A shadow moved across the floor and extended toward the old man. Isaac Coffran raised his head quickly. He grinned as he saw the leering face of Pedro. The Mexican had parted the curtains and was standing in the doorway. His left hand held the machete; his right arm supported a black bundle.
"Well?" questioned Isaac Coffran.
Pedro's lips parted in an ugly snarl of mirth. The big man tossed the machete on a chair and placed the bundle on top of it.
"Did you find the man in the cellar?" asked Isaac Coffran.
"Si, senor," replied Pedro. "Yes."
"Ah!" exclaimed the old man. "I am glad I sent you down. I thought perhaps the rescuer had slipped out before the curtain closed. Where was Duncan — the young man? In the closing room?"
"I think so."
"He couldn't have escaped. He was too exhausted by the gas. Well, he has five minutes more to wait. What did you do to the other man?"
Pedro pointed to the chair.
"There is his hat, senor," he said. "There is his coat. Pedro can use the machete well. Very well."