At last, however, the day arrived when the man with the gray necktie raised his hat and wiped his brow as he passed the Isla de Cuba.  Johnnie could scarcely hold himself in his chair.  By and by he rose, stretching himself, and sauntered after the fellow.  For several blocks he kept him in sight, but without receiving any further sign.  The man paused to greet friends, he stopped at several shops, and his aimless wanderings continued for the best part of an hour, during which he led the way to the outskirts of the city.  Fortunately O’Reilly’s shadow was nowhere in sight.

Without a glance over his shoulder the man turned into a large, walled inclosure.  When Johnnie followed he found himself in one of the old cemeteries.  Ahead of him, up a shady avenue bordered with trees, the stranger hurried; then he swerved to his left, and when O’Reilly came to the point where he had disappeared there was nobody in sight.  Apprehending that he had made some mistake in the signal, O’Reilly hastened down the walk.  Then at last, to his great relief, he heard a sibilant: 

“Psst!  Psst!”

It came from behind a screen of shrubbery, and there he found the Cuban waiting.  The latter began rapidly: 

“Our plans are complete.  Listen closely.  One week from to-day, at ten o’clock in the morning, you must be in Manin’s drug-store.  Directly across the street you will see two negroes with three horses.  At fifteen minutes past ten walk out San Rafael Street to the edge of the city, where the hospital stands.  The negroes will follow you.  There is a fort near by—­”

“I know.”

“It commands the road.  You will be challenged if you pass it, so turn in at the hospital.  But do not enter the gates, for the negroes will overtake you at that point.  They will stop to adjust the saron of the lead horse.  That will be your signal; mount him and ride fast.  The Spaniards will fire at you, but if you are hit one of the blacks will take you on his horse.  If one of them is hit or his horse falls you must stop and take him up.  Ride out half a mile and you will find a band of Insurrectos in the woods at the right.  They know you are coming.  Now, adois and good luck.”

With a smile and a quick grip of the hand the messenger walked swiftly away.  O’Reilly returned to his hotel.

At last!  One week, and this numbing, heartbreaking delay would end; he would be free to take up his quest.  O’Reilly choked at the thought; the blood drummed in his ears.  Rosa would think he was never coming; she would surely believe that his heart had changed.  As if it could!  “O God!  Come quickly, if you love me.”  Well, a week was only seven days.  He longed to risk those Spanish bullets this very hour.

But those seven days were more than a week, they were seven eternities.  The hours were like lead; O’Reilly could compose his mind to nothing; he was in a fever of impatience.