“That’s true. They will mistrust us.”
Don Paco took leave of his friends as Sir Robert Peel might have done had they taken that gentleman to the gallows: they descended the stairs, and came out upon the street.
They made their way to the Gran Capitán, from there to the Victoria, and then, passing the Puerta de Gallegos, they travelled toward the Puerta de Almodóvar.
Quentin felt a great sense of satisfaction when he observed the fact that the old man was frightened. At every step Don Paco said to him:
“Some one is following us.”
“Don’t be idiotic. Who is going to follow us?”
“Ah! You don’t know what a terrible police force those men have!”
To Don Paco, life was all mystery, darkness, espionage, conspiracy. To sum up: it was fear, and the fear in this instance was neutralized by speaking aloud, and humming selections from comic operas.
This mixture of petulance and fright amused Quentin greatly. When he saw that the old man was very animated, humming an air from “Marina,” or from “El Domino Azúl,” he said to him:
“Hush, Don Paco, I think I saw a man spying on us from among those trees.”