I
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I came up by the lift from the lower town, Harry Vandeleur strolled from his more respectable lodging in the upper quarter, and we met unexpectedly in Government Square. It was ten o'clock in the morning, and the Square, a floor of white within a ragged border of trees, glared blindingly under the tropical sun. On each side of the President's door a diminutive soldier rattled a rifle from time to time.
"What? Has he sent for you too?" said Harry, pointing to the President's house.
"Juan Ballester. Yes," said I, and Harry Vandeleur stopped with a sudden suspicion on his face.
"What does he want with us?" he asked.
"We volunteered in the war," said I. "We were both useful to him."
Harry Vandeleur shook his head.
"He is at the top of his power. He has won his three-weeks wa
