As the prisoner and Officer Jackson, handcuffed together, came up the g**g-plank, Renfrew, the attorney, standing on the promenade deck above, turned from his contemplation of the city of San Juan as it lay green and white in the afternoon sun, and bent forward.
“By George,” he cried, exultingly, “that’s Frank Howard! He’s caught! Caught here, of all places in the world!”
With hands tight gripped on the rail he watched the two men until they disappeared below; then, eager to share his discovery of the ending of a quest that had extended over two continents, he turned and hurried along the deck to where two ladies stood leaning against the taffrail.
“Yes, my dear,” the elder was saying, “Porto Rico is pretty enough for any one. It looked pretty when I came, and it looks prettier as I go.
