and friendliness. I waited to
see what it meant.

"So that's your yarn?" he repeated. "I thought when I set eyes on you
that you were a tricky fellow. But this caps all!" Why, he suddenly
raised his voice and stood up, "what do you mean by coming here with
such a yarn? I've a mind to clap you into jail!"

I stood up, too. I must confess that I felt a bit scared. It was a
pretty hot day. I didn't know but maybe the heat had overcome the fellow
and he had gone crazy.

"How dare you come here with such a tale as this, you dirty
beach-comber?" he demanded, shaking his fist in my face. "If Colonel
Hefferan was here I don't doubt he'd kick you out of the place. And
you'd better go quick, as it is. Don't you show your face here
again----"

All the time he had been walking me backward to the door. I had been
obliged to keep stepping to keep before him. But I backed up against the
door and stopped. I was getting angry, and I thought I'd gone far
enough.

"I don't know what you're driving at," I said. "But one thing I do
know. My name is Clinton Webb, I have every reason to believe that my
mother has cabled me some money in Mr. Hefferan's care, and I expect
there are letters for me, too. I want the money and the letters----"

"Too late, you scoundrel!" he snarled at me, still shaking his fist.
"Your game is played too late. Not that we would have believed a
scoundrelly beach-comber like you----"

"You don't believe what?" I shot in, raising my voice.

"I know you're not Clinton Webb."

"WHAT?"

"You're too late," he said, laughing nastily. "Mr. Webb came here
yesterday. He identified himself to the satisfaction of Colonel
Hefferan, and he got his money and letters. I don't know who put you up
to this trick, but you're too late, I tell you!"

He managed to push me aside and now pulled open the door. He put a
whistle to his lips and blew a shrill blast. Two barefooted, but very
husky negroes came running in from the portico. I had noticed them
lounging there when I entered.

He said something sharply to them in Spanish, and they grabbed me. My
blood was boiling, and I believe if they had given me a moment's warning
I would have sailed into them. But they held me on either side, and a
hundred and eighty pounds of negro on each arm was too much for me. They
dragged me toward the main door of the building in a hurry.

"You get out of here!" cried the consul's clerk behind me. "And don't
you dare come back. If you do