His smile was as genial as ever, as he said: "The señora favors Great Britain in the dispute she alleges may some time arise. Am I not correct?"
She bowed. "You met the Señor O'Donnell a week ago, and again four days ago. Was it at your last meeting he told you of my preferences, or at the first?" She laughed, and playfully tapped the Commodore's hand with her fan.
"Madam, may I say to you that I have letters in my possession from our State Department, in Washington, which relate not only to your presence here but which also tell something of your work as England's secret agent in Alta California."
Again the woman laughed. "Child's play, Commodore! Child's play! The man who sent this information to your State Department, in Washington, is here, and in touch with you. Certainly, he told you as much as he wrote to Washington."
The officer made no reply.
"Commodore Billings, I deal with you, and with you only. I take not account of the frontiersman, O'Donnell. The United States, though still young, is a great nation; and should be represented by men such as you."
"Señora, O'Donnell has the confidence of Mr. Tyler, President of the United States."
"Has your Mr. Tyler the confidence of the republic which made him its President?"
There was no reply.
The señora arose. The jewels in her hair flamed and glittered in the firelight. A hundred questions seemed to burn in the depths of her eyes. She extended her hand, as if in gesture. The warrior-diplomat was impelled to arise also, and to take the hand in his.