"Patience, good wife, patience. My dear, if you have a fault in the world it is that you talk too much. Now—let me see where was I when interrupted. O, yes! The Englishman's disappearance. The explanation is a simple one."
The Colonel looked meaningly at his auditors. "Just too much aguardiente—native brandy. It's most deceptive stuff for a new beginner. I once had the same experience in Paris with absinthe."
"Why, Crisostimo, you never told me! How dare you speak of such a thing?" Señora Barcelo bridling.
"It was nothing, Clarinda, nothing, my love. Merely something that might happen to anyone—anyone of investigating mind, I mean, of course. Well, this Englishman——"
"O, Crisostimo, when were you in Paris and drank so much absinthe? It's simply disgraceful how we poor women are deceived. I'm going home to my uncle in Spain."
"It was years ago, my love, years ago, long before I met you. I was a lieutenant then in the Spanish army. Well, we were speaking of the affair in Monterey. I say——"
"The less you say the better," from his wife, tartly.
"My dear, how can you fill the position of governor's wife if you possess such small pride!"
The words had magic effect. The señora mopped her eyes with a dainty lace kerchief, and in a moment was all smiles. Her husband almost swaggered with suppressed importance.
"This Englishman was simply drunk. Let me tell you the whole case," this time without interruption. "The man called on my sister-in-law, Señora Valentino, a very young woman, as you see."