No answer.
“La puerta—la puerta!” he repeated in a louder tone.
Still no answer.
“Ambre la puerta!” once more vociferated the lieutenant, at the same time thundering on the woodwork with his weapon.
When the noise ceased, a faint “Quien es?” (Who is it?) was heard from within.
“Yo!” bawled Wheatley, “ambre! ambre!”
“Si, señor,” answered the voice in a somewhat tremulous key.
“Anda! anda! Somos hombres de bien!” (Quick then! We are honest men.)
A rattling of chains and shooting of bolts now commenced, and lasted for at least a couple of minutes, at the end of which time the great folding-doors opened inward, displaying to view the swarthy leather-clad portero, the brick-paved saguan, and a portion of the patio, or courtyard within.
As soon as the door was fairly open, Wheatley made a rush at the trembling porter, caught him by the jerkin, boxed both his ears, and then commanded him in a loud voice to summon the dueño!