"No, no," answered one of the Mexicans, smilingly, "you are mistaken.
We have no prisoners here."
Dave's heart sank within him for one brief moment. Had he made a mistake in invading this house, only to find that his mission was to be fruitless?
Then he suspected Mexican treachery.
"Pardon me," he urged in Spanish, "if I satisfy myself that you are telling the truth. Stand where you are, all of you, and no harm shall come to you. But don't make the mistake of moving or of reaching for weapons."
Darrin strode swiftly past the group and stepped into a hallway, in which were stairs leading above.
"Are there any Americans here," he shouted, "who want help? If so, there are American sailors here ready to give aid."
From above there came a single exclamation of joy, followed by a scurrying of feet.
From above sounded a voice demanding in Spanish:
"Shall I let the prisoners go?"
"You will have to," answered the same voice that had answered Dave. "We are attacked by los marineros Americanos." (American sailors).