the reproaches of Doña Serafina, and the scoldings of Don Miguel, she was reduced to a kind of moral pulp, not having even sufficient energy to lie according to custom.
Philip spoke to Don Miguel as to the advisability of extracting information from this girl; and at once Marina was brought before him. She was terribly afraid of the Señor Americano, who looked so stern and evidently thought Philip was about to order her immediate execution.
“Marina!” asked Philip, slowly, in Spanish, “where did you last see the Señorita?”
“Santissima! Señor Americano!” replied the frightened poblana, clasping her hands, “it was in the great church. The Señorita was kneeling at the shrine of Our Lady, and—and——”
“Go on,” said Philip, seeing she hesitated.
“Por Dios, Señor, I thought no harm; but I saw Pepe at the door of the church, and he beckoned to me.”
“Who is Pepe?”
“Hechicera!” broke in Doña Serafina, wildly, “that good-for-nothing Pepe is your lover. And you went to him, ladroncilla? Eh, yes! You left the Señorita. Oh, wicked one! Oh, child of Satan!”
“But for a moment, I swear! Por todos santos! it was not long. When I returned to the shrine, Doña Dolores was gone. I thought she had departed to see Padre Ignatius, and I waited. A long time I waited, Señor Americano, but she came not. Then I believed she had returned to the casa, and I was afraid of being punished, so I did not come back here till late! She is not here! ay de mi! and I know not where is the poor angel! Madre de Dios! what misfortune!”
There was nothing more to be got out of the terrified girl, as she but repeated this story over and over again. She had gone with Dolores to the cathedral, had spoken to Pepe, and then lost sight of her mistress. Inquiries were made for Pepe, who was a zambo, that is, the offspring of an Indian and an African. To all accounts, he inherited the worst vices of both races, and was an idle, drunken vagabond, who had been frequently punished by Don Miguel for thieving. It was possible that, out of revenge, the zambo might have decoyed Dolores beyond the walls, and there surrendered her to the Indians. Maraquando thought that this might be the case.
“No!” said Jack, when this explanation was suggested, “Dolores was afraid of the Indians, and would not believe any message brought by such a man. But she told me to-day that she wished to see Padre Ignatius. Perhaps he was not in the cathedral, and she went to his chapel beyond the walls. Once there, and all things are possible.”
“It might be so,” cried Don Miguel, sadly. “I have sent out men to ride everywhere beyond the walls, and try to discover traces. They will certainly go to the chapel, and ask the Padre if my poor child has been there!”
“Ay di mi! what sorrow,” cried Eulalia, whose pretty face was disfigured by tears; “if Dolores is with the Indians, they will sacrifice her to the Chalchuih Tlatonac.”
“Not so, hermanita!” cried Rafael, hastily, “she is the guardian of the opal! They would not dare to do this! If she is with the Indians, her life is safe. But Don Hypolito!”
“Carrai!” exclaimed his father, fiercely, “what of that false one?”
“He swore to carry off Dolores, and make her his wife. This demonio of a Pepe was once in the household of Xuarez. He may be in his pay now, and have decoyed my cousin down to the sea-beach, beyond the gate.”
“But how could he take her from thence?” asked Philip, in perplexity.
“Carrambo, Señor! do you forget that The Pizarro has been cruising before Tlatonac for days past. It was not to watch the torpederas coming, as we thought. By San Jago, it was to capture and carry off Dolores.”
“That cannot be!” said Jack, in despair. “The Pizarro would not dare to come under the guns of the fort!”
“She could do so in the darkness.”
“But the search lights.”
“They are at present useless,” cried Don Miguel striking his breast with his hand; “the electric apparatus is out of repair, and the engineers are now attending to it. What misfortune! Dios! It may be as Rafael says. Pepe decoyed Dolores to the beach, and from thence she could be taken to the war-ship.”
Jack was horrified at this possibility. It was not very probable that such a thing had happened; still, it might have taken place. If it were so, Dolores would be now on board The Pizarro, steaming north to Acauhtzin—to Xuarez, whom she hated and feared. He was about to speak his mind on the subject when Tim, in a great flurry, arrived with Peter.
“What is all this about?” cried Tim, rushing up to Jack. “Is Doña Dolores missing?”
Philip drew him away from Jack, who was too overwhelmed to answer questions, and hurriedly explained all that had occurred. The Irishman scratched his head, but could suggest nothing save that they should search the country. A sudden idea struck Philip.
“Peter!” he said quickly, turning towards the doctor, “what time did you return from your beetle hunting?”
“About sunset.”
“And Cocom?”
“Left me as soon as we entered the town, in order to pray at the cathedral. He has done the same thing regularly every time we have returned to Tlatonac.”
“Cocom!” cried Jack, jumping to his feet at the mention of the name, “why, Philip, do you think he decoyed Dolores away?”
“Who knows! She is either with the Indians or with Xuarez. Cocom or Pepe, as emissaries of Don Hypolito, may have carried her off.”
The foregoing had been spoken in English, and, ignorant of the language, Rafael could only understand the names. He glanced eagerly from one to the other, and spoke quickly.
“Cocom! Pepe! What is this, Señor Felipe?”
Whereat Philip began to explain, but was interrupted by the entrance of Padre Ignatius. The good priest looked much disturbed, and raised his hand to bless those in the room. Doña Serafina and Eulalia flung themselves at his feet, and were so overwhelmed with grief that they had to be taken away. When they had gone, Padre Ignatius turned to the men.
“My sons, I hear evil news. Is it true that Doña Dolores is missing?”
“Yes; do you know where she is?” asked Jack, imploringly, laying his hand on the rusty sleeve of the priest.
“Alas! no,” replied the Padre, shaking his head; “all the afternoon did I wait for her in the cathedral, but she came not!”
“She did not go to your own church, my father?” questioned Rafael, eagerly.
“No, my son. I though she might have done so, and repaired thither. But the sacristan tells me no one has been to the shrine this day. The messengers you sent out to seek for the poor lady came to the chapel to ask me if I had seen her, and it was then that I first heard of your great loss.”
“Think you the Indians have her?” asked Philip, anxiously.
“Alas! who knows, Señor? The idolaters have been worshipping the devil stone greatly of late, and it may be that they have carried off Doña Dolores to assist in the ceremonies.”
“Not to sacrifice her?”
“Santissima Virgen! no, Señor,” rejoined the Padre, hastily. “The idolaters look on her as the guardian of the stone, as one under the protection of the god himself. If they have carried her off,” added the priest, emphatically, “her life is safe, and her honour. But my son, Don Hypolito?”
“Do you think——?”
“I know nothing, my son. But there is one Pepe.”
“The zambo? Yes, Padre.”
“He hired a boat this afternoon from one of the fishers, saying he was about to go up the coast to see