Fernando shook his head.
"I would have gone myself," he answered, "had that been possible. As it is, I can live, at least, for revenge."
The full significance of the thing burst upon Harry Urquhart.
"A wasted life!" he cried.
"Oh no!" said the man; "a life is never wasted—for the truth."
After that they were silent; they remained standing close together by the opening in the wall. Harry felt as if a heavy weight had been placed upon his heart.
Without, through the fissures in the wall, they could see the moonshine and the stars. A soft wind which moaned across the desolate and rugged heights was blowing upon the mountain.
Presently they were startled by the sound of a voice—a voice that spoke in a whisper.
"I am wounded," said the voice, "I am wounded almost to death. Fernando, my brother, hold out a hand to me, that I may speak to you before I die."
Harry was about to move to the opening, when the elder guide fiercely thrust him back.