"Here is the name on the dagger handle. Ramon Delveraz is one of the Spaniards who are trying to drive us into quitting these offices, so that their land company can take possession of this whole block."
"The man was a short, stout fellow with a heavy beard."
"It must have been he! The scoundrel! Where is he now?"
Longley rushed to the window and looked out. Nobody was to be seen. Then he ran to the front of the room.
"There he goes!" he cried, pointing to a retreating figure. "Oh, but I will pay him back for this when the excitement is over."
The incident had banished sleep for the balance of the night, and we talked over the situation until daylight.
The sun came up clear and hot, but the streets remained deserted, excepting for the soldiers on guard. One of these came up to the doors below and tried them to see if they were locked. Longley spoke to him out of the window, but he did not answer.
"They are ugly and there is no telling what they will do next," said the clerk. "It's lucky they do not know that you are here."
"Won't those would-be plunderers tell them of our arrival?"
