Chapter 25

CHECKMATE!

Anthony had no partner for the eighth dance, and was very glad of it, for he could not have carried off the necessary small talk. As it was, he felt that his excitement must be patent to those around him. His mind was filled with tormenting doubts, his chance for success seemed so infinitely small, his plan so extravagantly impracticable, now that the time had come!

As the music ceased and the dancers came pouring out into the cool night air, Runnels approached with his wife.

"Well, are you equal to it?" he asked.

Kirk nodded; he could not speak.

"Why, you look as cold as ice," exclaimed the woman, half- resentfully. "I'm the only one who seems to feel it. I--I'm positively delirious. My partners look at me in the strangest way, as if they thought I were liable to become dangerous at any moment."

"Not too loud!" her husband cautioned, then to Kirk: "Good-luck, old man. Lord! I need a bracer." His words stuck in his throat, and Kirk realized that he was himself the calmest of the three. Together, Runnels and his wife strolled off through the crowd, disappearing in the direction of the north wing of the hotel.

It seemed ages before the orchestra struck up; Kirk began to fear that something had happened to the musicians. He edged closer to the door and searched out Chiquita with his eyes. There she was, seated with her father, Colonel Bland from Gatun, and some high officer or other--probably an admiral. Ramon Alfarez was draped artistically over the back of her chair, curling his mustache tenderly and smiling vacantly at the conversation.

Kirk ground his teeth together and set his feet as if for the sound of the referee's whistle. He heard the orchestra leader tap his music-stand; then, as the first strains of the waltz floated forth, he stepped into the ballroom and made toward his sweetheart. All at once he found that his brain was clear, his heart-beats measured.

Of course she saw him coming; she had waited all the long evening for this moment. He saw her hand flutter uncertainly to her throat; then, as he paused before her, she rose without a word. His arm encircled her waist, her little, cold palm dropped into his as lightly as a snowflake, and they glided away together. He found himself whispering her name over and over again passionately.

"Why--why did you do this, senor?" she protested, faintly. "It is very hard for me."

"It is the last time I shall ever hold you--this way."

She faltered, her breath caught. "Please! My father is looking. Ramon--"

"Have you agreed to marry him?"

"Yes! No no! Oh, I have prayed to the Virgin every hour. I cannot, and yet I must. See! I cannot waltz, senor, I have s-stepped upon you. Take me back to my seat."

For answer he