“That is what I should like to do, dear Pedro. But is not poor Ferd safe in here? Can we not send him in some supper and turn the lock upon him?”
She could not hide the repugnance she felt toward the miserable, misshapen creature, now sleeping on the floor, and after one glance in his direction looked swiftly away. But that glance had been sufficient to startle her by its resemblance to another face she hoped never to see again.
Pedro’s keen old eyes noticed her surprise and dismay, and he smiled grimly.
“The mistress sees. Slumber shows it––the likeness. One breed of snakes were in the den. Fear both, watch both, for they are brothers. Yes.”
This, then, explained many things; not the least, the wonderful influence and control which Antonio had always maintained over his half-witted “left hand,” as the “boys” called the unfortunate hunchback.
“Antonio––Ferdinand––both Bernals––brothers?” asked Mrs. Trent, in a tremulous voice.
“Si. Yes, indeed. In truth.”
“And all this time nobody knew or suspected it?”
“Senorita, the master knew. That was part of his great goodness to the wicked one who would ruin him if he could. ’Ware Antonio––’ware Ferd. One is the shadow of the other. One thinks, the other works. When Antonio went, Ferd stayed. No good, senorita. Watch him.”