“I think I do, Señor Colonel. About their jewellery—is that to be on?”
“Every link of it. I want them to be coupled, just as they are now—dwarf to giant, and the two grand gentlemen together.”
“Bueno! It shall be done.”
So closed the curious dialogue, or, if continued, what came after it did not reach the ears of Florence Kearney; they who conversed having sauntered off beyond his hearing. When he had translated what he heard to Cris Rock, the latter, like himself, was uncertain as to what it meant. Not so either of their prison companions, who had likewise listened to the conversation outside—both better comprehending it.
“Bueno, indeed!” cried the dwarf, echoing the gaol-governor’s exclamation. “It shall be done. Which means that before this time to-morrow, we’ll all four of us be up to our middle in mud. Won’t that be nice? Ha! ha! ha!”
And the imp laughed, as though, instead of something repulsive, he expected a pleasure of the most enjoyable kind.