It was of that nature, however, that I could not give it up; even had I been threatened with ten times the danger. I continued on, holding my cloak in such a fashion, that it might not flap open. By good luck I had taken the precaution to cover my head with a Mexican sombrero, instead of the military cap; and as for the gold stripes on my trowsers, they were but the fashion of the Mexican _majo_. A walk of twenty minutes brought me into the Calle del Obispo. Compared with some of the streets, through which I had been passing, it seemed deserted. Only two or three solitary pedestrians could be seen traversing it, under the dim light of half a dozen oil lamps set at long distances apart. One of these was in front of the Casa Villa-Senor. More than once it had been my beacon before, and it guided me now. On the opposite side of the street there was another grand house with a portico. Under the shadow of this I took my stand, to await the coming forth of the cochero. CHAPTER SIX. "VA CON DIOS!" Though I had already made myself acquainted with his usual hour of repairing to the pulqueria, I had not timed it neatly. For twenty minutes I stood with the _billetita_ in my hand, and the doubloon in my pocket, both ready to be entrusted to him. No cochero came forth. The house rose three stories from the street--its massive mason work giving it a look of solemn grandeur. The great gaol-like gate--knobbed all over like the hide of an Indian rhinoceros--was shut and secured by strong locks and double bolting. There was no light in the _sagnan_ behind it; and not a ray shone through the jalousies above. Not remembering that in Mexican mansions there are many spacious apartments without street windows, I might have imagined that the Casa Villa-Senor was either uninhabited, or that the inmates had retired to rest. The latter was not likely: it wanted twenty minutes to ten. What had become of my cochero? Half-past nine was the hour I had usually observed him strolling forth; and I had now been upon the spot since a quarter past eight. Something must be keeping him indoors--an extra scouring of his plated harness or grooming of his _frisones_? This thought kept me patient, as I paced to and fro under the portico of Don Eusebio's "opposite neighbour." Ten o'clock! The sonorous campana of the Cathedral was striking the noted hour--erst celebrated in song. A score of clocks in church-steeples, that tower thickly over the City of the Angels, had taken up the cue; and the air of the night vibrated melodiously under the music of bell metal. To kill time--and another bird with the same stone--I took out my repeater, with the intention of regulating it. I knew it was not the most correct of chronometers. The oil lamp on the opposite side enabled me to note the position of the hands upon the dial. Its dimness, however, caused delay; and I may have been engaged some minutes in the act.