"The Engländer was last seen in company with the girl. Take two men and search the gallery!"
Von Hagel coloured up at the brusqueness of Grundt's tone.
"Schröder here," he said without a shred of respect in his manner, "has explored the gallery. It leads to a small air-hole through which he believes the girl crawled. No man, he says, could possibly get through...."
"Then," said Clubfoot, "the Engländer will be in one of the caves on the topmost terrace. Unless he has escaped?....
And he shot a quick glance at the officer.
"Impossible," replied the other. "There is only the one practicable descent and it is guarded...."
Clubfoot nodded. Then he raised his hand.
"Go now," he said, "and leave me with the girl!"
On that von Hagel bent down and spoke softly in his ear. He seemed to be urging something with great insistence. Suddenly one of the Spaniards—a short man with a fat grey face covered with blue stubble and little pig eyes—danced to the front of the group. He burst into a torrent of voluble Spanish, shaking his fist repeatedly at Clubfoot. The latter did not move a muscle but looked at the speaker with contempt in every line of his face.
It was not until some of the Germans broke in, that Marjorie could understand what the scene was about.