I beg of you to see that there is nothing incriminating
in your possession."
O'Reilly's face betrayed his amazement. "Arrested? What for? On
what charge--"
The stranger shrugged. "I don't know. That newspaper man will be
arrested at the same moment, so you had better warn him. But be
careful where and how you do so, for all his movements are
watched, all his words are overheard."
"Why do you tell me this--you? Is it some scheme to--to
incriminate me?" O'Reilly inquired.
Manin was leaning over the counter, his face drawn with anxiety,
his lips framing the same question.
"No!" The lieutenant shook his head. "I am a friend--a Cuban, in
spite of this uniform. If you repeat my words I shall be shot
within the hour. I implore you"--his voice became more urgent--"to
heed my warning. I don't know what you had to do with this
skirmish out San Rafael Street, but a short time ago a message
came from the fortina that Insurrectos were in the woods close by.
I hope it will not prove to be a bloody encounter. And now
remember--midnight!" He bowed, turned to the door, and was gone.
Manin heaved a sigh of relief. "Caramba! He gave me a fright: I
thought my time had come. But what did I tell you, eh?"
"That fellow is a Cuban spy!"
"No doubt. We have many friends. Well! You see what would have
happened if you had tried to go.
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