A girl, hey, Merodiz! You saw the witch? What sort was she?"
"An American, _senor_, young, and good to look at," the other man
explained. "Her eyes as blue as the skies."
"Good! 'tis not often the gods serve us so well. I forgive Cateras for
failure to report such a prize, but from now on will see that he takes
his proper place. She was here when we came?"
"No, _senor_; the two Americanos brought her; it was Silva and I who
put her in the cell."
"At Cateras's order?"
"Yes, _senor_."
"In what cell?"
"The second in the passage; the man who was here when we came has the
one this way."
"Caramba! this is all pleasant enough. I will pay my respects to the
lady, and there is no time like the present."
He turned away, thumbing his moustache, quite pleased with his conceit,
but one of the men stopped him with a question.
"We remain here, _senor_?"
"Yes, you might as well," his lips smiling, "and if the Senor Cateras
passes, you can tell him that I visit the fair American. It will give
him joy."
The girl drew Cavendish back hurriedly, her mind working in a flash of
inspiration.
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