“Prisoner, attention! His excellency the President has permitted Señor Steinbaum to visit you.” The “prisoner” was lying on his back on a plank bed, with his hands tucked beneath his head to obtain some measure of protection from the roll of rough fiber matting which formed a pillow. He did not pay the slightest heed to the half-caste Spanish jailer’s gruff command. But the visitor’s name stirred him. He turned his head, apparently to make sure that he was not being deceived, and rose on an elbow. “ Hello, Steinbaum!” he said in English. “What’s the swindle? Excuse this terseness, but I have to die in an hour, or even less, if a sunbeam hasn’t misled me.” “ There’s no swindle this time, Mr. Maseden, ” came the guttural answer. “I’m sorry I cannot help you, but I want you to do a good turn for a lady.” “ A lady! What lady?” “ I don’t know.” “ If you don’t know the lady that is a recommendation in itself. At any rate, what sort of good turn can a man condemned to death do for any lady?” “ She wants to marry you.”
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