I believe
you might even trust me. Where is this man?"
"In Haskell; but please do not ask any more--there! They are coming."
A blow struck the outer door, and was repeated, evidently dealt by the
butt of a gun; then the two, standing silent and almost breathless
within, heard Mendez's voice. There was no mistaking his slow,
carefully chosen English.
"_Senorita_, and you also, Senor Cavendish," he called his words
intended to be conciliatory. "It is of no use that you resist. We are
many and armed. If you surrender, and not fight, I pledge you
protection."
The girl glanced at Cavendish.
"You answer him."
He stepped closer to the door.
"Protection from whom?" he asked briefly.
"From my men; I am Pasqual Mendez."
"But you propose holding us prisoners? You intend delivering us up to
the man Lacy as soon as he arrives?"
"Yes," he admitted, "but I hold no animosity--none. The _senorita_
need not fear. I will intercede for you both with the Senor Lacy, and
he will listen to what I say. You may trust me, if you unbar the door.
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