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Updated: May 1, 2025
You do not appear to understand. When one is working for his country, many strange things are justified." "Even murder?" "Even murder sometimes." Orme had an inspiration. "Thank you for the truth, Senhor," he said. "I, too, am working for my country. If you continue to follow us, I shall assume that you have murder in your mind, and I shall act accordingly." Alcatrante smiled coolly.
"No!" shouted Alcatrante. "The thief is in the car. He must not escape." "I won't let him out. Bring the car down." The boy let the car descend to the floor level. The starter placed himself against the gate. "Now then, who was robbed?" he demanded. Alcatrante crowded forward. "It was I. My purse is gone. I had it just before I got in." "Oh, it was you, was it?"
He said that, if I would come here with him, he would show the notes and have them verified. I don't understand." The clerk left the window and, opening a door, came into the reception-room. "What are the notes you have?" he asked. "I have none," replied Orme, in disgust. "I have never pretended to have any. This man is crazy, I think." He pointed to Alcatrante.
His lips curved into a smile that disclosed his fangs. "That," she replied, "is as it may be. But I have not your admiration for trickery, Mr. Alcatrante." Again he smiled. "Ah," he exclaimed, "trickery is the detail work of diplomacy." Then with a shade of seriousness in his voice, he asked: "Why did you use that word 'unless'?" "Why, indeed?"
They were walking along the glimmering cañon of La Salle Street, which was now almost deserted in the dusk. A motor-car swept slowly around the corner ahead and came toward them. It had but one occupant, a chauffeur, apparently. He wore a dust-coat, a cap, and goggles which seemed to be too large for him. Regardless of Alcatrante, who was following them, Orme hailed the chauffeur.
At the La Salle Street entrance Orme had a fleeting glimpse of the watching Alcatrante. The South American, after one astonished stare, darted away in the dusk. He would follow them, of course, but Orme decided to say nothing about him to the girl. "I must telephone," she said suddenly, stopping as if to turn back into the building. "Father will be very anxious."
To embarrass Orme with arrest and detention would well suit the purposes of Alcatrante. At this late hour such an event would prevent the delivery of the papers. Orme wondered whether the minister had realized that the papers might be found by the police and disposed of properly.
But quick though he was, Alcatrante was close behind him. The agile South American squeezed into the elevator by so close a margin that the door caught his coat. "Here! What you tryin' to do?" shouted the starter. Alcatrante, pressing in against Orme, did not reply. The starter jerked the door open, and glared at Alcatrante.
Alcatrante continued to smile. "That is part of the game," he said. "Then you will find the game serious." Orme shut his lips together and glanced about for a policeman. Alcatrante again grasped his elbow. "Do you want publicity?" he asked. "Your principals do not. Publicity will injure us all." Orme had been given enough light to know that the South American's words were true.
How would the South American try to throw suspicion where he wished it? Orme puzzled over this question, for certainly the police would not arrest all the passengers. And then he suddenly remembered how Alcatrante had crowded against him when they entered the car. A cold wave of horror swept over him. Was it possible that ? He put his hand into the left side pocket of his coat.
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