Inez glanced down at Chico, who, in spite of her prohibition, seemed unable to resist the temptation of fingering the gold with his coarse, dirty hands. "I dare not trust Chico," thought Inez, in sore perplexity; "if the treasure were buried, he at least would know the secret, and there would be nothing to hinder him from abstracting whatever he pleased from the box. I hope, I think that he is honest; but the temptation might prove too great. The gold must be kept under lock and key,—where can I place it in safety?" Inez raised her hand to her brow, and reflected for several moments. It was so new a thing to the maiden to be burdened with the care of riches! Presently an expression of satisfaction came to the anxious young face.
"There is the armoury," thought Inez; "the door is strong, and the lock is good. We will shut up the box within it, and give Alcala the key."
The place which was called the armoury, from weapons and ammunition having once been kept there, was little more than a deep recess in the wall which enclosed the patio, closed in by a low strong door, which had been so constructed as to attract little notice from without. A stranger might have resided for months in the house of the Aguileras, and have spent hours every day in the patio, without ever observing that there was a door near to the ornamental grating—indeed, under its shadow whenever the grating was thrown back. The small key of the armoury had been left in the lock, for there had been no need to use it, the place had been for many years empty of all but dust and rubbish. There could be no better place in which to secure the treasure.
"Chico," said Inez to her servant, who was still on his knees, fumbling the gold, "mention to no one—not even to Teresa—the finding of this box. You shall be well rewarded for your fidelity and your silence. Now bear the box to the armoury yonder; I will first lock it up there, and then take the key to Don Alcala, and tell him what I have done."
Inez glided across the patio, glad that the grating was closed, so that no stranger from the street could possibly see what was passing within. Followed by Chico carrying the box, the lady reached the armoury, opened the door, and tried the lock.
"Place the box there," said the maiden, pointing to the inmost corner of the recess, close to the door of which she was standing.
Chico, instead of obeying, set down the heavy box on the pavement, and then, by a movement so sudden that it took Inez completely by surprise, he pushed the lady into the armoury, shut the door, and locked it upon her!
Inez cried out aloud in her alarm, when she thus unexpectedly found herself in darkness, a prisoner in her own home. With mingled threats, entreaties, and promises she conjured the false Chico to open the door. The traitor, however, thought time far too precious to wait either to listen or to reply. He could not, indeed, pass through the grating, of which Teresa had taken the key; but he easily made his way out by the same passage as that through which he had entered, one which communicated with the now empty stable.
Inez now exerted all her strength in the endeavour to force open the door, but it resisted her utmost efforts. The air in the armoury was close and confined. Inez could hardly breathe; she was faint with exhaustion and terror. Her cries for help were not heard, though she tried to call out loud enough for her voice to reach some passer-by in the street. Inez at last, finding all her exertions vain, could only await in discomfort and misery the return of Teresa, who would liberate her from her prison.
How long, how intolerably wearisome was the time of waiting! What painful companions to poor Inez in her solitude were her own reflections! She could not doubt that the family had been robbed by the worthless Chico,—robbed of their all at the very time when its possession was most sorely needed. The short-lived hopes which the sight of the treasure had raised in the mind of Inez, had vanished from her view like some mirage in the desert before the thirsty traveller's eyes. Poverty—destitution—appeared all the more dreadful from contrast with abundance beheld, but not enjoyed.