"Then don't waste any more of my time," said the lawyer sharply.

"Wickham," to the clerk, "you can show these gentlemen," with a sneering emphasis on "the gentlemen," "out."

Thus curtly dismissed, Jim and his companion made their way to the street.

As soon as they had gone, the lawyer hastily wrote upon a sheet of paper:

"Look out for a young fool who calls himself James Darlington, and knows more than is good for him," to which he added the initials W. H. R. and calling Wickham into the room gave it to him with orders to see that it be delivered at the address given, where it would come into the hands of Captain Broome at once.

This done, Mr. Reynolds leaned back in his chair, and began whistling softly.

"I think, Mr. James Darlington, that a voyage with Captain Broome might teach you not to meddle in other people's affairs," he said to himself, with an ugly expression on his face.

The message reached its destination within a few minutes after it had been sent, and was in the hands of Captain Broome in less than half an hour.

"Ha!" snorted Broome, when he read it. "I think I can take care of him.

Hey, Manuel," to a swarthy Mexican dwarf, who was with him. "That Jim Darlington is making trouble again. Get on his trail so I can catch him."

"Si, Senor," replied the Mexican with an ugly grin. "Shall I give him the knife?"

"No," responded Broome, vindictively, "I want him alive."

CHAPTER IV.

BUFFETED.

"I don't know how you feel, chief," remarked Jim, when the two were out on the street again, "but it strikes me that, as we have something of a busy day ahead of us, and don't know just where we shall bring up, it wouldn't be a bad plan to make sure of some lunch now."

"I don't see any objection to it," replied the engineer.

"Didn't think you would," answered Jim with a laugh. "Never knew you to refuse a meal yet. If I remember rightly there's a restaurant just around the corner where we can get something to eat and get a chance to map out our plans. The cooking isn't quite up to the Delmonico standard, but it is good and there is plenty of it."

"Well, that means there's enough of it such as it is," said the engineer, "but I guess I can stand it if you can. Lead on, Jim."

Jim led the way around the corner, not, however, without casting a glance back and walking for several doors past the place he had spoken of. Then, after looking about him, he retraced his steps and entered the restaurant, which was an unpretentious place on a side street.

"There's a table over there," he said, indicating one in the rear of the room, "that will suit us. We can see all who come in and won't be conspicuous ourselves."

"What's all this mystery, Jim?" asked the engineer, when they had taken their seats and given their order.

"I have a feeling that that Mexican imp of deformity, Manuel, isn't far away, and we can't afford to take any chances."

"You are right there, Jim," responded Berwick heartily. "That chap gives me the shivers. He's more like a snake than a man."

"That's just it. He's so confoundedly slippery, it almost seems that you never can get a hold on him, and if you did, what can one do with such a miserably deformed body? Ugh!"

"One never feels easy when he's anywhere about," admitted Berwick.

Jim made no further comment, but he was evidently thinking deeply.

"The next thing to do," began Jim, when the meal had been served and the waiter gone to attend to other duties, "is to see if we can get a ship--"

"And follow them," put in the engineer.

"I'd like to get there ahead of them if we could."

"If we only knew where the place was."

"Oh, I know that," said Jim quietly.

"You do!" exclaimed the engineer in astonishment. "Where is it?"

"San Matteo Bay--"

"San Matteo. Where is that?"

"About seventy-five miles down the coast."

"How did you find it out?"

"Mr. Reynolds told me."

"Mr. Reynolds!" echoed the engineer, "When?"

"When we were there," replied Jim laughing at the look of astonishment on his companion's face. "You remember that he told us that the Senor had gone into the northern part of the State."

"But you just said that San Matteo was 'down' the coast."

"Of course," responded Jim, a trifle impatiently. "Don't you see that he wanted me to think that he went the other way from what he did?"

"I see. Then when he said he went north--"

"It was then," broke in Jim, "that I happened to catch a glimpse of a paper on his desk with a name on it. I wouldn't have noticed it only for his anxiety to cover it up when I was standing there, and I just caught this much--'San Mat--'"

"Why do you think it meant San Matteo?"

"Because San Matteo is just the place that would suit Broome for his purpose. There is scarcely anyone living around there. It's about three or four days' journey by land and about two by water, so Broome can give the Senor a couple of days start and see if he makes any attempt to evade the conditions, and still be there to meet him on time."

"I see, you have a long head, Jim, but what is to prevent Broome from getting the ransom and still keeping the girl?"

"You and I."

"Humph!" returned the engineer, "that looks to me like a pretty big contract we are taking up."

"It is," responded Jim, "but we have got to carry it through."