He held his breath for a moment. "I was to take a table just inside the restaurant," he explained, "and to tell him directly he entered. I did exactly as I was told, but it was too late. Rosario was stabbed as he was on the point of entering the restaurant, within a few yards of where I was sitting." She shivered a little, although her general expression was still unchanged. "You mean that he was murdered?" "He was killed upon the spot," Arnold declared. "By whom?" He shook his head. "No one knows. The man got away. I bought an evening paper as I came along and I see they haven't arrested any one yet." "Was there a quarrel?" she asked. "Nothing of the sort," he replied. "The other man seemed simply to have run out from somewhere and stabbed him with one thrust. I saw it all but I was powerless to interfere." "You saw the man who did it?" she asked. "Only his arm," Arnold answered. "He kept his body twisted around somehow. It was a blackguardly thing to do." "It was horrible!" she murmured. There was an interruption. The piece of tattered curtain which concealed the portion of the room given over to Isaac, and which led beyond to his sleeping chamber, was flung on one side. Isaac himself stood there, his black eyes alight with anger. "Liar!" he exclaimed. "Liars, both of you!" They looked at him without speech, his interruption was so sudden, so unexpected. The girl had forgotten his presence in the room; Arnold had never been conscious of it. "I tell you that Rosario was a robber of mankind," Isaac cried. "He was one of those who feed upon the bones of the poor. His place was in Hell and into Hell he has gone. Honor to the hand which started him on his journey!" "You go too far, Isaac," Arnold protested. "I never heard any particular harm of the man except that he was immensely wealthy." Isaac stretched out his thin hand. His bony forefinger pointed menacingly towards Arnold.