It was, somewhat to Appleby’s astonishment, next evening before they heard anything more of the affair, and then, as he sat in the big barely furnished general room at San Cristoval, Pancho, the major‐domo, came up to say that the Colonel Morales was waiting below. Appleby bade him bring out cigars and wine, and rose from his seat when Morales came in. He shook hands urbanely, unbuckled his sword, and laid his kepi on the table, and then sat down with an expression of concern in his olive face which Appleby fancied was assumed. It was then about eight o’clock in the evening, and had been dark two hours, but it was very hot, and the door and window lattices which opened on the veranda had been flung wide. There was, however, no moon, and black shadows closed in upon the scanty strip of light that shone outside. “I have come as a friend on a somewhat delicate business,” said Morales, pouring out a glass of wine. “The affair is, as you will realize, a serious one.” Appleby, who fancied he understood his man, smiled. “I scarcely think it is. Nobody attaches much importance to a trifling dispute in a café. One has also to make allowances in moments of political excitement.” “It is not a trifle brutally to assault a Spanish officer, as you would have discovered had I not held back the order for your friend’s arrest,” said Morales dryly. “Still, one would scarcely fancy the officer in question would wish everybody to hear of it. He had, if I remember correctly, his sword with him. I am only suggesting this because it seems to me that in his case I would prefer the affair arranged quietly.” The color appeared to grow a trifle warmer in Morales’ cheek, and there was a faint sparkle in his eyes, but though it seemed to cost him an effort he smiled. “You have, as I surmised, considerable discretion,” he said. “Well, I will admit that the view I urged upon the Teniente Pinillo much resembled yours. In fact, it is conceivable that he would be willing to entertain any honorable amend your comrade should think fit to make him.” Appleby decided that he would gain nothing by showing any special eagerness to straighten out the difficulty, since he had reasons for believing that it was not mere friendliness which had brought Morales there. “Of course, that is the sensible view,” he said. “Still, knowing the delicate pride of your countrymen, I am a trifle astonished that the Teniente Pinillo proved so amenable to reason.” A little grim twinkle crept into Morales’ eyes. “It was at my suggestion. When I venture to make a recommendation it is apt to prove convincing.” Appleby knew that this was the case, for the little olive‐faced soldier was more dreaded in that country than the Sin Verguenza. He also felt that it was not without a reason the dark eyes were fixed upon him searchingly. “That is not astonishing,” he said. “Well, I fancy the one I intend to make will also be considered by the Señor Harper. I will send for him by and by.”