"Of course."
"Ah, Major, I see the stamp of the government match monopoly. Would you be from San Hermano, by any chance?"
In the darkness, Segador's hand crept toward the huge pistol in his holster. Hall held the unlighted match in his fingers. It was unbelievable; he was still unrecognized. He had been speaking to Segador in a disguised voice. "It is a very black night," he said in his normal voice.
"Yes—Colonel."
"Thank you, but it's major. Major Angel Blanco of the Cuban Army, señor." Then he struck the match, held it close to the cigar in his mouth.
"Madre de Dios! It's you!"
"Who the hell did you think it was, Diego? Wilhelm Androtten?"
"I am a fool. But the uniform, the glasses—this confounded blackness...."
"Is that the plane?"
"Yes. We can't take off until morning. I can't trust the night flying instruments. Was it worth the trip?"