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Santos gave her no time to live over the past.

“You see, Mrs. Dunlap,” he explained, as he led up to the object of his visit, “the time has come to overthrow the regime in Central America–for a revolution which will bring together all the countries in a union like the old United States of Central America.”

He had spread out the map on the table.

“Only,” he added, “we would call the new state, Vespuccia.”

“We?” queried Constance.

“Yes–my–colleagues-you call it in English! We have already a Junta with headquarters in an old loft on South Street, in New York.”

Santos indicated the plan of campaign on the map.

“We shall strike a blow,” he cried, bringing his fist down on the table as if the blow had already fallen, “that will paralyze the enemy at the very start!”

He paused.

“Will you help us raise the money?” he repeated earnestly.

Constance had been inactive long enough. The appeal was romantic, almost irresistible. Besides–no, at the outset she put out of consideration any thought of the fascinating young soldier of fortune himself.

The spirit of defiance of law and custom was strong upon her. That was all.

“Yes,” she replied, “I will help you.”

Santos leaned over, and with a graceful gesture that she could not resent, raised her finger tips gallantly to his lips.

“Thank you,” he said with, a courtly smile. “We have already won!”

The next day Ramon introduced her to the other members of the Junta. It was evident that he was in fact as well as name their leader, but they were not like the usual oily plotters of revolution who congregate about the round tables in dingy back rooms of South Street cafes, apportioning the gold lace, the offices, and the revenues among themselves. There was an “air” about them that was different.

“Let me present Captain Lee Gordon of the Arrayo,” remarked Santos, coming to a stockily-built, sun-burned man with the unmistakable look of the Anglo-Saxon who has spent much time in the neighborhood of the tropical sun. “The Arroyo is the ship that is to carry the arms and the plant to the island–from Brooklyn. We choose Brooklyn because it is quieter over there–fewer people late at night on the streets.”

Captain Gordon bowed, without taking his eyes off Constance.

“I am, like yourself, Mrs. Dunlap, a recent recruit,” he explained. “It is a wonderful plan,” he added enthusiastically. “We shall sweep the country with it.”

He flicked off the ash of his inevitable cigarette, much as if it were the opposition of the governments they were to encounter.

It was evident that the Captain was much impressed by Constance. Yet she instinctively disliked the man. His cameraderie had something offensive about it, as contrasted with the deferential friendship of Santos.

With all her energy, however, Constance plunged directly into her work. Indeed, even at the start she was amazed to find that money for a revolution could be raised at all. She soon, found that it could be done more easily in New York than anywhere else in the world.

There seemed to be something about her that apparently appealed to those whom she went to see. She began to realize what a tremendous advantage a woman of the world had in presenting the case and convincing a speculator of the rich returns if the revolution should prove successful. More than that, she quickly learned that it was best to go alone, that it was she, quite as much as the promised concessions for tobacco, salt, telegraph, telephone monopolies, that loosed the purse strings.

Her first week’s report of pledges ran into the thousands with a substantial immediate payment of real dollars.

“How did you do it?” asked Santos in undisguised admiration, as she was telling him one night of her success, in the dusty, cobwebbed little ship chandlery on South Street where the Junta headquarters had been established.

“Dollar diplomacy,” she laughed, not displeased at his admiration. “We shall soon convert American dollars into Vespuccian bullets.”