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     Quentin looked at him grimly. “That's what you say. If a revolution does start, this is one of the first places they're coming to. You don't think they'll let General Fuentes get away after what he's done to them, do you?”

     The manager looked as if he were going to faint. “You must not say such things,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “It is very dangerous to talk like that.”

     Quentin jerked his head at Anita. “Go and tell her,” he said, “this is no place for American women.”

     Anita scowled at him. “It is all right for me... yes?” she said. “It doesn't matter about me ... no?”

     Quentin climbed out of his chair. “Go and tell her,” he said. “Never mind about yourself. You'll be all right.”

     She went out, closing the door sharply behind her. Quentin glanced at Morecombre, who was setting the table. “Rather complicated if we've got to look after some American girl, huh?” he said. “If things do start happening, I want to be free to move from here quickly.”

     Morecombre grinned. “No woman has ever complicated my life,” he said. “If she's a looker, you don't have to worry. I'll look after her.”

     The manager wrung his hands. “This is a terrible thing that you do, senor,” he said, “turning my guests from my hotel.”

     Quentin poured out some coffee. “Don't talk a lotta bull,” he said. “You know as well as I do that all your guests have gone. If anything happens to this girl, I'm going to report the matter to the consul.”

     The manager looked at him sulkily, and helped himself to a cup of coffee. “Nothing will happen,” he said; “I assure you that nothing will happen.”

     Just then Anita came back. Her black eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “The senorita says she stays,” she said. “She has no place else to go, so she stays.”

     Quentin groaned. “As if I haven't got enough to worry about,” he said. “You gotta go and see her,” he went on, turning to the manager, “tell her that there is likely to be a disturbance in the town and she had better go.”

     The manager shook his head. “I cannot say such a thing. It is not true.”

     Quentin got to his feet. “Then I'll see her,” he said. “I'm not taking the responsibility of her being here if things get hot. She can take a car out of town and the sooner she's out the better.” He went to the door. “What room is she in?”

     Anita's eyes opened. “But, senor, she is in bed. You cannot go to her.”

     Morecombre got to his feet hurriedly. “Just a minute, pal,” he said. “This sounds like a job for a man of the world. Just step on one side and let me handle it.”

     Quentin eyed him coldly. “Sit down and shut up! What room is she in?”

     Anita told him, looking furiously at Morecombre, and Quentin went out, crossed the corridor and knocked sharply on the door indicated. He heard someone say something inaudible, so he turned the handle and went in.

     Standing by the open windows, looking on to the hotel grounds, was a tall girl, dressed in a white silk evening wrap. She turned sharply as Quentin entered. “What do you want?” she asked.

     Quentin regarded her with interest. He was more interested in her expression than her actual beauty. He was curious about the hurt, sullen look in her eyes and the little frown that increased as their eyes met.

     “I'm sorry to come barging in like this,” he said, standing just inside the room, holding the door handle, “but I thought you ought to be told that this hotel is not the place for any unattached girl. There is going to be a bad disturbance—”

     She interrupted him. “I don't know who you are,” she said, “but the maid has already told me that I ought to go. This is a hotel, and I intend to stay. Anyway, for the time being.” She turned back to the window, dismissing him.

     Quentin felt a strong desire to reach out and turn her over his knee. He came further into the room and shut the door. “Maybe I had better introduce myself. I'm Quentin of the New York Post.”

     He saw her suddenly stiffen, but she didn't turn from the window.

     He went on: “I'm down here because my paper expects trouble. All Americans, except the residents, have cleared out. The residents have gone over to the consul's house under guard. I guess you're about the only white woman foot-loose around this town. If you'll pack, I'll take you over to the consul myself.”

     For a moment she hesitated, then she turned and faced him. “I don't understand what you're talking about,” she said sharply. “What trouble? What can happen here?”