"Who is the man to the left?"
"Senhor Canalejas," said the girl drearily. "He is the Minister of War. I suppose he, too...."
Bell drew a deep breath. He walked on, confidently. As the two others drew near he said apologetically:
"Senhores."
They halted with the instinctive, at least surface, courtesy of the Brazilian. And Bell was fumbling with his handkerchief, rather nervously tying a knot in it. He held it out to Canalejas.
"Observe."
It was, of course, a recognition-knot such as may be given to an outsider by one in the Trade. The tall man's face changed. And Bell swung swiftly and suddenly and very accurately to the point of the other man's jaw.
He collapsed.
