General Serano walked to the door of the officers' room and looked in. He started back with an expression of anger.
"This is an outrage on her majesty's soldiers for which you shall pay dearly, sir."
"Let's not talk about pay between gentlemen, General Serano. I think you will admit that if it came to a settlement I have rather the best of it just now, and if I were so inclined, I could remove one of Cuba's most implacable enemies with one stroke of a machete. But I am not here for that purpose. There are others who will undoubtedly attend to that later. Now, all that I require of you is that you sit down at that table and write me a pass that will take me and my friends through your lines."
"Never, sir. I will call the outside guard," and the general made a leap for the door.
"The night is warm, general. Don't over-exert yourself. The door is locked and the key is in my pocket, and besides, if I should let you out you would only fall into the hands of more of my men. Your outside guard is also bound and gagged, and reclining against the wall of the jail in the shadow. The sentinels you saw on patrol when you approached the jail are my men. You see, there is no escape."
"But the uniforms—they are Spain's."
"Yes, they belonged to unfortunate men who fell fighting for your cause. We Cubans have quite a stock of them on hand. I think you said you would write that pass."
"No, sir, never," roared the general, with a rattling Spanish oath.
"Very well, then I am sure you will pardon a few liberties."
O'Connor turned to the waiting men and said: "Remove the general's uniform."