He spread the handkerchief over the wine goblet before him, and as the caballeros bent forward to watch, smiles upon their faces, he passed one hand rapidly back and forth across the covered goblet with such rapidity that it was hidden almost all the time, and with the other hand he reached beneath the edge of the handkerchief and jerked the goblet away, letting it drop to the floor. The handkerchief collapsed on the table. Don Diego waved a hand languidly.
“See? It is gone!” he breathed.
“Bah!” Don Audre cried as the others laughed. “At your boy’s tricks again, are you? Where is your wild blood now?”
“I am done with roistering and adventure.”
“A man never knows when his words may be hurled back at him and cause him to look foolish,” said Don Audre. “It is foolish to take everything for granted. For instance—”
He stopped. The sounds of a tumult had reached their ears. For a moment they were silent, listening. Shouts, oaths, the sounds of blows, the clashing of blades.
“What in the name of the saints is that?” Don Diego asked.
A trembling servant answered him.
“There are men fighting over by the inn, señor,” he said. “I heard some one shout of pirates!”