"Stop! Stop! At your peril! Stay your feet, sir!" "It's all right, Benito. I'll usher the señor to the reception room myself. Come, amigo, with me," broke in a soft voice now addressed to the Captain. The petty official was all apologies and deep bows. The Captain paid no attention to him. "Come, Captain, with me." "I thank you, Señora Valentino." "I chanced to be passing the main vestibule and saw you. Benito's patriotism was opposing your way. No?" They were walking along a wide corridor of the mansion. Sunlight poured in through many small-paned windows. Peons, men and women, were constantly going and coming. "This Benito's patriotism should be flogged out of his skin," was the reply. The lady laughed. They reached a large door which she opened by pressing a spring at the side. "His patriotism, then, is but skin deep, you think?" She motioned the Captain to a chair. The door slammed with a metallic click. They were in a small room well lighted. Book shelves, closely filled, writing material, and desks, bespoke the library. "I fancy this creature's patriotism would well be termed impertinence. This have I seen often enough disappear under fervent application of a riding-whip." She looked closely at the speaker. "Captain Farquharson," after a moment, "you have been in the Californias more months than I have weeks. Neither is this your first visit. No?" "It is not." Señora Valentino nodded. "Greater opportunities for observation, decidedly, have you had than I. Still, I will say, noble señor, that the Mexicans here are vastly different from the natives of Hindustan where you have been; or even from the peasantry of southeastern Europe where, in other times, your fertile talents have found employment." "True of the few Spaniards here, and their descendants. I cannot agree, my lady, with you as to the Mexicans. They----" She raised a delicate, well-jeweled hand, perhaps to interrupt him; more likely, to emphasize what she had begun to say. "My Captain, blows will never win the Mexican to favor your cause--I should say, our cause--any more than will they the Spaniard. Both have tasted here the sweets of personal liberty in no small degree. We must imbue them with a desire for the ampler freedom of Anglo-Saxon civilization, balancing thereby their love for Latin forbears; or, at least, for Latin form." Farquharson lightly struck the desk near his chair. "Gain the leaders, señora, gain the leaders; and we drive the others after them like sheep. Once, in Calcutta----" "Perhaps in some province of India--never in the province of California. Bethink you, Captain! Suppose that bold spirit in the north, Mendoza, should dream your great country has here an agent purposing to do what you say. Not the years of the prophet, which he has lived, would hold him from leading his mounted peons, night and day in search of you." "Then what, my lady?"