“Really!” Grant’s settled good humour received a jar. He felt a tingling of fighting nerves down his back. “Really? And who constituted you judge of the value of my attentions?”
“Very naturally I have appointed that position to myself, señor, since Señorita O’Donoju is to become my wife.”
“Ah!” Grant’s interjection did not carry all the irony he would have wished. His assurance was a trifle shaken.
“And so,” the little man continued, “it is understood. You will not address the lady further.” Grant laughed.
“My understanding is very weak and not at all reliable. I promise you that unless the lady objects I shall continue to address her whenever opportunity presents.”
The little figure in the doorway straightened itself in an access of dignity. He snapped his cigarette over the car rail.
“Señor, let us have no misunderstanding. We approach the Border, where every man works justice according to the dictates of his own conscience. To-morrow we touch Mexico, where it is known that Colonel Hamilcar Urgo is a law unto himself. I am that Colonel Hamilcar Urgo. Need I go farther?”
“And I am Captain Grant Hickman, formerly of the First Division, Expeditionary Forces. Go as far as you like!”