Johnny rose to inquire patiently regarding the impending interview.
“One minute.” The clerk was gone.
“One minute. Just one more minute and he will see you.”
Another hour passed, a precious hour to Johnny. He rose once more; but this time, ignoring the clerk, he threw back the swinging gate, strode across the narrow enclosure, threw open the door at the rear and entered the room beyond.
Imagine the surprise and shock that awaited him when he found himself face to face with the frowning Spaniard of the previous night, the man Madge Kennedy had said was like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood.
The man sprang from his chair.
“Senor Diaz?” said Johnny in as easy a tone as he could command.
“You intrude,” said the other without answering his question.
“If you are Armacito Diaz,” said Johnny, looking him square in the eye, “I have a right to intrude. I have a message from your master. You have delayed its delivery unnecessarily.”
To himself Johnny was saying, “This man Diaz? Here is a nice mess. He already dislikes me for some reason or another. Perhaps I am in his way somehow. Perhaps, like many Spaniards, he hates all Americans. However that may be, he will do his master’s bidding.”