“Now, sirrah,” Jack said, raising his pistol, “are you going to obey me?”
The Spaniard, seeing Jack would execute his threat unless obeyed, turned sullenly and led the way to a door. He opened it and entered.
“Madam the countess,” he said, “an English officer insists on seeing you.”
Jack followed him in. A lady had just risen from her seat.
“I must apologize, madam,” he began, and then stopped in surprise, while at the same moment a cry of astonishment broke from the lady.
“Senor Stilwell!” she cried. “Oh! how glad I am to see you! but—but—” And she stopped.
“But how do I come here, countess, you would ask? I come here by accident, and had certainly no idea that I should find you, or that this mansion belonged to your husband. You told me when I saw you last, a fortnight before I left Barcelona, that you were going away to your seat in the country. You told me its name, too, and were good enough to say that you hoped when this war was over that I would come and visit you; but, in truth, as this is not a time for visiting, I had put the matter out of my mind.”
“And do you belong, then,” the countess asked, “to the party who we heard yesterday had arrived at Estrella? If so—” And she stopped again.
“If so, how have I escaped, you would ask? By good fortune and the speed of my horse.”
“What will the count say?” the countess exclaimed. “How will he ever forgive himself? Had he known that our preserver was with that party he would have cut off his right hand before he would have—”