"Impossible it is that you
speak of my good friend, Senor Kelley."
"Come into the summer garden," said Mrs. O'Brien. "I want to have a talk
with you."
Let us suppose that an hour has elapsed.
"And you say," said the General, "that for the sum of $18,000 can be
purchased the furnishment of the house and the lease of one year with
this garden so lovely--so resembling unto the patios of my cara
Colombia?"
"And dirt cheap at that," sighed the lady.
"Ah, Dios!" breathed General Falcon. "What to me is war and politics?
This spot is one paradise. My country it have other brave heroes to
continue the fighting. What to me should be glory and the shooting of
mans? Ah! no. It is here I have found one angel. Let us buy the Hotel
Espanol and you shall be mine, and the money shall not be waste on
guns."
Mrs. O'Brien rested her blond pompadour against the shoulder of the
Colombian patriot.
"Oh, senor," she sighed, happily, "ain't you terrible!"
Two days later was the time appointed for the delivery of the arms to
the General. The boxes of supposed rifles were stacked in the rented
warehouse, and the Secretary of War sat upon them, waiting for his
friend Kelley to fetch the victim.
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