat and goggles.

“It was our little mix-up that started the rumor,” said Carroll thoughtfully.  “Somebody recognized Perk—­Dr. Pruyn.”