"I do not think-a I know what de señor mean. If he speak-a litt'l plainer, mebbe I ondarstan'."
"Sit down, Mazaro."
The Spaniard took a seat at the table.
"Now," said Frank, quietly, "order what you wish to drink, and I will pay for it. I never drink myself, and I never carry much money with me nights, but I have enough to pay for your drink."
"De señor is ver' kind," bowed Manuel, and he ordered a drink, which was brought by a villainous-looking old woman.
Frank paid, and, when Mazaro was sipping the liquid, he leaned forward and said:
"Señor Mazaro, you know Rolf Raymond?"
"Si, señor."
"And Colonel Vallier?"
"Si, señor."
"And the Queen of Flowers?"
"I know of her, señor; I see her to-day."
"You know more. She has disappeared, and you know what has become of her."
It was a chance shot, but Frank saw it went home.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE QUEEN IS FOUND
Mazaro changed color, and then he regained his composure.
"Señor," he said, smoothly, "I know-a not what made you t'ink dat."
"I do not think; I know."
"Wondareful—ver' wondareful," purred the Spaniard, in mock admiration. "You give-a me great s'prise."
Frank was angry, but he held himself in restraint, appearing cool.
"Your face betrayed it."
"Ah! Dat show yo' have-a ver' gre't eye, señor."
"You do not deny it?"
"Why should I do dat when you know-a so much?"
"You dare not deny it."
"Dare, señor? I dare ver' many thing you do not know."
Mazaro was exasperatingly cool.
"Look here, man," said Frank, leaning toward the Spaniard; "are you aware that you may get yourself into serious trouble? Are you aware that kidnaping is an offense that makes you a criminal of the worst sort, and for which you might be sent up for twenty years, at least?"
The Spaniard smiled.
"It is eeze to talk, but dat is not proof," he said.
"You scoundrel!" exclaimed the boy, his anger getting the better of him for the moment. "I have a mind to convey my suspicions to the police, and then——"
"An' den what, señor? Ah! you talk ver' bol' fo' boy like you. Do you know-a what? Well, see; if I snappa my fingare, quick like a flash you get a knife 'tween your shouldares. Den you not tell-a the police."
Frank could not repress a shiver. He looked swiftly around, and saw the black eyes of the other two men were fastened upon him, and he knew they were ready to obey Mazaro's signal.
"W'at yo' t'ink-a, señor?" smiled Manuel, insolently.
"That is very well," came calmly from Frank's lips. "If I were to give the signal my friends would rush in here to my aid. If you stab me, make sure the knife goes through my heart with the first stroke, so there will be little chance that I'll cry out."
"Den you have-a friends near, ha? I t'ink so mebbe. Call-a dem in."
"No, thank you. They will remain outside till they are needed."
"Ver' well. Now we undarestan' each odder. Yo' have-a some more to say?"
"Yes."
"Say him."
"I have told you that you might find it profitable to serve me."
"I hear dat."
"I meant it."
"W'at yo' want done?"
"No dirty work—no throat-cutting. I want information."
"Ha! W'at yo' want-a know?"
"I want to know who the Queen of Flowers is."
"Any more?"
"Yes; I want to know where she is, and you can tell me."
"Yo' say dat, but yo' can't prove it. I don't say anyt'ing, señor. 'Bo't how much yo' pay fo' that info'mation, ha?"
"Good money, and a fair price."
"Fair price notting; I want good-a price. Undarestand-a?"
"I understand."
"W'at yo' gif?"
"To know where she is? A hundred dollars."
Mazaro smiled scornfully.
"Dat notting. Yo' don' talk de biz. Yo' don' have-a de mon' enough."
"Wait," urged Frank. "I am a Yankee, from the North, and I will make a trade with you."
"All-a right, but I don't admit I know anyt'ing."
Manuel leaned back in his chair, lazily and deftly rolling a cigarette, which he lighted. Frank watched this piece of business, thinking of the best manner of approaching the fellow.
And then something happened that electrified every one within the café.
Somewhere above there came the sound of blows, and a crashing, splintering sound, as of breaking wood. Then a shriek ran through the building.
"Help! Help! Save me!"
It was the voice of a female in great terror and distress.
Mazaro ground a curse through his white teeth, and leaped to his feet, but Frank was on his feet quite as quickly.
Smack! Frank's arm had shot out, and his hard fist struck the Spaniard under the ear, sending the fellow flying through the air and up against the wall with terrible force. From the wall Mazaro dropped, limp and groaning, to the floor.
Like a flash, the nervy youth flung the table against the downcast wretch's companions, making them reel.
Then Frank leaped toward the stairs, up which he bounded like a deer.
"Where are you?" he cried. "I am here to help you! Call again!"
No answer.
Near the head of the stairs a light shone out through a broken panel in a door, and on this door Frank knew the blows he had heard must have fallen.
Within this room the boy fancied he could hear sounds of a desperate struggle.
Behind him the desperadoes were rallying, cursing hoarsely, and crying to each other. They were coming, and the lad on the stairs knew they would come armed to the teeth.
All the chivalry in his nature was aroused. His blood was leaping and tingling in his veins, and he felt able to cope with a hundred foes.
Straight toward the broken door he leaped, and his hand found the knob, but it refused to yield at his touch.
"Fast!" he panted. "Well, I'll try this!"
He hurled himself against the door, but it remained firm.
There were feet on the stairs; the desperadoes were coming.
At that moment he looked into the room through the break in the panel, and he saw a girl struggling with all her strength in the hands of a man. The man was trying to hold a hand over her mouth to keep her from crying out again, while a torrent of angry Spanish words poured in a hissing sound from his