"Hello, Williams! You got around finally, didn't you?" Kirk smiled at him. A little man in blue uniform was attempting to take the prisoner in charge, but the detective disregarded him. "It won't do you any good to resist," he went on. "I've come to get you." Runnels elbowed his way forward with a question. "Oh, I've got a warrant for him," Williams declared. "What for? Well, for one thing he embezzled eighty thousand dollars, and I'm going to take him back." "Eh? W'at is this?" Alfarez bustled into the conversation. "Embezzle? He is then a t'ief?" "Exactly. If you're the inspector I'll ask you to make this arrest for me. I believe we're on foreign ground." "That's right, Alfarez," came the voice of John Weeks, anxious to have a word in the affair. "I'll vouch for Mr. Williams. This chap is a smooth one, but his name isn't Anthony at all, nor Locke, either; it's Wellar; and he's wanted for other things besides embezzlement." Turning his triumphant little red eyes upon the prisoner, he puffed, "Got you, didn't we?" "I regret you 'ave arrive' so late," smirked Alfarez. "The gentleman is already arrest' for the murder of Senor Cortlan'. He will first answer to that, I assure you." Kirk nodded. "Too bad, Williams! I'm sorry you didn't come last night." They went on down the street, leaving the detective staring and Weeks open-mouthed. "Cortlandt murdered!" the consul gasped. "Lord! And to think I nourished that viper at my breast." Williams wheeled and cursed the fat man furiously. It was during the lunch-hour that Ramon Alfarez called at the Garavel home, finding the banker and his daughter still loitering over their midday meal and discussing the topic that had electrified the whole city. "Ah, Ramon!" the old gentleman began, eagerly. "Be seated and tell us quickly the latest news. A terrible thing, was it not, this death of our good friend? I have been to see his unfortunate widow, but even yet I cannot believe it to be true." "Yes. A terrible thing! It was only last night that we saw him well and happy." Although Alfarez was trembling with eagerness to tell his news, he also meant to extract the greatest possible satisfaction from it, and now bent an inquiring glance upon Gertrudis. His look turned to one of malicious triumph as he saw that he was, indeed, the first to bring the tidings of Anthony's arrest; for the girl's acceptance of his suit had by no means wiped out the memory of her momentary preference for his rival, and he had hastened hither straight from the police barracks, delighting in the chance to make her suffer. "So fine a man," the father was saying. "He was, indeed, my good friend. It is shocking." "Yes, and to think he should have been killed in this cowardly manner!" "Killed! Is it believed that he was murdered? Caramba! I supposed he had shot himself. That was the gossip an hour ago." Garavel was deeply affected, and motioned for the dishes in front of him to be removed.