A few minutes walk brought them to the hotel, where, on inquiry, they learned that the Senor had been stopping there, but that he had gone away that morning.
“No, he did not say where he was going,” the clerk informed them. “He went away on horseback and his man on another mount.”
“Then he will probably return to-day?” suggested Jim.
“Who knows?” the clerk answered with a shrug of his shoulders. “No, he did not say where he was going or when he would be back. No, he hasn’t given up his room. If it is anything of importance about which you wish to see the Senor, you might interview his lawyer, Mr. Reynolds at No. 10 Court street, who, perhaps might know where he has gone.”
“Were they his own horses?” went on Jim.
“Couldn’t say,” replied the clerk. “Perhaps the porter can tell you. He went for the horses, I believe. Here, Pedro,” calling the porter, who was standing nearby, “you got the horses for the Senor this morning, didn’t you?”
“Si, Senor,” answered the porter, a swarthy Mexican.
“Where did they come from?” asked Jim.
“From Ross and McLanes,” replied the porter. “The Senor told me to tell them to send around the best horses they had in the stable, no matter what they cost. They were mucho hermosa, very handsome. He paid for them right down. Never questioned the price.”
“Sorry I can’t give you more information,” added the clerk, “but I think if you want to find the Senor, you had better see Mr. Reynolds.”