"Esteban!" she cried. "Esteban!"
The groom stood staring, apparently unable to move as the soldiers hurried down the steps.
By this time General Fombombo was escorting the drummer courteously up the stairs into the deeply recessed entrance of the palace. Strawbridge could not resist looking back to see the outcome of this singular wedding. But now the torchbearers were scattering and all the drummer could see was a confused movement in the gloom, and now and then he heard the sharp, broken shrieks of a woman.
His observations were cut short by General Fombombo who, at the top of the stairs, made a deep bow:
"My house and all that it contains are yours, señor."
Strawbridge bowed as to this stereotype he made the formal response, "And yours also."
CHAPTER VII
As the general led the way into the palace, through a broad entrance hall, the cry of the peon girl still clung to the fringe of Thomas Strawbridge's mind. He put it resolutely aside, and assumed his professional business attitude. That is to say, a manner of complimentary intimacy such as an American drummer always assumes toward a prospective buyer. He laid a warm hand on the general's arm, and indicated some large oil paintings hung along the hallway. He said they were "nifty." He suggested that the general was pretty well fixed, and asked how long he had lived here, in the palace.