John Stuart Webster suddenly sat up straight and gazed upon the lost son of Erin with grave interest. “Yes,” he replied, “I seem to recall such a man.”
“Only another proof of my ability as a palmist,” Dolores struck in. “Remember, Mr. Webster, I warned you to beware of a dark man that had crossed your path.”
“An' well he may, Miss—well he may,” Don Juan agreed gloomily. “'Tis none av me business, sor, but would ye mind tellin' me just what ye did to that spiggoty?”
“Why, to begin, last Sunday morning I interrupted this pucker-eyed fellow and a pop-eyed friend of his while engaged in an attempt to assassinate a white, inoffensive stranger. The following day, at the gangplank of the steamer, we met again; he poked his nose into my business, so I squeezed his nose until he cried; right before everybody I did it, Don Juan, and to add insult to injury, I plucked a few hairs from his rat's moustache—one hair per each pluck.”
“I'd a notion ye did somethin' to him, sor. Now, thin, listen to me: I'm not much to look at, but I'm white. I'm an attashay, as ye might say, av Ignatz Leber—him that do have the import an' export house at the ind av the Calle San Rosario, forninst the bay. Also he do have charrge av the cable office, an' whin I'm sober enough, I deliver cable-grains for Leber. Now, thin, ye'll recall we had a bit av a shower to-day at noon?”
Dolores and Webster nodded. Don Juan, after glancing cautiously around, lowered his voice and continued: “I was deliverin' a cablegram for Leber, an' me course took me past the palace gate—which, be the same token, has sinthry-boxes both inside an' out, wan on each side av the gate. The sinthry was not visible as I came along, an' what wit' the shower comin' as suddint as that, an' me wit' a wardrobe that's not so extinsive I can afford to get it wet, I shtepped into wan av the outside sintry-boxes till the rain should be over, an' what wit' a dhrink av aguardiente I'd took to brace me for the thrip, an' the mimory av auld times, I fell asleep.
“Dear knows how long I sat there napping; all I know is that I was awakened by the sound av three men talkin' at the gate, an' divil a worrd did they say but what I heard. They were talkin' in Spanish, but I undhershtood thim well enough. 'He's at the Hotel Mateo,' says wan voice, 'an' his name is Webster—Jawn Webster. He's an American, an' a big, savage-lookin' lad at that, so take, me advice an' be careful. Do ye two keep an eye on him wherever he goes, an' if he should shtep out at night an' wandher t'rough a dark shtreet, do ye two see to it that he's put where he'll not interfere again in Don Felipe's affairs. No damn' gringo'—beggin' yer pardon, Miss—'can intherfere in the wurrk av the Intilligince Bureau at a time like this, in addition to insultin' our honoured chief, wit'out the necessity av bein' measured for a coffin.' 'Si, mi general.' says another lad, an 'To be sure, mi general,' says a thirrd; an' wit' that the gineral, bad cess to him, wint back to the palace an' the other two walked on up the calle an' away from the sinthry-box.”
“Did you come out and follow them?” Webster demanded briskly.
“Faith, I did. Wan av them is Francisco Arredondo, a young cavalry lootinint, an' the other wan is Captain José Benevides, him that do be the best pistol-shot an' swordsman in the spiggoty army. 'Twas him that kilt auld Gineral Gonzales in a djuel a month ago.”
“What kind of looking man is this Benevides, my friend?”