"Bah!" he exclaimed. "I'll believe in ghosts when I see one."
Then, with a shake of his head: "Isabel has never given up the
hope of finding that treasure. She would like to see Rosa married,
and me fighting with the Insurrectos, so that she might have a
free hand in her search."

O'Reilly scanned the speaker silently for a moment; then he said,
with a gravity unusual in him, "I wonder if you know that you're
suspected of--working for the Insurrecto cause."

"Indeed? I didn't know."

"Well, it's a fact." O'Reilly heard Rosa gasp faintly. "Is it
true?" he asked.

"I am a Cuban." Esteban's smile was a trifle grim.

"Cuban? Your people were Spanish."

"True. But no Spaniard ever raised a Spanish child in Cuba. We are
Cubans, Rosa and I."

At this statement the sister cried: "Hush! It is dangerous to
speak in that way, with this new war growing every day."

"But O'Reilly is our good friend," Esteban protested.

"Of course I am," the American agreed, "and for that reason I
spoke. I hope you're not too deeply involved with the rebels."