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 the place without difficulty. There could be no mistaking it--a
large house over against the eastern door of the church of San Ildefonso,
built round a _patio_, or courtyard, after the fashion of Spanish and
South American mansions. Like the church, it seemed to have been much
damaged by the earthquake; the outer walls were cracked, and the gateway
was encumbered with fallen stones.

This surprised me less than may be supposed. Creoles are not remarkable
for energy, and it was quite possible that Señor Ulloa's fortunes might
have suffered as severely from the war as his house had suffered from the
earthquake. But when I entered the _patio_ I was more than surprised. The
only visible signs of life were lizards, darting in and out of their
holes, and a huge rattlesnake sunning himself on the ledge of a broken
fountain. Grass was growing between the stones; rotten doors hung on rusty
hinges; there were great gaps in the roof and huge fissures in the walls,
and when I called no one answered.

"Surely," I thought, "I have made some mistake. This house is both
deserted and ruined."