This was precisely what Mariquita had hoped for. What she sought at all hazards was to gain speech of the provost-marshal.
They had to wait for him half-an-hour, and when he appeared there were other cases to be dealt with first.
When it came to Valetta Joe's turn, he stoutly denied the charge of defrauding and ill-using the lad.
"I don't know about the wages, sir," said one of the assistants, "but we caught him in the act of cuffing the boy."
"What does he owe you, my lad?" asked Major Shervinton.
"Nothing," replied Mariquita, trembling and in very imperfect English. "I only wanted to get him here to denounce him as a friend of the Russians and a spy."
"There's not a word of truth in what he says!" cried Joe, looking at her with open-mouthed astonishment.
"We have long had our eye upon you, my friend, you know that; and I shall inquire into this more closely."
"At this moment there is a man—his name is Benito Villegas—in the bakehouse below the shop," said Mariquita. "He is wounded; you will find him there. Go and seize him; make him tell you what he has done with the English officer, Mr. McKay."
"Mr. McKay!" said the provost-marshal, deeply interested at once. "He is absent—missing! Have you heard anything of him or his fate?"