"Well," he went on, "you are lucky to have saved your lives and your money, and to–morrow we will see about the things that you desire to buy. Meanwhile, you are travel–stained and doubtless will wish to cleanse yourself before you eat. José, conduct the señor and his Indian friend, since he is so fond of his company, to their room, the abbot's chamber. Supper will be served shortly, till then, adios. Girl, go with them," he added, addressing the woman who had been engaged in swinging the hammock, "water may be wanted and other things."
The woman bowed and went away, and at the door we found her standing, lamp in hand, to light us down the passage.
Now, Señor Jones, you, for whom I write my history, have so often slept in the abbot's chamber in this house that it is needless for me to stop to describe it. Except for the furniture, the room is just as it was in those days. Then it was empty save for a few chairs, a rough washing–stand, and two truckle bedsteads of American make, which were placed at a little distance from each other on either side of the picture of the abbot.
"I fear that you will think this a poor place, after the luxury of Mexico, gentlemen," said Don José, "but it is our guest–chamber, the best that we have."
"Thank you," answered the señor, "it will do very well, though perhaps your visitors suffer sometimes from nightmare," and he glanced at the awful and life–sized picture on the south wall of an Indian being burnt at an auto–da–fé, while devils hanging above his head dragged the soul from his tortured and expiring body.
"Pretty, are they not?" said Don José; "I would have them whitewashed over, but my father likes them. You see all the victims are Indians, there isn't a white man among them, and the old man never could bear Indians. Well, when you are ready, will you come to supper? You will not lose the way, for you can follow the smell of the food," and he left the room.
"One moment," I said addressing the girl, who was about to accompany him, "perhaps you will see that our servant," and I pointed to Molas, "has some meat brought to him here, since your masters will not wish him to sit at table."
"Si," answered the girl, whose name was Luisa, searching my face with her eyes.
By this time Don José was through the door, which the draught pushed to behind him. I watched it close, then a thought struck me, for I remembered that among our Order there are women, associates of the outer circle, and I whispered some words into Luisa's ear and made a sign with my hand. She started and gave the ancient answer, which is taught even to children, whereto I replied with another sign, that of the Presence of the Heart. "Where?" she asked glancing at each of us in turn.
"Here," I answered, and, drawing out the symbol, I held it before her eyes.
She saw and made obeisance, and at that moment we heard Don José calling her from the further side of the door.
"I come," she cried in answer, then added in a whisper: "Lord, you are in danger in this house. I cannot tell you now, but if possible I will return. The wine is safe, but drink no coffee, and do not sleep when you lie down. Search the floor and you will understand the reason. I come, señor! I come!" and she fled from the room.
So soon as the girl was gone, the Señor James went to the door and locked it, then he returned and said:
"What does all this mean, Ignatio?"
I did not answer, but, pushing aside one of the beds, I searched the floor beneath it. It was discoloured in several places. Next I pulled the blankets off the beds and examined the webbing that formed the mattresses, to discover that this also was stained, though slightly, for it had been washed. Then I said:
"Men have died in these beds, señor, and yonder stains were made by their blood. It would seem that the guests of Don Pedro sleep well; first they are drugged, then they are murdered; and it is for this purpose that we have been lured to the house. Well, we expected nothing else."
"That is a pleasing prospect," he answered, "we are this man's guests, surely therefore he will not―" and he drew his hand across his throat.
"Certainly he will, señor, and it is to this end that we have been brought here by Don José. If others have been murdered, it is not likely that we shall escape, since Don Pedro will be sure that an Inglese would not travel without a large sum of money. Moreover, we have a quarrel with the son, and I know too much about the father."
"Again I say that the prospect is a pleasant one," answered the señor. "On the whole it would have been better to be drowned than to live on to be butchered by those villains in this awful place. What an end!"
"Do not despair," I answered. "We were warned in time and therefore, I think, shall escape by the help of that girl and the other Indians in the place, since in an hour every one of them will have learned who we are, and be prepared to venture their lives to save us. Also we came for a purpose, knowing our risk. Now let us make ready and go among these men with a bold face; for of this you may be sure, that nothing will be attempted till late at night when they think us sleeping. Have you understood, Molas?"
"Yes," answered the Indian.
"Then watch here, or in the outer room, till we return, and should the girl come, learn all you can from her as to the whereabouts of the old doctor and his daughter, and other matters, for when she knows you to be of the Order she will speak. Have you been recognised by anyone?"
"I think not, señor. When we entered it was too dark for them to see."
"Good. Then keep out of their way if possible, do the best you can with the girl, and take note of all that passes. Farewell."
When we reached the dining–hall, nine of the company were already seated at the table impatient for their food, but Don Pedro was still sitting in his hammock engaged in earnest conversation with his son José. Of those at the table but one was a white man, a lanky, withered–looking person with a broken nose, whose general appearance filled us with disgust. The rest were half–breeds, the refuse of revolutions, villains who had escaped the hand of justice and who lived by robbery and murder.
Looking at these outcasts it became clear to us that, if once we fell into their power, we could expect little mercy at their hands, for they would think no more of butchering us in cold blood than does a sportsman of shooting a deer.
When Don Pedro perceived us, he slid from his hammock to the ground, and, taking the señor by the hand, he said:
"Let me introduce you to my overseer, the Señor Smith, from Texas. He is an American, and will be glad to meet one who can speak English, for, notwithstanding much practice, his Spanish is none of the best."
The señor bowed, and the American desperado spoke to him in English, wearing a grin on his face like that of a wicked dog as he did so, though I do not know what he said. Then Don Pedro conducted his guest to a place of honour at the head of the table, that beside his own seat, while I was led to another table at a little distance, where my meat was served to me alone, since, as an Indian of pure blood, I was not thought fit for the company of these cross–bred curs. Don José having taken his place at the further end of the board with the Americano, the meal began, and an excellent one it was.
Now, in the conversation that ensued I took no part, except when members of the gang called to me to drink wine with them, for they desired to make me drunk; but while I pretended to be occupied with my meat, I thought much and watched more. The talk that passed I set down as I overheard it and as it was reported to me by the señor.
"Try some more of this Burgundy," said Don Pedro when the dishes had been removed, filling his tumbler for the seventh or eighth time, "it is the right stuff, straight from France, though it never paid duty," and he winked his leaden eye.