s if the patriots should get the
upper hand. No wonder that a war in which men like him were engaged on the
one side, and men like el Commandant Castro on the other, should be
savage, merciless, and "to the death."

As I had decided to quit Caracas so soon, it did not seem worth while
presenting the letter to one of his brother officers which I had received
from Commandant Castro. I thought, too, that in existing circumstances the
less I had to do with officers the better. But I did not like the idea of
going away without fulfilling my promise to call on Zamorra's old friend,
Don Senor Ulloa.

So when I returned to the _posada_ I asked the _posadero_ (innkeeper), a
tall Biscayan, with an immensely long nose, a cringing manner, and an
insincere smile, if he would kindly direct me to Senor Ulloa's house.

"_Si, senor_," said the _posadero_, giving me a queer look, and exchanging
significant glances with two or three of his guests who were within
earshot. "_Si, senor_, I can direct you to the house of Senor Ulloa. You
mean Don Simon, of course?"

"Yes. I have a letter of introduction to him."

"Oh, you have a letter of introduction to Don Simon! if you will come into
the street I will show you the way."

Whereupon we went outside, and the _posadero_, pointing out the church of
San Ildefonso, told me that the large house over against the eastern door
was the house I sought.

"_Gracias, senor_," I said, as I started on my errand, taking the shady
side of the street and walking slowly, for the day was warm.

I walked slowly and thought deeply, trying to make out what could be the
meaning of the glances which the mention of Senor Ulloa's name had evoked,
and there was a nameless something in the _posadero's_ manner I did not
like. Besides being cringing, as usual, it was half mocking, half
menacing, as if I had said, or he had heard, something that placed me in
his power.

Yet what could he have heard? What could there be in the name of Ulloa to
either excite his enmity or rouse his suspicion? As a man in authority,
and the particular friend of an ex-president of the _Audiencia Real_, Don
Simon must needs be above reproach.

Should I turn back and ask the _posadero_ what he meant? No, that were
both weak and impolitic. He would either answer me with a lie, or refuse
to answer at all, _qui s'excuse s'accuse_. I resolved to go on, and see
what came of it. Don Simon would no doubt be able to enlighten me.

I found th