"Bueno! That is so," interrupted Tejada, bluntly; "but the woman was a poblana—one Marina."
"Marina!" cried Duval, savagely. "Then I have been tricked. We have all been wrong! Doña Dolores must be with the Indians."
"I trust, Señor, your fears are groundless; but if Doña Dolores is with the Indians, she will be quite safe. They reverence her as the guardian of the Chalchuih Tlatonac."
"Does Don Hypolito know anything about the Indians?" asked Rafael, hurriedly.
"That question, Señor, I am not at liberty to answer."
Rafael cast one swift and penetrating glance at the impassive face of the old man, and turned away with a suppressed oath.
"Carrai!" he muttered, fiercely, to Philip, who stood by, a silent spectator. "I believe Xuarez is in league with the Indians, and has made them carry her off. If she is not here, she is at that hidden temple; but, in either case, Don Hypolito is mixed up with the case."
"In my humble opinion, she is at Acauhtzin," said Philip, quietly. "Don José does not know all the black dealings of Xuarez's heart. Cheer up, my dear Jack, we will soon see Don Hypolito, and wring the truth from him."
Jack muttered something indistinctly, and turned away, whereon Philip, taking him kindly by the arm, led him down to the saloon, with the intention of giving him such consolation as he was able.
"If she is here, Xuarez must know," said Philip, earnestly; "and if he knows, he will not be able to deceive me. I can read most faces, and it will be strange indeed if Don Hypolito's is the first to baffle me."