"But, no, Señor," the waiter lowered his voice. "Yet he came near to, being much angry, and calling you—pardon me!"
"Well, what? What, man?"
He still hesitated, so I carelessly took out my wallet. It's amazing, the power of a wallet!
"He demanded the paper of our maître d'hôtel, saying you, Señor, were a pig of a detective—and as we admire the detective not at all, everyone searched for it. But I had seen other things, Señor," he smiled knowingly.
"You have it?"
"Si, si,—but not so loud! Could I give it to the old one? Even a poor waiter may sometimes observe! Mas vale saber que haber, Señor," he shrugged and smiled as the ancient proverb slipped from his tongue.
"You've a mighty level head on you, kid," I agreed; a metaphor he may or may not have understood. There was no doubt in my mind that his words, "wisdom is better than wealth," were never more aptly spoken.
"I saw it after you left, Señor, and put it away—so! The mad caballero soon came—he was not happy. We searched the floor, and all the time he was shaking his head and mumbling that Mademoiselle had confessed to writing it—and to a detective! He was quite crazy. Ah, with what care and sympathy did I help him, Señor, and how generously did he reward my careful search!"
He shrugged and smiled, then drew the paper from his pocket, and I slipped it into mine—passing him back another kind of paper that he slipped into his with a grateful bow.
"Do you know who the man is, or if that was his daughter?"