Outside, the courtyard was a shambles, Not only was it littered with dead or dying prison officers and Indians. Adam nearly tripped over a body; then, looking down, saw by a beam of light coming from the hall that the face was that of his new acquaintance, the brothel keeper. A moment later, to his horror, he saw that a group of coloureds was shooting down the white Mexican prisoners as they poured out from a side door of the prison believing that they had been restored to liberty.
When he reached the prison gate, one half of it was flat, the other hanging crookedly on its hinges after having been blown open. Outside, there were a dozen cars and small vans. Adam's escort ran him over to one of the cars, he was pushed into the back, the two Indians scrambled in after him and the Negro got into the driver's seat. There came a whirring of the self starter, a screech of gears changed too quickly and they were off.
As far as Adam could see, the suburb in which the prison lay consisted of some rows of small, uniform, modern houses, a short row of one storey shops and empty back lots. The blowing in of
the prison gates and subsequent shooting had roused the inhabitants. There were lights in most of the windows and people leaning out of them, calling excitedly to one another. A few had come out onto the sidewalks; but no attempt was made to stop the car.
It was driven for some miles out into the country, returned to the city by a circuitous route, ran out again through a good class district of scattered houses, then through some narrow, twisting lanes, to swerve between gateposts set in a high wall and up a sort drive.
Adam had strong suspicions why he had been `sprung' from prison while the other white prisoners were being shot down, for who but Alberuque would have ordered half a hundred mixed coloureds to attack it for the sole purpose of rescuing him? But he could not be absolutely certain of that, and he felt far from safe in the hands of his murderous captors. As they all got out of the it he had half a mind to attempt to escape. But a swift glance towards the gates showed him that another man, who had evidently been waiting there, was shutting them. That made the odds against him four to one, and the men who had carried him from the prison were armed. Uneasily, he resigned himself to putting as good a face as possible on the situation. The car had pulled up in front of the porch of a rambling old house. A light went on, showing up the fanlight over the door. It as opened by a tall man in a monk's habit. His garb at once strengthened Adam's suspicion about the reason for his kidnapping. The lay brother, as he turned out to be, bowed and stood aide for Adam to enter. As he did so, a gabble of words behind caused him to look over his shoulder. Instead of following him in, his escort had gone down on their knees, and the big Negro was mumbling apologies for their having laid hands on his sacred person.
The hall of the house was austerely furnished. On one wall there hung a large wooden crucifix, with a holy water stoup below it; on the other a few cheap religious prints. The stone staircase that led to the floors above was uncarpeted.
Bowing again, the lay brother waved a hand towards the stairs then led the way up. In the light of the hall, Adam had had his first sight of the man's face. It was that of an ascetic who had insistently mortified his flesh and fasted for long periods. The skin was drawn so tightly over the bones that his head looked most like a skull, and the dark eyes were sunken in their sockets. Adam had expected that on the first floor he would be shown to a study in which he would find Don Alberuque awaiting him; but his guide went up a second flight of dimly lit stairs to the top of the house, signed to him to wait for a moment on the landing, then went into one of the rooms and lit an oil lamp.
Following him in, Adam saw that it was a bedroom and a far from comfortable one. The single bed sagged in the middle and had no valance; there was a prie dieu against one wall, a single, hard bottomed chair and an old fashioned wooden washstand carrying a china jug and basin. The only accommodation for clothes was some hooks behind a faced curtain that screened off one corner of the room.
Many years earlier, the government had deprived the Church of all the great historic monasteries; but recently religious communities had, in limited numbers, been allowed to establish themselves in private houses, and Adam felt little doubt that it was to a small monastery that he had been brought.
Convinced that Alberuque was responsible for this terrible night's work, Adam could hardly contain his impatience to come face to face with him. The fact that he was committed to attempt to worm the Monsignor's future intentions out of him had been completely pushed out of his mind by his sick horror at the massacre he had witnessed. He was inwardly boiling to such an extent that for two pins he would have killed the instigator of that shocking butchery. But, at the least, he meant to shake him like a rat, slap his face until it was purple, then at the first opportunity have him charged with instigating murder. Turning to the lay brother, he asked, `Where is Monsignor Alberuque?'
The man shook his skull like head, fished a tablet and stylo out from a pocket in his gown and wrote on it: `Not here. He will see you tomorrow.'
It was only then that Adam realised that the man was dumb. Thwarted in giving vent to his anger, he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Unseen by him, the lay brother left the room and locked the door behind him.
At the sound of the key turning, Adam swung round, strode over to the door, grasped the handle and shook it. Certain now that it was locked, he pounded furiously upon it with his fist, shouting to his new gaoler that, unless he returned and unlocked it, he would later wring his neck; but there was no response.
Still seething with rage, he marched over to the window, wrenched aside the flimsy curtain and saw that the window was barred. Suddenly his sense of humour overcame his resentment. He was again a prisoner, but to confine him in such a prison was ridiculous. With his great strength he could have wrenched out the rusty grille of thin iron bars or have smashed down the door.
He was in half a mind to break out there and then, but on second thoughts decided not to. He had no idea where he was and he might be miles from the centre of Mexico City. If he did leave the house he had not a peso on him with which to telephone Ramon. Tomorrow, he decided, would be time enough to have a showdown with Alberuque, then quit.
The ancient bed was not as uncomfortable as it looked. Never the less he slept badly, haunted by dreams which were grotesque distortions of the brutal slayings he had witnessed in the prison courtyard.
He woke with a calmer mind and was able to assess better the cults of the courses of action open to him. Of one thing he was )w fully determined. At whatever risk to himself, he must do s utmost to wreck the conspiracy.
To begin with, Chela's persuasiveness had led him to believe that the revolution would rescue the Indians from the miserable conditions under which they had lived for so long and that it could be accomplished almost bloodlessly. Hunterscombe and then Ramon had convinced him that it must lead to a sanguinary civil war; so he had taken the side which aimed at preserving law and order. Later, again under Chela's influence, he had allowed himself to be used as Quetzalcoatl; but only because he had fallen for the idea that, as the titular head of the revolt, he would be able to prevent his followers from committing excesses, and with the mental reservation that, by letting Ramon know the plans of the conspirators, he would still stop the whole thing if he could. After his arrest he had again agreed to work for the government, but only because he had been blackmailed. He had resented that intensely, cursing the day that he had first become involved and of a mind to do only as much as would ensure regaining his freedom. But now a new situation had arisen. The attack on the prison the previous night had convinced him beyond all doubt that a revolution would lead to a blood bath. The fanatical Indians and half breeds would murder every white man they could lay their hands on. Once they got the bit between their teeth, no leader would be able to control them. So the outbreak must be stopped while there was still time.