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I made no attempt to deceive myself in this respect. Sorillo would do much for me, but this one thing he would not do. I dreaded the thought of returning to Lima. What would Rosa say and do when she heard of her father's shameful death? Perhaps that part might be spared her; she need not learn the whole truth. I must invent some story which would save her the knowledge of his double treachery.
However, the outline of the story was plain enough, and will take but little telling. My late jailer belonged to the Order of the Silver Key, a powerful Indian society, acting under the leadership of Raymon Sorillo. He had been placed in the fort both as a spy on the garrison and to assist comrades if at any time they endeavoured to capture the stronghold by way of the secret passage.
Can you deny that it is in your handwriting?" The prisoner seemed to have regained self-possession, for looking steadily at Sorillo, he exclaimed, "A gentleman of Spain does not answer the questions of a mountain robber." Passing the letter to me, Sorillo said, "You know this man's handwriting; perhaps you will satisfy yourself that he wrote this letter?"
The governor stood like a man in a dream; the officers gazed alternately at me and the native soldiers, as if doubting the evidence of their senses. "How many of you are followers of the Silver Key, and of Raymon Sorillo?" I asked. "All, all, master!" they cried. "And those outside?" "All, all!" they again shouted. "I can trust you to help me?" "To the death, master!" they cried with one voice.
"Have the Royalists got clear of the mountains?" "No; they are still in the defiles. But I am in a hurry; I have come for the Spanish prisoner Montilla." Fortunately this officer had not attended the trial of Don Felipe, and Sorillo was not the man to give reasons for his orders.
It almost seemed as if Sorillo expected his stronghold to be attacked. The path was guarded by sentries, and a score of men were stationed at the entrance to the ravine, They passed us through without trouble, and before long I found myself in the presence of the chief. "You are surprised to see me?" I said briskly. "Yes; I thought you were in Lima." "I was there last night."
As to Montilla, I could hardly suppress an exclamation of surprise at the change in his appearance. No longer boldly erect, he stood with drooping head, pale cheeks, and downcast eyes. In the first act he had behaved like a man of spirit; the second he began like a craven. "Listen!" exclaimed Sorillo sternly, and his first words told me what would follow.
Then Sorillo began to speak, clearly and distinctly, but with no note of anger in his voice. "Don Felipe Montilla," he said, "you are brought here by order of the Society of the Silver Key." Don Felipe's lips curled as if in amusement. "It is charged against you that you, having taken the oath of loyalty to the government, have since been in traitorous communication with the Royalist leaders.
"What can your handful of men do against Canterac's army?" I asked Sorillo as we rode away. "Not much beyond cutting off a few stragglers," he replied, smiling; "but we shall obtain information of which our leaders in Lima seem to stand badly in need." Since these events happened I have asked myself many times whether I did right or wrong, and even now I scarcely know how to decide.
That portion of the seat occupied by the chief was slightly raised; but this, of course, makes no difference to the story. At a signal from Sorillo the door of Don Felipe's hut was opened, and the prisoner came out escorted by two armed men. The soldiers, opening to right and left, made way for him, and by means of the boulders, which served as steps, he climbed to the platform.
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