"Senor!" exclaimed Don Miguel,
stiffening and staring.

"Of course," added Freeman, smiling
benevolently upon him, "I judge only from
such specimens of the modern Mexican as I
happen to meet with."

Don Miguel's sallow countenance turned
greenish white. But, before he could make
a reply, Meschines, who scented mischief
in the air, and divined that the gentler sex
must somehow be at the bottom of it, struck
in.

"You may consider yourself lucky, Harvey,
in making the acquaintance of a gentleman
like Senor de Mendoza, who exemplifies
the undimmed virtues of Cortez and
Torquemada. For my part, I brought him
here in the hope that he might be able to
throw some light on the mystery of this
embroidered garment, which I see you've
been examining. What do you say, Don
Miguel? Have these designs any significance
beyond mere ornament? Anything
in the nature of hieroglyphics?"

The senor was obliged to examine, and to
enter into a discussion, though, of course,