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Updated: June 21, 2025
The regiment commanded by Rojas found itself hemmed in before and behind by Mendoza's two regiments. They were greatly outnumbered, but they fired a scattering shot, and following their captured leader, broke through the line around them and pursued the cavalry toward the military prison. It was impossible to tell in the uproar which followed how many or how few had been parties to the plot.
Further down the street she saw Mendoza's car parked in front of its owner's favorite saloon, next door, in fact, to the butcher's, in whose yard hung the remains of the steer an unhappy evidence of the truth of the adage that in the midst of life we are in death. Mendoza was not visible, but it needed no stretch of the imagination to locate him.
During the following year it was reprinted at Bruges, but it fell under the ban of the Inquisition, and subsequent editions were considerably expurgated. Such was its popularity that it was continued by inferior authors after Mendoza's death. I. The Blind Man
When they had seen their leader taken prisoner, and swept off the parade-ground by Mendoza's cavalry, they had first attempted to follow in pursuit and recapture him, but the men on horseback had at once shaken off the men on foot and left them, panting and breathless, in the dust behind them. So they halted uncertainly in the road, and their young officers held counsel together.
They saw the green and white flag of Olancho creeping to the top of the mast before the Palace, the blue-jackets driving back the crowd, the gashes in the walls of the houses, where Mendoza's cannonballs had dug their way through the stucco, and the silk curtains, riddled with bullets, flapping from the balconies of the opera-house.
In the Palace Gardens a line of Mendoza's men fought from behind the first barricade, while others dragged tables and bedding and chairs across the green terraces and tumbled them down to those below, who seized them and formed them into a second line of defence. Two of the assistant engineers were kneeling at Langham's feet with the barrels of their rifles resting on the railing of the balcony.
Some woman's hate had bared the truth in a flash, and there were hundreds of hands in the hall that were ready to take his life instead of Mendoza's; and he knew it, and was afraid. The agonized cry that had been first heard in the hall had come from Inez's lips. When she had fled from her father, she had regained her hiding-place in the gallery above the throne room.
Dolores had drawn herself up to her full height as she spoke, and she remained motionless as she awaited the answer to what she had said. It was long in coming, though Mendoza's dark eyes met hers unflinchingly, and his lips moved more than once as if he were about to speak. She had struck a blow that was hard to parry, and she knew it.
Mendoza's career as a mercenary soldier had proved quite unusually profitable even for those days, and he had acquired a large fortune at the sack of Rome alone. His purse provided a really formidable expedition. The voyage to the mouth of the River Plate on this occasion was more productive of incident than was usual, even in those days of adventurous pioneers.
It was evident that both had been spoken by the same voice. "Whose is it?" I asked blankly. "What does it mean?" Before Craig could answer there was a knock at our door and he sprang to open it. It was Juanita, Inez Mendoza's maid, frantic and almost speechless. "Why, Juanita," encouraged Kennedy, "what's the matter?" "The Senorita!" she gasped, breaking down now and sobbing over and over again.
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