“In order that you may dictate terms to Senorita de Guzman and her mother, I suppose?” he inquired amiably.
The general’s face grew livid. Even through the gloom of the cell they could see his color change to an angry white.
“What do you know of this?” he thundered.
“Enough to send you to jail if you were in the United States,” retorted Ned coolly. “So you offer us our liberty for that document?”
“I do. But you had better hasten to accept. I may change my mind.”
“Oh, no, you won’t—not while you can assume authority over an unfortunate widow and her daughter. You want my answer to your proposition?”
“I do—yes. That is what I came for.”
“Then, so far as I am concerned, it is—no!”
“Same here,” put in the midshipman.