"Sí, Señor. The big Antonio took him away. I was there. In a minute, two men came in. ’Now we get a bed,’ they say. They pull the dirty quilt off the bed. One man carries it; the other pulls off the mattress. There, on the boards, I see two papers. I snatch them, and say: ’I take these to the Señor Capitan’. The man laughs; and here they are, Señor." Jack unfolded the papers and glanced at them curiously. Suddenly he started, and keenly scrutinized one of them. "It is explained now, Señor," he said to Don Cristobal, at the same time laying the papers before him. "Quintanar was a spy." "An afrancesado!" ejaculated the Spaniard. "Unhappily. One of the papers, you see, is a pass through the French lines; the other a rough plan of our defences. See, the miserable fellow had begun to dot in our mines under the houses opposite. Someone must have discovered his treachery, and killed him without remorse." "So perish all traitors!" said Don Cristobal. At this moment a man rushed in with the news that a small breach had been made in the wall of the Casa Tobar. "We must do something to check them," said Jack, rising. "A few good marksmen on the top of this house might pick off their gunners; let us go and see." They went up the staircase towards the roof, Pepito, left alone, put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a small silver buckle, such as Spanish burghers and officers wore on their shoes. "Señor has the papers," he muttered. "Ca! I have the buckle. The buckle is better than the papers." He swung it round his forefinger, humming under his breath, and was still toying with it when Jack came downstairs again. Then he hurriedly thrust it into his pocket, and stood unconcernedly as though waiting for orders. A moment’s glance had shown Jack that his plan of placing marksmen on the roof would be useless. The Casas Vega and Tobar, though much lower than the Casa Alvarez, were not low enough to allow an effective fire over them. But what could not be done from the Casa Alvarez might be done from the lower roofs nearer the guns. Jack lost no time in making his way to the flat roof of the Casa Tobar. Carefully crawling along and peeping over, he saw that the angle of depression was just sharp enough to allow a good marksman to take aim at the gunners’ heads. It would be dangerous work, for the French would instantly perceive the source of the shots, and would bring a concentrated fire to bear in return. There was no parapet to the roof, but a parapet could perhaps be extemporized with sand-bags, between which the Spaniards’ muskets might be placed.