The Washington times., 1911-04-09

| her face was crimson beneatn the rouBc.
| The memory was evidently embarrass-
| ing, recalling some incident Of the old
days in Paris, when the two OF them
| had been very young and imposslbly
| foolish. She, too. remembered all too
| well those rare years. when dinner was
dear for one and cheaper for two
| though dearer still, indeed, and spiced
with the laughter which cost nothing
at all; when one loved, and generously,
and-and an indiscretion was nothing
more.
Was the memory of the past to prove
| her ally or her foe? She had counted on
its influence as friendly-but she had
not expected the president to make such
sudden reference to 1t. There would be
plenty of time, when she should know
him better, to recall It to him timidly.
tentatively, that he might be more bold.
."Adele!" said the president softly,
his eyes twinkling.
She stood silent before him, her heavy
lids downcast, her lips curled petulantly.
II mas oeen shown that she was gowned
ekqulsl1eiy; the clinging sweep Of her
skirts htted well with the gracefulness
OF her. A well-gloved hand, not too
small: piloted the parasol which traced
meaningless designs upon the gravel
The hat which framed her face was cal
culated cunningiy to show the gold Of
Malone's eye caught and fingered upon
an ear of perfection and the full, dan
gerous, enticing line of her necks nape.
"Adele!" he repeated; and now his
eyes did not twinkle; rather they glow
ed.
The parasol continued to meander in
the gravel. The president put forth his
cane and followed it. Presently he
caught UP, though after an eyasive
chase, and hooked it. Their eyes met
Barry" she cried merrily, IT de-
clare you are the same wild Irishman!''
You think so, Dele? Don't believe
it. I'm an old man. Come, sit down
here and tell me all about It. I'm hun
cry for the ring of a friendly voice.
"Oh, your excellency, ! am an old
woman, Indeed. ] am. have mar
ried-"
"Ah" cried the president; his face
fell.
"oh, but he's dead. Barry-long, long
ago. He was-guess"
How should ! know. 'Dele?'
You know him. It was very long
ago. We were married In Paris-the
dear old Paris, Barry. And he-he died
'I confess" began Malone won
deringly.
She swept him courtesy.
Il am the Sonora Adele de Casada"
she announced.
She nodded assent to her lie. The
former president of Guatemala had died
in exile in France: he had never mar
ried. But how should Malone know
that?
II am very wealthy" she continued. 1t
was not unnatural that she should be; De
CasadS, had not been over-scrupulous
in his term of office. 81 travel about
with my duenna, Dona 1nez, for the
excitement Of 1t. In truth, Barry-shall
I tell your" She looked at him side
"of course you WILL" he demanded
II heard that you were president here,
and that brought me to Guayana-just
bold?'
You are adorabler he declared gal
lantly.
Inwardly she sneered at him: what a
with this man: he was all too ready to
jump at the bait of her fiattery:
And now tell me Of yourself"
The president glanced uneasily at the
tomb. Then, looking away toward the
badly of his marriage, the birth Of his
daughter, his wife's death; of his strug-
giles, his boundless ambition, the success
which had attended upon him In his
swift rise to the presidency.
But how is it," she asked, that you,
gringo, can be at the head Of Ana
huac? Does not the constitution provide
that the executive shall be native
born?'
''It did; changed r." he said.
He talked on for long. Her attention
to the details of his life and her quiet
show of sympathy warmed him. 1t Is
conceded that there are few men who
will not talk of self II pretty woman
bends an interested ear. Malone made
an end only when the shadows Of the
purple, jagged mountains were length
ening over the plain.
Men envy me" he SAID bitterly, and
plot against me to get my power from
me. They are fools. fools! Are they
thinking that l live in luxury? Believe
me, Adele, it is Damoclean. But week
ago one tried to assassinate me In my
own house; crippled him and sent him
to the Rotunda. An hour after, one OF
my boys, O'Mara, staggered to my room
with his throat cut. 1 have no friends,
none whom l may trust, save only my
Irishmen. They are faithful, loyal, true
But am lonely, lonely. Adele. Tell me
what life holds for me?'
MY friend"
The woman put forth her hand. He
caught and held it.
Your sympathy is sweet, Adele. The
sight of your friendly face Is like water
in a desert to me. You'll not be leaving
us soon, will you, now?"
II have taken a house, my friend, in
the Paseo de la Independence"
She smiled upon him darkly in the
dusk.
The minister of war occupied the
presidents carriage alone on the way
back to Guayana. Malone rode by the
door of the senora's carriage; and the
y