Don Padraic turned to Grant with more than perfunctory concern in speech and glance. “Your health, señor? I fear that certain events of the day, of which my daughter has told me--” “Please!” Grant was quick to interrupt. “I am feeling fit as I could be, thanks to the careful nursing I have had in your house.” The thing that had been left unspoken by both weighed like an unlaid spirit on the silence that followed. Each of the four before the fire had little thought save for the chapter of circumstance left unconcluded by one who had departed the Garden a few hours before, swollen with the venom of outraged pride. It was Don Padraic who brushed aside reserve: “Señor Hickman, I may speak before your friend, who must share your confidence. He will pardon my bringing personal affairs before him. I can not postpone my thanks--my very sincere thanks--for what you did this afternoon. My daughter was defenceless.” “And I--” Benicia began, but Grant quickly put in: “Will you not consider that I was really serving my own private ends--a score to be evened between Colonel Urgo and myself?” Bim covered a reminiscent grin with a broad palm as Grant hurried on, eager to withhold from the girl opportunity to speak her thanks. “When I was brought here I thought it best to keep silent on the matter of my own private grudge against this man. But now that it appears we all have common cause against him I think I may speak. Urgo himself was responsible for my being shot.” He saw Benicia’s eyes grow wide, read the surprise that parted her lips in a breathed exclamation. He thought he saw, too, just the flash of something no eyes but his own could understand, and he was glad. Briefly he sketched the incident of the gambling palace in Sonizona, his encounter with Urgo in the office of the jail, the march with the chain gang. “And so,” Grant concluded, “Colonel Urgo found a dead man come to life when he saw me in the patio to-day. When Señorita O’Donoju was out of hearing for a moment I could not resist a shot which left our friend guessing whether or not I had told you, señor, how I came by my wound.” “Ah, yes,” from Benicia in a hushed voice. “I knew the minute I returned there had been something between you. Urgo was like a cornered animal.” “And so he turned on you,” Grant could not help saying. “If only I could have guessed beforehand his attack--”