The Coast of Adventure by Harold Bindloss

On a hot evening not long after he left Havana, Cliffe sat in a room of the old Spanish _presidio_ at Valverde. The building was in harmony with the decayed town, for it had been begun in more prosperous times, and its lower courses were solidly laid with stone. Molded doors and windows spoke of vanished art, and the gallery round the central _patio_ was raised on finely carved pillars, but Valverde had fallen on evil days and the _presidio_ had been finished with adobe mud. It had served at different times as the seat of the government, the barracks, and the jail, and now, when part had fallen down, the rest had been rudely repaired, and Gomez was quartered there when he visited the port.

Outside, the ruinous building still retained a certain dignity, but this was not so within, where degenerate taste was shown in the tawdry decoration, and Gomez's sitting-room frankly offended Cliffe with its suggestion of effeminate luxury. Gaudy silk hangings hid the old adobe walls, a silver lamp with a smoked chimney hung from the ceiling by tarnished chains, and highly colored rugs were spread upon the dirty floor. There were inartistic but heavily gilded French clocks and mirrors; and over all a sickening scent of perfume.