"Diez centimes, señor," he whined.
Baggin raised his hand, but checked its descent. He had seen something behind the ragged jacket closely buttoned at the throat.
"Wait for me on the road to Jerez," he commanded, and tossed the man a silver piece. The beggar caught it with the skill of an expert.
Baggin cut short the torrent of thanks, blessings, and protestations.
"Meet me in half-an-hour; you understand?"
"What the devil are you going to do?" demanded Grayson.
"You shall see."
Half-an-hour later they emerged from the café, Baggin to his horse, and the fat man to a capacious victoria that he had summoned from the hotel stables.
A mile along the road they came up with the beggar.
"Get down, Grayson, and send the victoria on; you can signal it when you want it."