He folded the letter up and put it into his pocket, and then waited until he heard the three knocks on the door. Stephen blew out the candle, went along the passage to the front door, opened it, and went out. Without a word the old woman turned and walked along the street. He followed at a short [pg 285]distance, and was presently in a busy thoroughfare. Twenty minutes walking took them beyond the town, and they presently stopped at a cottage where a candle was burning in the window.
“This is the house, señor,” she said, speaking for the first time.
She went up to the door and tapped at it. It was opened by a man in the attire of a muleteer.
“This is the señor who will accompany you, Gomez,” she said. “Now, señor, my work is done.” And she turned to go.
“Wait a moment,” he said. “Gomez has a letter for me, and I want to read it before I give you a note that I wish you to take back and to hand to Donna Inez.”
“Here is the letter, señor,” the muleteer said.
Stephen took it to the light and opened it. It was a long one, but he skipped the first part, which was full of directions and hints for the journey. Running his eye down it fell upon some figures, and he read: “Gomez will hand you a bag containing eight hundred dollars. This, I have no doubt, will be sufficient for your journey down the Amazon and to pay your passage-money home. You are heartily welcome to it. Some day, if it please you, you can pay me back; but if aught befalls you on your way down do not let the thought of this paltry debt trouble you in any way. I know not whether this will ever reach your hands, but pray that it may do so, and that I may have the satisfaction of knowing that Inez and I have had some part in saving the life of a brave English gentleman.” Then with a few more words of adieu the letter closed.
Stephen had already felt that there was some money in the pockets of his trousers, and he now handed his letter to the old woman and pulled out some gold.
“No,” she said, drawing back; “I would die to please my young mistress, but not one penny would I touch from the hand of a foreign heretic.”
A minute later and she was gone. The muleteer laughed at her outbreak. “Well, well,” he said, “how people differ; now, for my part, when I receive payment for the work of my mules I care not in the least whether it comes from a heretic’s pockets or those of a good Catholic. But I did not know that you Brazilians were heretics, señor.”