Heretic and Filibuster Ibarra stood undecided for a moment.

The night breeze, which during those months blows cool enough in Manila, seemed to drive from his forehead the light cloud that had darkened it.

He took off his hat and drew a deep breath.

Carriages flashed by, public rigs moved along at a sleepy pace, pedestrians of many nationalities were passing.

He walked along at that irregular pace which indicates thoughtful abstraction or freedom from care, directing his steps toward Binondo Plaza and looking about him as if to recall the place.