questioned. 

The clerk’s voice answered. “Senhor Poritol to see Mr. Orme.” 

“Who?” 

“S-e-n-h-o-r—P-o-r-i-t-o-l,” spelled the clerk. 

“I don’t know him,” said Orme. “There must be some mistake. Are you sure that he asked for me?” 

There was a pause. Orme heard a few scattered words which indicated that the clerk was questioning the stranger. Then came the information: “He says he wishes to see you about a five-dollar bill.” 20

20

“Oh!” Orme realized that he had no reason to be surprised. “Well, send him up.” 

He hung up the receiver and, returning to the table, put the marked bill back into his pocket-book and slipped into a drawer the paper on which he had copied the inscription. 

21

CHAPTER II

SENHOR PORITOL

When Orme answered the knock at the door a singular young man stood at the threshold. He was short, wiry, and very dark. His nose was long and complacently tilted at the end. His eyes were small and very black. His mouth was a wide, uncertain slit. In his hand he carried a light cane and a silk hat of the flat-brimmed French type. And he wore a gray sack suit, pressed and creased with painful exactness. 

“Come in, Senhor Poritol,” said Orme, motioning toward a chair. 

The little man entered, with short, rapid steps. He drew from his pocket a clean pocket-handkerchief, which he unfolded and spread out on the surface of the table. Upon the handkerchief he carefully placed his hat and then, after an ineffectual effort to make it stand against the table edge, laid his cane on the floor. 

Not until all this ceremony had been completed did he appear to notice Orme. But now he turned, 22 widening his face into a smile and extending his hand, which Orme took rather dubiously—it was supple and moist. 

22

“Oh, this is Mr. Orme, 

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