“Would I know it, were he?” she countered.
“Possibly. I am asking a question, and desire an answer,” Barbados said. “It has been said that a high-born wench such as yourself scorns to utter falsehood. Let us see if that is correct.”
She made no reply, and the face of Barbados grew purple with wrath. He closed and unclosed his great hands as though he would have liked to strangle her.
“Is Señor Zorro aboard?” he demanded again.
“Have you seen him?” she wanted to know.
“I have not. But I have seen some things that I imagine are his doing.”
“And I notice that you and your lieutenant bear his mark,” she said.
“Ha! Let me but get my hands on him, and he’ll bear more than a mark!” Barbados declared. “I am having a search made of the ship. If he is found you’ll see how a man can be sent to his death speedily.”
The señorita gave a little cry and recoiled, her hands at her breast.
“Ha! You show fear for him!” Barbados cried. “So he is aboard, is he?”