"He had no legal rights. He was a villain, every inch of him. He proved it by his dastardly conduct. Yes, he richly merited all that came to him."
"Have you thought what a terrible death he died? Have you thought of him entombed alive, beating with his bare hands the stone walls within which he knew he must die, suffering the most frightful tortures that a human being may know? Have you thought of him smothering for want of air, his throat parched, his head bursting, his mind deranged? Have you thought of him praying to the saints, shrieking, moaning, sobbing, and dying at last in that horrible darkness? And yet you say he received no more than he merited!"
"Poor devil!" muttered Merry. "It was a fearful thing. Even though he once tried to cut my tongue out, even though he meant to torture me and then kill me, I would not have had him endure such suffering."
"You are so kind—so tender of heart!" sneered Lazaro. "Paugh!"
He made a gesture of anger that was precisely the same as Del Norte might have done. Strange there was something about this old man that so powerfully resembled the youthful Del Norte!
"You have his manner, his voice, his eyes! You might be his father."
"I am simply his friend, Alvarez Lazaro—his friend and his avenger!"
"Then you——"
"I have sworn to avenge him!"
The Mexican leaned toward Frank, swiftly hissing: