"But let us suppose it, just for argument," I urged.
"Well in that case," said he, "of which there is no possible likelihood, your father will keep his property."
At first I thought he had forgotten, but something in his face held my attention, and brought the blood to my head with a rush.
"Do you mean— What is it? Tell me quickly! Is my father—"
"Alive! That is my news; but you must not build on it too greatly. I can only tell you he was not slain that day in the mountains. He was dangerously wounded, but was still living when the soldiers carried him away."
"Where did they take him?"
"That I do not know; neither, I think, does Barejo. Perhaps, and in my opinion most likely, to the forts at Callao."
The major's news, as you may imagine, filled me with the liveliest astonishment and excitement. My father alive! I could hardly credit the statement. What would my mother say? How would she receive the startling information? I rose from my seat and walked about the cavern, trying to think it over coolly.
Then it dawned upon me why Santiago had said he would not be doing me any real kindness in talking of the discovery. After all, his information only reopened the old wounds. More than two years had passed since my father's disappearance, and many things had happened in that time. Not every one who entered the casemates of Callao came out alive.
"But," said I aloud, "some one must know the truth. A man can't be shut up without authority, even in Peru."