Walthew turned to Blanca, saying in Castilian:
"Until our next meeting! I kiss your hands, señorita."
The girl rose with a grave curtsy and there was a touch of stateliness in her manner.
"May you go in safety, señores! We expect much from you."
The mulatto led them away, and, passing through the house, they found their host and another man sitting by a dim lamp in a room with the shutters carefully closed. Don Martin Sarmiento wore an alpaca jacket, a white shirt, and a black silk sash round the waist of his duck trousers. He was dark-haired and sallow, lightly built and thin, but his expression was eager and his eyes were penetrating. One could have imagined that his fiery spirit had worn down the flesh.
The other man was of coarser type. His skin was very dark, his face hot and fleshy, and Grahame noticed that his hands were wet with perspiration. His glance was restless and he had a rather truculent air, though there was something in it that hinted at uneasiness. Grahame thought that while he might show a rash boldness now and then, his nerve was not very good.
"With your permission, I present my comrade, Señor Castillo," said Don Martin. "Should any disaster overtake me, Señor Castillo, or another whom he appoints, will carry out our contract. Our funds are in safe hands; the rifles will be paid for."
"They will be delivered," Grahame answered quietly.
"Good! The word of a gentleman is sufficient. And now there is something more to be said. My house is my friend's, particularly if he is in trouble, but one has higher duties than hospitality."
"Yes," agreed Grahame, turning to Castillo. "The interests of one's country come first. There are only three of us, and Don Martin is the head of an important organization."