Don Anastasio looked up. His captor was a great bearded man. “Colonel Dupin!” he groaned.
“Who are you?–But I should know. It’s the trader, the accomplice of Rodrigo. Sacré nom, tell me, where is she? We can’t find her here. Where is she?”
107“How can I know, señor? She–perhaps she is gone.”
“With Rodrigo–ha! But he’ll have no ransom–no, not if it breaks Maximilian’s heart.–Now, Señor Trader––”
He stopped and called to him his nearest men. Murguía sank limp.
“But he hasn’t got her! Rodrigo hasn’t got her!”
“Who has then?”
“The other one, the American.”
“Which way did they go?”
“If Your Mercy will not––”