"I know him?" repeated Pereo scornfully, contemptuously throwing
Miguel aside, who at once took that opportunity to increase his
distance from the old man's arm. "I know him? Thou shalt see.
Come hither, child," he called, beckoning to Guest. "Come hither,
thou hast nothing to fear now."

Guest, who had been attracted by the sound of altercation behind
him, but who was utterly unconscious of its origin or his own
relation to it, came forward impatiently. As he did so, Miguel
took to his heels. The act did not tend to mollify Guest's surly
suspicions, and, pausing a few feet from the old man, he roughly
demanded his business with him.

Pereo raised his head, with the dignity of years and habits of
command. The face of the young man confronting him was clearly
illuminated by the moonlight. Pereo's eyes suddenly dilated, his
mouth stiffened, he staggered back against the wall.

"Who are you?" he gasped, in uncertain English.

Believing himself the subject of some drunkard's pastime, Guest
replied, savagely, "One who has enough of this d--d nonsense, and
will stand no more of it from any one, young or old," and turned
abruptly on his heel.

"Stay, one moment, Senor, for the love of God!"

Some keen accent of agony in the old man's voice touched even
Guest's selfish nature. He halted.