“He is more dangerous,” declared Pulido, “knowing nothing, than he would be if he understood.”
He cast a rapid glance about him. With a scowl, his eyes finally rested upon Peter.
“I’ll be within knockout distance if you want me,” said that young man to Roddy, and moved to the rail opposite.
When he had gone, Pulido bent eagerly forward.
“Do you not know,” he demanded, “what it is your father is doing in our country?”
Roddy burst forth impatiently, “No!” he protested. “And I seem to be the only man in the country who doesn’t.”
The two officers crowded close to him. In sepulchral tones, Pulido exclaimed dramatically. He spoke as though he were initiating Roddy into a secret order.
“Then understand,” he whispered, “that your father supports Pino Vega with five million bolivars; that Vega, whose life you are seeking, is the man your father means to make President of Venezuela. Now do you understand?”
For a long time Roddy remained silent. Then he exclaimed in tones of extreme exasperation:
“I understand,” he said, “that, if my father had given me his telephone number, he would have saved me a lot of trouble. No wonder everybody suspects me.”