As he poured out his very soul in this entreaty, Phil studied Tony’s face. There was sympathy there—yes, but also fear. The shadow of the dreaded Espato hovered over him. He shook his head.
“I dare not,” he said. “Espato—he keel.”
Again Phil renewed his pleading but apparently to no effect. Then he played his last card.
“Ask Juanita what you shall do,” he urged. “Ask Juanita.”
Tony nodded in assent.
“Maybe I come back,” he said, and gathering up the dishes with the untasted food left the room.
An hour passed and then another, while Phil paced the narrow room like a caged tiger. It was entirely dark when the door opened softly and Tony glided into the room.
“Juanita say yes,” he whispered. “Tell me now what I do.”
Phil gave him the most careful directions and Tony slipped out of the room. Perhaps half an hour had elapsed when he again opened the door.
“Eet is done,” he whispered, and vanished like a shadow.