They drew up before the door of five-thirty.
"Are you a brave man?" she asked abruptly.
Greg, much taken aback, answered as stoutly as he could: "I hope so."
"Then take this, and bring me back the little black book." She pressed a piece of cold metal into his hand.
For a brief second Greg hesitated. The strange command took his breath away.
"I do not ask it for myself," she pleaded. "The happiness of a whole people depends on it!"
Greg seriously doubted the wisdom of the proceeding, but being young he could not take a dare from a girl. He slipped out of his seat.
"Keep the engine running," he said. "Whom shall I ask for at the door?"
"Señor Francisco de Socotra."
He crossed the pavement. That which she had thrust in his hand was a small but business-like automatic revolver.