He hesitated, yet something told him this was no time to fear asking all.
"Surely you are not married? Of course not; then he——"
"Is merely a friend; no, there has been no other word spoken between us, yet," her voice trembling slightly, "there are secrets a woman knows instinctively without speech. I know this man cares—enough to come. Isn't that strange, Mr. Cavendish, when we have only met three times?"
"No," he said gallantly, "not to any one who has known you. I believe you might even trust me. Where is this man?"
"In Haskell; but please do not ask any more—there! They are coming."
A blow struck the outer door, and was repeated, evidently dealt by the butt of a gun; then the two, standing silent and almost breathless within, heard Mendez's voice. There was no mistaking his slow, carefully chosen English.
"Senorita, and you also, Señor Cavendish," he called his words intended to be conciliatory. "It is of no use that you resist. We are many and armed. If you surrender, and not fight, I pledge you protection."
The girl glanced at Cavendish.
"You answer him."
He stepped closer to the door.