“And what might you be wanting with ‘the Spaniard,’ mister?” asked Alf, leaning across the bar, and speaking confidentially almost into Ellery’s ear. “Certainly nothing to his disadvantage. But I want to know something, and I think he may be able to tell me.” The publican looked at him a trifle suspiciously. “Is the gentleman known to you, maybe?” he asked. “No; or I could probably find him for myself. I thought you might know him.” “Well, he ain’t here,” said Alf, apparently making up his mind to Ellery’s disadvantage. Ellery began to expostulate; but at that moment, through the same curtained door through which mine host had come, walked a quite unmistakable figure—a very tall, thin man, with perfectly white hair and beard, the latter cut to a fine point. The new-comer wore a long and very threadbare black cloak, now green with age, and he seemed just about to place upon his head a very wide-brimmed black—or rather greenish—felt hat, which Ellery thought of instinctively as a “sombrero.” In a fine, high-pitched voice, perfectly cultivated but a good deal affected, and with a curious intonation that seemed like the affectation of a foreign accent, he addressed the woman behind the bar. “Did I hear my name spoken among you?” he asked. The woman turned to Alf, who shrugged his shoulders. “Here he is,” he said to Ellery. “I suppose you’d better ask him what you want.” Ellery put on his best manners. “Sir,” said he to the man called “the Spaniard,” “may I have the honour of a few words with you on a matter which concerns me very deeply, and you, I must admit, scarcely at all?” “The Spaniard” bowed low. “The honour, sir,” he replied, “is with me. For, as the poet says, ‘Honoured is he to whom man speaks the things of his heart.’” “We will call the honours easy, if you please. But I shall be very much obliged for a few words with you.” “If it please you, then, let us take the air together. I can speak and listen better under the sky.” “With pleasure; but just a word before we go. My friend, Miss Cowper, and the—gentleman who brought me to you are waiting outside. You will not mind if they accompany us?” Ellery had some misgiving that, suddenly confronted with a policeman, the old “Spaniard” might reach the conclusion that he had been led into a trap, and refuse to speak. “And to whom do I owe the honour of this introduction?” “Well, to be frank, he is a policeman; but he is acting quite in a non-professional capacity.” The old man hesitated a moment. Then he said only, “Let us go.” Outside, Ellery’s fears were speedily removed. He saw Joan and the policeman waiting a few doors off. “The Spaniard” saw them too, and, at sight of Mulligan, his face lighted up with pleasure. He greeted Joan with a low bow, and then turned to Mulligan with another.