"You are of some importance, señor. Although I have admitted that you are modest, it is strange you do not know."
"Why should I know?" Kit asked.
Francisca studied him over her ebony fan, which hid half her face and emphasized the curious glow of her black eyes. "I do not think you are as dull as you pretend. Have you not been experimented on recently?"
"I think I have," said Kit. "After all, a gold onza is not a great temptation. I found another—a spray of heliotrope—harder to resist."
"But you did resist!" she replied in a quiet voice.
"Yes," said Kit, fixing his eyes on her face. "I am an adventurer like the rest, but it is rather a shabby thing to try to gain an advantage in a battle with a woman. Besides, as I'm not clever, I might have failed."
With a languid movement of her head Francisca looked round and Kit imagined she saw the others were too far off to hear. Then she made him a half mocking bow.
"We need not quarrel, señor, and I will give you a hint. Since you are incorruptible, this town is not the place for you. Strangers from the North sometimes get fever. And I would not like you to suffer because you are honest, and have chosen the losing side."
"Ah," said Kit, "you think our side will lose?"
Francisca moved her fan, as if to indicate Galdar, who stood in the moonlight near the fountain. He was smiling urbanely and a number of men and women had gathered about him. Kit knew they were people of importance. At the end of the patio, the president stood alone in the advancing gloom.