Morse and I sat at supper in a room which differed in no way from the ordinary study of a country gentleman. Except for the very slightest suggestion rather than sensation of vibration, which my host explained was the drag of the City on the three great towers which perpetually oscillated out of the perpendicular, and so insured the safety of the vast elastic structure, there was nothing to indicate that we were two thousand two hundred feet up in the air. Our meal was of the simplest, and during it I told Morse, without reservation, all that I had heard from Arthur Winstanley. "He has the outline very correctly. I'll fill it in later. How long has Lord Arthur been in London?" "About five days, I believe." "Time for many preparations to be made if they're going to strike quickly," he said, more to himself than to me, drumming his fingers on the tablecloth. Then he looked up. "And these two men who were seen to-day in the bar of your public house?" "One, sir, was undoubtedly Midwinter. My very sharp-witted informant describes the other man as a swarthy person of just over middle height and apparently of great personal strength. He was bearded, sallow-faced, and had somewhat the appearance of a half-caste." "Zorilla y Toro, as I expected," said Morse. "Zorilla the Bull, as he is known in half the Republics of South America." "No doubt," I remarked, "a formidable pair of ruffians, but remember that I saw you deal with one of them at any rate, that night at the Ritz Hotel. The way he legged it out of the drawing-room wouldn't have inspired me with any particular fear of him." Morse struck the table with his hand. "I wish I'd sent a bullet through his heart instead of playing fancy fireworks round him. But I feared London and your colossal law and order. It's perfectly true, he didn't influence me in the least on that night. He came to sell his employers, to sell the Hermandad for a hundred thousand pounds." "It would have been cheaper than this." I waved my hand to indicate the expensive crow's-nest of my future father-in-law. Morse laughed. "It wouldn't have made the least difference," he said. "The man couldn't hurt me at the time because he had to obey the orders of the villainous Society at his back. The old Marquis da Silva, who is simply a tool in their hands, insisted that I was not to be even interfered with in any way until the two years of grace from my first warning were up. Though their object was to get hold of half my fortune, and Midwinter's to revenge himself personally upon me, the Society and he didn't dare do anything until the moment struck. There were too many political issues still involved. "That's why I made Mr. Mark Antony Midwinter dance out of the Ritz Hotel on that night." "It's what Arthur Winstanley said."