“None whatever, Señor Padre,” replied the captain genially. He turned to go, and Josè stifled a great sigh of relief. But suddenly the captain stopped; then turned again.
“Caramba!” he ejaculated, “I nearly forgot! Hombre! what would His Grace have said?”
He fumbled in an inner pocket and drew forth a telegraphic document.
“And you will seize the person of one Rosendo Ariza’s daughter and immediately send her with proper conveyance to the Sister Superior of the convent of Our Lady in Cartagena,” he read aloud.
Josè froze to the spot. From within Rosendo’s house came a soft, scurrying sound. Then he heard a movement in his own. Morales returned the folded message to his pocket and started to enter the house. Josè could offer no resistance. He was rendered suddenly inert, although vividly conscious of a drama about to be enacted in which he and his loved ones would play leading rôles. As in a dream he heard the captain address Rosendo and gruffly demand that he produce his daughter. He heard a deep curse from Rosendo; and his blood congealed more thickly as he dwelt momentarily on the old man’s possible conduct in the face of the federal demand. He heard Morales hunting impatiently through the shabby rooms. Then he saw him emerge in a towering rage––but empty-handed.
“Caramba, Padre!” cried the angry captain, “but what is this? Have they not had one good lesson, that I must inflict another? I demand to know, has this Rosendo Ariza a daughter?”
He stood waiting for the answer that Josè knew he must make. The priest’s hollow voice sounded like an echo from another world.
“Yes.”
“Bien, then I have discovered one honest man in yourself, Padre. You will now assist me in finding her.”
“I––I know not––where––where she is, Señor Capitán,” murmured Josè with feebly fluttering lips.