"Blasdell!" cried Tom. "Did he sell you this brooch, Mendez?"
"The senor says what is correct."
"But where did he get it?"
"I don't know."
"Look here, Mendez," burst out Tom, "do you know anything about the Farson jewel robbery—about the Boxer Hall cups—about the pawn tickets? Do you?"
"On my honor, senor, no!" and the man bowed low. He seemed at ease, and to be speaking the truth.
"But why did you leave the island so suddenly?"
"Ah, senor, I will tell you. I will confess. In my country we do not—that is, we who are of my class—we do not consider it a crime to smuggle—ah, well, a few cigars. I was guilty of that here. I smuggle some here and I sell them in my little store on what you call—er—the edge, is it not?"
"The side," murmured Phil.
"Yes, I thank the senor. I sell smuggled cigars on the side. It is not a great crime, I think. But one day word comes to me in the hands of a boy from a friend, that the government of your country is about to squeeze me—am I right?"
"I guess you mean 'pinch'—arrest," suggested Sid.
"Yes, that is it. I am to be pinched—Oh, what a language! Now I have no desire to be pinched,
