“That is where the friend lives with whom I shall leave Manuela.”
“Indeed,” said Lawrence, whose interest in the villa with the rustic porch was suddenly intensified, “and shall we find her there on our return?”
“I was not aware that Senhor Armstrong intended to return!” said Pedro, with a look of surprise.
Lawrence felt somewhat confused and taken aback, but his countenance was not prone to betray him.
“Of course I mean, will you find her there when you return? Though, as to my returning, the thing is not impossible, when one considers that the wreck of part of my father’s property lies on the western side of the Andes.”
“Ah! true. I forgot that for a moment. Well, I suppose she will remain here till my return,” said Pedro, “unless the Indians make a successful raid and carry her off in the meantime!” he added, with a quick glance at his companion.
“And are we to stay to-night at the same villa?”
“No, we shall stay at the inn to which we are now drawing near. I am told that the Colonel has his headquarters there.”
The conversation closed abruptly at this point, for they had reached the inn referred to. At the door stood a tall, good-looking young man, whose shaven chin, cut of whisker, and Tweed shooting costume, betokened him an Englishman of the sporting class.
Addressing himself to this gentleman with a polite bow, Pedro asked whether Colonel Marchbanks was staying there.