“Is it as bad as that? Really, I don’t take any stock in this garroting business. I believe that is thrown in for theatrical effect.”
Father Hilario shakes his head. “Captain Huerta is a desperate man,” he avows. “There is nothing to prevent his wreaking his enmity upon you.”
“Oh, is there not? Thank you, father, for the offer of your ministrations, but really, I do not believe I shall need them. Do not misunderstand me,” Ashley adds, quickly, as a pained expression passes over the kindly face of the priest. “What I mean is that I have too healthy an interest in life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to pass many hours in such a stuffy, ill-smelling donjon as this.”
Father Hilario holds up a warning finger. “There are listeners about,” he says.
“Let them listen. If their stock of English is equal to my collection of Spanish they will be vastly entertained by my remarks.”
“You will attempt to escape?” queries the priest, in a cautious whisper.
“At the first opportunity.”
“The attempt will fail.”
“It will succeed,” retorts Ashley.
“No; it will fail,” repeats Father Hilario. “The carcelero, always watchful, will be doubly vigilant to-night. He has probably been bribed.”