"Oh, we shall not be staying there long," she answered blithely. "My father is an engineer officer, and he must inspect the fortifications on the Main and elsewhere. We shall be returning to Spain within the year. But look, sir! Is not that sign intended to be a whale's head?"
"Yes," I said. "This is the tavern."
One look at its flaring windows and the cut-throat gentry who swaggered in and out of the low door convinced my companion that I had not misrepresented the character of the place. She drew back to the curb, and the corners of her mouth drooped sadly.
"Glory, what an ill hole!" she murmured. "Now for why would the padre come hither? Business, says he; but——"
And she shook her head with a vague doubting emphasis.
"I would not seem to be thrusting myself upon you, mistress," I said, "yet I am fearful your Spaniards can not make themselves understood. Will it please you that I inquire within for your father?"
She considered, catching a corner of her lip betwixt white teeth.
"Troth, sir," she answered finally, "I see not how I can avoid going the deeper in debt to you."
There was a moment's pause.
"And how shall I——"