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He was dressed as on the night before, and his precious high hat was hugged close to his shoulder. His eyes roved with an exaggerated assumption of important cunning. Presently he threw over his shoulder a rapid sentence in a foreign tongue. It sounded like Spanish, and Orme inferred that it was a dialect of Portuguese. The answer came from an oily tongue; the voice was Alcatrante's.
He was beginning to feel disgusted with the situation. He did not like Alcatrante's oily smoothness, and he wondered whether it would not have been better to hand the bill over to Poritol at the first demand. But it came to his mind that in a certain degree he stood committed to continue the policy he had adopted. He had sought adventure; it was coming to him in full measure.
No, Alcatrante was no friend of Poritol's; nor was it likely that, as protector of the interests of his countrymen, he would go so far as to accompany them on their errands unless much was at stake. Perhaps Poritol was Alcatrante's tool and had bungled some important commission.
And now those friends would be informed promptly that Orme and the girl were setting out by motor. This analysis apparently accounted for Alcatrante's nonchalance. Orme and the girl seemed to be escaping, but in truth, if they approached their destination at all, they must run into the ambuscade of other enemies. Then the nearer the goal, the greater the danger.
He was conscious that Alcatrante stood close to him as the car began to slip downward. It was all very ridiculous, this persistent pursuit of him. Suddenly Alcatrante's voice burst out, "Stop the car! I've been robbed! Stop the car!" There was immediate commotion; a girl screamed, and the swaying of the huddled group made the car rattle. The elevator-man quickly threw over his lever.
Any capable diplomat could tell you that." Alcatrante's yellow face grew white about the lips. His eyes flashed balefully. "Curse you!" he exclaimed. "You know more than is good for you. Take care!" Orme laughed in disgust. "Oh, drop this melodrama. I am not afraid of cheap Machiavellis. In this country there are some crimes that are not excused by high office." The minister's teeth showed.
And then" as he noticed the flash of triumph in Alcatrante's eyes "I could not be arrested for stealing a document which was not in my possession." It was too late; Alcatrante had been able to verify his strong suspicion that Orme had the papers. A wave of anger swept over Orme. "Publicity or no publicity," he said, "unless this annoyance stops, I will have you arrested." Alcatrante smiled.
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