“A lady of my blood does not suffer insult!” she said.
“Ha! The dog forgot his instructions, did he? ’Tis well that he is done for! You have saved me a task!” Barbados declared. He turned and looked full at her. “A wench of spirit!” he said. “I have half a mind to keep you for my own!”
Back to the door he went, and shouted to those above. Two men came rushing down. Barbados yelled commands at them, and they carried the dead man away. Another brought water in a pail, and dashed it over the floor to wash the blood down the cracks.
Barbados turned and looked at her again. “You may keep the beast’s dagger for a souvenir,” he said. “Let me clean it for you.”
She surrendered it willingly. Barbados wiped the blade on his trousers, bowed, and handed it back to her.
“Take it!” he urged. “Use it when you will, if there are others who try to disobey my commands. You are to be delivered, unspoiled, to a certain man. Failing that, I claim you for myself. And put out the torch when I have gone. The day is here!”
He went out and closed the door, and once more the heavy bar was dropped into place. Señorita Lolita tossed the dagger from her, hurried to the bunk, and collapsed upon it. Her senses seemed to be reeling. She forgot to extinguish the torch.
“Señorita!” Zorro whispered from beyond the partition.
But she made him no reply. The terrors of the night had taken their toll. She had swooned at the dawning of the day.