In answer to an invitation to "Come in," he entered an apartment which
seemed to be a combination office and living-room. A door opened into
what the New Mexican assumed to be a sleeping chamber, adjoining which
was evidently a bath, judging from the sound of splashing water.

"With you in a minute," a voice from within assured the guest.

The splashing ceased. There was the sound of a towel in vigorous motion.
This was followed by the rustling of garments as the bather dressed. In
an astonishingly short time the owner of the rooms appeared in the
doorway.

He was a well-set-up youth, broad of shoulder and compact of muscle. The
ruddy bloom that beat through the tanned cheeks and the elasticity of
his tread hinted at an age not great, but there was no suggestion of
immaturity in the cool steadiness of the gaze or in the quiet poise of
the attitude.

He indicated a chair, after relieving his visitor of hat and cane.
Pesquiera glanced at the bandage round the head.

"I trust, _señor_, your experience of yesterday has not given you a
wakeful night?"

"Slept like a top. Fact is, I'm just getting up. You heard this morning
yet how Tom is?"

"The morning newspaper says he is doing very well indeed."

"That's good hearing. He's a first-rate boy, and I'd hate to hear worse