My house is my friend's, particularly if he is in trouble, but one has higher duties than hospitality."
"Yes," agreed Grahame, turning to Castillo. "The interests of one's country come first. There are only three of us, and Don Martin is the head of an important organization."
"It was not for my personal safety that I came here," Castillo broke in hotly. "I carried papers; lists of names, compromising details. It was unthinkable that they should fall into the President's hands. They must be made safe, and then it does not matter what happens to me—though I may, perhaps, claim to have been of some help to the cause of freedom."
Grahame saw his host's half-impatient smile.
"And so you gave them to Don Martin!" he remarked dryly.
"He is not watched as I am," Castillo answered. "I am hunted among the sierras, I hide in the fever swamps; but where I pass I leave a spark that tyranny cannot trample out. It burns and spreads; by and by there comes the purging conflagration."
"Yes," said Grahame. "I'm told, however, that your President has a keen scent for smoke, and I don't mean to scatter more sparks than I can help." He turned to Don Martin. "Since our business is finished, we can leave Rio Frio in an hour."
"I, too!" exclaimed Castillo. "It is not good for the cause that the soldiers find me. But there are difficulties; the house may be watched."
Don Martin looked thoughtful, but not disturbed; and Grahame saw that he could calmly take a risk. Danger and his host obviously were old acquaintances.
"It is better that you go," he answered. "Sometimes I entertain an American traveler, and Englishmen now and then visit Rio Frio. I do not think you are suspected yet, and you may be able to help us by drawing off the watchers' attention when you leave. We will see what can be done, but it would be safer for Señor Castillo not to come with us."
He took the others to the roof, where he walked to the edge and looked over the low parapet. A narrow, dark street divided Sarmiento's house from the next, but a lattice in a high wall was open, and Grahame imagined that he made out a man's head, which was, however, promptly withdrawn.
"Once or twice a guest of mine has reached the calle by a rope, but the President's friends take precautions to-night," Don Martin remarked. "There remain the windows on the other side, but Castillo is heavy and fat. I think the door into the plaza would suit him best."
"Wouldn't the small one at the back be safer?" Walthew suggested.
"That will be watched, but it might be of some help if you went that way. Possibly you would not mind wearing a sombrero and a Spanish cloak."
"Not at all," Grahame assured him. "Still, there are two of us."
"That is an advantage. If one leaves shortly after the other, those who keep watch and expect a single man will be puzzled."
Walthew chuckled.
"Good! I'd a hankering after adventures, and now it looks as if I'd be gratified. But you had better not give us clothes with a name on them."
"In this country, people out of favor with the Government are modest about their names," Don Martin rejoined.
Ten minutes later Grahame, wearing a wide black hat and a dark Spanish cloak, stepped quietly out into the shadowy street. He had seen that his automatic pistol was ready to his hand, having had more than one experience of the half-breed's dexterity with the silent knife. For all that, his hurried, stealthy gait was assumed and not natural to the man, whose heart beat calmly, though he cast quick glances about. The houses were high, and the street seemed to get narrower and darker as he went on. Then he imagined he heard soft steps behind him. Walking faster, he stopped at a corner and listened. Somebody was certainly following him.
Grahame's first impulse was to hide in a dark doorway and wait for his pursuer, but he reflected that this would not fall in with his host's plan, and he went on, keeping in the shadow while he made for the hotel at which he had left his mules. There were, he imagined, two men following him now.
A few moments afterward he reached the end of the dark street, and the empty plaza lay before him. The moon shed a faint light upon the stones and the high, white walls, and Grahame was glad of this. Now, if it were needful, he could defend himself: the walk through the shadow had been trying. Still, he must not hurry, for he never promised more than he meant to perform, and he knew that Don Martin relied upon his playing out his part. Perhaps he overdid it when he stopped to light a cigarette, for, looking up as he dropped the match, he saw two dark figures stop at the corner he had left. Then there was a low whistle, and one of them disappeared. Grahame smiled, because he knew that Walthew had divided the attention of the spies. The remaining man, however, walked quickly after him, and when Grahame was half way across the plaza he waited. His pursuer seemed to hesitate, for he came on more slowly, and stopped a few yards off.
"The American!" he exclaimed.
"English," said Grahame calmly. "The difference is, no doubt, not important."
The man looked hard at him, and Grahame carelessly dropped his hand upon his pistol.
"I am going to the fonda; if you are going that way, I would rather you walked in front. One is careful at night, my friend."
Though the fellow had a sinister look, he smiled and went off with an apology, and Grahame, going on to the hotel, waited outside until Walthew came up. The boy looked hot and breathless, but Grahame noticed that he had a flower in his hand.
"I've been followed," Walthew laughed. "The fellows dropped back soon after I came into the moonlight. Guess they saw they were after the wrong man."
"Very possibly. It happened to me. I wonder whether Castillo got away?"
They listened, but the town was quiet. One or two citizens crossed the plaza, but no sound that indicated anything unusual going on rose from the shadowy streets.
"It seems likely," Walthew replied. "I don't think they could have arrested him without some disturbance. Why didn't they search Sarmiento's house?"
"Perhaps they were afraid of starting a riot that would spread. The President seems to be a capable man, and Don Martin obviously enjoys the confidence of the citizens. On the whole, I think he deserves it."
"So do I," Walthew agreed. "What do you think of the other fellow?"
"I wouldn't trust him. He's no doubt sincere, but I'm not sure of his nerve. But where did you get the rose?"
"On the pavement outside the casa Sarmiento," Walthew answered with some embarrassment.
"Mmm! Dropped from a window. Such things happen in Spanish-American towns, and it's possible that the President's spies have noted it against you. However, you'll be too busy to think of the señorita when we get back to the coast." Grahame paused and added: "It might be wise to remember that you're engaged in a dangerous business, and can't run the risk of any complications. Neither of us can indulge in philandering until this job's finished."
"I'll take no risk that could get us into difficulties, but that's all I'll promise," Walthew said quietly.
Grahame gave him a steady glance.
"Well, I suppose I must be satisfied."
They
