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Updated: May 1, 2025
Hitherto he had assumed that, once free of Alcatrante and safe on the train to Arradale, he would have plain going; but now he realized that the dangers would pile up higher as he advanced. In any event, he must get rid of Alcatrante, and as they approached the elevator grills, he spoke. "Senhor," he said, "unless you stop following me, I shall be obliged to hurt you. I give you fair warning."
He might as well ride; so he permitted the minister to bow him into the cab, and presently they were whirling along southward. There was a period of silence. Then Alcatrante spoke meditatively. "You see how it happened, I suppose," he said. "Those Japanese were waiting outside your hotel. When Poritol and I came out, one of them followed us, while the other remained on guard.
And yet Orme was dubious. There was mischief in the bill; so much he felt sure of. Alcatrante's reputation was that of a fox, and as for Poritol, he was, to say the least, a person of uncertain qualities. Orme could not but admire the subtle manner in which Alcatrante sought delicately to limit his doubts to the mere possibility that Poritol was trying to pass spurious money.
"You've been dreamin'," remarked the starter, opening the gate with a bang. "All out!" Orme chuckled to himself. In a moment Alcatrante would realize how the purse had been replaced in his pocket, and he would be furious. Meantime Orme entered another elevator, to go back to the eighth floor, and, as he had expected, the minister followed him.
For a moment they stood thus in silence, and then from the door came a clear voice: "What? You here, Mr. Alcatrante? And the Japanese minister?" Orme almost sprang from his hiding-place. The voice was the voice of the girl! The sound of the girl's voice brought the men in the room to life.
Orme, dazed and breathing hard, attempted no immediate pursuit. He stepped quickly to Alcatrante and helped him to his feet. "I am not hurt," said the South American. "When the man threw me to the ground, I feigned that I was stunned. It is wiser not to resist a thug, is it not so?" He brushed the dust from his clothing with his handkerchief. Orme handed him his hat, which had rolled to one side.
Her words were shaded to a tone of fearless scorn which must have bitten deep, for Alcatrante and the Japanese minister looked like school-boys caught in wrong-doing.
In a casual way he folded his arms. He could now put his hand into his inside coat-pocket and the motion would hardly be noticed. For a moment he stood as though waiting for someone to appear at the inquiry-window. Though Alcatrante was watching him closely, Orme continued to act as if he were the only person in the room.
"Let me help," said Orme, eager to follow those papers all over Chicago, if only it would serve her. "Hear my story first." Rapidly he recounted the adventures of the evening. She listened, eyes intent, nodding in recognition of his description of Poritol and Alcatrante.
He resumed his position at the peep-hole. The stranger stepped to the middle of the room, the others gathering around him. With a quick jerk he tore the envelope open, and taking out the papers, ran his eye over them rapidly. He uttered an exclamation. "What is it?" said Alcatrante. The South American's hand was shaking, and perspiration stood out on his forehead. The Japanese snarled. "Tricked!
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