“We have a little place,” the big one said. “He and I,” indicating the one who did not drink. “He has a little place too,” indicating the small, dark one. “The police tell us we have to come—so we come.”
“I am very happy you have come.”
“Equally,” said the big one.
“Will you have another little cup?”
“Why not?” said the big one.
“With your permission,” said the smallest one.
“Not me,” said the thin one. “It mounts to my head.”
“It is very good,” said the smallest one.
“Why not try some,” Mr. Frazer asked the thin one. “Let a little mount to your head.”
“Afterwards comes the headache,” said the thin one.
“Could you not send friends of Cayetano to see him?” Frazer asked.
“He has no friends.”
“Every man has friends.”
“This one, no.”
“What does he do?”
“He is a card-player.”
“Is he good?”
“I believe it.”
“From me,” said the smallest one, “he won one hundred and eighty dollars. Now there is no longer one hundred and eighty dollars in the world.”
“From me,” said the thin one, “he won two hundred and eleven dollars. Fix yourself on that figure.”
“I never played with him,” said the fat one.
“He must be very rich,” Mr. Frazer suggested.
“He is poorer than we,” said the little Mexican. “He has no more than the shirt on his back.”
“And that shirt is of little value now,” Mr. Frazer said. “Perforated as it is.”
“Clearly.”
“The one who wounded him was a card-player?”
