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Strip by strip there opened out before me, as I climbed the "ThousandStairs" to the red-roofed Administration Building, the broad panoramaof Panama and her bay; below, the city of closely packed roofs andthree-topped plazas compressed in a scallop of the sun-gleamingPacific, with its peaked and wooded islands to far Taboga tiltingmotionless away to the curve of the earth; behind, the low, irregularjungled hills stretching hazily off into South America. On thethird-story landing I paused to wipe the light sweat from forehead andhatband, then pushed open the screen door of the passageway that leadsto police headquarters.
"Emm—What military service have you had?" asked "the Captain," lookingup from the letter I had presented and swinging half round in hisswivel-chair to fix his clear eyes upon me.
"None."
"No?" he said slowly, in a wondering voice; and so long grew thesilence, and so plainly did there spread across "the Captain's" facethe unspoken question, "Well, then what the devil are you applying herefor?" that I felt all at once the stern necessity of putting in a wordfor myself or lose the day entirely.
"But I speak Spanish and—"
"Ah!" cried "the Captain," with the rising inflection of awakenedinterest, "That puts another face on the matter."
Slowly his eyes wandered, with the far-away look of inner reflection,to the vacant chair of "the Chief" on the opposite side of the