"May I ask what is your country, Mademoiselle?" asked Jack, looking up and into her face.
"Guess, Mr. Yankee!"
"Why, I would guess that you are a Russian."
"You are worthy of the name of Yankee, then. Yes; I am a Russian."
Another party of sight-seers passed them at that moment, and one man was heard to remark:
"At the south end of the castle is a stairway leading down to an underground dungeon. Legend tells us that some forty Spanish pirates were once confined there, for a month, before permission was received from the governor to hang the Spaniards."
"Did you hear that?" murmured Jack, interestedly. "A real, old dungeon, with an interesting history."
"Such a history merely afflicts me with a shudder," replied Mlle.
Nadiboff, shrugging her shoulders.
"By Jove, I believe I'd like to have just a glimpse of that old dungeon,
Mademoiselle, if I am not tiring you or wasting your time."
"You will have to go alone, then," replied the young woman. "I will wait, my Captain."