"Come, Señorita," I whispered, "you had better prepare for departure. If we are to release the President and to get away before daylight there is not much time to be lost."
"I am quite ready to leave," she replied.
"Then be good enough to accompany this man, and be very careful to keep in the shadow of the house," I returned. "Above all, see that you do not make a sound. I want to have a few words alone with Silvestre."
Matthews led the way from the room and, with one last look at the man in the chair, the Señorita followed him.
When I had seen her turn the corner of the verandah, I approached Silvestre, who glared at me as though he hoped the fire in his eyes might consume me.
"Don Guzman," I began, speaking in a low voice, "before I take leave of you, I want to let you know why I have played this trick upon you. You will remember that at Falstead you gave me your assurance that if I helped you to secure Fernandez you would do him no harm. And yet you have given orders that, as soon as you had left the island for Equinata, the Señorita and her uncle were to be poisoned. I distinctly heard you tell the former that the latter would die at daybreak. I am afraid you will find yourself mistaken in your prophecy. By daybreak Fernandez should be well on his way back to Equinata. There is one other matter before I go. Here is the last money you gave me." So saying, I threw upon the table the roll of notes he had handed to me before I left the island for Asturia.
A hideous scowl was the only response I received.
Then, when I had placed my revolver in my pocket, I made my way down the verandah in the direction of Fernandez' prison. To my delight I discovered that no change had taken place there. The giant negro still lay where we had placed him, while my own man stood sentry before the door.
Bidding the Señorita and Matthews remain concealed, I crept quietly forward. The plateau was as silent as the grave, while the only light to be seen was that which streamed from the window of the room we had just left.
I had passed through some momentous moments in the past six months, but I do not think that, in the whole course of this extraordinary affair, I experienced anything like the sensation that took possession of me as I made my way towards the door of the hut. I had begun by taking service under Silvestre; I had carried out his instructions to the best of my ability; I had found him a traitor, and now, here I was, throwing him over and rendering assistance to the other side. What was the end of it all to be? Should I escape with Fernandez, or would Silvestre catch us before we could reach the boat?