“He has never seen me as a merchant of tobacco, and if he notices too much it is assuredly unfortunate for him,” he said. “Pancho will already have the affair in hand.” Appleby said nothing, but he could feel his heart thumping painfully as he leaned on the table until Morales came in. He carried his kepi in one hand, and though he greeted Appleby punctiliously there was a little gleam in his eyes, while for just a moment he glanced keenly at Maccario. In the meanwhile Appleby saw Pancho’s face at the lattice behind his shoulder, and surmised that Morales was running a heavy risk just then. He had little esteem for the Spanish colonel, but it seemed to him that the fate of the San Cristoval hacienda, as well as its manager, depended upon what happened during the next five minutes. “You will take a glass of wine, and these cigars are good,” he said. Though every nerve in his body seemed to be tingling his voice was even; but while the officer poured out the wine Maccario laid a bundle of cigars before him, and smiled at Appleby. “Your pardon, señor—but this is my affair,” he said. “It is not often I have the opportunity of offering so distinguished a soldier my poor tobacco, though there are men of note in Havana and Madrid who appreciate its flavor, as well as the Señor Harding.” Morales glanced at him, and lighted a cigar; but Appleby fancied he was at least as interested in the bag of silver on the table. “The tobacco is excellent,” he said. Maccario took out a card. “If you will keep the bundle it would be an honor,” he said. “If you are still pleased when you have smoked them this will help you to remember where more can be obtained. We”—and he dropped his voice confidentially—“do not insist upon usual prices when supplying distinguished officers.” “That is wise,” said Morales, who took the cigars. “It is not often they have the pesetas to meet such demands with. You will not find business flourishing in this country, which we have just swept clean of the Sin Verguenza. They have a very keen scent for silver.” “No,” said Maccario plaintively. “There are also so many detentions and questions to be answered that it is difficult to make a business journey.” Morales laughed, “It is as usual—you would ask for something? Still, they are good cigars!” “I would venture to ask an endorsement of my cedula. With that one could travel with less difficulty.” He brought out the strip of paper, and Morales turned to Appleby. “This gentlemen is a friend of yours?” Appleby nodded, and the officer scribbled across the back of the cedula, and then, flinging it on the table, rose with a faint shrug of impatience. “A word with you in private!” he said.