Click-clack! click-clack! Way on the outskirts of the crowd a man had picked up a cobblestone, on which he now began to whet his knife. It was a most suggestive sound. The crowd roared with merriment, craning their necks to see whether this Yankee blanched. But Hal, though he knew that a spark would be sufficient to touch off a mine of Spanish mob-treachery, retained his composure. “I am in a hurry, if you please,” he said, trying to edge his way through. The crowd pretended to make way, yet each Spaniard took pains to get only more in the way. They were playing with him, as a cat does with a mouse, enjoying their sport with true feline ferocity. One of the crowd suddenly divined our hero’s purpose. “He wants to reach that English ship. The gringo fancies he will be safer there than with us. Let us convince him that our hospitality is genuine.” Still laughing, the crowd made way for Hal to pass off the pier, but the instant that he tried to walk along the shore in the direction of the bridge, he found himself confronted by the dense ranks of a barring crowd. “No, no, senor! Straight back into Havana.” “I guess I might as well go to a hotel,” Hal acquiesced, inwardly. “From there, an hour later, I may be able to get a closed carriage to the brig.” There was a driver within call. To him Hal signaled. The jehu came up, but on hearing the name of the hotel, he shook his head and scowled. “No, no, senor,” he protested, “I cannot drive Yankees.” “I will walk, then,” rejoined Hal. But the crowd protested that he must ride. “If the senor will pay three fares,” declared the jehu, “I will take him.” “Very well,” muttered Hal, stepping into the carriage. “Ha! Senor Maynard, wait! I must see you!” cried a man, making his way through the crowd. “Vasquez!” thrilled the boy, recognizing his accoster. Then, for the first time that day, Hal Maynard turned pale. CHAPTER II. JUAN RAMIREZ INTRODUCES HIMSELF. Senor Vasquez, a middle-aged Spaniard with the air of a prosperous merchant, pushed his way through to the carriage. The crowd, scenting as if by instinct some new trouble for the boy, made way for the newcomer. Vasquez’s eyes glittered. He regarded the boy with a look of evil triumph, though his manner, as he stepped into the carriage, was faultlessly diplomatic. “You will excuse my intrusion?” he begged. “I shall have to,” was Hal’s cold rejoinder. “I was anxious to see you. This meeting has given me great pleasure.” Then, lowering his voice, he added: “Senor Maynard, your employer owes me, as you know, two thousand dollars. I must have that money at once.” “If Mr. Richardson owes you anything,” replied Hal, “he will pay it.” “Bah! Do you think I am so simple? Senor Richardson left yesterday for Key West.” “I repeat,” came firmly from Hal, “that, if he owes you anything he will pay it.” “And I, my dear young friend,” rejoined the Spaniard, “assure you that I mean to collect from you. You have the money. I know it.”