There are indeed so many shady people in Mexico that it is taken for granted, if you arrive unannounced and unexpected in the capital, that you are probably under an assumed name, and have some dirty game up your sleeve.
“Been long in Mexico?” snapped the Judge; the police enquiry had begun.
“No!” said Owen, resonantly, his gorge rising. “About two weeks.”
“You are an American?”
“I,” said Owen, “am American. Mrs Leslie is English—or rather Irish.”
“Been in the club yet?”
“No,” said Owen, “I haven’t. American clubs aren’t much in my line. Though Garfield Spence gave me a letter of introduction.”
“Who? Garfield Spence?” The Judge started as if he had been stung. “Why the fellow’s nothing better than a bolshevist. Why he went to Russia!”
“I should rather like