Slowly mounting the stairs ahead of him like a trained
hippopotamus was the colossal, panting figure of the American
consul, at sight of which Kirk's pride rose up in arms and forbade
him to follow. Doubtless Weeks had spread his story broadcast; it
was manifestly impossible for him to appeal to his recent card
partners--they would believe he had deliberately imposed upon
them. It was humiliating, yet there seemed nothing to do except to
await the Cortlandts' return, and, if he failed to reach them by
telephone, to spend the night in the open. It occurred to him that
he might try to locate Stein or some other of his late fellow-
passengers, but they were probably scattered across the Isthmus by
this time.
A band was playing in the plaza when he came back--a very good
band, too--and, finding a bench, he allowed his mind the relief of
idly listening to the music. The square was filling with Spanish
people, who soon caught and held his attention, recalling Mrs.
Cortlandt's words regarding the intermixture of bloods in this
country; for every imaginable variety of mongrel breed looked out
from the loitering crowd. But no matter what the racial blend,
black was the fundamental tone. Undeniably the Castilian strain
was running out; not one passer-by in ten seemed really white.
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