The Army had surrendered unconditionally. In fact a large number of Officers had been secretly against the Dictator’s policies for a long time.

Everything was quiet. The people were only waiting to welcome their new President, who had been chosen unanimously.

All day long men came and went on the yacht, talking with El Diablo, drinking the wine that Skye offered them on deck and then hurrying away to carry out the instructions of their new leader.

“His body may be a bit the worse for wear, but his head’s all right!” a civic dignitary said to Skye and she laughed to hide her anxiety.

El Diablo must be very tired. She was wondering frantically how she could interfere and what she could say to stop the stream of callers, which seemed never-ending, when Evans took the initiative.

To Evans a patient was a patient whether he was a President or a deck hand and it was Evans who shut the cabin door decisively and came up on deck to say,

“No more visitors.”

“You’ll kill him and then what will you do?” he asked aggressively when someone argued that they had to see El Diablo and that what they had to communicate to him could not wait.

“He’ll be here tomorrow if you haven’t harried him into the grave,” Evans continued. “Nine o’clock’s the time for visiting and not a moment before. Sorry, gentlemen, but them’s the doctor’s orders.”

Skye heard what Evans had said being translated by those who understood English for the benefit of those who only spoke Spanish.

And then, as Evans came walking across the deck like a cocky sparrow, she said to him quietly,

“How is he?”

“Tired, miss, dead tired. I’m going to give him something to eat and he’ll be asleep the moment he’s swallowed it, you see if he ain’t.”

But El Diablo was actually asleep before he swallowed anything and Evans, muttering to himself, had to carry the uneaten supper back to the galley.

The Mariposan doctor, who came on board at eight o’clock next morning was delighted with the condition of the wounds.

“His Excellency is much better than I had dared to hope for, señora,” he said. “I heard what had happened and I felt that, if the bullets had not killed him, they must have done inestimable damage. This is a miracle!”

“Yes, it is a miracle,” Skye agreed, “sent because he is so vitally needed in Mariposa.”

“That’s true enough,” the doctor smiled. “And if you get a chance, señora, will you speak to His Excellency about the hospital? It’s in a terrible state of disrepair. We need funds for new laboratories as well as for the repair of old buildings and the furnishing of new wards.”

“I will do what I can,” Skye promised him.