Henry looked at him a moment, as if debating with himself, and then answered.
"I don't mind telling you. It is a nasty mess, and I suppose my temper was to blame. I quarreled with her uncle. He was her father's youngest brother."
"Was?" interrupted Francis with significant stress on the past tense.
"Was, I said," Henry nodded. "He isn't now. His name was Alfaro Solano, and he had some temper himself. They claim to be descended from the Spanish conquistadores, and they are prouder than hornets. He'd made money in logwood, and he had just got a big henequen plantation started farther down the coast. And then we quarreled. It was in the little town over there San Antonio. It may have been a misunderstanding, though I still maintain he was wrong. He always was looking for trouble with me di
