The only visible signs of life were lizards, darting in and out of their holes, and a huge rattlesnake sunning himself on the ledge of a broken fountain.

Grass was growing between the stones; rotten doors hung on rusty hinges; there were great gaps in the roof and huge fissures in the walls, and when I called no one answered.
"Surely," I thought, "I have made some mistake.

This house is both deserted and ruined." I returned to the street and accosted a passer-by.
"Is this the house of Don Simon Ulloa ?" I asked him.
"_Si, Senor_," he said; and then hurried on as if my question had half-frightened him out of his wits.
I could not tell what to make of this; but my first idea was that Senor Ulloa was dead, and the house had the reputation of being haunted.

In any case, the innkeeper had evidently played me a scurvy trick, and I went back to the _posada_ with the full intention of having it out with him.
"Did you find the house of Don Simon, Senor Fortescue ?" he asked when he saw me.
"Yes, but I did not find him.

The house is empty and deserted.