A faint sob came to their ears from an inner room. Rushing in they found the girl on the floor, her hands and feet securely bound. About her mouth a gag had been placed, but it had fallen, leaving the mouth free.
They quickly released her and placed her tenderly on the bed.
“She managed to get off the gag and scream,” Phil whispered with admiration, “before she fainted. Bring that light, Syd, she may be hurt.”
The light was soon brought, and the lads were relieved to find that she was unharmed.
Lopez meanwhile had stayed at the bedside of his dead master, moaning piteously. The noise caught the girl’s ear as she awaked from her stupor under the administration of the midshipmen.
“It was Espinosa himself,” she exclaimed in an anguish of sorrow. “They forced the door and killed the brave sailors. My father defended himself but he is no match for five men. Espinosa struck him down from behind. I ran to guard little Juan, but they caught me and bound me.”
“The money is gone too,” groaned Lopez. This to him seemed as great a sorrow as the death of his master.
“They lowered it out the window,” Maria said. She entered her father’s room, walking unsteadily between the two midshipmen, and knelt in prayer before her father’s couch.
Phil’s eyes fell before those of the girl as she arose dry-eyed and calm. He saw the anguish in her face, however, and vowed that he would lighten her task wherever it lay in his power.
“Is Juan safe?” Lopez asked suddenly, his mind at last grasping the horrible calamity which had fallen on his master’s house and realizing that his first duty was with the living.