You mean Don Simon, of course ?" "Yes.

I have a letter of introduction to him." "Oh, you have a letter of introduction to Don Simon! if you will come into the street I will show you the way." Whereupon we went outside, and the _posadero_, pointing out the church of San Ildefonso, told me that the large house over against the eastern door was the house I sought.
"_Gracias, senor_," I said, as I started on my errand, taking the shady side of the street and walking slowly, for the day was warm.
I walked slowly and thought deeply, trying to make out what could be the meaning of the glances which the mention of Senor Ulloa's name had evoked, and there was a nameless something in the _posadero's_ manner I did not like.

Besides being cringing, as usual, it was half mocking, half menacing, as if I had said, or he had heard, something that placed me in his power.
Yet what could he have heard?
What could there be in the name of Ulloa to either excite his enmity or rouse his suspicion?
As a man in authority, and the particular friend of an ex-president of the _Audiencia Real_, Don Simon must needs be above reproach.
Should I turn back and ask the _posadero_ what he meant?
No, that were both weak and impolitic.

He would either answer me with a lie, or refuse to answer at all, _qui s'excuse s'accuse_.

I resolved to go on, and see what came of it.