"Not unless I must," said Raquel. She sighed. "Not unless I must. I do not want to die, Ana. I love my life, but there is a great horror over there." She nodded her head in the direction of the Port of Entry. "When that horror comes very near me, then I—" Raquel made as if she would thrust the dagger within her breast. Ana shuddered.
"I shall not see it," she said. "But I advise it, all the same, if you must."
She drew the girl up to her, and cried helplessly upon her neck.
"Can't you think a little for me, Ana? It is hard always to think for one's self."
"No," said Ana, shaking her head, "I never have any fresh thoughts. I always follow."
"Then, dear Ana, just tiptoe down and listen. It is the last thing that I shall ever ask of you, Ana."
Ana, her eyes streaming with tears, took her slippers—those tell-tale flappers—from her feet, and went to the door. She turned the knob gently and pushed the door outward without noise. As she opened it she heard Escobeda's voice, raised in angry tones.
"Go now! now! while he is scolding," whispered Raquel. "He will not hear you. I must know what he is saying to that man. Do you think it is the Señor Silencio's messenger?"
Ana nodded and put her finger to her lip. She crept noiselessly along the passage. Raquel, listen as she would, heard nothing of Ana's footsteps, for Escobeda was still swearing so loudly as to drown every other sound.