waited too long. When they entered, the man had already finished, and was half dressed. He too refused to pay, but they finally got a hundred pesos from him. This time everything worked out fine. When they burst in, Paco was on his stomach, and the man on top of him, as classical a criminal position as one could hope for. For a moment everything seemed to be utterly confused, though every detail had been worked out before. The man, frightened to death, shaking and pale, jumped to his feet, his body tensed for an impossible escape, his organ subdued. Paco sat up and wimpered. Only his erection betrayed his simulated fright. Manuel flashed his badge, showed it to the frightened man, and said harshly, "policia de moralidad." In the background Raul took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.

Paco started to talk wildly: "My papa, he would kill me. I didn't want to go with this man! He said he would.

"Callate, joven," growled Raul. "We have been watching you." He took Paco by the arm and led him out.

After a few minutes Raul returned. In the interval, the young man sat down on the bed, while Manuel just stood there looking menacingly. Raul took Manuel aside and whispered, loud enough for the man to hear: "The young fellow is only seventeen. We have to wait for the Juvenile Squad to take him away. I'll ask them to bring his father or mother along." Turning to the man, he asked: "What is your name?"

"Jesus." "Jesus, what?"

"Jesus Pedro."

"I mean your surname.' "Romirez."

"Senor Romirez, the boy is a minor. This can cost you six years in jail, if it is your first offence."

Jesus recovered somewhat from the shock. The two policemen detected a note of confidence in his tone. "Senores, I believe we can settle this in a friendly way. Would a hundred pesos gratify you?"

"Senor, you must be joking!"

"Well, I can't give you more than a hundred because I haven't any more money."

"You're young. What about your father?"

"My father wouldn't like this at all. He is Judge Pablo Romirez y Diego of the Tribunal." Jesus took something out of his pocket and identified himself as the judge's son.

"Que chingada! Raul swore softly. He and his partner had the very same thought. It may be worth ten thousand pesos to put the squeeze on the guy. On the other hand, Judge Romirez was an evil-tempered bastard, with lots of influence. They might both lose their jobs, and even wind up in prison. It had happened before to other detectives.

After a brief consultation they decided to take a bit of a chance. Manuel said, in a conversational tone: "Look, hombre, we are only doing our duty. I have a little son myself." He took out Wilfredo's photograph and showed it to Jesus. "See? A cute little devil . . . We are ready to settle for two hundred,

senor."

Jesus took his wallet from his trousers, and gave them two one hundred peso bills. The wallet wasn't empty

Impatiently, the policemen waited for Jesus to dress. When he finished they

one