It was surprising during these days how much time the great man gave to the study of the press. Not the Olifa press, but that of every other South American country, and the United States. His sitting-room was often like the reading-room in a public library, for he seemed to have an insatiable appetite for the journalism of the New World. Often he studied it in conjunction with the Olifa Ministers, and the study appeared to give them pleasure. There was the moment an awkward situation in Mexico, and a more awkward one in connection with the little republic, of Costemala, where Washington was upholding with several warships and a considerable force of marines an administration which apparently was not desired by the Costemalans.
There was also trouble in the Canal Zone, where a certain state, hitherto most amenable to America’s persuasion, had played a sudden recalcitrancy. The American people seemed to be in a bad temper over these pinpricks, an influential Senator had made a truculent speech, various patriotic societies had held monster demonstrations, and the press was inclined to be flamboyant. There was a great deal talk about America’s manifest destiny; responsible newspapers discoursed upon the difficulty of a high civilisation existing side by side with a lower, and of the duty of imperfect democracies of the South to accept the guidance the mature democracy of the North. The popular press waved the flag vigorously, published half-tone pictures of stalwart American marines among the debased citizens of Costemala, and graphs showing how trivial was the wealth and how trumpery the armed forces of Latin America as compared with their own. The rest of the New World, it said, had got to learn to be democratic or take its medicine.
These heroics did not go unchallenged, for on the Gobernador’s table were clippings from high-toned American weeklies, and addresses by University professors, and speeches of cross-bench public men, who, also in the name of democracy, denounced what they called a policy of imperial brigandage. The Gobernador read both sides with an approving eye. “This thing has been well managed,” he told Senor Sanfuentes. “Holloway has not disappointed me.”
The press of the Latin South had a quieter tone, but was notable for its curious unanimity, which extended even to the phrasing. The United States, it announced, was forsaking democracy for imperialism, the white robes of liberty for the purple of the tyrant. Very carefully and learnedly and urbanely, with many references to past history, it stated the case for the sacrosanctity of nationalities. It did not refer to the League of Nations, but professed to base its arguments on America’s past professions, and the great republican cause to which the continent was dedicate There was an admirable good temper in its tone, and a modest but complete defiance. It could not believe that the great hearts and the wise heads of Washington would the betrayed into this dictatorial folly. The sounder elements in the United States would prevent it. It appealed from Philip drunk to Philip sober.
The Gobernador studied the journalism of the Latin republics with special attention, and his visitors shared his satisfaction. “There is not a word wrong or a word too much,” observed Senor Aribia, who was himself a newspaper-owner. “This will make havoc among the mugwumps.”
“What a fortunate chance,” exclaimed the Minister of External Affairs, “that the trouble with Costemala and Panama has arisen just at this moment!” His prominent eyes twinkled.
“It is indeed a fortunate chance,” said the Gobernador gravely.
XI
On the third day of the Gobernador’s stay visitors of a different type came to the building in the Avenida. Archie, in a new suit of flannels, limped up the steps, and had his card sent up to the great man. While he waited, Janet appeared, in a summer costume of pale blue linen, with a cornflower-blue hat which brought out delightfully the colour of her eyes and hair. They were admitted at once, for they had evidently come by appointment. The tall porter who conducted them to the lift looked approvingly at the lady, and the three men who were lounging in the corridor outside the Gobernador’s private room made audible and appreciative comments. The three were dressed like the ordinary Olifero clerk, but they bulged a little at the hips; their names were Carreras, a Spaniard, Biretti, an Italian, and Daniel Judson, who passed as an Australian.
The Gobernador seemed to welcome the Roylances’ intrusion. He had many questions to ask—about their impressions of the Gran Seco, about Veiro and Don Mario, what class of polo Olifa afforded in Archie’s view, the date of their return home. His manner towards them was paternal, as to two attractive children who had strayed into a dusty office.
“The heats are beginning,” he said, “and Olifa loses its pleasant visitors. The Americans have fled, I understand—the noisy young people, I mean, who were in the an Seco when you were there.”
“All but one,” said Janet. “Barbara Dasent, whom you met at Veiro, is still here. The Corinna is back in the old Harbour, and she will give us a lift to Panama… Excellency, I am going to be very bold. We want you to come and dine with us one night before we go.”
The Gobernador looked at the girl, flushed, laughing, like child who is in doubt as to how its audacity will be taken; he looked at Archie, very cool and sunburnt; and then he looked at Janet again. He was a student of human nature, but he had never in his varied experience met such a type before. Here was beauty without egotism, one who seemed to him to look out upon life in a mood of mingled innocence, mirth, and adventure, a woman without the feminine arts which had always wearied him, but with a charm the stronger for its unconsciousness. The Gobernador did not allow himself holidays, but, like all mortals, needed change, and Janet seemed to offer a new atmosphere.
“I thank you, but, alas! I do not go into society,” he said. “There are difficulties, you see. You are at Hotel de la Constitucion? Well, if I dined with you the hotel, there would be something of a scene. That is vanity on my part, Lady Roylance, but there are so many people who wish me to do things for them or to ask questions that I cannot safely go into public places.”
His face showed that he wished to accept, and Janet emboldened.
“We quite see that. Besides, the hotel is a noisy place. What we propose is that you come and dine with us on the Corinna. It will be deliciously cool on the water, only Barbara Dasent will be there. Then we can have a proper talk, and Archie and I will sit at your feet.”
The Gobernador smiled. “Your invitation is seductive. I think I can arrange to-morrow night. I will be on the quay at the Old Harbour at half past seven—the Corinna, I think, lies in the outer basin… By the way, I have to take certain precautions—the Government insists on it. There are three men who are always with me… “
“That’s all right,” said Archie. “We’ll send the launch. I say, this is topping. I only wish you were coming on with us to Panama!”
The three men, Carreras, Biretti, and Judson, took their duties seriously. As soon as they heard that the Gobernador was to dine on board the American yacht, they set preparing for emergencies. They were supreme ruffians, each with a string of murders to his credit, but they were loyal to their immediate paymaster.