My mind was still busied with these memories when I reached the hotel. There seemed to be much more going on than there had been earlier in the day--horsemen were coming and going, servants hurrying to and fro, people promenading on the _patio_, a group of uniformed officers deep in conversation. One of them, a tall, rather stout man, with grizzled hair, a pair of big epaulettes, and a coat covered with gold lace, had his back toward me, and as my eye fell on his sword-hilt it struck me that I had seen something like it before. I was trying to think where, when the owner of it turned suddenly round, and I found myself face to face with--GRISCELLI!! For some seconds we stared at each other in blank amazement. I could see that though he recognized me, he was trying to make believe that he did not; or, perhaps, he really doubted whether I was the man I seemed. "That is my sword," I said, pointing to the weapon by his side, which had been given to me by Carera. "Your sword! What do you mean?" "You took it from me eleven years ago, when I fell into your hands at San Felipe, and you hunted my friend Carmen and myself with bloodhounds." "What folly is this? Hunted you with bloodhounds, forsooth! Why, this is the first time I ever set eyes on you--the man is mad--or drunk" (addressing his friends). "You lie, Griscelli; and you are not a liar merely, but a murderer and a coward." "_Por Dios_, you shall pay for this insult with your heart's blood!" he shouted, furiously, half drawing his sword. "It is like you to draw on an unarmed man." I said, laying hold of his wrist. "Give me a sword, and you shall make me pay for the insult with my blood--if you can. Señores" (by this time all the people in the _patio_ had gathered round us), "Señores, are there here any Venezuelan caballeros who will bear me out in this quarrel. I am an Englishman, by name Fortescue; eleven years ago, while serving under General Mejia on the patriot side, I fell into the hands of General Griscelli, who deprived me of the sword he now wears, which I received as a present from Señor Carera, whose name you may remember. Then, after deceiving us with false promises--my friend General Carmen and myself--he hunted us with his bloodhounds, and we escaped as by a miracle. Now he protests that he never saw me before. What say you, señores, am I not right in stigmatizing him as a murderer and liar?" "Quite right!" said a middle-aged, soldierly-looking man. I also served in the war of liberation, and remember Griscelli's name well. It would serve him right to poniard him on the spot." "No, no. I want no murder. I demand only satisfaction." "And he shall give it you or take the consequences. I will gladly act as one witness, and I am sure my friend here, Señor Don Luis de Medina, who is also a veteran of the war, will act as the other. Will you fight, Griscelli?" "Certainly--provided that we fight at once, and to the death. You can arrange the details with my friends here."