Asterre, who had not forgotten the Captain’s words when, a few days before, he had torn the borla from the Inca’s brow, saluted and fell back somewhat abashed. Pizarro caught Filipillo by the arm and pulled him into the room, letting the curtain fall behind him. The interpreter looked in a half-dazed way about him, coming thus suddenly from the darkness into the light. He soon saw that the Captain, instead of having retired to rest, was holding a council, for, standing and seated about the room, were the chiefs of the adventurers, Pedro de Candia, Riquelme, the king’s Assessor, Alonso de Molina, Carvahal, now sober and sententious, Hernando Pizarro, Juan, the youngest scion of that famous family, Hernando de Soto, Pedro de Mendoza, and the priest Vincente de Valverde. “Now, lad, what is this that thou wouldst tell us about at such an untimely hour of the night?” said Pizarro in a low tone, bringing Filipillo into the middle of the room. The boy seized his hand and dropped on one knee before him, and said-- “It is treachery, master----” “Hush!” whispered Pizarro, who, as has been said before, was a man who never knowingly gave away chances in the desperate game that he was playing against Destiny. He loosed himself from the boy’s grasp and went to the door again. “Ciezo,” he said to the sentry, “go and join the guard at the outer door, and send round word for every man to awake and hold himself in readiness instantly, in case he’s wanted.” The sentry saluted and tramped away, and Pizarro, coming back into the room, said-- “Señor de Candia, and you, de Molina, do me the kindness of crossing your swords over the doorway, and see to it that no one comes within earshot of the room. It may be that this is a serious matter. Now, boy, stand up and speak shortly and to the point, for we have no time to waste.” Filipillo rose from his knee, and facing the Captain with an air of unwonted assurance which no doubt he thought justified by the gravity of the tidings he brought, said-- “Master, I have sought to serve you well so far, and I know that you are strong to protect your servants as well as generous to reward them. I have just come from the House of the Serpent, from which I escaped at the peril of my life. A strange woman, an ancient witch, one of the heathen priestesses from the great temple of Pachacamac down by the sea-shore, has this night come to Cajamarca, and is even now in audience with the Inca. She is deeply skilled in poisons, and between them they have made a plot to set Atahuallpa free by poisoning the meat and drink of my Lord and all his brave followers.