He had been in the wars. His clothes were all disordered, his collar was flying loose, his coat was torn, and he had the crumpled look which a man is apt to have at two o’clock in the morning after a night on the general rampage finished up with a scrimmage with the police. His first act was inspired by the sheer stupidity of rage. He turned and shook his fists at the door and swore copiously. He had quite a natural gift for cursing, and gave free vent to it. Then he began to put his clothes straight and saw me for the first time. “Hallo, you here?” “Yes.” Both question and answer sounded a little superfluous under the circumstances, but it turned out that he recognized me. “Did they want you?” He swore again as he recalled his own experiences. “Who?” “Those infernal brutes out there?” “Do you mean the police?” Instead of replying he gave me a sharp look and then came up close and peered inquiringly at me with his head slightly on one side. “What the devil are you doing here?” “Waiting to go somewhere else; but where, seems a little doubtful at present.” He laughed. “I didn’t expect they’d take you yet. They’re all fools--the whole lot of them. I told them to give you more rope.” “What kind?” “Oh, not that sort;” and he made a gesture to indicate hanging. Then wrinkling his brows he added suspiciously: “You didn’t come of your own accord, did you?” “Perhaps you’ll make things a bit plainer.” “If you did, you’d better tell me.” “If there’s any telling to be done you’d better start it,” I said drily. “They got me to-night---- Here, aren’t you interested in Miralda Dominguez?” he broke off lowering his voice. “I’m getting rather interested in you. Who are you?” He winked knowingly. He was quite young, dark and not bad-looking, except that he had sly ferretty eyes. “You don’t know, eh? You don’t remember, eh? Is that your line? Or are you on the same tack as I am?” “What is your particular tack?” “You might have guessed it I should think. They’ve got about twenty of Barosa’s people here and about half a dozen police to look after them. Somebody let ’em know that I meant to save myself by telling things, and the brutes nearly tore me to bits as I came up. The devils;” and once more he cursed them luridly. “But I’ll make it hot for some of them,” he added, his little close-set eyes gleaming viciously. “Oh, you’re an informer, are you? Well, I don’t like your breed, I’m----” “Oh, I know you, of course. You’re Ralph Donnington, the reputed English millionaire. I know;” and he winked again. “I saw you at the de Pinsara house the other night with Barosa. He told me you were all right. I had to tell them about you, of course. They’ve sucked me about as dry as a squeezed orange. Barosa told me you were interested in Miralda Dominguez----” “I’d rather not talk any more,” I interposed sharply.