"
"He probably will when he reads this note to his employer," continued
Clarence still coolly, selecting a paper from his pocketbook. It was
addressed to Francisco Robles, Superintendent of the Sisters' Title, and
directed him to give Mr. Clarence Brant free access to the property and
the fullest information concerning it. The man took it, glanced at it,
looked again at Clarence, and then passed the paper to a third man among
the group in the courtyard. The latter read it, and approached the gate
carelessly.
"Well, what do you want?"
"I am afraid you have the advantage of me in being able to transact
business through bars," said Clarence, with slow but malevolent
distinctness, "and as mine is important, I think you had better open the
gate to me."
The slight laugh that his speech had evoked from the bystanders was
checked as the leader retorted angrily:--
"That's all very well; but how do I know that you're the man represented
in that letter? Pancho Robles may know you, but I don't."
"That you can find out very easily," said Clarence. "There is a man
among your party who knows me,--Mr. Hooker. Ask him."
The man turned, with a quick mingling of surprise and suspicion, to the
gloomy, imperturbable Hooker. Clarence could not hear the reply of that
young gentleman, but it was evidently not wanting in his usual dark,
enigmatical exaggeration. The man surlily opened the gate.
"All the same," he said, still glancing suspiciously at Hooker, "I don't
see what HE'S got to do with you.
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