There was not a doubt in the mind of Miss Starland when she read the few pencilled lines handed to her by the deserter. She was too familiar with the handwriting to be mistaken. She passed the paper to her companion.
“You must not hesitate,” said the latter, the moment she caught its meaning; “go at once.”
“Will you come with me?”
“No; I am not asked to do so. I can be of no help, and I have nothing to fear from my uncle, General Yozarro.”
Little preparation was needed. Attired in the light, gauzy material of the tropics, it only remained for her to adjust her hat and to catch up the reticule containing a few indispensable articles. Still she lingered, impressed by the importance of the step she was about to take.
Martella stood like a statue, but the tension had become almost intolerable.
“Shall I retire till the Señorita is ready?” he respectfully asked.
“There is no necessity; I have simply to go with you.”