The note ran thus:—
"SENOR DON RICARDO.
"In the name of the Blessed Mother of God, I implore you and your friend to leave Seville on receipt of this, and to take the nearest road for San Lucar de Barameda, where you can reach a steamer, which sails direct for Gibraltar. Don Joaquim vows to have a terrible revenge for the death of our dear brother Hernan; and, last night, was seen in conference with Fabrique de Urquija on the old Alameda. The road you came will be beset—his band are, doubtless, now in hire to waylay you. El santo de los Santos, forgive you the misery you have caused to those who never wronged you, and may it deliver you from the snares of death that lie in your homeward path."
"More melodramatic than pleasant," said Jack.
"It is from Paulina, no doubt.—how considerate!"
"Kind and gentle too," added Jack. "Well, all things duly considered, I think we should take her advice—mount, and be off."
"Poor—poor Paulina!"
"Deuce take it, Dick, don't be faint-hearted. 'T will be all one when the route comes for the Crimea, and sell or sail is the word."
"Not among "Ours," I hope."
"The San Lucar road be it."