Score one point in favor of Julio.
It might be of advantage when the curtain was rung up for the final act, for should this desperate, jealousy-racked lover who followed at his heels be given an opportunity to get at that long throat of his, the Maccarena dancer would have ample need of every prayer his guardian angel could bring forth.
When the plaza with its gay crowds and its dashing music had been left behind, Roderic knew his task had assumed new risks.
The Spaniard is a suspicious mortal at his best, and Julio had been embroiled in so many affairs with lovers, perhaps husbands also, that he had to be constantly on the qui vive lest one of these jealous minded gentry lie in wait around a lonely corner, or creep up from behind, dagger in hand.
When one plays such a game as that of this fascinating beau, one must accept the consequences, no matter what they entail—it is the price of popularity among the fair sex.
Hence, it might be expected that after they had been traversing these narrow thoroughfares for some little time, Julio from frequent glances thrown over his shoulder, would begin to notice how the shadow kept upon his trail.
This would arouse suspicion, and he might either vanish suddenly from sight or else employ his popularity among a certain class of men to bring Roderic into hot water.
So far as this latter contingency was concerned, Roderic cared little whether he were thrown up against a dozen of the unwashed of San Juan, if he could only previously have the blessed knowledge that his fears regarding Julio's veiled companion were groundless.
In other words, such an assurance was of so great a value in his eyes that he stood ready to accept the gravest of danger with a smile on his face if only Georgia were true.