The senor looks the young man over critically. "Your profession is not regarded with especial favor at present by the Spanish Government," he says.
"I understand so," drawls Ashley. "Newspaper men have an unpleasant habit of stating facts, something the government is not particularly anxious to have abroad."
A flush of annoyance mounts the senor's face, and on the left cheek Ashley for the first time notices a small, crescent-shaped scar.
"Aha!" he thinks. "This gentleman rather answers my friend Barker's description of the party who left New York with the fair Mrs. Harding."
"The Government has no desire to conceal facts," asserts the senor, with some warmth, "but it naturally seeks to prevent the dissemination of false, exaggerated or malicious reports. What journal do you represent, senor?"
Ashley tenders his card. The senor glances at it and smiles half-derisively. "The Hemisphere! I had that very journal in mind," he says.
"My paper must be excused from feeling flattered, then."
"It was only a week or so ago," continues the senor, "that I read in your paper a sensational interview with a visionary enthusiast, which was a little more exaggerated and absurd than the average."
"That was before you left New York, probably," ventures Ashley, and the senor shoots a glance at him from a pair of keen black eyes. "You refer to the interview with Don Manada," goes on Ashley. "I had the pleasure of placing the distinguished Cuban's views before the public."
"I am not surprised," comments the senor, with quiet sarcasm.
"In other words you consider me a man who would deliberately put forth false, exaggerated or malicious reports."
"I did not say so, senor. I presume you are typical of your profession."
"And I believe I am. Our journal, like every other
