In a small voice, Davila asked, "Did you get a good look at him?"
"I most certainly did. He was a big, clumsy brute in the white linen suit of a respectable business man and a panama hat. But I'll bet a good box of Havana cigars that he was a longshoreman or a miner. I know the type."
Davila looked at Vardieno and Fernandez. A slow grin crept over the lawyer's face, and then the other two Hermanitos were grinning too. "So they started, eh?" he said. "Well, don't let that big one worry you too much. Should he, Don José?"
The publisher grunted. "No. Don't worry about that one." Hall could sense that Fernandez was picking up his cue from the lawyer.
"As a matter of fact," Davila said, "I'll wager that you can find the picture of the man in the white suit in Don José's confidential file on the Reds. He keeps it in his office in the Imparcial building."
"I would be honored if you visited me in my office," José Fernandez said to Hall.
"Perhaps I can make it this week," Hall said.
"Sst," Davila warned. "Miss Prescott is coming back. Let's change the subject."
"Of course," Vardieno said. "There is no sense in involving her in this."
"This is quite a turnout," Hall was saying when Giselle Prescott and Quinones rejoined the group. "I think that every nation is represented by its Ambassador here."