She had lost all sense of fear in the determination
to act; better risk all than surrender without a struggle. Mendez
fumbled along the wall, stumbled over some slight projection and swore;
another step, and his groping hand would touch her. He never took the
step, but was whirled against the side wall, with the cold barrel of a
revolver pressed against his cheek. A stern, sibilant whisper held him
motionless.
"If you move I fire, _senor_; raise your hands--quick!"
He responded mechanically, too profoundly astounded to dream of
resistance. It was the sound of the voice which impressed him.
"Santa Maria! A woman?"
"Yes, _senor_, a woman; the same you sought, but I have found you
first."
He chuckled.
"A good jest surely; how came you here?"
"Not to discuss that, _senor_," quietly. "Nor is this to be laughed
over. If you would live, do as I say. Mr. Cavendish, see if the man
bears weapons."
"Only a belt with a knife."
"Keep the knife; it may come handy for some purpose. Now bind his
hands with the belt. Cross your wrists, _senor_.
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