Three days later saw the whole of the force disposed, and when Tom and his two lieutenants reviewed the posts, they could not help but agree that they controlled all the roads communicating with Ciudad Rodrigo, and likely to be used by anyone leaving Wellington's camp. It was a week later when news reached our hero that a capture had been made. He was then within sight of Ciudad Rodrigo, hidden on a height from which he could look down at the fortress and town. Some six hours later Andrews arrived, having left his brother rifleman in charge of the post. "Well?" asked Tom, as the man drew himself up and saluted. "Captured a ruffian coming through our way early this morning, sir." "And searched him?" "Found these papers on him, sir. He did his best to get away, and when he saw we were bound to capture him, tried to destroy the papers; but our lads were too quick for him." "Where is he?" asked Tom. "Bring him forward." A rough, broad-shouldered individual was ushered into his presence between an escort of four of the Portuguese, and stood scowling at Tom. "Portuguese?" asked our hero. "No." "Then Spanish?" "No," came again the curt answer. "Then what?" "Spanish father, Portuguese mother. By what right do your men interfere with me?" Tom ignored the question, and carefully investigated the papers Andrews had placed in his hands. There were a couple of rough maps, showing the British cantonments occupied by Wellington's troops, and a few lines of writing, drafted in a clear, good hand, and telling of the suspicion of the writer that Wellington was preparing to attack Ciudad Rodrigo. "You have been then to Ciudad before?" asked Tom severely. "That's my affair," came the rough answer. "And you call yourself a patriot? Who were these papers to be taken to? There is no address on the envelope." A smile of triumph, and then a scowl, crossed the ill-favoured face of the man. It was obvious that he meant to give no information. "Take him away," commanded Tom. "Mr. Barwood, put the prisoner up against that rock, and shoot him five minutes from now. Choose four of the men to carry out the sentence. There is not one who will not willingly obey and help to shoot a traitor." He repeated the words in English to the astonished Jack, and then turned away abruptly. But a moment later a cry brought him facing round again, to discover the renegade on his knees, begging for his life. "I will tell all," he wailed. "Then speak, and take care that it is the truth, for you will be kept here for a while, and shot if we have doubts. Now, you have been to Ciudad Rodrigo before?" The man shook his head emphatically. "For whom were the papers intended?" "For the general in command. But I was to deliver them to one who lives at a cabaret in the street of St. Angelo, and who would answer to the name of Francisco." "And then?" "I was to seek a lodging at the far end of the town, wait for a letter, and then return."