"He was alone."
A convulsion passed over Felipe's face. "Alone!" What did this
mean! He reflected. The woman watched him. "Is she sure he was
alone; there was no one with him?"
"Yes."
"Was he riding a big black horse?"
"No, a white horse," answered the woman, promptly. "A small
white horse."
It was Carmena, every nerve of her loyal nature on the alert to
baffle this pursuer of Alessandro and Ramona. Again Felipe
reflected. "Ask her if she saw him for any length of time; how long
she saw him."
"All night," he answered. "He spent the night where she did."
Felipe despaired. "Does she know where he is now?" he asked.
"He was going to San Luis Obispo, to go in a ship to Monterey."
"What to do?"
"She does not know."
"Did he say when he would come back?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Never! He said he would never set foot in Temecula again."
"Does she know him well?"
"As well as her own brother."
What more could Felipe ask? With a groan, wrung from the very
depths of his heart, he tossed the man a gold-piece; another to the
woman.
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