“They are gone,” said José at length, “that Indian, Ignatio, has conjured them away. He is a demonio and not a man; I thought it from the first.”
“Impossible!” cried Don Pedro, who was white with rage and fear. “The door has been watched ever since they entered it, and no living thing could force those bars. Search, search, they must be hidden.”
“Search yourself,” answered Don Smith sullenly, “they are not here. Perhaps they discovered the trick of the picture and escaped down the passages to the chapel.”
“It cannot be,” said Don Pedro again, “for just now I was in the chapel and saw no signs of them. We have some traitor among us who has led them from the house; by Heaven, if I find him out——” and he uttered a fearful oath.
“Shall we bring the dogs?” asked José,—and I trembled at his words: “they might smell their footing.”
“Fool, what is the use of dogs in a place where all of you have been tramping?” answered the father. “To-morrow at dawn we will try them outside, for these men must be found and killed, or we are ruined. Already the authorities suspect us because of the disappearance of the two Americanos, and they will send soldiers from Vera Cruz to shoot us down, for without doubt this Inglese is rich and powerful. It is certain that they are not here, but perhaps they are hidden elsewhere in the building. Come, let us search the passages and the roof,” and he vanished into the wall, followed by the others, leaving the chamber as dark and silent as it had been before their coming.
For a while the danger had passed, and we pressed each other’s hands in gratitude, for to speak or even to whisper we did not dare. Ten minutes or more went by, when once again we heard sounds, and a light appeared in the room, borne in the hand of Don Pedro, who was accompanied by his son, Don José.
“They have vanished,” said the old man, “the devil their master knows how. Well, to-morrow we must hunt them out if possible, till then nothing can be done. You were a fool to bring them here, José. Have I not told you that no money should tempt me to have more to do with the death of white men?”
“I did it for revenge, not money,” answered José.
“A nice revenge,” said his father, “a revenge that is likely to cost us all our lives, even in this country. I tell you that, if they are not found to-morrow and silenced, I shall leave this place and travel into the interior, where no law can follow us, for I do not wish to be shot down like a dog.