“I am glad to have him back if he feels that way.  I have nothing whatever to forgive him.”

“Then he will be happy, and I have served you.  That is the end of the matter.”  With a graceful gesture Longorio dismissed the subject.  “Is it to be my pleasure,” he next inquired, “to meet Senor Austin, your husband?”

“I am afraid not.”

“Too bad.  I had hoped to know him and convince him that we Federales are not such a bad people as he seems to think.  We ought to be friends, he and I. Every loyal Mexican, in these troublesome times, desires the goodwill and friendship of such important personages as Senor Austin.  This animosity is a sad thing.”

Under this flow of talk Paloma stirred uneasily, and at the first opportunity burst out:  “It’s far from safe for you to remain here, General Longorio.  This neighborhood is terribly excited over the death of Ricardo Guzman, and if any one learned—­”

“So!  Then this Guzman is dead?” Longorio inquired, with interest.

“Isn’t he?” blurted Paloma.

“Not so far as I can learn.  Only to-day I made official report that nothing whatever could be discovered about him.  Certainly he is nowhere in Romero, and it is my personal belief that the poor fellow was either drowned in the river or made way with for his money.  Probably the truth will never be known.  It is a distressing event, but I assure you my soldiers do not kill American citizens.  It is our boast that Federal territory is safe; one can come or go at will in any part of Mexico that is under Potosista control.  I sincerely hope that we have heard the last of this Guzman affair.”

Longorio had come to spend the evening, and his keen pleasure in Alaire Austin’s company made him so indifferent to his personal safety that nothing short of a rude dismissal would have served to terminate his visit.  Neither Alaire nor her companion, however, had the least idea how keenly he resented the presence of Paloma Jones.  Ed Austin’s absence he had half expected, and he had wildly hoped for an evening, an hour, a few moments, alone with the object of his desires.  Jose’s disclosures, earlier in the day, had opened the general’s eyes; they had likewise inflamed him with jealousy and with passion, and accordingly he had come prepared to force his attentions with irresistible fervor should the slightest opportunity offer.  To find Alaire securely chaperoned, therefore, and to be compelled to press his ardent advances in the presence of a third party, was like gall to him; the fact that he made the most of his advantages, even at the cost of scandalizing Paloma, spoke volumes for his determination.

It was a remarkable wooing; on the one hand this half-savage man, gnawed by jealousy, heedless of the illicit nature of his passion, yet held within the bounds of decorum by some fag-end of respectability; and on the other hand, a woman, bored, resentful, and tortured at the moment by fear about what was happening at the river-bank.