Barbados cursed loudly, breathed heavily, and squinted his eyes until they were only two tiny slits. “I shall make him squirm and squeal!” he declared loudly. “And then I shall turn him into a proper ghost!”
“Death is nothing to a man like that,” Captain Ramón told him. “But torture is a different matter.”
“Then I’ll see to it that he is prettily tortured!” Barbados declared.
“There are two sorts of torture, Barbados—the physical and the mental,” said the captain.
“Mental? I do not understand such things!”
“Torture to the mind,” the captain explained. “That is the worst kind by far. If you would have some sport with this Señor Zorro, whom we both hate, listen to me. The señorita, who was to have been his bride, is afraid that you will torture and slay him. I have told her that I will save him by fetching the troopers from San Diego de Alcála—if she will wed with me.”
“Ha! Is this treason?” Barbados cried.
“Are you a fool?” questioned the captain. “And am I one? There must be no talk of treason between us. Attend! She will go to this Señor Zorro and explain to him what she intends doing. Just think of that, Barbados! There is torture for you! He, who loves her so much, will think that she is to become the bride of another man. Ha! He will squirm and squeal indeed! A prisoner, and unable to prevent it! Ha!”
“Ha!” Barbados cried, understanding finally, and grinning to show his appreciation.
“And we will taunt him with it,” the commandante continued. “We’ll watch him squirm!”