There were five minutes' dreadful, death-like silence. Marguerita stood cold and impassive as a pillar of stone, with her teeth set and her hands clenched. But for the heaving of her bosom and the quivering of her eyelid, she gave no signs of life.
Juan de Alava preserved his soldier's mien and aspect, but his eye wandered wildly.
The next moment the sharp rattle of a volley, succeeded by one death groan, rang through the hall, and the thin blue smoke drifted in through the open door, and half filled the apartment.
"Fiel hasta la muerte," muttered he between his hard set teeth.
"Bring out the other servants," roared the general, furious at being frustrated.
"Give them five minutes, also, to confess; if they speak not, shoot them."
After another short pause an orderly entered, and announced that they had fled into the woods.
"Ha! this lies deeper than I thought for, lady," he added, turning to Marguerita; "we must have your presence in an inner chamber. Valdez, call in our major and six captains, a court-martial. Senor de Alava, follow us."
And without more words, he stalked into Marguerita's private chamber, seated himself in her own arm-chair, and ordering his officers to form a half circle round him, proceeded to arraign her as a culprit.