The torero turned to his companion.
"You see, Esteban, he is un hombre muy simpatico but very indiscreet. Do you know what he did to me in Caracas? Caramba! I was standing on the street corner watching some domino-players. Every one knows that the domino-players are the police's own stool-pigeons. Cá! I was standing there watching them when this hombre comes along and roars in my ears, 'Where is the casa where the great revolutionist, General Adriano Fombombo lives!' Madre de Jesu! I almost fainted. I could see myself rotting in La Rotunda!"
"He has a lion's heart," declared Esteban.
"And a donkey's brain," retorted the bull-fighter.
Strawbridge had heard enough of this.
"With your permission, señors, I will continue my search."
"But don't you want to watch the crowd, señor?" suggested Lubito. "There, look at that little officer with the swagger-stick; perhaps you know him?"
The drummer saw a sharp-featured young officer with dark circles of dissipation under his eyes.
"No, I don't know him."
"You don't know the Teniente Rosales?"