“Salvador.”
On this the gate of the patio, wide enough to admit a man on horseback, was thrown open, and the next moment I was in the arms of Señor Carera.
“Out of the lion’s mouth!” he exclaimed, as he kissed me on both cheeks. “I was dying of anxiety. But, thank Heaven and the Holy Virgin, you are safe.”
“I have also to thank you and Señor Carmen; and I do thank you with all my heart.”
“Say no more. We could not have done less. You were our guest. You rendered us a great service. Had we let you perish without an effort to save you, we should have been eternally disgraced. But come in and refresh yourselves. Your stay here must be brief, and we can talk while we eat.”
As we sat at table, Carmen told the story of my rescue.
“It was well done,” said our host, thoughtfully, “very well done. Yet I regret you had to kill the sentry. But for that you might have had a little sleep, and started after midnight. As it is, you must set off forthwith and get well on the road before the news of the escape gets noised abroad. And everything is ready. All your things are here, Señor Fortescue. You can select what you want for the journey and leave the rest in my charge.”
“All my things here! How did you manage that, Señor Carera?”
“By sending a man, whom I could trust, in the character of a messenger from the prison with a note to the posadero, as from you, asking him to deliver your baggage and receipt your bill.”
“That was very good of you, Señor Carera. A thousand thanks. How much—”