“I might prefer, Colonel Urgo, to confine our affair--call it a misunderstanding between two gentlemen--strictly to yourself and myself, trusting to take care of myself when I have recovered my strength. But should I be driven to seek the assistance of an honest man--” Benicia appeared that instant; behind her was ’Cepcion with a silver tray. Before Colonel Urgo bobbed to his feet Grant caught a shaft of cold fury from his eyes which said that if the girl’s presence forced an armistice no promise of peace lay at its termination. Followed an interlude of quiet comedy. Grant, content to leave the first move in the hands of his enemy, eased his shoulder lazily against the chair back and let his eyes play over the Spaniard’s face and diminutive figure. There was an indolent suggestion of probing, of detached appraisal in the steady scrutiny which bit into Urgo’s pride. That and dull rage over the unexplained presence of his rival here in Benicia’s home kept the little whippet fidgeting. He essayed addressing the girl in her own tongue, but again and more pointedly Benicia reminded him of this breach of courtesy. She made no effort to conceal the imp of humour that tugged at the corners of her mouth; this flickering of a smile and the dancing of her eyes made farcical the sober decorum of her speech. Urgo, no fool, was not long realizing he was being made the butt of his cousin’s sport. Thin lines of strain began to appear about the mouth that smiled so smugly; just below his temples irritated nerves commenced setting the muscles a-twitching. Grant, who did not fail to note these reflexes, saw in the figure opposite a preying animal setting himself for a spring. Urgo and Benicia had been exchanging commonplaces. Suddenly the man leaned forward tensely and returned to the forbidden Spanish in a hurried burst: “For your own good, my cousin, I must have a few minutes with you alone. Arrange it, I command you.” “You are hardly the one, sweetest cousin, to be the judge of my good. Nor the one to command me.” Benicia retorted in the same tongue. Then, turning with a smile of mock apology to Grant: “You will excuse Colonel Urgo his occasional lapse from a tongue that is difficult for him.” The Spaniard took a final draught of wine and pushed back from the table where his luncheon had been spread. As he idly tapped the corn husk of one of his cigarettes Grant thought he saw resolution shape itself in the narrowed eyes. There was a moment’s silence, then Urgo addressed himself graciously to Grant: “Señor Hickman, perhaps my adorable cousin here has not found opportunity to tell you anything of the history of this remarkable house in the desert where you have found such agreeable convalescence.”