"You are quite right, Señor Fortescue; so you may. I will see that you are well mounted, and I shall be delighted to take charge of your belongings until the patriots again, and for the last time, capture Caracas and drive those thrice-accursed Spaniards into the sea." Before we separated I invited Señor Carera to _almuerzo_ (the equivalent to the Continental second breakfast) on the following day. After a moment's reflection he accepted the invitation. "But we shall have to be very cautious," he added. "The _posada_ is a Royalist house, and the _posadero_ (innkeeper) is hand and glove with the police. If we speak of the patriots at all, it must be only to abuse them.... But our turn will come, and--_por Dios!_--then--" The fierce light in Carera's eyes, the gesture by which his words were emphasized, boded no good for the Royalists if the patriots should get the upper hand. No wonder that a war in which men like him were engaged on the one side, and men like el Commandant Castro on the other, should be savage, merciless, and "to the death." As I had decided to quit Caracas so soon, it did not seem worth while presenting the letter to one of his brother officers which I had received from Commandant Castro. I thought, too, that in existing circumstances the less I had to do with officers the better. But I did not like the idea of going away without fulfilling my promise to call on Zamorra's old friend, Don Señor Ulloa. So when I returned to the _posada_ I asked the _posadero_ (innkeeper), a tall Biscayan, with an immensely long nose, a cringing manner, and an insincere smile, if he would kindly direct me to Señor Ulloa's house. "_Si, señor_," said the _posadero_, giving me a queer look, and exchanging significant glances with two or three of his guests who were within earshot. "_Si, señor_, I can direct you to the house of Señor Ulloa. You mean Don Simon, of course?" "Yes. I have a letter of introduction to him." "Oh, you have a letter of introduction to Don Simon! if you will come into the street I will show you the way." Whereupon we went outside, and the _posadero_, pointing out the church of San Ildefonso, told me that the large house over against the eastern door was the house I sought. "_Gracias, señor_," I said, as I started on my errand, taking the shady side of the street and walking slowly, for the day was warm. I walked slowly and thought deeply, trying to make out what could be the meaning of the glances which the mention of Señor Ulloa's name had evoked, and there was a nameless something in the _posadero's_ manner I did not like. Besides being cringing, as usual, it was half mocking, half menacing, as if I had said, or he had heard, something that placed me in his power.