Summary

Portrait of Richard Harding Davis Richard Harding Davis The Lost Road (collection) — The Miracle of Las Palmas (1913)

Aintree knew why she was going, knew she had lost faith and patience, knew the woman he loved had broken with him and put him out of her life. Appalled at this calamity, he proceeded to get drunk in earnest.
The night was very hot and the humidity very heavy, and at Las Palmas inside the bungalow that served as a police-station the lamps on either side of the lieutenant's desk burned like tiny furnaces. Between them, panting in the moist heat and with the sweat from his forehead and hand dripping upon an otherwise immaculate report, sat Standish.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Richard Harding Davis Richard Harding Davis The Lost Road (collection) — The Miracle of Las Palmas (1913)

The hand that held his ground the bones together.
"I've given my word!" cried Aintree. "For the love of God, don't torture me. Is the man alive?"
As Standish swung open the cell door, the hero of Batangas, he who could thrash any man on the isthmus, crumpled up like a child upon his shoulder.
And Meehan, as he ran for water, shouted joyfully.
"That nigger," he called to Bullard, "can go home now. The lieutenant don't want him no more."
Source: Wikisource

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