“This is Señor Hickman, whom you may remember having seen on the train. Señor Hickman, this is a distant cousin of mine, Colonel Hamilcar Urgo, of the garrison at Sonizona. He is the gentleman who believed you occupied his berth out of El Paso, if you recall. There was some slight misunderstanding—”
Grant flashed a glance at the girl, read the mockery in her eyes and took his cue from her:
“I believe I have seen the Colonel subsequently,” this in heavy seriousness. “Was it not somewhere in Sonizona?”
“I do not recall having had that honour.” Teeth flashed in a nervous smile and the man’s eyes veiled themselves furtively. He caught the challenge to battle of wits with the American and entrenched himself accordingly. Colonel Urgo found himself at a momentary disadvantage, however; he did not know what ammunition his rival would choose. Essaying a diversion, he addressed the girl in rapid Spanish.
“Our guest, Señor Hickman, does not understand Spanish,” Benicia insinuated reproof. “Yes, it is quite true, as you have judged, that he is recovering from a wound—a slight misadventure on the road to Hermosillo. But pray be seated, my cousin, and let me order wine and a light luncheon. You are visibly fatigued.” With a slight bow to Urgo Benicia arose and crossed the patio to disappear in the shadows of the arcade.
Urgo, surprised into an unpleasant situation by being left alone with the man he had sent to death, fidgeted with the hasp of his cigarette case. He made great difficulty of scratching a match. Grant, watching his every move, decided to play some of the cards fate had dealt him.
“I guessed you were inquiring of Señorita O’Donoju about my condition, Colonel. You are charmingly solicitous. I was shot in the back—bullet through my shoulder. Left for dead with the other convicts.”
The little Spaniard let smoke seep through his nostrils and spread out his hands to say, “So much for that!” Grant was not to be denied his advantage:
“Of course, Colonel Urgo, I remember you were good enough to be present when I was arraigned at the jail on a false charge of counterfeiting; I shall not soon forget the promise you made then to do what you could for me. You did—all you possibly could!” Grant’s smile had become set and one hand resting on his blanketed knees flexed into a fist, white across the knuckles.