They walked through the dusky cane together, and parted with punctilious salutations when they reached the dim white road. Then Appleby went back to the house, and met Harper at the foot of the stairway.
“Colonel Morales came to demand an apology from you, and I promised him that you would make it,” he said.
Harper seemed hoarse with anger. “I could scarcely keep my hands off him as it was. It would have pleased me to pound the life out of him.”
“Well,” said Appleby dryly, “I scarcely think it will be necessary to make the apology now, but I can’t tell you anything more until to-morrow. There is a good deal I must think over.”
He went up the stairway, and sat for at least an hour staring straight before him with an unlighted cigar in his hand. Then he rose with a little weary smile, and tapped a suspended strip of tin, which rang dissonantly until the major-domo came in.
“You know where Don Maccario is?” he said.
Pancho’s eyes twinkled. “I think I could find him.”
“Then remember what I tell you,” said Appleby, who laid his hand on the man’s shoulder, spoke softly and rapidly, until the latter nodded.
“With permission, I will give the message to three other men who can be trusted and start at once,” he said.
“Is it necessary?” said Appleby, with a faint trace of astonishment.