There aren't any submarines." A little jest spoken in a voice of good-humour, with a friendly smile, goes a long way anywhere, but further in Spain than anywhere else in the world.

The small crowd laughed with Hillyard, and made way for him.
A man offered to him with a flourish and a bow a card advertising a garage at which motor-cars could be hired for expeditions in the island.
Hillyard accepted it and put it into his pocket.

He paid a visit to his consul, and thereafter sat in a cafe for an hour.

Then he strolled through the narrow streets, admired this and that massive archway, with its glimpse of a great stone staircase within, and mounted the hill.
Almost at the top, he turned sharply into a doorway and ran up the stairs to the second floor.

He knocked upon the door, and a maid-servant answered.
"Senor Jose Medina lives here ?" "Yes, senor." "He is at home ?" "No, senor.