"Not one of them, Senor. The Havannahs have been under lock and key, too. I gave out only _puros_." "What a faithful steward you've proved yourself, Gregorio! Well, along with the wine, let us have a bundle of Imperadores. We haven't tasted tobacco for days, and are all dying for a smoke." By this time they had entered the porch, and were passing on through a long corridor, still more dimly illuminated. But there was light issuing from a side-door, which stood open. By this Rivas made stop, with word and gesture signifying to the others to pass on inside, which they did. Not all of them, however; only Kearney and Rock. A different disposition he meant making of the dwarf than giving him Burgundy and Madeira to drink, with the smoking of "Emperor" cigars. Pointing to the crooked semblance of humanity, at which Gregorio was gazing with a puzzled air, he whispered to the latter-- "Take the beast back, and shut him up in one of the cells. You may give him something to eat, but see to his being securely kept. Insignificant as he looks, there's mischief in him, and he might take it into his head to stray. You comprehend, Gregorio?" "I do, your worship. I'll take care to stow him safe." Saying which, the mayor-domo of the establishment, for such Gregorio was, caught the hunchback by one of his ears--grand auricles they were-- and led him away along the corridor, with the prison chain trailing behind. Rivas did not stay till they were out of sight, but turning, stepped inside the room into which he had ushered the other two. It was rather a large apartment, but plainly and sparsely furnished; a deal table and half a dozen common chairs, with leathern backs and bottoms, such as may be seen in most Mexican houses. It was better supplied with arms than household effects; several guns standing in corners, with swords hanging against the walls, and a variety of accoutrements--all giving it more the appearance of a guard-house than the reception-room of a gentleman's mansion. "Now _amigos_" said the Mexican, after rejoining his guests, on whose faces he could not fail to note an odd inquiring expression, "I can at last say to you, feel safe, if I can't assure you of a supper good as I'd wish to give. Still, if I mistake not, 'twill be superior to our prison fare. _Por Dios_! Having to put up with that was punishment enough of itself, without being set to work in the sewers." "Ah," remarked Kearney, speaking for himself and the Texan, "had you been one of us prisoners from Mier up to Mexico, the diet you complain of would have seemed luxury for Lucullus." "Indeed! What did they give you to eat?" "Brown beans only half boiled, _tortillas_, usually cold; and sometimes, for a whole stretch of twenty-four hours, nothing at all."