My father was greatly grieved when he heard that Doctor Cazalla and the Monteverdes had been arrested and sent off to Bogota. He was too well acquainted with General Murillo’s bloodthirsty nature not to feel the greatest possible fear for their safety.
“That Spanish tiger has sworn to stamp out every spark of liberty in the land, and to destroy all those who are capable of rekindling it,” he observed; “we must, however, try what can be done. Let me consider.”
He was silent for a quarter of an hour or more. At last, looking up, he said, “Duncan, I can trust to your judgment and energy, and also to those of Mr Laffan. I will send you and him to Bogota, with letters to various friends who are likely to interest themselves on behalf of the prisoners. They may be the means of preserving their lives for the present, and of ultimately obtaining their liberty.”
“I am ready to start this instant,” I replied; “so is Mr Laffan, I am sure, for the excitement he has gone through has cured his fever. We may push on ahead, and get there before them.”
“Neither are you nor Mr Laffan in a fit state to make a forced march,” he answered; “you must preserve your health, else you may be unable to render the service you desire. I intend that you should travel in the character of a young English gentleman, with Mr Laffan as your tutor. You must speak no Spanish; and he knows quite enough to get on perfectly well.”
We had just arranged the whole plan, and I had agreed to go back and explain it to Mr Laffan, when Don Cassiodoro hurriedly entered the room.
“My dear doctor,” he exclaimed, “some Spanish officials are at the door, and from the information I have received I fear that they have come to arrest you. Follow me instantly. Take up these writing materials and everything that belongs to you; there’s not a moment to lose. Let your son come too; were he to be seen, they would at once conclude that you were here.”
Don Cassiodoro leading the way, my father and I followed him to an upper story, and entered an unfurnished room. “If the don requires us to stay here, we shall certainly be discovered,” I thought. But I was mistaken. Drawing aside a panel in the wall, he disclosed a recess; then pointing upwards, he showed us a broad shelf at the top.
“How are we to get up there?” asked my father.
Don Cassiodoro pulled down a small ladder. “Draw this up after you,” he said, “and place it along the side. You will find that there is a cover which may be let down, and which will completely conceal you. Should those seeking you chance to discover the panel and enter the recess, they might search round it, and yet not suppose that you were within.”