Gates, also, had caught the excitement and was waiting with the launch to push off; and thus, while he concluded official duties at the port, I entered the café--in the present unfriendly light a changed place from the night before. As luck would have it, my own waiter was the first man I saw.
"Do you remember finding a small piece of crumpled paper on my table last night?" I asked.
"_Si_, Señor; the mad _caballero_ came for it."
"But, no, Señor," the waiter lowered his voice. "Yet he came near to, being much angry, and calling you--pardon me!"
He still hesitated, so I carelessly took out my wallet. It's amazing, the power of a wallet!
"He demanded the paper of our _maître d'hôtel_, saying you, Señor, were a pig of a detective--and as we admire the detective not at all, everyone searched for it. But I had seen other things, Señor," he smiled knowingly.
"_Si, si,_--but not so loud! Could I give it to the old one? Even a poor waiter may sometimes observe! _Mas vale saber que haber, Señor_," he shrugged and smiled as the ancient proverb slipped from his tongue.
"You've a mighty level head on you, kid," I agreed; a metaphor he may or may not have understood. There was no doubt in my mind that his words, "wisdom is better than wealth," were never more aptly spoken.
"I saw it after you left, Señor, and put it away--so! The mad _caballero_ soon came--he was not happy. We searched the floor, and all the time he was shaking his head and mumbling that Mademoiselle had confessed to writing it--and to a detective! He was quite crazy. Ah, with what care and sympathy did I help him, Señor, and how generously did he reward my careful search!"
He shrugged and smiled, then drew the paper from his pocket, and I slipped it into mine--passing him back another kind of paper that he slipped into his with a grateful bow.
"Do you know who the man is, or if that was his daughter?"
"No, Señor. I have seen them, but can not remember where. Carlos served their table--but Carlos is stupid," he shrugged compassionately.
The moment my cab turned the first corner I feverishly took out that precious paper. Sure enough, on one side were marks _I_ had not seen, but the pencilling was very faint--having had the soft tablecloth for a desk, perhaps--and showed only a meandering line, curving in and out through a group of dots. From every angle I studied it, coming to two conclusions: first, that it could mean nothing; and second, that I must have imbibed more freely than I thought to have overlooked this.