Urgo expelled a cloud of smoke from his lungs and showed his teeth in a wolf’s smile.
“You remember much, señor. Do not fail to remember, too, you are a criminal under the laws of Mexico, to be tried on charge of counterfeiting at the court of Hermosillo.”
“Yes?” Grant was cool under the other’s counter. “And will you move to take me to Hermosillo after what happened—out yonder on that road through the desert?”
“I?” Urgo’s shoulders lifted. “I am a soldier, señor. I have nothing to do with justice and the courts. But assuredly you will be taken to Hermosillo and put on trial.”
The little Spaniard had fully recovered his poise by now. The uneasy light in his eyes had yielded to a dangerous flicker of craft. Suavity of a tiger’s purr lurked in his voice. Grant mastered the rage which ridged all his fighting muscles despite the weakness of his body; this was no moment to be betrayed into throwing away a trick.
“But before I go to Hermosillo, Colonel, of course I shall take precautions to insure that I get there—that there will be no more ley de fuga in my case. Don Padraic O’Donoju, who is an honest man; I shall take him more fully into my confidence and—”
“Then you have told—?” Urgo bit his lip in mortification over having fallen into a trap. Grant’s answering smile was innocent as a babe’s.
“I might prefer, Colonel Urgo, to confine our affair—call it a misunderstanding between two gentlemen—strictly to yourself and myself, trusting to take care of myself when I have recovered my strength. But should I be driven to seek the assistance of an honest man—”
Benicia appeared that instant; behind her was ’Cepcion with a silver tray. Before Colonel Urgo bobbed to his feet Grant caught a shaft of cold fury from his eyes which said that if the girl’s presence forced an armistice no promise of peace lay at its termination.