By dint of considerable effort Kirk succeeded in working his way through the wide double doors, and, being much above the average height, he was able to get a good view of the proceedings. Upon a platform a group of ceremonious officials were gathered about a revolving wire cage, so arranged that it could be whirled rapidly upon its axis. Into it were put ten ivory spheres, resembling billiard-balls in size and appearance. When this had been done, the cage was closed, and a very badly frightened twelve-year-old girl was selected at random from the audience, then lifted to the stage, where it required the commands and entreaties of her excited parents to prevent her from dissolving in tears. At a word from the master of ceremonies the cage was spun until the ivory balls inside leaped and capered like captive squirrels. Then at another signal it was stopped. The door was opened and the little girl reached in a trembling hand and selected a sphere. It proved to be hollow, with two halves screwed together, and in full sight of the assembly it was opened, displaying a bit of paper inside. "Ocho!" cried the announcer, and a card bearing the numeral "8" was raised. The paper was replaced inside the ivory ball, the ball itself was dropped into the wire cage, the door was closed, and once more the cage was spun. Kirk was much interested in the scene, not from any faintest hope that he would draw a prize, but purely from the novel atmosphere and color of the thing. While his eyes were busiest, and just as the child prepared to draw another ball, he felt a clutch upon his arm, and, glancing down, beheld the glowing black eyes of Senor Ramon Alfarez fixed upon him. Alfarez was dressed immaculately, this time in civilian's white linen, his ferocious little mustachios carefully pointed, his cheeks freshly shaven and talcumed, his slender feet encased in white canvas shoes. A wonderful Guayaquil hat, the creamy straws of which were no thicker than silk threads, crowned his sleek, raven locks. It must have cost a small fortune. He carried a dapper little cane, with which he tapped his former prisoner to attract his attention. At sight of him Kirk drew down his brows and said, gruffly: "Don't poke me with that umbrella." He turned away, but again Alfarez touched him with the rattan. "I will spik' wit' you, hombre," he said. "If you keep jabbing me with that crutch I'll break it, and then you can't walk home." Ramen jerked his head toward the square outside in an imperious fashion, and Kirk, curious to learn the cause of this unusual excitement, followed him without demur. When they had reached the street the Spaniard turned with flashing eyes and a mirthless smile. "Well!" he said, dramatically. "Pretty well. How goes it with you?" "So! You 'ave socceed in your cowardly attemp'." "My what?" "I am lose my poseetion as Commandante of Police." "You don't say so!" Kirk's face broke into a smile of real pleasure.