Leaving the palace, he went directly to his house, half expecting Mendoza's blade between his civil-official ribs at almost any moment. He reached it safely, and sat the greater part of the evening blinking at the light, laboring with a thought. He heard Riquelme come in with companions, and going to the rear of the patio later, roused one of his servants and beckoned him out.
"Vilpalca," he said, "dost know Felipillo? Good! Go fetch him."
He returned and sat again blinking at the light, slowly rubbing his hands, now chuckling without mirth, now communing with himself in emphatic whispers with many a sniffle interspersed. Within an hour his servant returned, leading Felipillo. The young renegade entered sulkily, twirling his plumed cap and looking shiftily at Rogelio, who greeted him with effusive condescension.
"Ah, Felipillo," he twittered; "I am glad to see thee, Felipillo. How hath it gone with thee? Sit, boy, and I'll pour thee a bit of chicha. Here."
Felipillo seated himself on the edge of a chair, glanced contemptuously at the very small drink, and tossed it off at a gulp.
"Well, how hast prospered?" continued the veedor. "Hast played in luck? Not in excessive luck, eh, chico! Thou 'rt a bit seedy, not so? He, he! But we all have varied fortunes at play, Felipillo, now high, now low. But I would rejoice to see thee in better feather, my young friend. I would, on my soul!"
Felipillo regarded him with suspicious surprise, and the veedor went on: "I've sent for thee on a little matter of business, my boy. A matter, in fact, of—he, he!—diplomacy. We Spaniards, as thou knowest, are great in diplomacy. I hope thy coming did not incommode thee!"
"I was going to bed," grunted Felipillo, with bad grace.
"To bed so early? Wise boy! But 'tis a sign of a thin purse, is it not?—or want of favor among the ladies—or both, eh? Sometimes they go together. Too bad, too bad!"
The veedor grinned upon him, meeting a sour glance in reply, then resumed.