Contraras left well pleased. Moreno was certainly a great acquisition to the organisation. When he was well out of sight the two men were brought out of the bedroom.
The Chief of Police shook his fist vindictively in the direction of the vanished figure.
“I was itching to take the old scoundrel straight away, Mr Moreno,” he remarked.
The journalist smiled. “Impetuosity never pays, señor. You could have proved nothing if you had. A most respectable old gentleman, highly connected, through his wife, with some of the best families in the country, pays me a visit to inquire after my health, or perhaps to ask me to dinner at his hotel. You would not have made much out of it.”
The Chief cooled down immediately under this sensible speech. “You are a very wonderful man, Mr Moreno. You never allow yourself to be carried away by your feelings.”
He turned with his gracious foreign manner to Farquhar.
“I understand, sir, you are an old and trusted friend. I have no doubt that you have the same faith in his judgment that I have.”
On the afternoon of that same day Moreno went to see Violet Hargrave. He found her restless and agitated.
“You are sure that it will take place to-morrow night?” was her first question.
“I am as near sure as can be. Unless a miracle happens he will be brought up for judgment before the brotherhood,” was the answer.