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Her name, he knew, as a Carrillo was enough to admit her to such homes as the Barton Randolphs. The words of her father "this is all that is left, what you see around you" came back to him. Could it possibly be that they were actually poor? Because it was late she insisted upon taking him to his home. "Sometime," he said as they parted, "I want you to meet my mother."
The necessary preparations having been made for that purpose under the directions of José Antonio Carrillo, a professed conspirator of that vicinity, at an early hour on the morning of September 23d, the quarters of Captain Gillespie were attacked by Cerbulo Varela a metamorphosed captain under Governor Frémont at the head of sixty-five men, under cover of a thick fog.
"Because you are with Jean Hope?" she smiled. "Because I am with Consuello Carrillo," he answered. "I do not know Jean Hope yet. I am to meet her, tonight." "You saw her before the camera," she reminded him. "But never on the screen," he returned. "And what if you don't like her?" "My consolation will be that she is only a shadow, a make-believe."
She turned to the man with the horn-rim spectacles. "That is all?" she inquired. "All for today, Miss Carrillo, thank you," she was answered. "Tomorrow at 2, same costume, but on the other set." "Come," she said, turning to John. "We'll have tea and a talk as soon as I return to to normalcy that was Mr. Harding's way of expressing it, wasn't it?"
"Betty, this is Mr. Gallant," said Consuello by way of an introduction. "Consuello has spoken of you, often," said Betty, advancing with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. Mentally John thanked her for the words. He knew instinctively that he would like her and that she would be a friend to him. "Miss Carrillo has been more than kind to me," he said.
"You won't be cross and hate me?" "No." "Then I'll tell you. My boy, I cannot understand why Miss Carrillo lives in the city alone and away from her parents." He looked at her in amazement. "Mother, surely you don't " he began. It was incomprehensible, unbelievable.
The quaint procession, consisting of Padre Presidente Tapis and three other priests, Commandant Carrillo, and the soldiers, and a large number of neophytes from Santa Barbara, slowly marched over this mountainous road, into the woody recesses where nestled the future home of the Mission of Santa Inés, and where the usual ceremonies of foundation took place September 17, 1804.
To P. Q. he explained that he might be away from the office for lunch longer than usual. "An angle concerning Gibson's disappearance that may develop something," he said, hoping it would be sufficient. "What is it?" demanded the city editor. "Well, Miss Carrillo you remember Gibson's friend called me and I invited her to have lunch with me," John answered. "Hop to it," said P. Q.
"No, I don't believe he knows yet that he has been appointed." "Where is he now?" prompted Brennan. "Do you know where he went when he left your place?" "No, I'm sorry, I don't. Home, I suppose." "Thank you, Miss Carrillo." "Mr. Gallant " "Yes." "Don't think him a a a villain, will you?" "Why should I?" "You thought him one at the fete this afternoon. I'm sure you know now that he is not.
"I am glad that he was punished, but I would not have any one punished for ever." "Well, I'm glad you feel that way. He felt good, I kin tell you that. He looked ten years younger in five minutes, for he said as how he knew you'd keep your word. I went straight off and managed to have a word with young Carrillo.
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