Gerald, surrounded by officers, was standing at the top of the steps, and I was only thankful that that little brute had not gone on another hundred yards. ’Hello, Billums!’ Gerald sang out. ’Got my bag all right? I thought, when the buggy dashed past a moment ago, that old Zorilla would get it. Come along with me, I’m going to have a shave and get into clean things.’ He took me along with him, and whilst he was shaving himself, and his little groom, José, was unpacking his bag, I told him about the ex-policeman. ’For goodness’ sake, take care of yourself, Gerald,’ I said; ’he’ll get you if he dies for it,’ but ’Don’t worry,’ was all I could get out of him, as he scraped his face. I don’t mind telling you that I was thoroughly frightened—much more for Gerald than myself, though the more I bothered him to take some precautions, the more angry he got. ’Blow it!’ he said; ’you’ve made me cut myself. Confound these safety razors. My dear Billums, if he’s going to get me, he will. I’ll keep my eye skinned for the beast, but they’re all so much alike that you can’t tell t’other from which—scar or no scar. Nobody’s life is worth a cent in this country unless you trust to luck.’ ’But why don’t you have an escort?’ I pleaded. ’Have an escort? My dear Billums, if I had an escort, they’d think I was afraid.’ I gave it up, and told him all about bringing those guns and ammunition-wagons back into San Fernando, and all the troubles I’d had with the officers and their men; I didn’t forget to tell him about the ’Gnome’ coming up in the nick of time. He was jolly pleased, though he didn’t say much. ’That chap you call the ’Gnome’ is one of the best people I’ve got, I don’t know what I should do without him.’ All this time orderlies came in and out, and Gerald did not seem to have a moment’s peace. Then a man came in with a note. ’It’s from Zorilla,’ Gerald said. ’He wants to know what’s become of Navarro, his fat little A.D.C. You ought to know—that chap with the cigarette case.’ I told him he had been taken on board the _Hector_. ’Jolly glad,’ he said, sent for some paper, sat down with the soap lather on his face and a towel round his waist, and wrote a reply. ’Wouldn’t be the proper thing not to write it myself.’ ’Tell Zorilla we found his horse, and have brought him into San Fernando,’ I sang out. ’Good stroke, Billums, good stroke. We’ll send him back when he’s fit—always make friends of an enemy, especially if he’s a good chap like Zorilla,’ and he added a postscript. ’Where is he?’ I asked, as the messenger darted away. ’About three miles off—in another clearing, for the night.’ ’But the horse won’t be much good to him,’ I said, remembering what the Englishman had told me. ’You’ve got him surrounded, and he must surrender, mustn’t he?’