I have before mentioned the fact that whenever the conspirators had visited de Pintra they remained securely masked, so that their features were, with a few exceptions, unknown to me. But the voices were familiar enough, and the man who had brought me here had mentioned Sanchez Bastro’s name; so I had little difficulty in guessing the identity of the personage who now addressed me.
“Why are you here, senhor?” he inquired, with evident anxiety; “and do you bring us news of the uprising?”
“I know nothing of the uprising except that your man here,” and I turned to my guide, “tells me there is war in the land, and that the Revolution is proclaimed.”
“Yes,” returned Bastro, with a grave nod.
“Then,” I continued, “I advise you to lay down your arms at once and return to your homes before you encounter arrest and imprisonment.”
The leaders cast upon one another uneasy looks, and Bastro drew a small paper from his breast and handed it to me. I recognized it as one of the leaves from his note-book which Paola had attached to the carrier-pigeon, and upon it were scrawled these words, “Arise and strike!”
It was the signal long since agreed upon to start the Revolution.
With a laugh I handed back the paper.
“It is from Francisco Paola, the traitor,” I said.
“Traitor!” they echoed, in an astonished chorus.