Chapter TwelveConqueror and Conquered
It was twilight of the same day that Quartel had found them at Delcazar’s jacal. Crawford and Merida had ridden double on the copperbottom back to the Big O, where Merida had gone up to her room to change, while Crawford washed up in the kitchen. No one was in evidence when Crawford returned to the living-room for a drink, feeling exhausted and battered from that night in the storm and the long ride back. He was no connoisseur, his experience with good liquor limited to the few times he had drunk Rockland’s potables here, and he was at a loss to choose from the array of glittering bottles and decanters in the sideboard. He sampled one labeled curaçao and found it too sweet for his taste. Finally he settled on some armagnac, pouring himself a stiff jol
