looks like it was bought at some cheap clothing store in a Spanish city. As I
figure it" - Cardona paused to stand up and look at the round, puffy face of the
dead man - "this fellow can't have been in New York more than a couple of months
at most. He's a Spaniard of middle or low class, probably from one of the larger
cities in Spain. That's all I can give you, Markham."
"What about these?" inquired the detective sergeant. He stepped past the
slab and picked up two short bars of rusted iron. Each was about fifteen inches
in length, by an inch and a half in thickness. With them, Markham exhibited
several pieces of cut rope.
"Belaying pins," observed Cardona. "What were these doing - holding the
body down?"
"Yes. He must have been dragging along the bottom of the river until he got
tangled with a pier end up near Ninetieth Street."
"These could have come off a ship," stated Cardona, as he took one of the
iron rods and hefted it. "But this rope" - the star detective shook his head -
"doesn't look like ship's rope."
Before Markham could voice a comment, Cardona turned to see two swarthy men
entering from the stone stairs that came down to this room. They were obviously
visitors who had arrived to view the bodies.
"South Americans," muttered Joe, to the reporters. "Look like they were
from the Argentine."
THE two men stopped beside the body.
They shook their heads and gestured expressively. Without a word, they
turned and went back toward the stairs.
"There's some more who don't know him," declared Markham. "The newspapers
ran a story about the body in the early afternoon editions. I said the man might
be a South American. I guess there's been a couple of dozen more look at the
corpse."
"Make it Spanish from now on," suggested Cardona. "Well, Markham, this
fellow may have been chucked from some boat; but I wouldn't be too sure of it.
Looks like he's been in the river three days at least. Unless he tangled with
that pier mighty soon after he went overboard, he should have drifted further
down stream."
"That's what I decided," answered Markham. "I think he must have been
thrown off a pier. He couldn't have been dropped in much further up the river,
the way the piers thin out. An incoming tide could have washed him up against
the piles -"
Markham paused. He heard new footsteps. A man appeared from the stairway.
The newcomer was clad in a dark, baggy suit. His face was tawny; his white teeth
glittered between opened lips; his dark eyes seemed to reflect the dim light of
this morbid room.
The man had long, black hair that nearly covered his ears, as it spread
from the sides of a shabby felt hat. From each ear-lobe dangled a small gold
coin; these ear-rings glimmered in the light.
Clyde Burke and Tommy Holson stared at the arrival; the man's face seemed
to be suspicious as his dark eyes caught their observation.
"A Spaniard," whispered Holson to Burke, "and a sailor."
Cardona caught the remark. A wise smile flickered on the detective's lips.
