“Wait a moment,” broke in the other sharply. “Don’t commit yourself until you’ve heard me. Just around the corner from here is a cuartel. It isn’t a nice clean jail like ours at home. Fleas are the pleasantest companions in the place. When a man—particularly an obnoxious foreigner—lands there, they are rather more than likely to forget little incidentals like food and water. And if he should happen to be of a nation without diplomatic representation here, as is the case with the United States at present, he might well lie there incomunicado until his hearing, which might be in two days or might not be for a month. Is that correct, Mr. Raimonda?”
“Essentially,” confirmed the Caracuñan.
“When you are through trying to frighten me—” began Carroll contemptuously.
“Frighten you? I’m not so foolish as to waste time that way. I’m trying to warn you.”
“Are you quite done?”
“I am not. On my honor—” He broke off as Carroll smiled. “Smile if you like, but believe what I’m telling you. Unless you agree to keep your hands and tongue off Von Plaanden I’ll lay an information which will land you in the cuartel within an hour.”
The smile froze on the Southerner’s lips.
“Could he do that?” he asked Raimonda.
“I’m afraid he could. And, really, Mr. Carroll, he’s correct in principle. In the present state of political feeling, an assault by an American upon the representative of Hochwald might seriously endanger all of your party.”
“That’s right,” Cluff supported him. “I’m with you in wanting to break that gold-frilled geezer’s face up into small sections, but it just won’t do.”