Garcia went white, while the Marquis walked toward the door, turning his back on the Dictator though he expected to be stabbed at any moment. But Garcia controlled himself, and his lisping voice checked Don Christobal in surprise.
"Do not go yet, señor. I can do nothing for you, but I can at all events give you some advice."
Don Christobal turned, but ignored the hand which waved to a chair, and waited. He had already wasted too much time here.
"Speak, sir," he said; "time passes."
"Have you any money?" asked Garcia bruskly.
"Money? What for? To …" He was on the point of saying "to bribe you," but stopped at a suppliant look from Natividad, who was signing desperately to him from behind the Dictator's back.
Garcia, remembering there was somebody else in the room, took Natividad by the arm, and put him out of the room without a word. Then he sat down at a little table loaded with papers, rested his head in his hands, and began to speak in an undertone, without looking at the Marquis, still standing and suspicious.
"I can do nothing for you against the Red Ponchos and the mammaconas. Their house, or
