"Where?" demanded Manuel curtly.
"Into old-town, señor."
"You have something to tell us."
"To show you, señor—for a hundred dollars."
"Sebastian—or is it Pablo?" cried Valencia, in a low voice.
"I say nothing, señorita" whined the old woman. "I show you; then you pay. Is it not so?"
"Get the money, Manuel," his cousin ordered quietly.
Manuel got it from the hotel safe. He took time also to get from his room a revolver. Gordon had fallen victim to an ambush and he did not intend to do so if he could help it. In his own mind he had no doubt that some of their countrymen were selling either Pablo or Sebastian for the reward, but it was better to be safe than to be sorry.
The old crone led them by side streets into the narrow adobe-lined roads of old-town. They passed through winding alleys and between buildings crumbling with age. Always Manuel watched, his right hand in his coat pocket. At the entrance to a little court a man emerged from the shadow of a wall. He whispered with the old dame for a minute.
"Come. Make an end of this and show us what you have to show, muy pronto," interrupted Manuel impatiently.