"Not the least, sir."
"Then—why have you come all this way?"
"I came to find her and to fetch her to her brother."
"But—you don't understand. She is actually inside the lines, in
Matanzas—a prisoner."
"Exactly. I intend to go into Matanzas and bring her out."
General Betancourt drew back, astonished. "My dear man!" he exclaimed.
"Are you mad?"
O'Reilly smiled faintly. "Quite probably. All lovers are mildly mad, I believe."
"Ah! Lovers! I begin to see. But—how do you mean to go about this—this—impossible undertaking?"
"You told me just now that I could pass for a Cuban. Well, I am going to put it to the test. If I once get into the city I shall manage somehow to get out again, and bring her with me."
"Um-m!" The general appraised O'Reilly speculatively. "No doubt you can get in—it is not so difficult to enter, I believe, and especially to one who speaks the language like a native. But the return—I fear you will find that another matter. Matanzas is a place of pestilence, hunger, despair. No one goes there from choice any more, and no one ever comes out."