"Mercedes has been meeting me here," said Thorne. "At this hour
she comes every moment or so to the head of the stairs there, and
if I am here she comes down. Mostly there are people in this room
a little later. We go out into the plaza. It faces the dark side
of the house, and that's the place I must slip out with her if
there's any chance at all to get away."

They peered out of the open window. The plaza was gloomy, and at
first glance apparently deserted. In a moment, however, Gale made
out a slow-pacing dark form on the path. Farther down there was
another. No particular keenness was required to see in these forms
a sentinel-like stealthiness.

Gripping Gale's arm, Thorne pulled back from the window.

"You saw them," he whispered. "It's just as I feared. Rojas has
the place surrounded. I should have taken Mercedes away. But I had
no time--no chance! I'm bound!...There's Mercedes now! My God!...Dick,
think--think if there's a way to get her out of this trap!"

Gale turned as his friend went down the room. In the dim light at
the head of the stairs stood the slim, muffled figure of a woman.
When she saw Thorne she flew noiselessly down the stairway to him.
He caught her in his arms. Then she spoke softly, brokenly, in a
low, swift voice. It was a mingling of incoherent Spanish and
English; but to Gale it was mellow, deep, unutterably tender, a voice
full of joy, fear, passion, hope, and love. Upon Gale it had an
unaccountable effect. He found himself thrilling, wondering.