`Perhaps you don't know how alarming you are, appearing like this unexpectedly--'

`I! Alarming!' he protested, sincerely vexed and surprised. `I assure you that I am not in the least alarmed myself. A fan is lost; well, it will be found again. But I don't think it is here. It is a fan I am looking for. I cannot understand how Antonia could--Well! Have you found it, amigo?'

`No, senor,' said behind Mrs Gould the soft voice of Basilio, the head servant of the Casa. `I don't think the senorita could have left it in this house at all.'

`Go and look for it in the patio again. Go now, my friend; look for it on the steps, under the gate; examine every flagstone; search for it till I come down again. . . . That fellow' -- he addressed himself in English to Mrs Gould -- `is always stealing up behind one's back on his bare feet. I set him to look for that fan directly I came in to justify my reappearance, my sudden return.'

He paused and Mrs Gould said, amiably, `You are always welcome.' She paused for a second, too. `But I am waiting to learn the cause of your return.'

Decoud affected suddenly the utmost nonchalance.

`I can't bear to be spied upon. Oh, the cause? Yes, there is a cause; there is something else that is lost besides Antonia's favourite fan. As I was walking home after seeing Don Jose and Antonia to their house, the Capataz de Cargadores, riding down the street, spoke to me.'

`Has anything happened to the Violas?' inquired Mrs Gould.

`The Violas? You mean the old Garibaldino who keeps the hotel where the engineers live! Nothing happened there. The Capataz said nothing of them; he only told me that the telegraphist of the Cable Company was walking on the Plaza, bareheaded, looking out for me. This is news from the interior, Mrs Gould. I should rather say rumours of news.'

`Good news?' said Mrs Gould in a low voice.

`Worthless, I should think. But if I must define them, I would say bad. They are to the effect that a two days' battle had been fought near Sta Marta, and that the Ribierists are defeated. It must have happened a few days ago -- perhaps a week. The rumour has just reached Cayta, and the man in charge of the cable station there has telegraphed the news to his colleague here. We might just as well have kept Barrios in Sulaco.'

`What's to be done now?' murmured Mrs Gould.

`Nothing. He's at sea with the troops. He will get to Cayta in a couple of days' time and learn the news there. What he will do then, who can say? Hold Cayta? Offer his submission to Montero? Disband his army -- this last most likely, and go himself in one of the O.S.N. Company's steamers, north or south -- to Valparaiso or to San Francisco, no matter where. Our Barrios has a great practice in exiles and repatriations, which mark the points in the political game.'

Decoud, exchanging a steady stare with Mrs Gould, added, tentatively, as it were, `And yet, if we had Barrios with his 2,000 improved rifles here, something could have been done.'

`Montero victorious, completely victorious!' Mrs Gould breathed out in a tone of unbelief.

`A canard, probably. That sort of bird is hatched in great numbers in such times as these. And even if it were true? Well, let us put things at their worst, let us say it is true.'

`Then everything is lost,' said Mrs Gould, with the calmness of despair.