“Very well. Step into the office.”
They passed into a small room with a window at the rear. Against one of the longer walls was a closet, on top of which lay a number of articles involved in recent robberies and seizures, among them a bicycle.
El Gaditano came in, drew a bundle of documents from the closet and began to write rapidly.
“ ... That he’s a cousin of the dead man and that it is supposed that the author of this crime is a fellow nicknamed El Bizco; isn’t that it?”
“That’s it,” corroborated El Garro.
“Very well. Have him sign here.... Now, here.... That’s all.”
The agent took leave of El Gaditano; Manuel and El Garro went out into the street.
“Am I free now?” asked Manuel.
“No.”
“Why not?”