He swept both hands apart.
"But had I known then what to-day has taught me, I should have held my tongue that evening when the Pretender plotted in the café."
"To-morrow," said Benton slowly, "there will be festivity. I can't be here then. I must leave to-night—but you, amigo mio, you must stay and watch. If Lapas is taken prisoner and silenced there will be no one in Puntal who will suspect you. No one knew me and if I leave at once, the Countess will hardly learn who was the mysterious man to whom she gave a ring."
"But, Señor,"—Blanco was dubious—"would it not be better that I should be with you?"
"You can serve me better by remaining here. I would rather have you near Her."
The man from Cadiz nodded and crossed himself.
"I am pledged, Señor," he asserted.
"Then," continued the American, "for a time we must separate. The Isis will sail to-night."
The men walked together to the terminal station of the small ratchet railway. When they parted the Spaniard and the yachtsman had arranged a telegraph code which might be used by the small but complete wireless equipment of the Isis. An hour later the launch from the yacht took him aboard at the ancient stone jetty, where the fruit-venders and wine-sellers shouted their jargon, and the seaweed clung to the landing stage.