Hitt’s head sank. How could he break this to Carmen? Then he sprang to his feet. “Come,” he said, “we will stroll down by the walls. I would like a look at San Fernando.”
“Ha! Señor, you––you––”
Hitt threw him a look of caution, and shook his head. Then, motioning him to follow, he led him out and down through the winding, tortuous thoroughfares. On the summit of the walls were sentinels, posted at frequent intervals; and no civilian might walk upon the great enclosure until peace had been formally declared.
Hailing a passing carriage, Hitt urged the wondering Don Jorge into it, and bade the driver convey them to the old ruin of San Felipe, and leave them. There they climbed the broken incline into the battered fortress, and seated themselves in the shadow of a crumbling parapet. They were alone on the enormous, grass-grown pile. From their position they commanded a wonderful view across the town and harbor, and far out over the green waters of the Caribbean. The Cossack lay asleep in the quiet harbor. Don Jorge saw it, and wondered whence it came.
“Listen, amigo,” began Hitt, pointing to the yacht. “In that boat is a girl, whose dearest earthly treasure is the condemned prisoner out there in San Fernando. That girl is the little Carmen, foster-daughter of old Rosendo.”
“Hombre!” cried Don Jorge, staring at Hitt as if he suspected his sanity.
“It is true, friend, for I myself came with her in that boat.”
“Caramba!”
“And,” continued Hitt, glancing again about the ruined fortress and lowering his voice, “we have come for Josè de Rincón.”
“Santa Virgen! Are you loco?”