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There was a dead silence, broken only by the drumming of the rain upon the roof of the veranda. Incarnacion slightly shrugged his shoulders. "Don Clarencio does not know the southern county? Francisco Robles, cousin of the 'Sisters, he they call 'Pancho, comes from the south. Surely when Don Clarencio bought the title he saw Francisco, for he was the steward?"
Old man Ellison rode on to the camp of Incarnación. He sighed many times, and the wrinkles in his face grew deeper. Rumours that the old order was about to change had reached him before. The end of Free Grass was in sight. Other troubles, too, had been accumulating upon his shoulders.
The senora is in mourning and goes not out in society, nor would she probably go anywhere where she would meet a dismissed servant of her husband." Incarnacion slowly lit his cigarette, and said between the puffs, "And the senorita she would not meet him?" "Assuredly not."
Far different were the sensations of the muleteer, who saw in those awful solitudes only fiery dragons, colossal bears, and breakneck trails. The converts, Concepcion and Incarnacion, trotting modestly beside the Padre, recognized, perhaps, some manifestation of their former weird mythology. At nightfall they reached the base of the mountain.
When the city was cleansed from the impurities and offensive odors which had collected during the siege, the bishops and other clergy who accompanied the court, and the choir of the royal chapel, walked in procession to the principal mosque, which was consecrated and entitled Santa Maria de la Incarnacion.
Truly! such has been known before. Then on the ground it slipped again, or he perhaps worked it off to his feet where it caught on his spur, and then he was dragged until the boot came off, and behold! he was dead." This had been Clarence's own theory of the murder, but he had only half confided it to Incarnacion.
"I dealt only with the actual owners and through my bankers in San Francisco," returned Clarence abstractedly. Incarnacion looked through the yellow corners of his murky eyes at his master. "Pedro Valdez, who was sent away by Senor Peyton, is the foster-brother of Francisco. They were much together.
"The senora's adopted daughter is called MISS PEYTON, friend Nascio. You forget yourself," said Clarence quietly. "Ah, pardon!" said Incarnacion with effusive apology; "but she was born Silsbee. Everybody knows it; she herself has told it to Pepita. The Senor Peyton bequeathed his estate to the Senora Peyton. He named not the senorita! Eh, what would you? It is the common cackle of the barnyard.
Out of the way there, and be off!" He spurred his horse past the frightened menial, and dashed down the narrow lane that led to the gate. But, as Incarnacion had truly said, "It was an evil day," for at the bottom of the lane, ambling slowly along as he lazily puffed a yellow cigarette, appeared the figure of the erring Pedro.
"Nonsense!" said Clarence, buttoning his coat and seizing his hat. "Follow me." He ran down the passage, followed by Incarnacion, through the excited, gesticulating crowd of servants in the patio, and out of the back gate. He turned first along the wall of the casa towards the barred window of the boudoir. Then a cry came from Incarnacion. They ran quickly forward.
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