Galva gazed wonderingly at them. All fear had left her now, and she fingered her revolver confidently. The firelight glinted on the little plated barrel and threw gigantic shadows of the old couple on the yellow ceiling. She was speaking in a low voice which she would hardly have recognized as her own.
"Put the tray down," every word came distinctly, "and then stand over there—where I can see you both. Then tell me what this all means."
Pieto looked at his wife hesitatingly, and pointed to the tray. Teresa set it down.
"Now," went on the girl, "I want a full explanation—where is Lieutenant Mozara? I don't think I know either of you—do I?"
"The lieutenant has left the castle."
"It seems that the lieutenant has played a trick on me—a trick that will cost him dear—and," meaningly, "those who are with him in it."
The old people stood with bowed heads and the man mumbled something below his breath.
"Speak up, man."
Pieto raised palsied finger-tips to his mouth. "We are not the servants of Lieutenant Mozara," he said.
Galva stamped her little shoe.