say?—with her deep regard. Perhaps she hinted as much to you."
Manada leans back in his chair and looks his new acquaintance over critically. This, then, was his rival; a negative one, to be sure, but a rival that any man might fear.
"If it will flatter your vanity to know that the lady in question confessed to me that she loved only one man in the world and that that happy individual was not myself, you are welcome to the information," Manada offers, sarcastically.
"Thank you. But I was already aware of the fact, and it is not to the point. You proposed to Mrs. Harding and were rejected. Stay," as the other colors and is about to make an angry retort: "I did not bring you here, sir, to refresh your mind one instance in which the usually discriminating Isabel displayed poor taste. But I repeat, she rejected you; hence subsequently something must have occurred between you to lead up to a rather peculiar agreement—Mrs. Harding's consent to accompany you on a filibustering expedition?"
"Caramba! She told you—you overheard"
"I overheard nothing. Eavesdropping is not in my line. And she told me little more; but enough to warrant me in stating that you have been indiscreet, sir, to use no harsher term, and have jeopardized not only your own welfare but that of your fellow-countrymen."
"You seem to be pretty familiar with my affairs, senor."
"Not so familiar with them as the Spanish government and the United States authorities may be," responds Van Zandt, dryly. "All I know of your plans I have told you. What I do not know you will tell me now."
An angry rejoinder trembles on Manada's lips, but something in the stern, quiet air of the man before him checks his wrath.
"Mrs. Harding," resumes Van Zandt, "consented to go to Cuba with you, did she not?"
"Practically, yes."
"And you were to receive her final decision on the morrow?"
