Pizarro had been forced back upon a corner of his table, when the door rattled again, and after a few seconds resounded with a crashing blow. There were shouts outside, and the blow was repeated. Again, and this time it was accompanied by a rending, splitting sound, and Cristoval knew that it was being battered in. He saw Pizarro’s face brighten, then both redoubled the vigor of their blood-seeking work. Cristoval was desperate at the thought of interruption. The commander was now intent only upon defence until the promised rescue should reach him. Both combatants were breathing heavily and reeking with sweat. Blow followed blow upon the door, and now a burst of splinters succeeded every impact. The meaning of this. Mendoza was leaving the palace when Cristoval rushed in. He looked after the cavalier in astonishment, surmising at first that he had returned with important news, perhaps confirmation of the rumors of an uprising. But Mendoza passed out, intending to return as soon as practicable. As he crossed the square, however, he recalled Cristoval’s expression, which was one of hot passion recently aroused, as was evident from his flushed face and blazing eyes. Half-way across the plaza he halted, considered a moment, then returned to the palace. Crossing the great hall, he hurried direct to Pizarro’s anteroom and looked in. The sentinel was not at his post. He hesitated briefly, traversed the apartment, and quietly tried the door. It was fast. He listened and heard rapidly shuffling feet, no voices, and the clash of steel. He tried the door again, then rushed to the guard-room. "_Hola_, soldiers!" he shouted. "Follow! There is trouble in the general’s room!" and he dashed back, followed by the guard. At the door they halted. "Listen!" commanded Mendoza. "Do ye hear it?—There is fighting within!" He threw himself against the heavy door. "Furies of hell! Lay on here, men! we must break through!" Again and again they hurled themselves against the resisting wood without avail, wild now with excitement. Pikes and halberds were brought to bear, thrust into the cracks to prize it open, Mendoza urging and swearing. In vain! That door had been built by Pizarro’s direction, to guard the treasure lying in the room beyond his office. "Fetch a timber!" shouted Mendoza. "A beam—anything heavy! Go! Jump about it!" He sprang at the soldiers, waving his arms, and they went out with a rush. There were no timbers but the beams of the ceilings. They were inaccessible. Finally Mendoza cried, "A bench-top from the garden! _Veloz! Veloz!_" It was brought by as many as could lay hands upon it. They hurried into the anteroom and charged the door, Candia had rushed in, stared for a second, and thinking a mutiny had arisen, drew his sword and collared a soldier. "Here!" he shouted, jerking the man around, "what’s to do?"