Daytimes, they rambled about the crooked streets, bargain-hunting in the Chinese shops, or drove beneath the stately royal palms of Ancon; evenings, they loitered about the cool verandas of the Tivoli or strolled down into the town to watch the crowds in the plazas.  Once in a while Cortlandt went with them, but he was usually uncommunicative, and they scarcely felt his presence.  On the few occasions when he gave himself rein, Kirk was compelled to feel for him a surprised and half-grudging respect.  Unlike most silent men, when he did talk he talked easily and well.

Several days passed thus, during which Anthony fully recovered from his experience at Colon.  Then a ship arrived from New York, but before he had summoned courage to ask his friends for a loan he received, a letter forwarded from Colon by the American consul, a perusal of which not only dumfounded him, but entirely altered his plans.

It was typewritten, on plain stationery; there was neither heading nor signature, yet he knew quite well from whom it came.  It read as follows: 

Don’t cable again, or the stupidity of the police may fail to protect you.  The others got away safely and you would be mad to return alone.  I can’t and won’t help you now.  This time you went too far.  You have made your bed, now lie in it.  I don’t believe in miracles, but if you can straighten up and make a man of yourself, I’ll help you face this trouble; otherwise don’t call on me for anything.  I’m through.

Kirk reread this amazing epistle several times before its full significance struck him; then, when he realized what it meant, he felt himself break into a sweat of apprehension.  That plain-clothes man had died!  The police were looking for him.  There could be no other explanation, else why had Higgins and the rest fled the country?  Why had his father been so cautious in communicating with him?  If it came to a trial, undoubtedly a jury would find him equally guilty with Higgins, for he had held the poor fellow’s hands; it was he who had engineered the whole episode.  Perhaps he was already indicted.  Kirk saw himself accused of manslaughter, arrested, and tried.  What could he do if his father refused to help?  With money, almost anything could be achieved; without it, and particularly without his father’s influence, what would happen?  Evidently the Governor believed him guilty.  In that case the young man knew that explanations would be futile.  Even the letter he had sent would do no good.  When Darwin K. Anthony said he was through, he was through.

Finding a secluded corner of the veranda, he sat down to think this matter out; but the more he reflected on it the more serious it appeared.  Of one thing he became quickly convinced:  New York at present was no place for him.  A moment ago it seemed far away and extremely desirable, now it was altogether too close at hand and most undesirable.  His father’s reference to the stupidity of the police persuaded