“Say, Reed,” said the voice in English, “tell the parchment-faced old buzzard that we appreciate the little comedy he has staged for us. Tell him it is bully-bueno, but he must not overdo it. We are plum done up, and want a few days of rest.”
“What says the señor, amigo?” asked Don Mario, with his utmost suavity and unction of manner.
“He says,” returned the other in Spanish, “that he is delighted with the firmness which you display in the administration of your office, and that he trusts the bandits within the church may be speedily executed.”
“Bandits!” ejaculated Don Mario. “Just so, amigo! They are those who defy the Government as represented by myself!” He straightened up and threw out his chest with such an exhibition of importance that the strangers with difficulty kept their faces straight.
Carmen and Josè looked at each other in amazement during this colloquy.
“Padre!” exclaimed the girl. “Do all who speak English tell such lies?”
“Ah!” murmured the one addressed as Reed, directing himself to the Alcalde, “how dared they! But, señor, my friend and I have come to your beautiful city on business of the utmost 315 importance, in which you doubtless will share largely. I would suggest,” looking with amusement at the array of armed men about him, “that your prisoners are in no immediate likelihood of escaping, and you might leave them under close guard while we discuss our business. A––a––we hear reports, señor, that there is likely to be trouble in the country, and we are desirous of getting out as soon as possible.”
“Cierto! Cierto, señores!” exclaimed Don Mario, bowing low. “It shall be as you say.” Turning to the gaping people, he selected several to do guard duty, dismissed the others, and then bade the strangers follow him to his house, which, he declared vehemently, was theirs as long as they might honor him with their distinguished presence.
The sudden turn of events left the little group within the church in a maze of bewilderment. They drew together in the center of the room and talked in low whispers until the sun dropped behind the hills and night drifted through the quiet streets. Late that evening came a tapping at the rear door of the church, and a voice called softly to the priest. Josè roused out of his gloomy revery and hastened to answer it.
“It is Fernando, Padre. I am on guard; but no one must know that I talk with you. But––Padre, if you open the door and escape, I will not see you. I am sorry, Padre, but it could not be helped. Don Mario has us all frightened, for the Bishop––”