“I think, señors,” he said, “that you are alarming yourselves quite unnecessarily—unless indeed you feel that you are unable to rely upon the good faith of your fellow-countrymen. For your safety depends entirely upon that. So long as they can be content to deal straightforwardly with me, no harm shall happen to you; it is only in the event of treachery that you will have anything to fear, and surely you can trust to your friend the alcalde to take all the steps needful to prevent anything of that kind.”
“I will do my very utmost in that direction,” interposed the alcalde. “It is only the injudicious activity of the soldiery that we really need fear; and I think it will be well, Señor Capitano, for you to permit my colleagues here to prepare a joint letter setting forth the fact of their detention by you as hostages for the good behaviour of all, and the unhappy consequences which must result to them from ill-advised action on the part of any one; so that I may have documentary evidence to exhibit in confirmation of my own statement, if I find such confirmation needful. As to your demands, señor, it will, of course, be impossible for me to concede any of them upon my own unsupported authority; in the absence of his Excellency, the Viceroy, and in view of your refusal to afford time for communication with him, I must discuss the situation with such of the authorities as are immediately accessible, and abide by their decision, whatever it may be. There is one matter, however, to which I may as well refer at once, since it will have to be dealt with sooner or later, and that is, the release of the prisoners taken upon the occasion of the ill-advised attack upon your countrymen last year. I approach the subject with the utmost reluctance, for I fear that what I have to say will be very ill received by you. I must say it, however; and it is this: it will be quite impossible for us to comply with that condition in its entirety, for the best of all reasons, namely, that only a very small number of them still remain in our hands.”
“What, then, has become of the others?” demanded George, in a low, tense voice, the significance of which caused a visible shudder to thrill through his audience.
“I very deeply regret to say, most illustrious señor—and I beg you at the outset to understand that no one here is in the very remotest degree responsible for the deplorable fact which I have to state—that some of them are—dead, while others have been condemned to the galleys and are—I greatly fear—completely lost sight of by this time,” replied the alcalde, in great trepidation, which was fully shared by his twelve companions.
For a few moments that seemed ages to the quaking Spaniards sitting there, George remained silent, his burning gaze searching face after face questioningly, and more than one present, knowing the nature of the revelation that must now very soon come, seemed to already feel a rope tightening about his neck.
At length, when the silence had become almost intolerable, George spoke again, still with ominous calmness and quietness. Leaning forward across the table, with his eyes steadfastly fixed upon those of the alcalde, he said:
“Your reply, señor, sounds curiously significant, and impels me to demand further information. Can you, by any chance, inform me how many of those men are dead, what were their names, and what was the cause and nature of their death?”
“No, señor, I cannot answer your question categorically at the present moment,” replied the alcalde. “All that I can tell you, now, is that some of them died of the wounds which they received in the fight, some died of disease, and the rest—perished—in the—Inquisition—or linger still within its walls. But records, of course, exist from which it will no doubt be possible to furnish you with all details.”
“So,” commented George, after another terrible silence, “some perished in the Inquisition—or linger still within its walls. Can you tell me, señor, how they chanced to get into the power of the Inquisition?”
“Certainly, señor,” answered the alcalde, with alacrity, believing that he saw his way to clear himself and his colleagues from blame. “Upon their capture, they were naturally at first confined in prison by order of the military authorities. From thence some of them—a few—were sent to the galleys, some—as I just now had the honour to mention to you, died in prison of their wounds, and the remainder were claimed by the Chief Inquisitor.”