“At two o’clock two men are coming hither to see me.  One is a master mariner named Robert Evans, the other a merchant adventurer of his acquaintance whom I have not yet seen.  Now you are to mark these two men well, note all they say and their manner of speaking, for to-morrow you will have to personate these characters before one who would be only too glad to find you at fault.”

“Very good, Senor,” says Dawson; “but which of these parts am I to play?”

“That you may decide when you have seen the men, but I should say from my knowledge of Robert Evans that you may best represent his character.  For in your parts to-day you are to be John and Christopher Knight, two needy cousins of Lady Godwin, whose husband, Sir Richard Godwin, was lost at sea seven years ago.  I doubt if you will have to do anything in these characters beyond looking eager and answering merely yes and no to such questions as I may put.”

Thus primed, we went presently to the sitting-room above, and the drawer shortly after coming to say that two gentlemen desired to see Don Sanchez, Jack and I seated ourselves side by side at a becoming distance from the Don, holding our hats on our knees as humbly as may be.  Then in comes a rude, dirty fellow with a patch over one eye and a most peculiar bearish gait, dressed in a tarred coat, with a wool shawl about his neck, followed by a shrewd-visaged little gentleman in a plain cloth suit, but of very good substance, he looking just as trim and well-mannered as t’other was uncouth and rude.

“Well, here am I,” says Evans (whom we knew at once for the master mariner), flinging his hat and shawl in a corner.  “There’s his excellency Don Sanchez, and here’s Mr. Hopkins, the merchant I spoke on yesterday; and who be these?” turning about to fix us with his one blue eye.

“Two gentlemen related to Mrs. Godwin, and very anxious for her return,” replies the Don.

“Then we being met friends all, let’s have up a bottle and heave off on this here business without more ado,” says Evans; and with that he seats himself in the Don’s chair, pokes up the fire with his boots, and spits on the hearth.

The Don graciously places a chair for Mr. Hopkins, rings the bell, and seats himself.  Then after a few civilities while the bottle was being opened and our glasses filled, he says: 

“You have doubtless heard from Robert Evans the purpose of our coming hither, Mr. Hopkins.”

“Roughly,” replies Mr. Hopkins, with a dry little cough.  “But I should be glad to have the particulars from you, that I may judge more clearly of my responsibilities in this undertaking.”

“Oh, Lord!” exclaims Evans, in disgust.  “Here give us a pipe of tobacco if we’re to warp out half a day ere we get a capful of wind.”

CHAPTER V.

Don Sanchez puts us in the way of robbing with an easy conscience.