"Why?"
"It's this way. Padre Osuna has the fellow confined here in Monterey. You see," looking at Farquharson, "I'm still acting-governor, and shall be until notice accepting my resignation comes back from Mexico City. So, I can pardon or not, as I please. Do you understand?" glowering at the Captain.
"But why does the padre ask the pardon?" persisted the señora.
"O, well, he expects to make a good man out of him, and then through him convert all those savages in the San Joaquin over whom Stanislaus has become a sort of king, since the death of Yoscolo."
"Surely Padre Osuna's judgment should be trusted in the matter, Crisostimo."
"Yes, yes. Exactly what has been in my mind all the time. I'll pardon the fellow. He told me the Señorita Mendoza has thrashed all the bad spirits out of him, and that Padre Osuna has beaten many good spirits into him—yes, I'll pardon the fellow. But there is one thing I never can forget, and that is the way that rascally Morando has treated me." He again glared at Farquharson, left the room and stamped down the corridor.
"It's Crisostimo's way," laughed the señora. "Captain, there is the question of the maps in this chamber, and those wonderful placer mines."
"Why not let Twickenham, our consul, take up the matter? He is entirely dependable."
"Very true, Captain; but there are many inquisitive eyes about. The working of the mine would mean that many may learn of its existence, and soon a deluge of Americanos come. Then, surely California would never be England's. Let our successors in the work do their part without undue handicap. In quieter times we will form a company, find the mines and work them."
"Señora, in Europe your hand will be busy in affairs of far greater interest to the world than the future of California."