White trousers as one of the caballeros would propose an adjournme

out my share and pay you back what you've lost on this scheme." "Lost!" exclaimed Keogh, jumping up. "Didn't

you get paid for the picture?" "Yes,

I got paid," said White. "But just now there isn't any picture, and there isn't any pay. If you care to hear about it, here are
the edifying details. The president and I were looking at the painting.
His secretary
brought a bank draft on New York for ten thousand dollars and handed
it to me. The moment I touched it
I went wild. I tore it into little pieces and threw them on the floor.

A workman was repainting the pillars inside the

_patio_. A bucket of his paint happened to be convenient. I picked up his brush and slapped a quart of blue paint all over that
ten-thousand-dollar nightmare. I bowed, and walked out. The president didn't move or speak. That was one time he was taken by surprise. It's

tough on you, Billy, but I couldn't help it." There seemed to be excitement in Coralio. Outside there was a confused, rising murmur pierced by high-pitched cries. "_Bajo el traidor--Muerte
el traidor!_" were the words they seemed to form.

"Listen to that!" exclaimed White, bitterly: "I know that much Spanish. They're shouting, 'Down with the traitor!' I heard them before. I felt that they meant me. I was a traitor to Art. The picture had to go." "'Down with the blank

fool' would have suited your case better," said Keogh, with

fiery emphasis. "You tear up ten thousand dollars like an old rag because the way you've spread on
five dollars' worth of paint hurts your conscience.
Next time I pick a sid