She opened her eyes again—and almost shrieked in alarm. Four inches in front of her face the point of a sword had slipped through a tiny crack in the wall, coming from the space adjoining!
The señorita recoiled a space, but watched the blade as though fascinated by it. Inch by inch it slipped through the wall, until two-thirds of its length was inside the cabin. And again she restrained a cry, but this time a cry of joy. On the blade, marked with some black substance, was a big Z!
So Señor Zorro even now was near! He was on the other side of the partition, only a couple of feet from her! She bent her head forward as the blade was slowly withdrawn, put her lips close to the tiny crack in the wall.
“Diego!” she whispered.
“Not Diego, but Señor Zorro, señorita, at your service,” came back a low tone.
“Thank the saints!” she breathed. “But, what can you do? You must be careful!”
“Think you I would allow them to carry you away, and not follow?” he asked.
“If they find you—”
“Do you put such small value, señorita, upon my ability to care for myself?”