Colonel Saltero smiled sombrely. "There are no coast-guards left," he said. "As for the police—" he shrugged his shoulders—"some say that the officer in command here is a friend of Da Freitas, but I do not think he will interfere with us."
Tony stretched out his hand, and picking up his guest's empty glass commenced to refill it.
"That sounds all right as far as it goes," he remarked; "but it seems to me we are up against another pretty stiff problem. If Pedro marries the Princess, as I suppose he will, it rather knocks the bottom out of your game—doesn't it?"
For a moment the Colonel hesitated. Despite the gift of the cartridges, some faint suspicion of Tony's entire good faith seemed still to linger in his mind.
"We are not without our plans," he replied cautiously.
Without appearing to notice the implied mistrust Tony filled the tumbler and handed it back to him.
"Of course not," he remarked cheerfully. "You and Señor Congosta are not the sort of people to leave things to chance. I was only wondering if I couldn't be of any further help to you. It was all my fault the Princess was captured, and I want to do everything I can to make up for it."
This frank and simple speech, or else a second long draught of Glenlivet which the Colonel promptly poured down his throat, seemed to have a slightly mellowing effect upon that reserved warrior.
"We have a plan," he repeated, "but I will admit to you, Sir Antony, that there is much danger. Even now it is known everywhere that the Princess is in Da Freitas' hands, and already there are those who say 'what is the use of more fighting?' If we had money——"
"Money!" exclaimed Tony. "My dear chap, why didn't you say so before?" He crossed again to the cupboard, and stooping down took out two fat white bags, which he placed upon the table with an agreeable chink.