“Yes, I remember. Where is he?”
“In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, they say, in chains.”
He made a gesture of indifference.
“Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains. If only he isn't wounded——”
“He seems to have been slightly hurt, but exactly how much we don't know. I think you had better hear the account of it from Michele himself; he was present at the arrest.”
“How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leave Rivarez in the lurch?”
“It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody did, and followed the directions given him to the letter. For that matter, so did they all. The only person who seems to have forgotten, or somehow made a mistake at the last minute, is Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable about it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call Michele.”
She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and a broad-shouldered mountaineer.
“This is Marco,” she said. “You have heard of him; he is one of the smugglers. He has just got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us more. Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to you about. Will you tell him what happened, as far as you saw it?”
Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron.