“Carrasco?” I half shouted, without waiting for the padre to pronounce it.
“Ay Dios, señor! You know everything! That is the name. I heard it from one of his followers, who spoke to him as they hurried off in the darkness. The robber-chief who has done this foul deed is the noted captain Carrasco! Pobres niñas!”
Chapter Thirty Five.
Sad but Sweet.
I waited for no further explanation on the part of the Franciscan.
I fancied I now understood the situation, as well as he—perhaps better.
With the thought of Dolores in the keeping of common brigands, I should have been, if not content, certainly less tortured. It was a different thing to think of her in the keeping of Torreano Carrasco!
Vividly flashed before me the taunting in the Cathedral—the scenes in the “Street of the Sparrows.”