"Of course."
"Then listen. Tonight, he must find some excuse for moving me into the room next to Ansaldo—if there is such a room. Do you think he can do it?"
Pepe grabbed the check for the coffee, refused to relinquish it to Hall. "This is my table," he said with quiet dignity. He also refused to discuss his fee for driving Hall around San Hermano for days. "Mañana," he laughed. "But about the room. I think Fernando can arrange it. The wife of the owner of the Bolivar is a member of the Centro Asturiano. She is also a first cousin of Dr. Gonzalez."
"I hope he can do it," Hall said.
"Hola!" Pepe boomed. "Qué tal?" He exchanged loud pleasantries with a chauffeur who came in and sat down at a table in the corner.
"A Gallego," he explained to Hall. "But otherwise a pretty decent man."
"There are many decent Gallegos," Hall said.
Pepe whistled through his teeth, shook the limp and dangling fingers of his right hand, and looked behind his back. Hall grinned. Pepe's gesture was as old as Spain.
"Listen, Pepe," he laughed, "we have much to do. And all in a very short time. I am going to see the Press Secretary in the Gobernacion. I am requesting an interview with Gamburdo."
"Gamburdo is a cabrón," Pepe said.