“Say, Mas’r Harry, is that there the custom of the country?”
“You impertinent dog, how dare you?” I exclaimed angrily. “What do you mean by spying there, and then asking such a question?”
“Only wanted to know, Mas’r Harry; because if it is the custom it’s all right; if it ain’t the custom it’s all wrong, and Master Landell and the Don, who are close behind, might think it queer.”
“We’ve just had a narrow escape from a most horrible death, Tom,” I exclaimed hastily. “Thank you for your warning.”
The next moment voices were audible. There was the rustling of the foliage, and as Lilla stood pale and leaning heavily upon my arm, my uncle and Garcia came hastily into sight.
Chapter Seventeen.
Trophies.
I have seen some villainous-looking countenances in my time, but none more abhorrent of aspect than was that of Pablo Garcia, as, distorted with rage, he started on seeing Lilla resting half supported by me. The handsome regularity of his features seemed then to have the effect of making the distortion more striking. There was an angry frown, too, upon my uncle’s face as he strode up; and, almost roughly taking Lilla from me, he exclaimed hoarsely: