"I supposed that they were expecting me, and I am quite unable to account for their departure and their failure to meet me."
"And so you set out on your return home?"
"Yes."
"Well," said Lopez, "your story is a little absurd, yet not at all improbable. I dare say there was a mistake somewhere."
"There must have been—yet I don't know."
"Young sir," said Lopez, after a pause, "you carry your character in your face. You at least are not a spy. Upon that I would stake my life. I wish I could say as much for your companion. All Spaniards—at least all Republicans—would not let a priest off so easily; but you are different, and I could no more suspect you than I could suspect the apostle St. John. Señor, you are free; you may go on your way at once."
"Señor, you are free, and may go on your way at once," repeated Brooke, as a flush of joy passed over his face. "Go, Talbot, go," he added earnestly; "go at once!"
But Talbot did not move.
"I am deeply grateful, captain," said she, "but I prefer to remain with my friend."
"Talbot!" cried Brooke.