They walked in silence for the space of an hour, and at last Morano spoke.  It was then noon.  “Master,” he said, “at this hour it is the custom of la Garda to enter the Inn of the Dragon and to dine at the expense of mine host.”

“A merry custom,” said Rodriguez.

“Master,” said Morano, “if they find him in less than his usual health they will get their dinners for themselves in the larder and dine and afterwards sleep.  But after that; master, after that, should anything inauspicious have befallen mine host, they will seek out and ask many questions concerning all travellers, too many for our liking.”

“We are many good miles from the Inn of the Dragon and Knight,” said Rodriguez.

“Master, when they have eaten and slept and asked questions they will follow on horses,” said Morano.

“We can hide,” said Rodriguez, and he looked round over the plain, very full of flowers, but empty and bare under the blue sky of any place in which a man might hide to escape from pursuers on horse back.  He perceived then that he had no plan.

“Master,” said Morano, “there is no hiding like disguises.”

Once more Rodriguez looked round him over the plain, seeing no houses, no men; and his opinion of Morano’s judgment sank when he said disguises.  But then Morano unfolded to him that plan which up to that day had never been tried before, so far as records tell, in all the straits in which fugitive men have been; and which seems from my researches in verse and prose never to have been attempted since.

The plan was this, astute as Morano, and simple as his naive mind.  The clothing for which Rodriguez searched the plain vainly was ready to hand.  No disguise was effective against la Garda, they had too many suspicions, their skill was to discover disguises.  But in the moment of la Garda’s triumph, when they had found out the disguise, when success had lulled the suspicions for which they were infamous, then was the time to trick la Garda.  Rodriguez wondered; but the slow mind of Morano was sure, and now he came to the point, the fruit of his hour’s thinking.  Rodriguez should disguise himself as Morano.  When la Garda discovered that he was not the man he appeared to be, a study to which they devoted their lives, their suspicions would rest and there would be an end of it.  And Morano should disguise himself as Rodriguez.

It was a new idea.  Had Rodriguez been twice his age he would have discarded it at once; for age is guided by precedent which, when pursued, is a dangerous guide indeed.  Even as it was he was critical, for the novelty of the thing coming thus from his gross servant surprised him as much as though Morano had uttered poetry of his own when he sang, as he sometimes did, certain merry lascivious songs of Spain that any one of the last few centuries knew as well as any of the others.

And would not la Garda find out that he was himself, Rodriguez asked, as quickly as they found out he was not Morano.