"The king's tower," said the priest, by way of explanation. "He worships here alone. See the smoke of the fire which burns on the altar. Let the Spaniard mount. I will follow as swiftly as I can. I am weak with fasting."
He stood aside to allow Alvarez to pass him, and then, helped by his guard, slowly ascended the steps which encircled the building. And after them came Roger, his tall, gaunt frame pressed against the wall to keep out of sight, and his sword in his hand. He was breathing hard. Every stair seemed as if it would be too much for him, for he had fought hard. He had never during the long days of the siege saved himself in the slightest, and had borne the same privations as had the common people. The exertion and the excitement were almost too much for him. But he thought of the reward, of the knights who had helped to send him to this Terra Firma, and of his comrades. If he escaped to the coast and gained a ship, how miserable to reach home empty handed, to arrive at the port of London with a tale of this siege, and with the report of lost riches. Would they be believed? Would the folks in London city credit the fact that the simple crossbow youth had risen to such high places, and had had the promise of huge wealth? No! They would be thought to be mad. Solid facts would be necessary to convince them. Gold and jewels and pearls. Roger determined to make one last struggle, and bracing himself for it, slowly followed up the stairs. He reached the very top and halted, his body concealed by an ornamental ledge which fringed the edge of the tower. Then he sought for some object behind which he could obtain cover, and from which he could observe what was passing. There was a huge stone vase for flowers near at hand, only the flowers had long since dwindled away, no one having had time or the strength to attend to their watering during the siege. But it would form an excellent obstruction, and our hero crept behind it. Then he slowly lifted his head, and looked on to the square court at the top of the tower. There stood the scarlet-robed priest, obviously delaying so that the white cacique might have time to follow, while Alvarez stood beside him eager, excited, scarcely able to keep still, so much was he roused. But Roger noticed that he had lost the old hunted appearance. He no longer stared about him, looking now over this shoulder and now over that. Once, indeed, he walked to the ledge and stared over into the garden, but a glance satisfied him that none of the Spaniards followed. He returned, therefore, rubbing his hands together with pleasure, and muttering to himself.
"At last!" he was saying. "I have waited, and I have plotted, and not in vain. Here is reward for all the dangers I have run, for the risk I took when I lay off Cuba for the British ship. At last I shall see a fortune, and I alone of all who are here shall return to Spain with wealth. What is conquest without it? Even Fernando Cortes will envy me. But—supposing that English giant knew? He promised to slay me for the blow I dealt him. That I know, for it was told me. Ah, perhaps he is dead. I will ask the priest. Come, sir priest," he said aloud, addressing the man in scarlet, "tell me of this giant who led you. Is he dead?"
"Not dead," was the answer, "but starving—worn out with the struggle. Do not trouble about him now, but come. I have the key to the treasure. The picture directs me to the summit of this temple. There is a wall before me. I step to it like this, and stand with my toes against it, with the tips of the fingers of my right hand just level with the corner. Then I sweep them so above my head till I come to a ledge. Here it is, my lord. And on the ledge—" (he fumbled there till his fingers came in contact with an object, and he withdrew a heavy bar of glittering metal, somewhat tarnished by exposure to the weather)—"on the ledge a bar of gold. I turn to the left, and step to the nearest door. It is here. I enter, and within search for a hole which will accept this bar. The picture shows it before me as I enter. Stand aside there, dogs who have helped to ruin this fair country. You keep the light from the chamber. Now enter, my lord, and the natives can follow if you wish it. Ah, here is the aperture. I place the bar within it and press. It gives. Enter again to this inner chamber, where you will find the treasure."
The priest stood back, lifting his arms as he did so, and pointing to a narrow aperture which had suddenly opened in what would appear to have been solid masonry. But a closer inspection showed that it was merely imitation—that the wall was painted to represent stonework, and that a portion, exquisitely made, was designed to swing outwards. Through the opening thus disclosed could be seen a chamber of small proportions, lit by rays which came from small niches in the outside walls. A closer inspection showed that it swept to the left out of sight, while, more engaging sight still to Alvarez, there were piles of loose stones within, and beyond those a heap of golden ornaments set with stones, and of crude gold struck into rough bars. It was a sight, in fact, to make the blood of the Spaniard course swiftly through his veins.
"The treasure!" he gasped. "The treasure for which I have longed! Bar the door, dogs! Hold the priest, and let none enter while I am within. Remember! Let no one follow. If a question is asked, say that no Spaniard is here. Wait, and I will return in a few minutes."
He stepped to the opening and clambered through. Then the native guards closed about the doorway, so cutting off escape for the priest. But they kept no watch on the terrace outside. They failed to see the creeping giant who had emerged from behind the vase, while Roger himself, intent on treasure also and on the payment of his debt, kept no watch on the stairs by which he had ascended. He did not see the crafty figure which had tracked him to the terrace, the figure of a Spaniard to whom some inkling of the plot had come from Alvarez when in his cups, the figure of a Spaniard determined to share the treasure at the very least, and, if possible, if his hand could strike the blow, to take all for himself.