“Walk in front to do your talking,” he suggested. “This gentleman is not inviting company for his pasear.”
José Perez turned a startled, piercing look on the priest.
“Did Rotil send you?” he demanded.
“No, señor, I came back to ask a simple thing concerning the Altar people who went south for Yucatan. Can you give me the name of the ranch where they are held?”
“I can,––but I give nothing for nothing!” he said bitterly. “Already I am caught in a trap by that marriage, and I will see that the archbishop hears of your share in it. Nothing for nothing!”
“Yet there may be some service I can give, or send south, for you,” said the priest.
Perez regarded him doubtfully.
“Yes––you might get a message to General Terain that I am a prisoner, on my own estate––if Rotil does not have you killed on the road!”
“I could try,” agreed the priest. “I––I might secure permission.”
“Permission?”