"Don't commit yourself until you've heard me. Just around the
corner from here is a cuartel. It isn't a nice clean jail like
ours at home. Fleas are the pleasantest companions in the place.
When a man--particularly an obnoxious foreigner--lands there, they
are rather more than likely to forget little incidentals like food
and water. And if he should happen to be of a nation without
diplomatic representation here, as is the case with the United
States at present, he might well lie there incomunicado until his
hearing, which might be in two days or might not be for a month.
Is that correct, Mr. Raimonda?"
"Essentially," confirmed the Caracunan.
"When you are through trying to frighten me--" began Carroll
contemptuously.
"Frighten you? I'm not so foolish as to waste time that way. I'm
trying to warn you."
"Are you quite done?"
"I am not. On MY honor--" He broke off as Carroll smiled. "Smile
if you like, but believe what I'm telling you. Unless you agree to
keep your hands and tongue off Von Plaanden I'll lay an
information which will land you in the cuartel within an hour."
The smile froze on the Southerner's lips.
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