The girl looked up through her tears. "S-sh!" she exclaimed. "It is all right. Wait." And at that instant Clif heard a key turn in the door, and knew that it was the man returning. Clif gazed into the girl's face and he saw a look of joy upon it that partially reassured him; then he looked up and saw that the Spanish lieutenant had entered and was watching them. In his quiet way he studied the faces of the two; he saw the look of happiness on Bessie Stuart's face, and he must have known that it was because she had met the cadet again. Clif saw him press his lips together resolutely. The cadet was watching him with the intensest anxiety, for he hoped in that man's actions to read the meaning of this mystery. But the Spaniard's handsome face showed little emotion, though his chest heaved and fell as he stood there. And then suddenly he stepped forward toward the two. "I have brought it, Miss Stuart," he said, with a dignified bow. He held out a heavy cloth cape, which the girl flung over her shoulders; then, leaning on Clif's arm, she stepped toward the door. "I am ready," she said. And without another word the officer turned and led the way out of the cell. He shut the door and locked it behind him and then went on down the corridor. Clif was mystified beyond expression, but he asked no questions. The three went on silently. Bessie Stuart was so weak that she had to be half carried. They had gone but a short way down the long passage before they met a sentry with a gun upon his shoulder; he glanced at them inquiringly. But the lieutenant was not one who could be asked for explanations, and the soldier saluted and passed on. They passed through two heavily grated doors, each guarded in a similar way. But still not a word was spoken. And then suddenly Clif saw the passage broaden out into a wide hall, and a moment later he came to what he knew to be the great door by which he had first entered. There were two men standing on guard there, either sentries or jailers. Clif could not see which. The party came to a halt. "Garcia," said the lieutenant, "these are two prisoners, Americans, whom I have been directed to take across the bay." The man saluted and bowed respectfully. "Have you the order?" he inquired. "I have not. The commander had no time to give one to me. There is some hurry in the matter, I believe." "It is somewhat irregular, lieutenant." "I will assume full responsibility," said the other, quietly. The man scanned the two prisoners closely. "They are not even bound," he objected. "I will assume full responsibility," said the officer again. He spoke rather sharply; and without another word the man hastened to swing back the door. And the three stepped out of that black prison into the open air and under the broad sky of heaven. And the lieutenant turned toward the two Americans. "You are free," he said, quietly. "Fly for your lives!" CHAPTER XVIII. CLIF FARADAY'S SACRIFICE.