For some reason not apparent, Manuel desired to ingratiate himself with Herrick, and tried by picturesque talk to banish the disagreeable impression he had made by his last remark. He told the most wonderful stories of his adventures by land and sea. According to his own account he had lived a life of hair-breadth escapes. South America he knew from Quito to the Horn, and had explored the unknown portions at the risk of his life. He had been captive to Indians, he had been tortured--Herrick noted that his left ear was missing--and he had been almost frozen while ascending Chimborazo. Then he had hunted for treasure, fought for it with knives when it was found, and by his own confession had more than one death to his account. All this he told in vivid picturesque language and with a wonderful command of the English tongue. Herrick complimented him on his capabilities as a linguist. "Oh, I know seven or eight languages," said Manuel boastfully "not to speak of Indian dialects. I have been all over Europe. Yes, Señor, when I made money--and I have made a great deal--I came always to Europe to spend it. That I did royally. Oh, they know me in every capital. Of all, give me Vienna. Oh, Señor, I am known on the Prater." "And to the police no doubt," thought Herrick; but for his own private reasons did not give vent to this opinion. He said aloud, "I suppose Don Manuel, you were not surprised to hear of Colonel Carr's death." Santiago flashed a quick glance at the imperturbable countenance of the doctor. "Oh, but I was," said he "to escape all the dangers of the tropics, and then to die in a quiet little English village. Strange! To be sure though," added Manuel with another glance, "he brought his murderer with him. And Frisco was capable of anything!" "Oh!" put in Herrick sharply, "I thought you did not know Frisco!" "Nor did I Señor," said Santiago covering his mistake with wonderful swiftness "but I heard of him. He was a devil worse than Carr, if that can be possible. They were attached to one another but quarrelled--Oh, yes, Señor I assure you they quarrelled. Once over a game of cards, Carr slashed Frisco across the face." "Oh, that was it, was it?" murmured Herrick as he recalled the criss-cross slash on Frisco's face which had been described to him. "A queer couple. What was Frisco's real name?" "I do not know," snapped Manuel with a surprising curtness considering his late voluble talk. Shortly he took his leave, with a politely expressed hope that he would meet Herrick again. When the Mexican was gone, Joyce turned eagerly to his friend and asked what he thought of him. "If you want to know my real opinion, he is a thorough little blackguard. Cut him Robin, or you will get into trouble." "I don't see why I should. He is a decent fellow. His only vice is gambling. He would sell his shirt to gamble." "Humph! Looks a card-sharper. Where does he gamble principally?"