“Listen,” said the latter, whispering low in his ear. “We can get both these devils of Morgans. The Henry pig hangs to-morrow. There is no reason that the Francis pig should not go out to-day.” The Jefe remained silent, questioning with a lift of his eyebrows. “I have advised him to storm the jail. The Solanos have listened to his lies and are with him. They will surely attempt to do it this evening. They could not do it sooner. It is for you to be ready for the event, and to see to it that Francis Morgan is especially shot and killed in the fight.” “For what and for why?” the Jefe temporised. “It is Henry I want to see out of the way. Let the Francis one go back to his beloved New York.” “He must go out to-day, and for reasons you will appreciate. As you know, from reading my telegrams through the government wireless——” “Which was our agreement for my getting you your permission to use the government station,” the Jefe reminded. “And of which I do not complain,” Torres assured him. “But as I was saying, you know my relations with the New York Regan are confidential and important.” He touched his hand to his breast pocket. “I have just received another wire. It is imperative that the Francis pig be kept away from New York for a month—if forever, and I do not misunderstand Senor Regan, so much the better. In so far as I succeed in this, will you fare well.” “But you have not told me how much you have received, nor how much you will receive,” the Jefe probed. “It is a private agreement, and it is not so much as you may fancy. He is a hard man, this Senor Regan, a hard man. Yet will I divide fairly with you out of the success of our venture.” The Jefe nodded acquiescence, then said: “Will it be as much as a thousand gold you will get?” “I think so. Surely the pig of an Irish stock-gambler could pay me no less a sum, and five hundred is yours if pig Francis leaves his bones in San Antonio.” “Will it be as much as a hundred thousand gold?” was the Jefe’s next query. Torres laughed as if at a joke. “It must be more than a thousand,” the other persisted. “And he may be generous,” Torres responded. “He may even give me five hundred over the thousand, half of which, naturally, as I have said, will be yours as well.” “I shall go from here immediately to the jail,” the Jefe announced. “You may trust me, Senor Torres, as I trust you. Come. We will go at once, now, you and I, and you may see for yourself the preparation I shall make for this Francis Morgan’s reception. I have not yet lost my cunning with a rifle. And, as well, I shall tell off three of the gendarmes to fire only at him. So this Gringo dog would storm our jail, eh? Come. We will depart at once.” He stood up, tossing his cigarette away with a show of determined energy. But, half way across the room, a ragged boy, panting and sweating, plucked his sleeve and whined: “I have information. You will pay me for it, most high Senor? I have run all the way.”