Quentin made his way to the inn, followed by Carrahola and El Rano. He entered his room, closed the window, and lit the lamp. He still had in his pocket the pocketbook that he had found in Pacheco’s house. He took it out and placed it on the table.
He opened the wardrobe, searched the drawers, and in one of them found some copy paper written by a child, and in another a torn, and well-worn catechism by Father Ripalda.
He took the copy paper and the catechism, tied them together with a pack-thread, and thrust the package into the pocketbook which he tied up with another bit of thread.
“Very good,” he murmured with a smile.
This done, he put out the light, thrust the purse into his coat pocket, and left the inn. He began to walk rapidly, as one who has made a quick decision. He made his way to El Cuervo’s tavern, escorted by Carrahola and El Rano.
He looked into the office, and when he saw El Cuervo, exclaimed sourly:
“Hello!”
“Hello, Don Quentin!”
“Is Pacheco’s brother here?”
“No, Señor.”