Nor had brave Etta been mistaken. When Andreas had come to fetch Carlo, the faithful Indian had just discovered that the path known only to Don Estevan del Campo and a few of those in authority had been betrayed. Before he could do more than collect the few slaves and soldiers left in the castle, and station them at the entrance to the weakest portion of the wall, fetch Carlo as described, and with the mere handful of men then available make a brave stand, the chief gate of the castle was really taken. Andreas little knew that all his valour was useless; but it was otherwise with Carlo, who, as he threw himself into the _mêlée_, was conscious that no bravery could really be of any use. Indeed the attack on this side was but a ruse, for another body of men were quietly making their way to the principal gate of Santa Teresa, and were now being let in by one of the Marquis’s officers, whom he had easily persuaded that a desperate encounter with these pirates would only result in their all being taken prisoners, and most likely killed. It was Andreas who suddenly discovered the treachery, and, not understanding the real meaning of the extraordinary events which were taking place, now shouted to those about him that there was yet time to stop the entrance of those rascals. In this rush Carlo was accidentally thrown down, and in falling his knee struck against a rocky projection, so that for a few seconds he lost consciousness. When he came to himself he tried hard to struggle to his feet, for he beheld at this moment a boy suddenly spring over the wall and come hastily towards him. Carlo heard the confused noise of the assailants and defenders, who had passed on and left him, so that he now found himself alone with a lad of about his own age, whom he had previously seen, and who was doubtless Henry Morgan’s son. Clenching his teeth, and grasping his sword, he tottered to his feet. ’Rascal! infidel! son of a pirate!’ cried poor Carlo, not caring what names he bestowed. ’You may kill me, but I will sell my life dearly. You at least shall not come further. Go and tell your father that Carlo del Campo will not be a party to any treachery.’ Carlo threw himself on the tall fair Englishman, and would have dealt him a blow which would have been serious had not his injured knee proved at this minute so painful that he missed his aim, and once again fell on the ground. In a moment the supposed son of Henry Morgan was kneeling by the brave Spanish lad. ’Hold, sir,’ he said, surprised at some English words that had fallen from Carlo, ’you are mistaking me. I am no pirate, and will never draw my sword in such an unlawful business. I am but a poor prisoner, though kindly treated, and my name is Harry Fenn.’ As he said these words Harry stooped down to pick up Carlo’s sword, which had rolled away from him as he fell, and gently gave it back to the brave youth, who once more struggled to his feet, still blind with rage and disappointment.