you my city;
you pleased--eh?" He had a merry brown face, half of a quiz and half
of a rogue, was well-dressed in black, wore his hat, which was now in
his hand, rather over one ear. Manvers met his saucy eyes for a
minute, saw anxiety behind their impudence, could not be angry, burst
into a laugh, and was heartily joined by Gil Perez.

"That very good," said Gil. "You laugh, I very glad. That tell me is
all right." He immediately became serious. "I serve you well, sir,
there's no mistake. I am Gil Perez, too well known to the landlord of
this hotel. You see?" He showed his teeth, which were excellent, and
he had also, Manvers reflected, shown his hand, for what it was
worth--which argued a certain security.

"Gil Perez," he said, on an impulse, "I shall take you at your word.
Do you wait where you are." He turned back into the inn and sought his
landlord, who was smoking a cigar in the kitchen while the maids
bustled about. From him he learned what there was to be known of Gil
Perez; that he was a native of Cadiz who had been valet to an English
officer at Gibraltar, followed him out to the Crimea, nursed him
through dysentery (of which he had died), and had then begged his way
home again to Spain. He had been in Segovia a year or two, acting as
guide or interpreter when he could, living on nothing a day mostly and
doing pretty well on it.

"He has been in prison, I shall not conceal from your honour," said the
landlord. "He stabbed a man under the ribs because he had insulted the
English. Gil Perez loves your nation. He considers you to be the
natural protectors of the poor. He will serve you well, you may be
sure."

"That's what he told me himself," said Manvers.

The landlord rested his eyes--large, brown and solemn as those of an
ox--upon his guest. "He told you the truth, senor. He will serve you
better than he would serve me. You will be his god."

"I hope not," said Manvers, and went out to the door again. Gil Perez,
who had been smoking out in the sun, threw his _papelito_ away, stood
at attention and saluted smartly.

"What was the name of your English master?" Manvers asked him. Gil
replied at once.

"'E call Capitan Rodney. Royalorse Artillery. 'E say 'Gunner.' 'E
was a gentleman, sir."

"I'm sure he was," said Manvers.

"My master espeak very good Espanish. 'E say 'damn your eyes' all the
time; and call me 'Little devil' just the same. Ah," said Gil Perez,
shaking his