Morales sat still a minute or two fingering his cigar, with his back to the window, and the light upon his face. Appleby had foreseen this when he drew out a chair for him, but he could himself follow the stream of light that shone out across the veranda, and fancied that a shadowy object was crouching just outside it. His ears were also keen, and he had once or twice caught an almost imperceptible sound. Then Morales turned to him. “Your comrade was concerned in another affair which cannot be arranged so easily,” he said. “It is not so very long ago since he was seen carrying arms in the Alturas Pass.” It was only by a strenuous effort that Appleby sat very still, and strove to keep his face expressionless. “That is your contention!” he said. “You do not expect me to admit it?” The two men looked at each other steadily for almost a minute, and then Morales smiled. “It is of no importance. Here are no witnesses,” he said. “He had, however, a companion, Señor Appleby.” Appleby had expected this, and was prepared. He was also by no means as sure as Morales seemed to be that there were no witnesses, but the uncertainty on that point did not trouble him. He had a quiet confidence in Pancho, and the only men the latter allowed near the house had, Appleby felt certain, at least a suspicion of his connection with the Sin Verguenza. He listened intently, and though everything seemed very still, again fancied he heard a very faint sound on the veranda. “How long have you known this?” he said. “Since you came to the hacienda, I think,” said Morales dryly. “It was a very poor compliment you paid me when you fancied that you had deceived me.” “Then would it be too much to ask exactly how much you know?” Morales laughed. “I will put my cards on the table. There was the attack on Santa Marta, the affair at Alturas, and the escape of a prisoner the night of the Alcalde’s ball. There are, I think, other counts one could urge against you, but those I have mentioned would be sufficient.” Appleby decided to make an experiment. “It seems to me,” he said, “that so much knowledge is apt to prove dangerous to the man who possesses it.” “You mean—” “I have but to raise my voice, and you would find it difficult to get out of the hacienda San Cristoval alive.” It was evident that the little officer’s nerves were good, for he smile contemptuously. “That difficulty has been provided against,” he said. “There are two or three files of infantry not very far away, my friend, and two of my officers have precise instructions as to what o do in case I am absent a suspicious time.” Appleby laughed, for, though he fancied there was something behind it, the man’s frankness was not without its effect on him. His fearlessness he took as a matter of course, for it was not without a reason Morales bore the title of the Sword. “Then,” he said, “we come to the question what do you want from me?”