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Spanish seemed to be spoken for the most part; but finally a man came out of a rear office and asked me abruptly what I wanted. "I'd like to see Mr. Hefferan," I said. "He's busy. Can't see him. What do you want?" snapped this man. "I'm an American, and I'd like to see him," I began, but the fellow, who had been looking me over pretty scornfully broke in: "That's impossible, I tell you.
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.
"As I told Ben in my note back there at Buenos Ayres, my money and letters were grabbed at the consulate by another fellow " "Yes," interposed Captain Rogers, beginning to hunt in a drawer, "Ben told me about that. And I went up to the consulate and had a talk with Colonel Hefferan about it. The whole thing was a silly mistake on the part of a clerk of his a mighty fresh clerk.
I shot in, raising my voice. "I know you're not Clinton Webb." "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.
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