She would have said more, but just at that moment her husband entered.  “You were saying that Alfarez suspects,” said Cortlandt, addressing Garavel.  “Has he said anything?”

“Not to me, as yet, but he surely must know; the rumors must have reached him.  He is cold—­and Ramon acts queerly.  I feel guilty—­ almost as if I had betrayed a friend.”

“Nonsense!  There is no room for fine scruples in politics.  We mustn’t be in too great a hurry, though.  Things are going smoothly, and when the time comes you will be called for.  But it must be the voice of the people calling.  Bocas, Chiriqui, Colon—­ they must all demand Garavel.”  Cortlandt sighed.  “I shall be very glad when it is over.”  He looked more pale, more bloodless, more world-weary than ever.

“You need have no fear that it will cause serious trouble between you and the General,” Mrs. Cortlandt assured Garavel.  “Ramon should be able to effect peace, no matter what happens.”

“Ah, I am not so sure that there will be a marriage between Gertrudis and him.  Young ladies are most uncertain when allowed the slightest liberty.”

“Is she growing rebellious?” Cortlandt inquired.  “If I were you, then, I wouldn’t force her.  A loveless marriage is a tragic thing.”

His wife nodded her agreement.

“Not exactly rebellious.  She would do whatever I asked regardless of her own feelings, for that is the way we Spaniards bring up our daughters, but—­she is cold to Ramon, and he, I believe, is suspicious of my intentions toward his father.  Therefore, the situation is strained.  It is very hard to know what is right in a case of this sort.  The young are impressionable and reckless.  Often what seems to them distasteful is in reality a blessing.  It is not every love-match that turns out so happily as yours, my dear friends.  Well, I suppose I am weak.  With Gertrudis I cannot be severe; but unless it becomes necessary to make conditions with my old friend Alfarez, I should prefer to let the girl have her own way.”

As Cortlandt escorted his caller to the door, the Panamanian paused and said, with genuine solicitude: 

“You look badly, sir.  I am afraid you work too hard.  I would not easily forgive myself if this affair of ours caused you to fall ill.”

“Oh, I am all right—­a little tired, that’s all.  I don’t sleep well.”

“It is worry over this thing.”

Cortlandt smiled crookedly.  “I am not the one to worry; I am not the one at the head.  Surely you know what people say—­that I am her office-boy?”

Garavel found it hard to laugh this off gracefully.  “You are too modest,” he said.  “I admire the trait, but I also chance to know the wonderful things you have accomplished.  If people say such things, it is because they do not know and are too small to understand your voluntary position.  It is very fine of you to let your wife share your work, senor.”  But he shook his head as the door closed behind him, really doubting that Cortlandt would prove physically equal to the coming struggle.