“Has his Excellency had coffee?” inquired the man behind Cartoner's chair.
“Yes.”
“Does any sugar remain? I have not eaten since morning.”
Cartoner dropped the two square pieces of sugar over his shoulder, and there was a sound of grinding.
“His Excellency will not give me up. I can slip a knife into his Excellency's liver where I sit.”
“I know that. What have you been doing?”
“I killed Emmanuelo Dembaza, that is all.”
“Indeed—but why kill Senor Dembaza?”
“I did it for Juanita's sake.”
A queer smile flitted across Cartoner's face. He was a philosopher in his way, and knew that such things must be.