“If you desire it,” said I.
“Then, Señors, I am at your service.”
Joe quietly left his seat, saying: “I’ll be ready in a jiffy, Sam,” and started for his room—a room we shared together. After a moment’s hesitation I followed him.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“Slick up a bit and pack my toothbrush. Didn’t you hear De Jiminez speak of his ‘apartments’ at the hotel? And we’re to stay all night it seems.”
“True enough,” I exclaimed. “We must look decent, old man,” and I quickly changed my clothing and threw into a small grip such articles as I thought might be needed. Joe was ready before me, and I saw him quietly slip a revolver into his hip pocket; so I did the same, smiling at the incongruity of going armed to make a semisocial visit.
We found Señor de Jiminez slightly impatient when we returned to the sitting-room, so we merely said good-bye to our friends and followed him out to the street. The Radley Arms was situated in a retired and very quiet district, and our exit seemed entirely unobserved except by our curious landlady. A sleepy beggar was sitting on the corner, and before him the Colombian paused and said in a calm tone:
“What will your report be, then? That I have visited the Radley Arms? Well, let me give you help. I had friends there—these young gentlemen—who are returning with me to my hotel. You will find us there this evening and until morning. Will such information assist you, my good spy?”
The beggar grinned and replied:
“You’re a rare one, De Jiminez. But don’t blame me; I’m only earnin’ my grub.”