"She was a fair woman, I believe? A Valencian?"
"Señor, si," said the man. "Fair and false, a Valencian."
Of Valencia they say, "La carne es herba, la herba agua, el hombre muger, la muger nada."
"Her name," said Don Luis, "began with M."
"Señor, si. It was Manuela, the dancing girl—called La Valenciana, La Fierita, and a dozen other things. But, pardon me the liberty, your worship had been informed?"
"I knew something," said Don Luis, "and suspected something. I am much obliged to you, my friends. Justice will be done. Good night to you." He turned, touching the brim of his hat; but the man went after him.
"A thousand pardons, señor Don Luis, but we have our duty to the State."
"Eh!" said Don Luis sharply. "Well, then, you had best set to work upon it."
"If your worship has any knowledge of the whereabouts of this woman——"
"I have none," said Don Luis. "If I had I would impart it, and when I have it shall be yours. Go now with God."