“Our guest, Señor Hickman, does not understand Spanish,” Benicia insinuated reproof. “Yes, it is quite true, as you have judged, that he is recovering from a wound--a slight misadventure on the road to Hermosillo. But pray be seated, my cousin, and let me order wine and a light luncheon. You are visibly fatigued.” With a slight bow to Urgo Benicia arose and crossed the patio to disappear in the shadows of the arcade. Urgo, surprised into an unpleasant situation by being left alone with the man he had sent to death, fidgeted with the hasp of his cigarette case. He made great difficulty of scratching a match. Grant, watching his every move, decided to play some of the cards fate had dealt him. “I guessed you were inquiring of Señorita O’Donoju about my condition, Colonel. You are charmingly solicitous. I was shot in the back--bullet through my shoulder. Left for dead with the other convicts.” The little Spaniard let smoke seep through his nostrils and spread out his hands to say, “So much for that!” Grant was not to be denied his advantage: “Of course, Colonel Urgo, I remember you were good enough to be present when I was arraigned at the jail on a false charge of counterfeiting; I shall not soon forget the promise you made then to do what you could for me. You did--all you possibly could!” Grant’s smile had become set and one hand resting on his blanketed knees flexed into a fist, white across the knuckles. Urgo expelled a cloud of smoke from his lungs and showed his teeth in a wolf’s smile. “You remember much, señor. Do not fail to remember, too, you are a criminal under the laws of Mexico, to be tried on charge of counterfeiting at the court of Hermosillo.” “Yes?” Grant was cool under the other’s counter. “And will you move to take me to Hermosillo after what happened--out yonder on that road through the desert?” “I?” Urgo’s shoulders lifted. “I am a soldier, señor. I have nothing to do with justice and the courts. But assuredly you will be taken to Hermosillo and put on trial.” The little Spaniard had fully recovered his poise by now. The uneasy light in his eyes had yielded to a dangerous flicker of craft. Suavity of a tiger’s purr lurked in his voice. Grant mastered the rage which ridged all his fighting muscles despite the weakness of his body; this was no moment to be betrayed into throwing away a trick. “But before I go to Hermosillo, Colonel, of course I shall take precautions to insure that I get there--that there will be no more _ley de fuga_ in my case. Don Padraic O’Donoju, who is an honest man; I shall take him more fully into my confidence and--” “Then you have told--?” Urgo bit his lip in mortification over having fallen into a trap. Grant’s answering smile was innocent as a babe’s.