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Before the treasury, in the place of old Santo, Carmen's father, stood a tall, broad portero, still a young man, who rudely refused him admittance. "Master Moor has not been here for a long time," said the gate-keeper angrily: "Artists don't wear ragged clothes, and if you don't wish to see the inside of a guard-house a place you are doubtless familiar with you had better leave at once."
The portero still lingered by the great gate, waiting his master's return; but he sat inside upon the banqueta of the zaguan, and seemed to be asleep. He was watched by those who wished him to sleep on. The large door of the caballeriza was open. Within the framework of the posts and lintels the form of a man could be distinguished. It was the groom Andres. There was no light in the stable.
I'll do the same for the portero, if you but say the word." "No no no! who would open the gate for papa? No no no! it would not do." She reflected. "And yet, if he gets out before the horses are ready, they will soon miss pursue overtake him. He will get out, I am sure of it. How long would it occupy him? not long. He will easily undo his cord fastenings. I know that he once said he could.
"Tied up at home, most likely. An American among Americans would hardly feel like traveling around with a hand organ and a monkey," was Don's emphatic reply. Upon arriving at Santiago's residence they were told that Strong had been there earlier in the evening and seemed much disappointed at not finding them at home. "Did he leave any word?" asked Billie of the portero.
Andres had well calculated his time, for in a few minutes he appeared in the entrance; and, having closed the gate behind him, joined his mistress. The ruse had succeeded admirably. The portero suspected nothing. Andres had bidden him "buenas noches," at the same time expressing his intention of going to bed. Don Ambrosio might now return when he pleased.
The great gate of the zaguan was closed and barred, and the portero had retired within his "lodge," thus signifying that all the inmates of the dwelling had returned home. If silence denoted sleep, all were asleep; but a ray of light escaping through the silken curtains of a glass door, and falling dimly upon the pavement of the patio, showed that one at least still kept vigil.
When the boys reached home they found the gate still locked, although it was now considerably past the time when the household was astir. Their knock was answered by the portero, who, in response to a question by Billie, said that Santiago was seriously ill and had been for thirty-six hours. "What is the matter?" asked Donald. "Fever." "I am not surprised," declared Adrian.
The spy at that instant was beyond the reach of sight as well as hearing. She had got through the avenue before the twig moved. She did not stop for a moment. She did not return to her apartment, but crossing the patio hastily entered the zaguan. This she traversed with stealthy steps, as if afraid to awake the portero. On reaching the gate she drew from her pocket a key.
They stopped at their porte-cochere, which was opened by their servant, and closed tight behind them as they drove in. Two men, however, had fastened on to the carriage behind. They overpowered the portero as he barred the door, while the noise of the carriage rolling on the flags of the patio smothered the sound of the scuffle.
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