“Yes. I--I thank you,” I said, in a half-indistinct mumble, and with a sigh as heavy as hers. “It is horrible,” she replied with a shudder. “But they shall not do you any harm. If I could get you out of the house I would. Oh, why, why have you done all this?” “I owe you my life,” I said, inconsequently. “If I can save you,” she cried. After a pause she jumped up and began to pace the floor excitedly. “You are mad to set Barosa at defiance. You must see the uselessness, the folly of it, the utter madness. The whole city is up in anger against us. We are in hourly danger of discovery, even here in this house. There is nothing left for any of us but flight; and you choose such a moment to drive him to extremes;” and she continued in this half-distracted manner, as if speaking partly to me and partly to herself, and giving me a very vivid picture of their desperate situation. But it did not agree with what Barosa had said. He had declared that if I gave the order for the officers on the _Rampallo_ to be set at liberty, I was to be set free on their arrival. That meant a delay of nearly two days, and was therefore absolutely inconsistent with Inez’ statement that they were in hourly danger of the police raiding the house. However, her long excited tirade gave me time to think things out; and when at last she ended with an appeal to me to write what Barosa required, I had decided how to reply. “You ask me to have these men set at liberty, contesse; but if I were to do so, what object would be gained, as everything has been discovered?” “They are our friends and we must save them. Their ruin will not help you.” “Miralda is my friend, and I must save her.” “But you will not help her by destroying them.” “Why is Miralda kept a prisoner here?” “She is not a prisoner, Mr. Donnington.” “But she was not allowed to leave the house this morning.” “Because after she had seen you we learnt other facts about her danger. She is not a prisoner, and she stayed because it was not safe for her to leave the house. That is all. You persuaded her to consent, but when I saw her afterwards she realized her mistake in having given you the promise. She will tell you so herself. She is as anxious as I am that you should do what Dr. Barosa requires.” This was all part of her parrot-like lesson, of course, but it was no use to tell her that I knew that. So I tried another tack. “Do you know Major Sampayo’s history?” “What has that to do with this?” she asked in surprise. “A great deal, as I will show you. Do you know it?” “No, except that----” “Anything about his South African career, I mean?” I broke in. “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Then I’ll tell you.” And I told her enough to let her understand why he went in such fear of me. “That is the secret of Barosa’s hold over him,” I added. “Why do you tell me this, and at such a time?” she asked suspiciously.