"Oh, he's a nervy lad, all right," nodded Hagan. "Del Norte found that out. If he had lived——"
There was a step outside; a sharp knock on the door.
Felipe leaped back toward the window, outside of which was the fire escape. In a moment he had the window open.
Hagan stepped quickly to the door, against which he placed his solid body, at the same time calling:
"Who is it that knocks? and what do you want here?"
"It is I, Señor Hagan," answered a voice that made the Irishman gasp and caused his eyes to bulge. "Have no fear. Open the door!"
"It's the voice of the dead!" gasped Hagan, his usually florid face gone pale.
"Who is it?" questioned Jalisco.
Instead of answering, with fingers that were not quite steady, Hagan turned the key in the lock and opened the door.
Into the room boldly walked a man who wore a sable overcoat, had hair of snowy white, and eyes of deepest midnight.