The tobacco merchant made him a little half‐ironical inclination. “Colonel Morales will appreciate the consideration I have shown him in coming myself,” he said. “The affair might have been arranged differently had I sent one or two of my men who have a little account with him.” Morales said nothing, and there was silence for a space of minutes. What he thought was not apparent, for though his color was a trifle darker now, he sat rigidly still, but Appleby felt himself quivering a little, and saw that Harper’s lips were grimly set, while Maccario moved the fingers of one hand in a curious nervous fashion. Appleby scarcely dared wonder what was happening in the patio, though he surmised that if the Sergeant Suarez questioned the order it would go very hard with all of them, for there were, he remembered, fifty men in the cuartel, and only a handful of them had mutinied. He could feel his heart beating, and anathematized the loquaciousness of Maccario and his deference to Castilian decorum which had kept them so long. It was evident to him that any trifling unexpected difficulty would result in their destruction. At last, when every nerve in him was tingling, a man came hastily up the stairway. “We have Domingo Pereira,” he said. “The others are getting impatient, señor!” Maccario rose and turned to Morales. “Take warning, señor. No one is safe from the Sin Verguenza, and we may not extend you as much consideration when we next meet,” he said. “In the meanwhile I ask your word on the faith of a soldier of Spain that you will sit here silent for the next ten minutes.” Again Morales’ eyes gleamed. “Now,” he said ironically, “comes your difficulty. I will promise nothing—and a pistol is noisy. I am not sure about the extent of the mutiny.” Maccario very suggestively shook his sleeve. “In this country one carries a little implement which is silent and effective, but there is another means of obviating the difficulty. This sash of mine is of ample length and spun from the finest silk, though one would not care to subject a distinguished officer to an indignity.” “Take it off,” said Harper. “I’ll fix him so half his cazadores couldn’t untie him. You’re not going to take his word he’ll sit there.” Maccario stopped him with a gesture, and turned to Morales. “It would, it seems, be wiser to promise, señor. We ask no more than ten minutes.” For a moment the officer’s olive face became suffused, but the blood ebbed from it, leaving it almost pale, and it was very quietly he pledged himself. Then they turned and left him, and Harper gasped when they went out into the corridor. “Well,” he said shortly, “I don’t want to go through an thing like that again. It was ’most as hard as what happened in the plaza, and it seems to me the sooner we light out of this place the better.”