"To know where she is? A hundred dollars."
Mazaro smiled scornfully.
"Dat notting. Yo' don' talk de biz. Yo' don' have-a de mon' enough."
"Wait," urged Frank. "I am a Yankee, from the North, and I will make a trade with you."
"All-a right, but I don't admit I know anyt'ing."
Manuel leaned back in his chair, lazily and deftly rolling a cigarette, which he lighted. Frank watched this piece of business, thinking of the best manner of approaching the fellow.
And then something happened that electrified every one within the café.
Somewhere above there came the sound of blows, and a crashing, splintering sound, as of breaking wood. Then a shriek ran through the building.
"Help! Help! Save me!"
It was the voice of a female in great terror and distress.