“Do I? If you know that, why ask me?”
“Don’t trifle with me, sir.”
“He knows him well enough. He saw him that night in the Rua Catania,” broke in the informer.
“Hold your tongue,” was the rough rebuke. “Do you deny it, Mr. Donnington?”
“You can draw what inference you please. I decline to be questioned by you or any one,” I replied.
“I cannot too strongly warn you, Mr. Donnington, that any refusal to identify this man and any of his companions will render you suspect.”
“I am quite ready to accept the responsibility.”
He turned then to the informer and accepted his identification, made a note of it, and sent the prisoner away in custody.
Another of the men I had seen in the house was brought in, and a very similar scene was enacted, except that I held my tongue. Three more followed and then a pause.
When the door opened next time Dr. Barosa was brought in.