below the ribs on the left side.

"It's a clean wound," the physician was explaining. "The bullet passed
through. There's no immediate danger."

Señor Alvarez opened his eyes, and stared about him in bewilderment;
then alarm overspread his face, and he made spasmodic efforts to reach
the inside breast pocket of his coat. Mr. Grimm obligingly thrust his
hand into the pocket and drew out its contents, the while Señor Alvarez
struggled frantically.

"Just a moment," Mr. Grimm advised quietly. "I'm only going to let you
see if it is here. Is it?"

He held the papers, one by one, in front of the wounded man, and each
time a shake of the head was his answer. At the last Señor Alvarez
closed his eyes again.

"What sort of paper was it?" inquired Mr. Grimm.

"None of your business," came the curt answer.

"Who shot you?"

"None of your business."

"A man?"

Señor Alvarez was silent.