"Per'aps you don' know who I am. I am Ramon Alfarez, Comandante of Police, an' you dare' to t'row the water of the 'ose-wagon upon my person. Your gover'ment will settle for those insolt." His white teeth showed in a furious snarl.
"I don't give a damn who you are. I'll get bail or do whatever your law requires, but I want to get out and I want to get out now."
The commandant's eyes flashed as he asked, shortly. "W'at is your name?"
"Anthony. Your men tried to kill that boy, and when I wouldn't stand for it they beat me up."
"You strock me wit' the water of the 'ose-carriage," repeated the other. "You 'ave assault the dignity of my country."
"I didn't know who you were. I was helping to stop that fire when you butted in. Now, are you going to let me out, or do you want my people to pull this jail down around your ears?"
At this threat Senor Alfarez restrained his rage with an obvious effort. "You will reply to those outrage, senor."
"Sure, I'll reply. But in the mean time I want to telephone to the
American consul. Look at this!" The young man held out his shaking,
swollen wrists, upon which the blood was scarcely dry. "Look at it!
Those runts of yours got handcuffs on me and then beat me up. I'm sick.
So's that boy. We need a doctor."
Alfarez shook his head. "You resis' the police. Even in your country one mus' not do that. 'Ave I been there, I would keel you both, but I am 'aving a cheel at the moment from those stream of col' water."
"Will you take me to a telephone?"