“Too old, my dear schemer, too old!” John Stuart replied smilingly. “And she's in love with Billy. Don't worry. If he doesn't make a go of this mining concession, I'll take care of his finances until he can do so himself. I do not mind telling you, in strictest confidence, that I have made my will and divided my money equally between them.”
“Gord bless you, for a sweet, kind gentleman,” Mother Jenks gulped, quite overcome with emotion.
Hastily Webster bade Mother Jenks good-night and hurried away to escape a discussion on such a delicate topic with Billy's blunt and single-minded landlady. His mind was in a tumult. So it was that he paid no attention to a vehicle that jogged by him with the cochero sagging low in his seat, half asleep over the reins, until a quick command from the closed interior brought the vehicle to an abrupt halt, half a block in advance of Webster.
Save for an arc-light at each end of the block, the Calle de Concordia was dim; save for Webster, the carriage and the two men who piled hurriedly out at the rear of the conveyance, the Calle de Concordia was devoid of life. Webster saw one of the men hurriedly toss a coin to the cochero; with a fervent “Gracias, mi capitan,” the driver clucked to his horse, turned the corner into the Calle Elizondo and disappeared, leaving his late passengers facing Webster and calmly awaiting his approach. He was within twenty feet of them when the taller of the two men spoke.
“Good evening, my American friend. This meeting is a pleasure we scarcely hoped to have so soon. For the same we are indebted to Lieutenant Arredondo, who happened to look back as we passed you, and recognized you under the arc-light.”
Webster halted abruptly; the two Sobrantean officers stood smiling and evidently enjoying his discomfort. Each carried a service revolver in a closed holster fastened to his sword-belt, but neither had as yet made a move to draw—seeing which, Webster felt sufficiently reassured to accept the unwelcome situation with a grace equal to that of his enemies.
“What? You two bad little boys up this late! I'm surprised,” he replied in Spanish. He folded his arms, struck an attitude and surveyed them as might an indignant father. “You kids have been up to some mischief,” he added, as his right hand closed over the butt of his automatic, where it lay snuggled in the open bolster under his left arm between his shirt and coat. “Can it be possible you are going to take advantage of superior numbers and the fact that you are both armed, to force me into a duel on your terms, my dear Captain Benavides?”
By a deferential bow, the unwholesome Benavides indicated that such were his intentions. “Then,” said Webster, “as the challenged party I have the choice of weapons. I choose pistols.”
“At what range?” the Lieutenant asked with mock interest.
“As we stand at present. I'm armed. Pull your hardware, you pretty pair of polecats, and see if you can beat me to the draw.”