“Good morning, Senhor Harcliffe,” he said, in his soft voice; and I wondered how he had recognized me without seeming to open his eyes. “And what news does our noble Captain Bastro bring of the Revolution?” he continued, with a slight note of interest in his voice that betrayed his eagerness.
While we breakfasted Bastro related the events of the morning, and told how the news he had received of the activity of the Uruguayan guards, in connection with the impossibility of learning from Rio what Fonseca had accomplished, had induced him to disband his men.
“But can you again assemble them, if you should wish to?” inquired Dom Miguel.
“Easily,” answered our host; but he did not explain how.
While he and Dom Miguel discussed the fortunes of the Revolution I made bold to ask Captain Mazanovitch how he came to be in this isolated spot.
“I was warned by the Minister of Police to leave Rio,” answered the detective; “for it appears my—my friend Valcour would have been suspicious had not Paola promised to arrest me with the others. I have been here since yesterday.”
“Your friend Valcour is a most persistent foe to the Cause,” said I, thoughtfully. “It would have pleased you to watch him struggle with Paola for the mastery, while the Emperor was by. Ah, how Paola and Valcour hate each other!”
Mazanovitch turned his passionless face toward me, and it seemed as though a faint smile flickered for an instant around his mouth. But he made no answer.
After breakfast Pedro was sent back to Cuyaba for news, being instructed to await there the repairing of the telegraph wires, and to communicate with us as soon as he had word from Rio.
The man had no sooner disappeared in the forest than, as we stood in the roadway looking after him, a far-off patter of horses’ feet was distinctly heard approaching from the north.