Reginald Wright Kauffman

“ The American felt his face unaccountably flushing.
“But Señor Tucker understands the temperament of my innocent Fernando.”
“Sick men have violent fancies, Don Ramon,” Dan insisted.
“Then,” said Ramon with a sudden sharpness, “when they are nonsense they should be overcome, or they may grow to mania. There is altogether too much of this yielding to sick men's sick fancies by silly, abnormally sympathetic physicians. Pah! One would think their medical training would harden them, but I believe they're all as soft as Peña's wife or as this overripe mango.” ”

“ Mystery breathed through the entire hacienda. The forsaken graveyard, half buried in marsh, seemed alive with it, the very stones of the chapel whispered of it. There had been danger and to spare on the water front of San Lorenzo, but the danger of the gallows seemed, because it was more tangible, almost less ominous than the secret perils of this house of empty passageways, set within the strange walled estate and guarded by peons—that was the right name for them!—who were equally terrified and terrifying. ”

“ Peña hovered over them. He was unconcealedly listening.
“Well, my patient,” Dan continued, “is being retarded in his recovery by a sick man's hallucination. He has a foolish fear of Fernando, this servant of young man's arm. “My dear fellow,” said he, “I relieved of that attendance, I frankly can't guarantee recovery.”
Stone felt rather than saw the dark look that swept over the dwarf's features, but Don Ramon burst into a great boisterous laugh and, while the parrot raucously echoed him, tapped Stone's arm with his fat jeweled fingers. ”