They turned into the street—or, rather, alley—indicated by Montt, and at once found themselves in a cobble-paved and exceedingly ill-lighted thoroughfare, flanked on either side by a curious assortment of huge, old-time houses, which were doubtless, at one period, the dwellings of high Government officials, and tiny, tumbledown hovels, which seemed to have sprung up, like fungi or some other evil growth, on the small spaces of ground which had formerly been left vacant between the larger houses.
Half-way down this evil-looking, evil-smelling, and squalid alley Montt called a halt and, looking round carefully, remarked:
“Now, Señor Douglas, so far as I can remember—for it is a good many years since I was here before—this is the house; but as I see no sign of any light in the place, the old woman may have gone away, or died. However, having come thus far, we will try our luck.” And the lieutenant knocked softly upon the door.
The sound echoed dully through the little building, but otherwise the silence remained unbroken; it seemed as though the place was indeed deserted.
“Caramba!” exclaimed Montt, “I don’t believe there is anybody here, after all; what a pity! I do not care to knock too loudly, either, for fear of attracting the attention of the neighbours. They are a queer lot down in this quarter, I can tell you. Hallo! did you hear anything moving inside there, just then, Douglas?”
Jim listened intently for a few seconds, then replied: “Yes, I think I do hear something prowling about in there, but—upon my word, Montt, it sounds more like a—a—well, an animal than a human being; and—what a very curious smell there is; quite like—let me see—” here the young officer sniffed several times—“yes,” he continued after a pause, “it is quite like the odour of a wild beast!”
“Per Dios! you are right,” exclaimed the lieutenant, sniffing in turn. “And I remember that last time I visited this place the old woman certainly seemed to carry with her an uncanny, musty, animal odour. Therefore it is probably she. I will knock again.”
Montt thereupon drew from his jacket pocket a revolver, which he had taken the precaution to bring with him, and tapped softly on the door with its butt.
This time there followed a plainly perceptible “shuffle-shuffle” like the soft padding of a heavy animal’s paws, and both men started violently when, directly afterward, and from the other side of the door, a whining voice inquired—
“Who knocks at my door? Go away, whoever you are. I am a poor, lone old woman, and if you dis—”