Immersed in his hazy thoughts Manuel did not hear the knocking at the door; it grew louder with each repetition.
“Can it be La Justa?” he thought. “Impossible.”
Yet he opened the door in the vague hope of confronting her. Two men greeted his sight.
“Manuel Alcázar,” declared one of them, “you are under arrest.”
“What for?”
“The judge will tell you. Slip into your shoes and come along with us.”
“Am I going to be locked up?” asked Manuel.
“Not unless you do something foolish. Up! Get a move on!”
The three men reached the street and walked to the Paseo de Areneros.