"
"I have already forgotten it, my friend," the urbane Don Nicolas
replied graciously, and Bill Conway departed forthwith for the Hotel de
Las Rosas.
"Got a Jap name of Okada stopping here?" he demanded, and was informed
that Mr. Okada occupied room 17, but that he was ill and could not be
seen.
"He'll see me," quoth Bill Conway, and clumped up the stairs. He
rapped peremptorily on the door of room 17, then tried the knob. The
door opened and the old contractor stepped into the room to find the
Potato Baron sitting up in bed, staring at him. Uttering no word, Bill
Conway strode to the bed, seized the Japanese by the throat and
commenced to choke him with neatness and dispatch. When the man's face
was turning purple and his eyes rolling wildly, Conway released his
death-grip and his victim fell back on the mattress, whereupon Bill
Conway sat down on the edge of the bed and watched life surge back into
the little brown man.
"If you let one little peep out of you, Okada," he threatened--and
snarled ferociously.
"Please, please," Okada pleaded. "I no unnerstan'. 'Scuse, please.
You make one big mistake, yes, I zink so."
"I do, indeed. I permit you to live, which I wouldn't do if I knew
where to hide your body. Listen to me, Okada. You sent a countryman
of yours from the La Questa valley over to the Rancho Palomar to kill
Don Miguel Farrel. I have the man's name, I know the hour you
telephoned to him, I know exactly what you said to him and how much you
paid him to do the job.
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