"Sure I am, and my belief is that you are a liar. Do you recall the night when you broke jail ahead of the government troops that were going to shoot you next morning, and swam aboard my dredge in Guayaquil harbor?" "That revolution in Ecuador was unlucky for me," returned Captain Brincker, in a matter-of-fact way, as if this meeting were not at all extraordinary. "I was on the losing side. You hid me on your dredge and kept me there until I could slip away in a German tramp steamer. I have not forgotten it." Devlin stood alertly poised, his mind intent on the main issue. If there was to be a truce it must be on his own terms. There was contempt in his eyes as he said: "You have fallen pretty low since then, Captain Brincker, to play jackal to this cheap bully of a General Quesada. I'm sorry I hauled you aboard my dredge. I have called you a liar. Are you man enough to resent it?" As if his degradation had been brought home to him, Captain Brincker's deeply lined cheek turned a dull red. He had his own misguided sense of duty, however, and he was thinking of his employer's interests as he rejoined: "That is a personal matter. You and I will settle it later. I cannot let you come into this house, do you understand?" "Yes, I understand," growled Devlin. "You're bound to earn your dirty wages. Now, what about young Goodwin? He's a friend of mine, and you know what that means." "I can tell you nothing----" "I'm sick of all this conversation. I can see it in your eye that you're guilty," was Devlin's quick retort. His fist shot out and collided with the jaw of Captain Brincker, who staggered back as Devlin clinched with him. Their feet scuffled furiously upon the stone floor. The struggle was waged in silence. The steam-shovel man was the younger and more active, and he was a seasoned rough-and-tumble fighter. A hip-lock, a tremendous heave and twist, and Captain Brincker went down like a falling tree. Devlin sat upon his chest and searched his clothing for weapons. Finding a loaded revolver, he cocked it and allowed the vanquished soldier of fortune to rise to his feet. The victor's nose was bleeding, but he looked pleased as he gustily observed: "Too speedy for you, eh? I hope I jolted some decency into you. I'm the boss and you'll tell me what I want to know." Without a word, Captain Brincker walked to the _patio_ and sat down with his head in his hands. The violent fall had dazed him. Devlin looked at him and said with a pitying laugh: "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You used to be a good deal of a man. A bit too old for the strenuous life! Getting the best of you was like taking candy from a child. Now, I mean business. Tell me the truth, or I'll bend this gun over your head." Like a good strategist, Devlin had taken his stand where he could command a view of all the entrances into the _patio_. If surprised by numbers, he intended to shoot his way out of the house.