“Your solicitude is touching.”  O’Reilly bowed mockingly; but disregarding his tone, General Antuna proceeded in the same false key: 

“Suppose you should be found dead some day.  Imagine my feelings.”  The speaker’s tone and expression were eloquent of concern.  “How could I fix the responsibility?”

“By having me followed, as usual, I dare say,” O’Reilly said, bitterly.

“Oh, you will of course be shadowed day and night; in fact, to be quite sure of your—­er—­safety I shall ask you to permit one of my men to accompany you everywhere and even to share your room.  We shall try never to lose sight of you, depend upon it.  But these detectives are careless fellows at best; I don’t trust them.  Of course such precautions would exonerate me from all blame and relieve my Government from any responsibility for injury to you, but, nevertheless, it would tend to complicate relations already strained.  You see I am quite honest with you.”  The general allowed time for his words to sink in; then he sighed once more.  “I wish you could find another climate equally beneficial to your rheumatism.  It would lift a great load from my mind.  I could offer you the hospitality of an escort to Neuvitas, and your friend Mr. Branch is such good company he would so shorten your trip to New York!” The speaker paused hopefully; that same sardonic flicker was on his lips.

Johnme could not summon an answering smile, for his heart was like lead.  He realized now the utter futility of resistance; he knew that to remain in Puerto Principe after this thinly veiled warning would be to court destruction—­and destruction of a shocking character against which it would be impossible to guard.  Even an espionage stricter than that to which he had been subjected would utterly defeat his plans.  After a moment of thought he said, gravely: 

“I appreciate the delicacy of your consideration, sir, and—­I shall go.”

General Antuna leaped to his feet, his grim face alight; striding to O’Reilly, he pressed his hands—­he seemed upon the point of embracing him.  “I thank you!” he cried.  “You render me a supreme service.  See, I breathe easy.  Permit me to offer you refreshment—­ one of our famous Spanish wines.  No?  Then the best cigar in all Cuba!”

His expressions of gratitude were fulsome; he swore that O’Reilly had done him the greatest favor of his life, but his words were like poison to his hearer.

“You embarrass me,” O’Reilly told him, endeavoring to carry off his defeat with some show of grace.  In his bitterness he could not refrain from adding, “If my accursed affliction returns, perhaps we shall meet again before long, either here or elsewhere.”