responded to.  Out into the full light of the cabin the woman came, and halted, barely a step in advance of the steward, her head uplifted proudly, her eyes on us.  Never before had I realized her beauty, her personality, as I did then.  The glow of the light was upon her face, and there was color in her cheeks, and a strange appealing look in her eyes.  Her posture was not that of defiance, nor of surrender; she stood as a woman defending her right to respect, sustained by a wonderful courage.  I caught her glance, but there was no recognition in it; not by the flicker of an eyelid did she betray surprise, and yet in some mysterious manner a flash of intelligence passed between us.  It was all instantaneous for her gaze seemed to concentrate on Estada as though she knew him as leader.

“You sent for me?  For what?” she asked, her Spanish clear and well chosen.

“To join us at meal,” he answered unmoved.  “It is better than to remain alone.”

“Better!  You must have a strange opinion of me to believe I would sit with murderers and thieves.”

“Harsh words, Senorita,” and Estada grinned grimly.  “Yet I expected them.  There are many trades in the world by which men are robbed.  We only work at the one we like best; nor will I discuss that with you.  However, Senorita, I can say that we have taken no lives in this last affair.”

“No lives!” in sudden, incredulous surprise.  “You mean my uncle lives?”

“If you refer to Fairfax—­the one in whose room the chest was hidden, I can reply truthfully that he lives.  One of my men struck him down, but it was not a death blow.  If that be the reason of your disdain, there is no cause.  This chair is held for you.”

“But why was I brought away a prisoner?  To be a plaything?  A sport for your pleasure?”

“That was but the orders of our chief; we await his recovery to learn his purpose.”

“Sanchez! was he your chief?  A pirate?”

“A buccaneer; we prey on the enemies of Spain,” he explained, apparently believing his own words.  “It is war with us, without regard to treaties.  We rob only that we may carry on the war.  They have robbed us, and now it has become our turn.  It was at Captain Sanchez’s orders we waited the arrival of your vessel from England.  It seems he met you on the voyage.”

“Yes,” breathlessly.

“He loved you; he would, no doubt, have dealt with you honorably:  I have reason to believe that to be his purpose now.  To this end you gave him no encouragement—­is not this true?”

“I—­I did not like him.”

“Yet it was his will that you should.  Nothing will change his purpose.  He is that kind, and he has the power.  He determined that if you would not come to him by choice, you should be made to by force.  You are here now by his orders and will remain until you consent to his purpose—­all that remains for you to decide is whether you choose to be prisoner, or guest aboard.”