He switched the conversation round to his prisoner, for Jaime was staring out through the door of the hut, as if he had intentions of making a dash for liberty. But Tom's voice brought him to his senses. The man--a Spaniard by his appearance, but one evidently long departed from his own country, and well able to speak and understand English--shrivelled up into his corner, while into his black, beady eyes there came a hopeless expression, the expression to be met with on the face of a condemned criminal who knows he is past relief. It seemed evident, too, that Jaime was in that position, for a little while after, while Jim was bathing the face of the man who lay unconscious on the floor, a force of Colon police arrived, and quickly took affairs into their own hands. A smart officer entered the hut without ceremony. "Huh!" he exclaimed, when he had taken a swift glance round. "The watchin' ended in a ruction, that's evident. Who's that?" He stepped to the table, leaned both hands on it, and stared into the corner where the prisoners cowered. Tom coolly removed his pipe from between his lips, nodded to the officer, and then turned on Jaime. "Dat?" he asked, pointing with the stem of his pipe. "Oh, dat a very brave prisoner dat try to kill Massa Jim, and now very sorry! Stand up dere, yo in de corner. Stand up, or, by lummy, Tom want to know what fo! "Now den," continued Tom, when the wretch had risen to his feet, shivering with fright. "Who am yo?" "That don't matter one single brass pin ter me," ejaculated the officer suddenly, his colour heightening, his voice taking on a tone of exultation. "Reckon it's my business to know who every criminal is. Jaime de Oteros, you're badly wanted. Guess there's a score of charges up against you. Boys, jest come in here." He put his fingers to his lips and sent forth a shrill whistle, which instantly brought a couple of policemen into the hut. "Handcuffs for 'em both," said the officer shortly. "Search 'em for weapons. Now then, siree?" He turned on Jim serenely, and extended a hand. "Tell me all about it. Of course the darkie you sent along got to work and poured a whole heap of stuff into my ear as we ran here. Guess I know who you are, where you come from, and the very first day you ever had measles. There ain't many young chaps around same as Massa Jim." There was a broad smile on his face, and the grip he gave our hero was unusually cordial. "Gee!" he went on; "a real good coloured servant is a thing to be proud of. Reckon you've two. You're jest about lucky. Those boys think all the world of you, and I've been too long amongst them not to have learned that there's always a good reason when things are like that. You've got to be extra good and plucky and all that. But let's get to business. What happened?" Jim told him abruptly. "It was precious near a case with me," he smiled. "This fellow Jaime did his best to kill me. That's a reminder; he stuck his knife through my shoulder."