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Updated: June 1, 2025
Madly he dashed down the street and turned the corner in time to see Strong enter the big gate leading into the patio of Don Esteban's residence. Putting on more steam, a couple of minutes later Donald also dashed into the patio; but Strong was nowhere to be seen. "He must be in the bank," muttered the boy, and he quickly entered the door.
We feel sure that between us we shall solve the mystery." "I hope so," was Don Esteban's response. "Do you think I might be able to see this man Santiago?" "I'm afraid not, sir! The doctor wants him to sleep as long as he can. We will let you know later in the day."
In the course of time under Rosa's and Esteban's ministrations she regained her senses, and when the other men returned they found her lying sick and dazed, but otherwise quite whole. Then, there beside the ruins of the hut, was a strange scene of rejoicing.
This blessed capability was quite distinct from her skill with medicines it was a gift, and as much a part of her as the healing magic which dwells in the sunshine. Certainly her knack of lending health and strength from her own abundant store had never been better shown than in Esteban's case, for with almost no medical assistance she had brought him back from the very voids.
Young Esteban told the tale well. His own faith in it lent a certain convincingness to his words and Norine Evans hung upon them entranced. She was horrified at the account of Don Esteban's death; her eyes grew dark as Esteban told of his and Rosa's childhood with their avaricious stepmother.
She searched the quinta, of course, whenever she had a chance, but she discovered nothing with the result that the mystery began to engross her whole thought. She pried into the obscurest corners, she questioned the slaves, she lay awake at night listening to Esteban's breathing, in the hope of surprising his secret from his dreams.
Brimmer's quiet eyes, early alluded to in these pages, did not escape Father Esteban's quick perception at that moment; however, he preferred to leave his companion to follow its aberrations rather than to permit that fair ignis fatuus to light him on his way by it. "But my visit to you, Father Esteban," she began sweetly, "is only postponed."
"Is he sick or wounded?" Esteban inquired. "Shot, by a Spanish bullet. He asked at once for our senorita." "Of course. I'll come in an instant." When the messenger had gone Norine bent and pressed her lips to Esteban's. "Remember, you're mine to do with as I please," she said; then she fled down the grassy street. Branch was waiting at Norine's quarters, a soiled figure of dejection.
This would make the floor over his head on an exact level with the floor of Santiago's house. "It's just as I expected," he muttered. "If I can get through this floor, I shall find myself in Don Esteban's residence somewhere. But just where? That's the question." He pushed upon the stone above his head, but it refused to move. Then he held up his torch and examined the ceiling carefully.
Their first formal greetings over, Don Mario surveyed the bare living-room and remarked, lugubriously: "I see many changes here." "No doubt," the widow agreed. "Times have been hard since poor Esteban's death." "What a terrible calamity that was! I shudder when I think of it," said he. "I was his guest on the night previous, you remember?
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