"You will not reconsider that decision, Mr Rossett?" Guy shook his head. "No, a thousand times, no. Do what you like with me. I am a defenceless man. You can murder me here, and probably hush up your crime. But I shall be avenged--you can reckon on that." Contraras rose, and paced the room in great agitation. He was a brave man himself; he admired the quality of bravery in others. Fanatical and resolute as he was, it went against the grain to condemn this young Englishman to death, because he would not accept the dishonourable terms offered to him. "Mr Rossett, I wish to spare you. The brotherhood does not condemn in haste." He turned to Somoza. "Take this gentleman to his room, and bring him here in a quarter of an hour. Perhaps, by that time, he will take a more reasonable view of his position." "Come, senor, if you please," said the obedient Somoza, speaking through his mask in the most polite accents. A Spaniard is always courteous, even if he is about to murder you. The fisherman bent down to assist his prisoner to rise, but before Rossett was firmly on his legs, the short, squat figure of Moreno got up from his chair. He laid his finger to his lips and looked round at the assembly. "Silence, gentlemen, for a moment! I am sure I heard the sound of a whistle. Yes, there is another one. Did you catch it?" No, nobody had caught it, except Moreno. He stole gently to the window, and pulled the blind an inch aside. He dropped it hastily, and staggered back in a state of extreme agitation. In that apparently unconscious movement he had drawn nearer to the door. "_Dios_!" he cried, in a shrill voice. "The house is surrounded. There are dozens of men outside." The pulling aside of the blind was a signal he had arranged with his friend, the head of the Police. The pretence of the whistle was a blind. There was a heavy trampling on the stairs. Almost before he had ceased speaking, the locked door was burst open to admit the members of the police, with levelled revolvers covering the masked men. Two of the unwelcome visitors seized Somoza and handcuffed him. A third cut the secure but not painful ropes that bound Rossett, and conducted him down the narrow staircase. A cab was waiting; his guardian bundled the young man in. Was it a dream? Isobel's soft arms were round him, Isobel's soft voice was whispering to him. "My darling, you are safe. Moreno has kept his promise." Rossett was bewildered. No wonder! He had hardly yet recovered from the effects of the drug which had been administered by Somoza. His head fell back on her shoulder. "Isobel, my dear sweetheart! You here! What does it mean?" "It means that you are saved through Moreno, and my cousin Maurice Farquhar." She felt it was no time to palter with the truth. "Your cousin, Maurice Farquhar! What has he to do with it all?" She was pleased to note that there was no suspicion in his tones, only the expression of bewilderment.