“What time will he come?”
“Oh, somewhere around eight o’clock.”
“Good. I have come to have an understanding with him, and I can’t make up my mind whether to give him the money or a stab with a dagger. Look here, here’s the pocketbook he’s looking for. Keep it. I’m going to wait in here for Pacheco, because I have some letters to write.”
“Go right upstairs.”
Quentin and El Cuervo went upstairs to a room with a balcony overlooking a patio.
“I’ll bring you some paper and ink presently,” said the landlord.
“Good. Until Pacheco comes, I do not wish to be disturbed by any one. Do you understand?”
“Very good.”
“When he comes, call me, and he and I will come to an understanding. But he must agree not to open the pocketbook until I am with him.”
“Never fear.”