"Tabio was a politico, too," Santiago said, sharply. "What else does it say, Mateo?"

"It says that the Radicals and the Nationals have already nominated Gamburdo. The Progressives and the Communists are meeting this afternoon to select Lavandero as their candidate, and the Socialists are asking both candidates for guarantees against Bolshevism before making up their minds. The Traditional Nationalist Action Party--that's the Cross and the Sword--are out a hundred per cent for Gamburdo."

"What the h.e.l.l are the Socialists stalling for?" Rafael shouted. "Where are their brains?"

"You mean," Santiago answered, gently, "where is their socialism?"

"Listen to this," Hall said. "'The body of the President will lie in state for six days in the Great Hall of Congress. Acting President Gamburdo has ordered a hand-picked elite corps of army and navy officers to maintain a twenty-four-hour watch over the bier.' An elite corps for Don Anibal!

"And listen to this: 'In the name of the Republic, Acting President Gamburdo thanked the noted surgeon, Varela Ansaldo, for his last-hour effort to save the life of the late President, and announced that he would recommend to the Congress that Dr. Ansaldo and his a.s.sistant, Dr.

Marina, be given formal decorations. Gamburdo revealed that Ansaldo, who came to San Hermano at his urgent pleas, left the mourning capital at noon on the first leg of a flying voyage to Lisbon where he is to perform a delicate operation on a prominent jurist.'"

"They got away!" Rafael said.

"It's not so bad," Hall said. "That is, it won't be if ..."

"Of course, Mateo. If we can pin the arrows on Ansaldo after this statement," Santiago said, "it will be very hard for Gamburdo to explain to anyone. Especially since you have that picture of Gamburdo at the secret Falange dinner."

"I have more than that. I have a copy of the report the Inspector General of the Falange made about Gamburdo at that dinner, and it's written on official stationery. We've just got to get more on Ansaldo!"

"Are you still against raiding the Emba.s.sy, Rafael?"

"I changed my mind. When do we do it? Tonight?"

"I hope so, Rafael, you'll have to find Dr. More. I think you'll catch him in at the clinic now. Tell him to get Rivas and bring him to his own house in Vedado."

Hall took out his wallet. "Here, Rafael, you'll need money for taxis."

"Are you crazy, Mateo? This is a hundred-peso note."

"You'll also need a new suit. They won't let you into the Spanish Emba.s.sy in those clothes."

"I'll buy my own clothes!"

"Rafael," Santiago said, gently, "Hall is our _companero_."

The boy began to blush. "I am sorry," he stammered, "but it is not my way to accept such offers."

"I don't offer it to a man," Hall said. "I gave it to an officer of the People's Army. It is money intended to aid that army in its fight."

"Hurry up, Rafael," Santiago said. "We will argue after we get out of the Emba.s.sy--if we get out."

"I've got to see Lobo," Hall said when Rafael left. "I've got to tell him to ask the American Intelligence Service to check on Ansaldo's movements in Lisbon. I don't think he is going to operate on any Portuguese jurist or anyone else in Lisbon."

"You'll make a fool of yourself, Mateo. You're not dealing with stupid Spanish fascists like Franco and Gil Robles. You're dealing with the German n.a.z.is who run the Falange. I know them. They're too smart not to have a patient waiting in bed for Ansaldo when he gets to Lisbon. Why don't you see Lobo after our conference with Rivas? In the meanwhile, I'd better get statements from de Sola and Carlos Echagaray on Ansaldo and Marina."

Meeting Fernando Rivas in the home of the Cuban doctor, Hall was reminded of what an acid-tongued Czech journalist said to him at Geneva about Chautemps, a French politician. There was nothing wrong with the politician, the Czech said, except that he had the face of a traitor. In a city where the sun always shined, Rivas had the pallor of a skin which never saw the sun. He sat tensely at the edge of the chair in More's study, hands working a battered Panama, his puffy eyes darting furtive looks at Rafael and Hall, men he had never seen before but whom he obviously suspected of being agents of the Republican underground. Hall thought: this is a man who can no longer know hate or love or anything but fear.

It was Santiago's show. He ran it on his own terms. From the outset, he made it clear that he, or rather the Republic for which he spoke, was giving the orders. They were given decently, temperately, but not without the proof that force lay behind the commands. Rivas was to address him as Colonel. "And these," he said, indicating Rafael and Hall, "are my aides, Majors Juan and Pancho."

"What is it you want of me, Colonel? There is nothing I would not do for you."

"For whom?"

"For the--for the Republic."

"What Republic?"

"The Republic of Spain. The Republic of the Const.i.tution of 1931."

"And why should the Republic trust you now, Rivas?"

"There is no reason, Colonel. I can ask only in the name of my family."

Rafael had seen the older brother of Rivas die charging a German battery near Bilbao. "It is not your privilege," he said. "I knew your brother."

Hall laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"You betrayed your family when you betrayed your people," Santiago said, softly. "It is not good enough. I must have a better reason."

"State your own terms," Rivas said. "I will meet them."

"Why?"

The traitor took out a silk handkerchief, mopped his face. He suddenly seemed to grow, to straighten his back. His head held high, he looked each man proudly in the eyes. A moment earlier, his hands, his lips had been quivering. Now they were firm and still. "Why?" he repeated in a new, stronger voice. "Why?" He was fighting for one last chance, fighting with his remaining reserve of dignity. "I'll tell you why, my Colonel. Because I don't care whether I live or not. But I want to die as a Spaniard, as a free man again. I want to die as a Republican. Is that reason enough?"

Colonel Santiago Iglesias was not a cruel person. He hated to play cat and mouse with a human being, even with such as Rivas. But his first responsibilities were to the Republic. "I hardly think so," he said, speaking as an officer, although as a man he knew that Rivas had stated a good reason, because he knew the reason to be true. "I hardly think so, Rivas," he said. "Merely because the wife of a man who betrayed the Republic turns out to be a wh.o.r.e is no reason for the Republic to love him more."

Fernando Rivas bent forward, as if he were trying to ward off a heavy series of blows. "No," he said. "It is not reason enough."

The thin body of Rafael Abelando shook with silent laughter for a moment, and then it became still. The young major turned to Santiago, his face filled with a sudden pity for the wreck of a man in the chair.

Hall caught the look, too, the admission of something Rafael would have died rather than say out loud. The boy was ready to give the traitor Rivas his last chance. It was the moment Santiago had been waiting for; without Rafael's implicit confidence in his plan, he had all but decided to call it off.

"What do you think, Pancho?"

Hall nodded agreement.

"And you, Major?"

"The h.e.l.l with what I think. I'll do my thinking later. If he comes through, I'll tell you what I think. If he funks out on us, I'll slit his throat."

"All right, Rivas," Santiago said. "We will give you your chance. We need your help tonight."

"Shall I come armed? I am an expert marksman, Colonel."

"No. We shall carry the arms. You shall carry the key--or the keys. We want to get into the third floor of the Emba.s.sy, and we want to get out alive--and without shooting. Can it be done?"