While the friar was eating his fill, Ben questioned the man, to make certain that no mistake was being made whereby he was entertaining a Tagalog spy in disguise. But the fellow was exactly what he claimed to be, and humble to the last degree. He said that he belonged at Morong, but had been in and around Desdenas for several months, doing work for another friar.
"Desdenas," mused Ben. "I have heard of that place before. How far is it from here?"
"Not a many miles, capitan—just beyond Mabalacat, a small place, but verra beautiful, on de side of de mountain."
"It is now held by the Filipinos?"
"Yees, capitan." The friar gazed at his empty plate. "Americano beans are verra good—you have to spare a few more?"
"Yes, help yourself." And the friar did so readily. "Desdenas! I've heard of that place from somebody. Now who was it?" Ben knit his brows in thought. "Oh, yes, that Inez Garabella mentioned it." He turned again to the friar. "What is your name?"
"Monclova, capitan."
"While you were in Desdenas did you meet another friar named Ponprè?"
