Imprisonment, almost any punishment, was better than deportation.
That would mean beginning all over again.
While he was talking he used his eyes, and finally a plan
suggested itself. To make doubly sure that his words would not be
understood he inquired, casually:
"Do you speak any foreign languages?"
"Sure! Spanish and--hog Latin."
In spite of himself O'Reilly grinned; then making use of that
incoherent derangement of syllables upon the use of which every
American boy prides himself, he directed Branch's attention to the
tiles of the roof overhead.
The reporter's wits were sharp; his eyes brightened; he nodded his
instant understanding. The house had but one story, its roof was
constructed of the common, half-round Cuban tiling, each piece
about two feet long. These tiles were laid in parallel rows from
ridge-pole to eave, and these rows were locked together by other
tiling laid bottom side up over them. Where the convex faces of
the lower layer overlapped, after the fashion of shingles, were
numerous interstices due to imperfections in manufacture; more
than one of these was large enough to form a hiding-place for a
letter.
Continuing to disguise his language, O'Reilly directed his
companion to open the table drawer in which the unwelcome document
reposed and to see that it was where he could instantly lay hands
upon it in the dark.
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