"That very good," said Gil. "You laugh, I very glad. That tell me is all right." He immediately became serious. "I serve you well, sir, there's no mistake. I am Gil Perez, too well known to the landlord of this hotel. You see?" He showed his teeth, which were excellent, and he had also, Manvers reflected, shown his hand, for what it was worth—which argued a certain security.
"Gil Perez," he said, on an impulse, "I shall take you at your word. Do you wait where you are." He turned back into the inn and sought his landlord, who was smoking a cigar in the kitchen while the maids bustled about. From him he learned what there was to be known of Gil Perez; that he was a native of Cadiz who had been valet to an English officer at Gibraltar, followed him out to the Crimea, nursed him through dysentery (of which he had died), and had then begged his way home again to Spain. He had been in Segovia a year or two, acting as guide or interpreter when he could, living on nothing a day mostly and doing pretty well on it.
"He has been in prison, I shall not conceal from your honour," said the landlord. "He stabbed a man under the ribs because he had insulted the English. Gil Perez loves your nation. He considers you to be the natural protectors of the poor. He will serve you well, you may be sure."
"That's what he told me himself," said Manvers.
The landlord rested his eyes—large, brown and solemn as those of an ox—upon his guest. "He told you the truth, señor. He will serve you better than he would serve me. You will be his god."
"I hope not," said Manvers, and went out to the door again. Gil Perez, who had been smoking out in the sun, threw his papelito away, stood at attention and saluted smartly.
"What was the name of your English master?" Manvers asked him. Gil replied at once.
"'E call Capitan Rodney. Royalorse Artillery. 'E say 'Gunner.' 'E was a gentleman, sir."
"I'm sure he was," said Manvers.
"My master espeak very good Espanish. 'E say 'damn your eyes' all the time; and call me 'Little devil' just the same. Ah," said Gil Perez, shaking his head. "'E very good gentleman to me, sir—good master. I loved 'im. 'E dead." For a minute he gazed wistfully at the sky; then, as if to clinch the sad matter, he turned to Manvers. "I bury 'im all right," he said briskly, and nodded inward the fact.