“Sí?” she questioned.
“This is some sort of a storeroom,” he said, “in which Zorro has made a temporary nest. But I do not intend to remain in it forever. It is in my mind to look at you through the porthole before the dawn comes.”
“Diego! To dare such a thing—”
“What would not a caballero dare for love?” he asked. “For love of such a one—”
“Diego!”
“Call me Zorro, for, by the saints, that is my rôle now! I find that I have a dual personality, and the tamer part of me is not working at present. I am Zorro, the daring in love and war!”
“Have a care, for my sake,” she begged.
“I have work to do and a game to play, and they may be combined,” he answered. “For the moment, Adios!”
Again she heard the little sound, as though he were retreating from the partition and crawling over boxes and bales. There was deep silence for a time, save for the noises on the deck. And then she heard his voice, raised in song, and her heart almost stopped, for she knew that the pirates must hear it, too.
She leaned her head against the wall, that she might hear the better, though she was sorely afraid. She had heard the song often before, from Don Diego’s lips, and when other young caballeros had come to her father’s hacienda serenading. But never had she heard the real Señor Zorro sing it before, and never before had it sounded so thrilling and so sweet.