"Forgive my curiosity, Señor O'Donnell, in my recent questioning. I am greatly interested in English officers. Just before you came I was speaking with my daughter of the battle of Waterloo. You could not have been present. You have not years enough," looking at the face, yet young, of the man before him.
"I was not in the army at that time," replied O'Donnell. "Allow me to say, Señor Administrator, you serve nectar here," sipping his wine.
"This Farquharson," persisted Mendoza, "who you say is older than you, perhaps he took part in that famous battle."
"I did not say Farquharson is older than I. I said I once knew him."
A dark look shaded O'Donnell's face as he spoke.
"Perhaps you were rivals in those times," still persisted Mendoza, noticing the shadows. "Some wine in your glass, my friend? Well, war and love have made many an enemy."
Again the neigh of the stallion was heard.
"Drumlummon's second call. I must be going. Perhaps Captain Farquharson may call on you soon. Indeed, I'm sure he will; for I remember now that he has letters of introduction to you from Don Juan Domingo, first assistant to the secretary of state of Mexico."
Señor Mendoza bowed courteously, as if some ordinary information had been given him.
A sound of approaching voices reached their ears.