He retreated out the front door and called a carriage, into which he was about to step, bag and baggage, when Don Juan Cafetéro came rushing up in great excitement. “Sure, where are ye goin' now, sor. Is there no room for ye in the Hotel Mateo?”
“Their beds have jiggers in them, and I just remembered that,” Webster fibbed. “Hop in, John, and we'll drive around to Mr. Geary's lodgings in El Buen Amigo.”
“But I come t'rough the patio just now,” Don Juan explained, “an' who should I meet but the young leddy.”
“You infernal scoundrel! Did you tell her I was in town?”
“Sure I did, sor. An' why not?”
“None of your infernal business. You've spoiled everything. You're a muddle-headed monkey and I've a great notion to let you get drunk again. Take the baggage back into the hotel.”
Don Juan Cafetéro, greatly humbled and rebuffed, stepped aside and watched Webster stride back into the hotel. “God love ye, sor,” he mumbled, “know-in' what I know, is it likely I'd let ye make a monkey out av her or yerself? Ye made yer plans wit' Misther Geary wit'out consultin' her. Now go, ye grrand big divil, an' find out why she kicked yer schame to smithereens.” And with a solemn and knowing wink at the duffle-bag, Don Juan picked that article up and followed after his master.