"They knew that the Chalchuih Tlatonac is with the guardian; but they think that the guardian and you, Señor, are at the bottom of the cañon—in the bed of the torrent."
"Then your ruse was successful?"
"Yes, Señor! I strewed the clothes on the narrow path, and in the dawn awoke the town with my cries. Ixtlilxochitli, with his priests, came to inquire the trouble. I told them that you, Señor, had escaped. They, not guessing you had gone by the secret way, thought you had fled alone by the cañon. The narrow way was examined, your clothes were found, the blood on the cliffs, the clothes of Doña Dolores. Then they knew she had fled with you, and deemed both had fallen in the darkness over the cliff into the torrent."
"And the Chalchuih Tlatonac?" asked Dolores, breathlessly.
"They discovered that loss on returning to the teocalli for the morning sacrifice. All the priests were in despair, and Ixtlilxochitli, knowing you had taken the sacred gem, Señor, burnt a lock of your hair to——"
"A lock of my hair!" interrupted Jack, in surprise; "how did they get that?"
"Some of your hair was cut off when you were ill, and preserved in the temple."
"And why did they burn it?"
"Because, by doing so, they devote your soul to Tlacatecolotl, the evil one."
"Oh, the Aztec devil," replied Duval, carelessly. "Much good that will do them. I should have thought it wiser for them to look for the stone."