“You have it,” replied Don Christobal. “We await you here at midnight. Gentlemen,” he added, as Huascar’s steps rang on the staircase without, “I have given my word, and you must help me keep it. I believe in Huascar.”
“So do I,” added Natividad.
Dick was silent. He had been watching the Indian, and was unconvinced.
“What do you think, Dick?”
“I don’t like it. Perhaps I am mistaken, though. I feel that Huascar hates me, and I do not love him particularly. We are not in a position to judge one another. Midnight will show.”
Natividad, going to the window, had opened it, and was leaning out into the street.
“I tell you I have seen that face somewhere before,” he reiterated.
“So have I,” added the Marquis, going to the window as well.
Dick joined them, and watched the skeletonlike old man across the street He was tracking Huascar, like a little boy playing at brigands, childishly taking ineffective cover behind carts, pedestrians and trees. The Indian had noticed him, and turned once or twice; then continued on his way openly, quite unconcerned.
Suddenly, the Marquis, pensively leaning against the window, straightened himself with an exclamation.