“It means that the fiends have had blood, that there has been murder done.”
“Ah, yes! The overseers.”
“I did not mean the overseers,” Señora Vallejo said, turning her face away and looking out of the window.
“You mean that Señor Lopez—the soldiers—Señor Rocha——”
“Some of them, perhaps all. We shall know soon.”
The girl moaned and hid her face against the older woman’s shoulder and tried to shut out the cries by putting fingers in her ears. But she could not shut them out, and in time ceased to try.
“They are approaching,” Señora Vallejo said.
“Coming here?”
“Here or else to the adobe buildings. And we have not a weapon in the room, nor any man to protect us. The door is locked—we cannot escape and attempt to hide.”
“Oh, why did he lock it?” the girl cried.