"Is this the best you'll do for me?" Kirk inquired, as Weeks made
ready to go.

"Yes."

"Will you tell some of the men at the Wayfarers that I'm here?"

"Oh, that won't do any good. You're in for it, Locke, so don't
holler. I'll be on hand at your hearing."

"Will you cable my father?"

"At twenty-five cents a word? Hardly!" The speaker mopped his
face, exclaiming: "There's no use of talking, I've got to get out
in the air; it's too hot in here for me." Then he waddled out
ahead of Senor Alfarez, who slammed the door behind him as he
followed to escort his caller to the street.

But a half-hour later the commandant returned to the cell, and
this time he brought with him a number of his little policemen,
each armed with a club. Feeling some menace in their coming, Kirk,
who had seated himself dejectedly, arose to ask: "What's coming
off?"

Alfarez merely issued some directions in Spanish, and chain
handcuffs were once more snapped upon the prisoner's wrists.

"So! you're going to hold my trial, eh?" cried Kirk.