We leave to-morrow."
The men exchanged glances.
"How?" inquired Sherwen and Raimonda in a breath.
"In the yacht, from Puerto del Norte."
"Not if it were a British battleship," said Galpy. "Port's
closed."
"What? Quarantine already?" said Carroll.
"Quarantine be blowed! It's the Dutch."
"I thought you knew," said Sherwen. "All the town is ringing with
the news. It just came in to-night. Holland has declared a
blockade until Caracuna apologizes for the interference with its
cable."
"And nothing can pass?" asked Mr. Brewster.
"Nothing but an aeroplane or a submarine."
There was a silence. Miss Polly Brewster broke it with a curious
question:--
"What day is day after to-morrow?"
Several voices had answered her, but she paid little heed, for
there had slipped over her shoulder a brown thin hand holding a
cunningly woven closed basket of reedwork. A soft voice murmured
something in Spanish.
"What does he say?" asked the girl "For me?"
"He thinks it must be for you," translated Raimonda, "from the
description."
"What description?"
"He was told to go to the hotel and deliver it to the most
beautiful lady.
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