"Drink," says he.
Seeing he was of a persistent sort, I lifted the jar to my lips to cut the matter short.
"The female," says he, "went on with De Pino and his train about ten minutes after you were brought up here. De Pino made her believe you had gone on ahead, being in a strange dull humor, and she, to overtake you, hurried away. Drink," he adds, seeing me still with the jar a little from my lips. So I drank; but betwixt two gulps I said:
"They are still gone on the road to Caracas?"
"Caracas!" says he. "Lord love you, master!" (an exclamation with which he larded his sentences continually), "when they get to their journey's end they won't be within a hundred leagues of Caracas."
"Whither is he carrying her, then, in Heaven's name?"
"To Quito, where De Pino spends his time when he is not trafficking. Lord love you, master, don't spare the liquor."
I drank deeply to satisfy him, and that we might come more quickly to the matter I had a greater thirst for.
"Now," says I, "tell me how you came to write that letter."
He took the jar out of my hand and drank again in silence. At length he put it from his lips with a gasp.