“Answer me!” he commanded.
“I cannot see that I am required to vouch for any one, General,” said I, nettled by his manner. “I am here to serve the Cause, not to judge the loyalty of its leaders.”
“Ugh!” said he, contemptuously; and I turned my back upon him, facing Dom Miguel, over whose features a fleeting smile passed.
Fonseca stalked up and down the apartment, his sword clanking beneath his cloak, and his spurs clicking like castanets. Then he planted his huge figure before the chief.
“Watch them both,” said he brusquely; “your daughter and your friend. They are aware of our most important secrets.”
De Pintra’s face reddened.
“Francisco is true as steel,” he retorted, firmly. “Not one of us—including yourself, General—has done more to serve the Cause. I have learned to depend upon his discretion as I would upon my own—or yours.”
The general frowned and drew a folded paper from his breast pocket.
“Read that,” said he, tossing it into Dom Miguel’s hand. “It is a copy of the report made by Paola to the Emperor this morning.”
De Pintra glanced at the paper and then gave it to me, at the same time dropping his head in his hands.