The alcalde regarded this sullen-looking, but as yet merely passively hostile crowd for some moments with an expression of considerable alarm and misgiving; then, moved by the urgency of the occasion, he waved his hand to claim attention, and made a little speech in which he first rebuked the gathering for its discourtesy to the visitors by standing gaping at them as though they were so many wild beasts, after which he commanded them to disperse, warning them at the same time to interfere with the strangers at their peril, informing them that he would very severely punish any person who should dare to do so, and at the same time reminding them that the said strangers, though few, were trained soldiers, fully armed, who would themselves be quick to avenge the slightest interference or insult. He stood there until the last of the surly, scowling ruffians had moved slowly and unwillingly away, their movements finally hastened by the emergence of a party of soldiers from another wing of the building, and then, when they had all vanished, he furtively indicated to George the way to the Inquisition, and hurriedly removed himself from the scene.
The Inquisition was situated at a distance of some ten minutes’ march from the Grand Plaza, and proved to be, when the party of Englishmen reached it, an extensive forbidding-looking, prison-like structure built of massive masonry, and apparently strong enough to withstand anything short of an attack by ordnance. The entrance consisted of an archway some twelve feet wide fitted with a pair of enormously thick iron-studded oaken doors, in one of which was a small wicket fitted with a grille. An iron chain, with a hand grip attached to its lower extremity, depending from a hole in the wall, indicated the means of communication with the interior, and this George tugged at violently, with the result that a loud bell immediately set up a furious clanging somewhere in the interior of the building. After an interval of nearly a minute this summons was replied to by a hooded friar who, having drawn the slide of the grille, peered out through the opening and querulously demanded to know who it was who raised such a clangour, and what was his business, to which George, who was the only person visible from the aperture of the grille, replied that he was a stranger who had urgent business of a strictly private nature with the Father Superior. Whereupon the slide of the grille was sharply closed, and the party faintly heard the shuffling footsteps of the friar receding.
After an absence of nearly ten minutes the friar re-appeared at the grille, with a demand to be informed of the stranger’s name and the precise nature of his business with the Holy Father, to which George replied that it was useless for him to give his name, since it was quite unknown to the Father Superior, and that his business was not only most urgent but was for the Holy Father’s ear alone, and that it was imperative that he should be admitted without an instant’s unnecessary delay. A further and somewhat longer wait then ensued, and Basset was strongly urging the desirability of an attempt to burst the wicket open when the friar appeared for the third time and, shooting certain heavy bolts on the inside of the wicket, flung it open. To push his way in was for George the work of but a moment, when, to the dismay and indignation of the gatekeeper, he was instantly followed by eleven soldiers, armed to the teeth.
“The keys!” exclaimed George, to Basset. “Take his keys from him, lock the gate, and station two men here as sentries, with orders to allow no one to leave the building. That is well,” as his orders were obeyed. “Now, the rest of you, follow me. Lead the way, old man, to the quarters of the Father Superior; I must see him forthwith. Are you the keeper also of the keys which give access to the cells?” to the friar who had admitted them.
“No,” answered the cowering creature. “The gaoler carries those. But what would you with them, thou man of violence? No one is permitted to enter the cells without the permission of the Father Superior.”
“Lead me to him, then,” repeated George. “Captain Basset,” he continued, “I will take two men with me. Take you the remainder and secure every door giving access to the exterior of this building. No man must on any account be allowed to leave it, for if that should happen, they will raise the inhabitants of the town upon us, and there will be bloodshed, which I wish to avoid, if possible. Now, sir,” to the friar, “lead the way.”
While Basset marched off the remaining half-dozen of his men to execute George’s order, the latter, accompanied by two soldiers, followed his unwilling guide into the main building and down a long corridor to a door, at which the friar knocked with a trembling hand.
“Enter!” responded a voice in Spanish, whereupon George, gently pushing his guide aside and beckoning the two soldiers to follow him, threw open the door and passed into the apartment. It was a large and very handsomely furnished room, containing a table, sofa, several lounging chairs, and a large book-case, full of books, facing the two wide and lofty windows which lighted the room and which looked out upon a spacious, beautifully kept garden. On one wall hung a large crucifix, the cross made of ebony while the exquisitely carved figure of the crucified Christ was of ivory, fastened to the cross with golden nails, while the crown of thorns which encircled the drooping head was also made of gold. Two large pictures, one of which represented the Descent from the Cross, and the other the Entombment, hung on either side of the crucifix; and the opposite wall was occupied by a very large and beautiful painting depicting the Apotheosis of the Virgin Mother.
At the entrance of the three armed men a tall and dignified figure clad in priestly garments rose from the table and, with a ringer inserted between the pages of a book which he had been reading, haughtily demanded, in Spanish:
“Who are you, sir; and what is the meaning of this unseemly—this audacious—intrusion upon my privacy?”