shoulder, was an enormous Spanish capa. This hid
every part of his body from his chin to the knees of
his cotton ducks. From where I sat he looked like
a conspirator in the play, or the assassin who lies in
wait up the dark alley. Once inside he wrinkled his
shoulders with the shivering movement of a horse
dislocating a fly, dropped the red-lined end of the
capa, removed his Panama and began a series of genuflections
which showed me at once that he had been
born among a people who imbibed courtesy with their
mother's, or their cocoanut's, milk.

"I am look' for the Grandioso Engineer," said the
visitor. "I am Senor Garlicho--" Then a shade
of uncertainty crossed his face: Mawkum was still
staring at him. "It is a mistake then, perhaps? I
have a letter from Senor Law-TON. Is it not to the
great designer of lighthouse which I speak?" This
came with more bows--one almost to the floor.

The mention of Lawton's name brought Mawkum
to his senses. He placed his fat hand on his vest,
crooked his back, and without the slightest allusion
to the fact that the original and only Grandioso occupied
the adjoining room, motioned the visitor to a
seat and opened the letter.

I thought now it was about time I should assert
my rights. Pushing back my chair, I walked rapidly
through my own and Mawkum's room and held out