"A owl-driver!"
"Sure, you know, a fly-by-night." He opened the door of the flivver. "Get in. We can talk quietly here."
Señor Henry glanced askance at the overalls. "Thank you, I stand. My taxi waits. I bring you dees note."
"Ah, from Miss Wilmot!" said Greg with a gleaming eye. He wiped his hands preparatory to taking it.
The other young man marked the gleam and stiffened. These two were bound to strike sparks from each other on sight. "Miss Wilmot—I do not understand," he said haughtily.
"Oh, I suppose you call her Señorita de Socotra," said Greg carelessly. "But she prefers to be known by the other name now."
"Is it so?" queried Señor Saunders icily. "Did she tell you that?"
"She did," said Greg giving him stare for stare.
Meanwhile he opened his note. There were but four lines.
"I have told Henry everything. He is anxious to help. I hope you're satisfied. F. has not got what we want with him. If I detain him here until after lunch, could you have his room at the hotel searched?