Since the publication in the New York _Daily News_ of the letters of
the missing President Felix to his wife, Gale had stood high in the
favor of Portiforo. The latter had sent for the reporter and assured
him of his deep appreciation of the service he had rendered the
government of Baracoa by disposing so effectively of the unpleasant
rumors concerning Felix, the circulation of which had been a source of
distress to him, Portiforo, and the high-minded patriotic gentlemen
connected with his administration. Incidentally he had told Gale that
the latchstring of the national palace was at all times out for him.
On the day that he learned of the Camera Chap’s arrest, Gale decided
to take advantage of this standing invitation. He deemed it his duty
to have a chat with the president concerning the prisoner. He found
Portiforo not at all unwilling to talk on that subject.
“In fact, Señor Gale, if you had not come, I was about to send for
you for that very purpose,” said the president, when his visitor had
made known the object of his call. “I am desirous of getting some
information about that misguided young man, and since you and he are
members of the same profession, you ought to be able to tell me what
I want to know. I am informed,” he went on, somewhat anxiously, “that
this man Hawley is quite a big figure in American journalism--a sort of
a celebrity.”
Gale laughed disdainfully. “I don’t know where you could have got hold
of that idea, Señor Presidente. A celebrity, eh? Well, that’s pretty
good!”
He spoke with malicious emphasis, for he believed that he understood
his questioner’s motive in seeking to ascertain the status of the
Camera Chap in the newspaper world. If he was convinced that Hawley was
a man of prominence in his own country he would probably hesitate to go
to extremes with him for fear of bringing upon himself the wrath of the
American people. If, on the other hand, he was led to believe that the
prisoner was a person of no great importance, the latter was likely to
receive scant consideration from him.
Realizing that here was an opportunity to settle old scores with his
rival, Gale eagerly availed himself of it. “You can take it from me,
Señor Presidente,” he declared, “that Hawley is nothing but a plain,
ordinary camera man, and in the newspaper business camera men don’t
rank very high. We reporters rather look down on them.”
The president looked surprised. “Then it isn’t true that he gets an
enormous salary, and that his brilliant exploits have made him so
famous that even the President of the United States has been known
to employ his services in diplomatic work?” As Portiforo asked the
question he looked keenly at the reporter.
“Certainly not,” the latter answered. “Who’s been filling you up with
such trash as that? The President of the United States doesn’t employ
newspaper men for diplomatic work,” he added, unaware of the good turn
he was really doing the man he desired to injure. “There are lots of
secret-service men who understand how to use a camera. If the president
required any photographic work of a diplomatic nature, he’d employ one
of them, of course.”
Portiforo was considerably impressed by the logic of this argument. For
a few seconds he puffed reflectively on his cigar. “Do you happen to
know, Señor Gale, why Hawley came to Baracoa?” he inquired suddenly.
“The real reason, I mean. Did anybody send him, or did he come here of
his own accord?”
It was on the tip of the reporter’s tongue to tell his questioner the
truth about Hawley’s mission so far as he knew it, for he realized
that such information was not likely to prejudice Portiforo in the
prisoner’s favor. But fortunately for the cause for which his rival
had made such sacrifices, he did not yield to this impulse. On second
thought he decided that more was to be gained by supporting the
accusation that the Camera Chap was an insurrecto spy.
“Yes, I do happen to know why he came to Baracoa, Señor Presidente,” he
answered. “He came here of his own accord to help the revolutionists.
He made no secret of his purpose in New York. He boasted to several of
the men on Park Row of his friendship for that rascal Rodriguez. He
said that there was going to be a revolution in Baracoa and that he was
going to help things along with his camera. You are aware, of course,
that he and Rodriguez left New York together and arrived here on the
same boat?”
Portiforo nodded. “Yes; that significant fact naturally did not escape
our notice. Still----” he paused, and a puzzled frown darkened his
beefy countenance--“what you have told me is most interesting, Señor
Gale,” he said, leaving unspoken the thought that had been in his mind.
“I am deeply indebted to you for the information you have given. It has
enabled me to decide what course I shall pursue regarding that wretched
young man.”
“I am glad of that,” said the reporter, a glint in his eyes. “You can
go as far as you like with him, Señor Presidente, without any fear of
angering the government of my country.”
The president smiled sardonically. “It seems to me, my dear friend,
that you are not exactly fond of your countryman.”
“I must admit that I haven’t any use for him,” the other responded.
“But I am not alone in my prejudice. Every self-respecting newspaper
man in New York who has had dealing with the fellow feels the same way
about him. We regard him as one of the black sheep of our profession.”
Portiforo appeared pleased to hear this. “If that is the way your
brother journalists regard him I presume that his fate will not cause a
great outcry from the press which is so influential in your country?”
“Of course it won’t,” the newspaper man eagerly assured him. “The scamp
has been mixed up in so many shady transactions that we’ve all been
expecting to see him come to a bad end. Of course, you must expect
that his own paper, the _Sentinel_, will try to stir up a fuss about
him; but, then, nobody pays any attention to what that sensational
sheet says or does.”
Portiforo expressed surprise at this. “I had been under the impression
that the New York _Sentinel_ was one of the most influential journals
in the United States,” he said.
“You have been misinformed,” Gale returned. “It has a fair-sized
circulation, but its readers consist mostly of the more unintelligent
classes.” He leaned forward in his chair. “You can take it from me,
Señor Presidente, that if that rascally camera man gets his deserts the
better portion of our press will heartily approve of what you have done
as soon as the facts become known. And I shall make it my business to
see that the facts are known,” he added significantly. “I am returning
to the United States on next Wednesday’s boat--my editor has sent me
word that he positively cannot get along without me any longer--and
when I get to New York it will give me great pleasure to combat with
my pen any adverse sentiment which the _Sentinel_ may try to create
against your government.”
“That is most kind of you, my dear Señor Gale,” the president declared
gratefully. “You are indeed a true friend of Baracoa. With such a
distinguished journalist enlisted on the side of truth I have no fear
of being misunderstood by the people of your great nation.”
He slipped from one of his pudgy fingers a massive gold ring set with
a huge diamond. “Since you are about to leave us,” he said, handing the
piece of jewelry to his visitor, “I beg you to accept this as a small
token of my esteem and gratitude.”
Gale left the palace well satisfied with the result of his visit.
“Guess the boys on Park Row will think this is pretty poor.” He
chuckled, gazing at the gem which glistened on his finger with all
the pleasure of a woman. But what pleased him much more than the
president’s valuable gift was the thought of what influence his
conversation with Portiforo was likely to have upon the fate of the man
whom he hated more than anybody else in the world. “I rather think I’ve
settled Frank Hawley’s hash,” he told himself delightedly.
Shortly after Gale’s departure from the palace, Minister Throgmorton
arrived, and was closeted with the president for over an hour. The
interview was at times a stormy one. It was as a result of that
conference that the Camera Chap, the next morning, was visited by two
men who threw open the door of his cell and bade him accompany them.