“I believe I dropped a peseta.” His voice was hesitant. “If you happen to see it, young man?”

Drake quickly took in the area around the old chap. Within a few seconds, the glint of sun on the coin drew his attention to a dirty crack where road met building. “There it is. Just a moment.” He moved over to grab it. “Here you go, señor.”

The old man stretched out a hand, surprise lining the crags of his face when Drake pressed the coin into it. His fingers curled around it, feeling its contours. “Gracias.”

“De nada. May I pet your dog?”

The old man chuckled and slid the peseta back into his pocket. “I would rather you didn’t. I’m sorry, but he works best when he is not distracted. I promise you, he receives his reward for a job well done when he guides me safely home.”

Drake was glad he’d asked, then, and not just reached out to ruffle the mutt’s fur. “I understand. Is there anything else I can help you with, señor?”

The man grinned. “No, gracias. Are you new to the neighborhood, young man?”

“Just visiting, sí. Esteban Martín Caminante.” It was the name Thoroton had provided for him to use when not in a part of the city where he was already known, or when in another part of Spain—that second surname literally meaning traveler. A little joke that no one would understand.

The old man smiled. “And I am Pietro Rodríguez Brasa. You have made my dog’s day and done me a kindness, Esteban. Again, gracias.” When the wind shifted, Señor Rodríguez turned his face a bit and sniffed the air, his eyes lighting at the whiff of cigar smoke that drifted by him.

Drake grinned too. “I don’t suppose you would care to finish my cigar, señor? I probably shouldn’t take the time to do so. My abuelo expects me home.” He’d have offered the old man a fresh one, if he’d had one on him to offer.

Señor Rodríguez didn’t appear to be put off by the thought of sharing. His eyes brightened still more. “I haven’t enjoyed one in nearly two years. If you are certain you don’t want it . . .”

He had no idea how happy Drake was to give it up. “I will have another tomorrow. Here. Enjoy.” Drake slipped the smoldering cylinder into the man’s outstretched fingers. “Buenas tardes.”

“Good afternoon to you as well, Esteban.” Looking far happier than he had when he told his dog to heel a minute ago, the old chap gave a command to walk and sauntered down the street.