‘One of them,’ said Concepçion meaningly, ‘is at Toledo at the moment, journeying after you.
‘Ah!’
‘The Señor Pleydell.’
‘Then we will go back to meet him.’
‘I thought so,’ said Concepçion.
CHAPTER XXI
A CROSS-EXAMINATION
‘Wherein I am false I am honest—not true to be true.’
‘I will sing you a contrabandista song,’ said Concepçion, as the party rode towards Toledo in the moonlight. ‘The song we—they sing when the venture has been successful. You may hear it any dark night in the streets of Gaucin.’
‘Sing,’ said the older soldier, ‘if it is in your lungs. For us—we prefer to travel silent.’
Conyngham, mounted on the horse from which the Carlist rider had been dragged unceremoniously enough, rode a few paces in front. The carriage had been left behind at the venta, where no questions were asked, and the injured men revived readily enough.