“The local astors put me and Fergus up at the Centipede Club，a frame building built on posts sunk in the surf.The tide's only nine inches.The little Big High low Jack-in-the-game of the town came around and kowtowed.oh，it wasn't to Herr Mees.They had heard about Judson Tate.
“one afternoon me and Fergus McMahan was sitting on the seaward gallery of the Centipede，drinking iced rum and talking.
“‘Judson，'says Fergus，‘there's an angel in oratama.'
“‘So long，'says I，‘as it ain't Gabriel，why talk as if you had heard a trump blow？'
“‘It's the Se?orita anabela Zamora，’says Fergus.‘She’s—she’s—she’s as lovely as—as hell！’
“‘Bravo！'says I，laughing heartily.‘You have a true lover's eloquence to paint the beauties of your inamorata.You remind me，'says I，‘of Faust's wooing of Marguerite—that is，if he wooed her after he went down the trap-door of the stage.'
“‘Judson，'says Fergus，‘you know you are as beautiless as a rhinoceros.You can't have any interest in women.I'm awfully gone in Miss anabela.and that's why I'm telling you.’
“‘oh，seguramente，'says I.‘I know I have a front elevation like an aztec god that guards a buried treasure that never did exist in Jefferson County，Yucatan.But there are compensations.For instance，I am It in this country as far as the eye can reach，and then a few perches and poles.and again，'says I，‘when I engage people in a set-to of oral，vocal，and laryngeal utterances，I do not usually confine my side of the argument to what may be likened to a cheap phonographic reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfsh.'
“‘oh，I know，'says Fergus，amiable，‘that I'm not handy at small talk.or large，either.That's why I'm telling you.I want you to help me.'
“‘How can I do it？'I asked.
“‘I have subsidized，'says Fergus，‘the services of Se?orita anabela’s duenna，whose name is Francesca.You have a reputation in this country，Judson，’says Fergus，‘of being a great man and a hero.’
“‘I have，'says I.‘and I deserve it.'
“‘and I，'says Fergus，‘am the best-looking man between the arctic circle and antarctic ice pack.'
“‘With limitations，'says I，‘as to physiognomy and geography，I freely concede you to be.'
“‘Between the two of us，'says Fergus，‘we ought to land the Se?orita anabela Zamora.The lady，as you know，is of an old Spanish family，and further than looking at her driving in the family carruaje of afternoons around the plaza，or catching a glimpse of her through a barred window of evenings，she is as unapproachable as a star.’
“‘land her for which one of us？'says I.
“‘For me，of course，'says Fergus.‘You've never seen her.Now，I've had Francesca point me out to her as being you on several occasions.When she sees me on the plaza，she thinks she's looking at don Judson Tate，the greatest hero，statesman，and romantic figure in the country.With your reputation and my looks combined in one man，how can she resist him？She's heard all about your thrilling history，of course.and she’s seen me.Can any woman want more？’asks Fergus McMahan.
“‘Can she do with less？'I ask.‘How can we separate our mutual attractions，and how shall we apportion the proceeds？'
“Then Fergus tells me his scheme.
“The house of the alcalde，don luis Zamora，he says，has a patio，of course—a kind of inner courtyard opening from the street.In an angle of it is his daughter's window—as dark a place as you could fnd.And what do you think he wants me to do？Why，knowing my freedom，charm，and skilfulness of tongue，he proposes that I go into the patio at midnight，when the hobgoblin face of me cannot be seen，and make love to her for him—for the pretty man that she has seen on the plaza，thinking him to be don Judson Tate.
“Why shouldn't I do it for him—for my friend，Fergus McMahan？For him to ask me was a compliment—an acknowledgment of his own shortcomings.
“‘You little，lily white，fine-haired，highly polished piece of dumb sculpture，'says I，‘I'll help you.Make your arrangements and get me in the dark outside her window and my stream of conversation opened up with the moonlight tremolo stop turned on，and she's yours.'
“‘Keep your face hid，Jud，'says Fergus.‘For heaven's sake，keep your face hid.I'm a friend of yours in all kinds of sentiment，but this is a business deal.If I could talk I wouldn't ask you.But seeing me and listening to you I don't see why she can’t be landed.’
“‘By you？'says I.
“‘By me，'says Fergus.
“Well，Fergus and the duenna，Francesca，attended to thedetails.and one night they fetched me a long black cloak with a high collar，and led me to the house at midnight.I stood by the window in the patio until I heard a voice as soft and sweet as an angel's whisper on the other side of the bars.I could see only a faint，white clad shape inside；and，true to Fergus，I pulled the collar of my cloak high up，for it was July in the wet seasons，and the nights were chilly.and，smothering a laugh as I thought of the tongue-tied Fergus，I began to talk.
“Well，sir，I talked an hour at the Se?orita anabela.I say‘at’because it was not‘with.’Now and then she would say：‘oh，Se?or，’or‘Now，ain’t you foolin’？’or‘I know you don’t mean that，’and such things as women will when they are being rightly courted.Both of us knew English and Spanish；so in two languages I tried to win the heart of the lady for my friend Fergus.But for the bars to the window I could have done it in one.at the end of the hour she dismissed me and gave me a big，red rose.I handed it over to Fergus when I got home.
“For three weeks every third or fourth night I impersonated my friend in the patio at the window of Se?orita anabela.at last she admitted that her heart was mine，and spoke of having seen me every afternoon when she drove in the plaza.It was Fergus she had seen，of course.But it was my talk that won her.Suppose Fergus had gone there，and tried to make a hit in the dark with his beauty all invisible，and not a word to say for himself！
“on the last night she promised to be mine—that is，Fergus's.and she put her hand between the bars for me to kiss.I bestowed the kiss and took the news to Fergus.
“‘You might have left that for me to do，'says he.
“‘That'll be your job hereafter，'says I.‘Keep on doing that and don't try to talk.Maybe after she thinks she's in love she won't notice the difference between real conversation and the inarticulate sort of droning that you give forth.’
“Now，I had never seen Se?orita anabela.So，the next day Fergus asks me to walk with him through the plaza and view the daily promenade and exhibition of oratama society，a sight that had no interest for me.But I went；and children and dogs took to the banana groves and mangrove swamps as soon as they had a look at my face.
“‘Here she comes，'said Fergus，twirling his moustache—‘the one in white，in the open carriage with the black horse.'
“I looked and felt the ground rock under my feet.For Se?orita anabela Zamora was the most beautiful woman in the world，and the only one from that moment on，so far as Judson Tate was concerned.I saw at a glance that I must be hers and she mine forever.I thought of my face and nearly fainted；and then I thought of my other talents and stood upright again.and I had been wooing her for three weeks for another man！
“as Se?orita anabela’s carriage rolled slowly past，she gave Fergus a long，soft glance from the corners of her night-black eyes，a glance that would have sent Judson Tate up into heaven in a rubber-tired chariot.But she never looked at me.And that handsome man only ruffes his curls and smirks and prances like a lady-killer at my side.
“‘What do you think of her，Judson？'asks Fergus，with an air.
“‘This much，'says I.‘She is to be Mrs.Judson Tate.I am no man to play tricks on a friend.So take your warning.'
“I thought Fergus would die laughing.
“‘Well，well，well，'said he，‘you old doughface！Struck too，are you？That's great！But you're too late.Francesca tells me that anabela talks of nothing but me，day and night.of course，I'm awfully obliged to you for making that chin-music to her of evenings.But，do you know，I've an idea that I could have done it as well myself.’
“‘Mrs.Judson Tate，'says I.‘don't forget the name.You've had the use of my tongue to go with your good looks，my boy.You can't lend me your looks；but hereafter my tongue is my own.Keep your mind on the name that's to be on the visiting cards two inches by three and a half—“Mrs.Judson Tate.”That’s all.’
“‘all right，'says Fergus，laughing again.‘I've talked with her father，the alcalde，and he's willing.He's to give a baile tomorrow evening in his new warehouse.If you were a dancing man，Jud，I'd expect you around to meet the future Mrs.McMahan.’
“But on the next evening，when the music was playing loudest at the alcade Zamora's baile，into the room steps Judson Tate in new white linen clothes as if he were the biggest man in the whole nation，which he was.
“Some of the musicians jumped off the key when they saw my face，and one or two of the timidest se?oritas let out a screech or two.But up prances the alcalde and almost wipes the dust off my shoes with his forehead.No mere good looks could have won me that sensational entrance.
“‘I hear much，Se?or Zamora，’says I，‘of the charm of your daughter.It would give me great pleasure to be presented to her.’
“There were about six dozen willow rocking-chairs，with pink tidies tied on to them，arranged against the walls.In oneof them sat Se?orita anabela in white Swiss and red slippers，with pearls and frefies in her hair.fergus was at the other end of the room trying to break away from two maroons and a claybank girl.
“The alcalde leads me up to anabela and presents me.When she took the frst look at my face she dropped her fan and nearly turned her chair over from the shock.But I'm used to that.