"'Sveree hot wedder!" he exclaimed.
"He begs one thousand pardons for not speaking of your language
the more perfectly, and so he is request of me to be his
interpreter."
Something urged Kirk to flee while there was yet time, but the
father of Maria Torres was between him and the door, and he could
not bring himself to push the little man out of the way. So he
bade them both be seated in the only two chairs which the room
contained, while he rested gingerly upon the edge of the bed. The
new-comers let their eyes roll curiously about the chamber, and an
embarrassing silence descended. Senor Torres maintained a set
smile designed to be agreeable; Professor Herara, serene in the
possession of his linguistic acquirements, displayed the
insouciance of an undertaker. Together they beamed benignantly,
almost patronizingly, upon the young man. Plainly they meant to
put him at his ease--but they failed. At length, after clearing
his throat impressively, the interpreter began again:
"Of course, you have been expecting this visit, senor?"
"N--not exactly."
"My friend is deeply disappointed that he has not the honor of
before meeting you."
"I am flattered, but--"
"Indeed, yes! Then you are perhaps acquainted with Senor Torres by
reputation? You know who he is?" Professor Jesus Herara raised his
brows and inclined his head like a polite school-teacher
endeavoring to encourage a diffident pupil.
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