The Swiss smiled, and Quentin left the café. He traversed several alleys, and was walking along the Calle de los Dolores Chicos toward the Calle del Cister, when a man wrapped in a cloak approached him.
“Wait a moment, Quentin,” said a voice.
“Hello, Don Paco.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the Lodge, as I have just received notice to do.”
“You did? What’s up?”
“We must speak alone, Quentin.”
“Whenever you wish.”
“Things are moving rapidly, my friend. The Revolution is gaining ground; but in this city, the Revolutionary Committee does nothing—or almost nothing. Inter nos, its members haven’t enough patriotism; understand? We must stir them up; and you, who know many strong-minded people, can help a lot.”