"Yes," he said, "I understand. But the Irish are optimists, and you are Irish too."
"Then perhaps that's why I keep hopeful. It is not always easy at Rio Frio, and life was not very joyous when we were exiles in America."
"You know my country?" Walthew broke in.
"I know your Southern States. We lived there in poverty, wandering up and down. My father is what his friends call a patriot, and his enemies a dangerous agitator. He had to choose between ruin and acquiescence in corrupt tyranny, and his course was plain. But the seed he had sown sprouted, the dictator was driven out, and we came back to our own. Then, for a time, there was rest and safety, until the new ruler began to follow the old. He tried to bribe my father, who had helped to put him in power; but our honor was not for sale, and we had to leave the capital. There are men who trust my father, and look to him for help.... But I think you know something of this."
"Yes," said Grahame. "This afternoon we heard Castillo speak in the plaza."
The girl's eyes flashed angrily.
"Castillo is a fool! He pulls down what others have carefully built up."
"Tries to fire the mine before things are ready?" Walthew suggested. "A premature explosion's apt to blow up the men who prepared it."
Blanca gave him a keen glance.
"That is what nearly happened this afternoon. I believe you are to be trusted, señores?"
Grahame bowed.
"I am an adventurer, not a patriot, and my partner is out for money, but we made a bargain with Don Martin and we keep our word."
"Then," said the girl quietly, "Castillo is hiding here."
"In the casa Sarmiento! Isn't that dangerous? Won't the President's friends suspect?"
"I think they do, but they are afraid of my father's hold on the people; and there is only a handful of troops. When it is late they may make a search, but Castillo will leave soon. It is possible that you are in some danger."
Walthew laughed.
"That makes things interesting; I've never been in serious danger yet. But I suppose you have Don Martin's permission to be frank with us?"
"You are shrewd," she answered, smiling. "He has some confidence in my judgment. I spent the years that should have been happiest in poverty and loneliness. Are you surprised that I'm a conspirator? If you value your safety, you will beware of me."
"You might prove dangerous to your enemies, but I believe you'd be very staunch to your friends."
"Gracias, señor. I'm sure I can at least hate well."
A mulatto boy came out on to the balcony, and the girl's stout duenna, who had been sitting silent and apparently half asleep, rose and approached the table.
"Don Martin is disengaged," she said to Blanca; and when the girl waited a moment Grahame imagined that something had been left for her to decide.
He did not see any sign exchanged, but he thought with some amusement that he and his companion had passed a test when the duenna said to them:
"Don Martin would speak with you."
Walthew turned to Blanca, saying in Castilian:
"Until our next meeting! I kiss your hands, señorita."
The girl rose with a grave curtsy and there was a touch of stateliness in her manner.
"May you go in safety, señores! We expect much from you."
The mulatto led them away, and, passing through the house, they found their host and another man sitting by a dim lamp in a room with the shutters carefully closed. Don Martin Sarmiento wore an alpaca jacket, a white shirt, and a black silk sash round the waist of his duck trousers. He was dark-haired and sallow, lightly built and thin, but his expression was eager and his eyes were penetrating. One could have imagined that his fiery spirit had worn down the flesh.
The other man was of coarser type. His skin was very dark, his face hot and fleshy, and Grahame noticed that his hands were wet with perspiration. His glance was restless and he had a rather truculent air, though there was something in it that hinted at uneasiness. Grahame thought that while he might show a rash boldness now and then, his nerve was not very good.
"With your permission, I present my comrade, Señor Castillo," said Don Martin. "Should any disaster overtake me, Señor Castillo, or another whom he appoints, will carry out our contract. Our funds are in safe hands; the rifles will be paid for."
"They will be delivered," Grahame answered quietly.
"Good! The word of a gentleman is sufficient. And now there is something more to be said. My house is my friend's, particularly if he is in trouble, but one has higher duties than hospitality."
"Yes," agreed Grahame, turning to Castillo. "The interests of one's country come first. There are only three of us, and Don Martin is the head of an important organization."
"It was not for my personal safety that I came here," Castillo broke in hotly. "I carried papers; lists of names, compromising details. It was unthinkable that they should fall into the President's hands. They must be made safe, and then it does not matter what happens to me—though I may, perhaps, claim to have been of some help to the cause of freedom."
Grahame saw his host's half-impatient smile.
"And so you gave them to Don Martin!" he remarked dryly.
"He is not watched as I am," Castillo answered. "I am hunted among the sierras, I hide in the fever swamps; but where I pass I leave a spark that tyranny cannot trample out. It burns and spreads; by and by there comes the purging conflagration."
"Yes," said Grahame. "I'm told, however, that your President has a keen scent for smoke, and I don't mean to scatter more sparks than I can help." He turned to Don Martin. "Since our business is finished, we can leave Rio Frio in an hour."
"I, too!" exclaimed Castillo. "It is not good for the cause that the soldiers find me. But there are difficulties; the house may be watched."
Don Martin looked thoughtful, but not disturbed; and Grahame saw that he could calmly take a risk. Danger and his host obviously were old acquaintances.
"It is better that you go," he answered. "Sometimes I entertain an American traveler, and Englishmen now and then visit Rio Frio. I do not think you are suspected yet, and you may be able to help us by drawing off the watchers' attention when you leave. We will see what can be done, but it would be safer for Señor Castillo not to come with us."
He took the others to the roof, where he walked to the edge and looked over the low parapet. A narrow, dark street divided Sarmiento's house from the next, but a lattice in a high wall was open, and Grahame imagined that he made out a man's head, which was, however, promptly withdrawn.
"Once or twice a guest of mine has reached the calle by a rope, but the President's friends take precautions to-night," Don Martin remarked. "There remain the windows on the other side, but Castillo is heavy and fat. I think the door into the plaza would suit him best."
"Wouldn't the small one at the back be safer?" Walthew suggested.
"That will be watched, but it might be of some help if you went that way. Possibly you would not mind wearing a sombrero and a Spanish cloak."
"Not at all," Grahame assured him. "Still, there are two of us."
"That is an advantage. If one leaves shortly after the other, those who keep watch and expect a single man will be puzzled."
Walthew chuckled.
"Good! I'd a hankering after adventures, and now it looks