Quentin put up at one of the inns on the Paseo del Gran Capitán. He intended to leave the city as soon as he possibly could.
Accordingly, that night after supper, he left the house and walked toward the station; but as he crossed the Victoria, he noticed that four persons were following him. He returned quickly, as he did not care to enter any lonesome spots when followed by that gang, and took refuge in the inn.
Who could be following him? Perhaps it was Pacheco’s brother. Perhaps one of his creditors. He must be on his guard. His room at the inn happened to be in an admirably strategic situation. It was on the lower floor, and had a grated window that looked out upon the Paseo.
The next day Quentin was able to prove that Pacheco’s friends were constantly watching the inn. Their number was frequently augmented by the money-lenders who came to ask for Quentin.
In the daytime, he did not mind going into the street, but when night fell, he locked his room, and placed a wardrobe against the door. Quentin was afraid that his last adventure might result fatally for him.
“I’ve got to get out of here. There are no two ways about it; and I’ve got to get out quietly.”
One day after the battle of Alcolea, Quentin was being followed and spied upon by Pacheco’s men, when as he passed the City Hall, Diagasio the hardware dealer, who was standing in the doorway, said:
“Don Paco is upstairs.”
Quentin climbed the stairs, slipped through an open door, and beheld the terrible Don Paco surrounded by several friends, up to his old tricks.
The revolutionist had ordered the head porter to take down a portrait of Isabella II, painted by Madrazo, which occupied the centre of one wall. After heaping improprieties and insults upon the portrayed lady, much to the astonishment and stupefaction of the poor porter, Don Paco had a ferocious idea; an idea worthy of a drinker of blood.