To the ring-leader Senor Vasquez said:
“Pedro, I trust that your friends will not molest this young man. He is in a measure under my protection.”
“Senor Vasquez’s words always carry weight,” was the quick, respectful answer.
“My dear young friend,” went on the Spaniard, “I may see you again. If we do meet, I trust I shall find you more gracious.”
With that the Spaniard slipped quickly from the carriage, and the driver, taking the cue, turned up one of the streets into the city.
Jeers followed, but nothing else happened.
“Vasquez is as slick as ever,” mused Hal, sinking back on the cushion. “At first, he thought he would frighten me. Now perhaps he means to call upon me at the hotel, try to convince me that he saved my life, and thus work upon my gratitude. If Senor Vasquez imagines that he can persuade me to betray my good old employer, he will wake up and find it all a dream!
“But first of all he will send his agents out again, to see if he can get them on the track of the place where the money is. How my Spanish pirate would swear if he knew that he had been within a foot of the money all the while! Yet, because I have fooled the fellow this time, I must not underrate him. He is deadly!”
Deadly, indeed! Vasquez, though a rich merchant, had seldom earned an honest dollar.
He belonged to a Spanish type that has been common in Cuba. American merchants and planters, especially those who were new to the island, had been his especial game for years.