"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.
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