An Englishman cried out, “Then were there two traitors?” but Mexia, who by now was somewhat in love with his part of raconteur, had a grim smile.  “There was one Don Luiz de Guardiola....  Oh, I will tell you what you wish to know, senors!  Be not so impatient.  It was without the room where lay his prisoner that he gathered from Desmond news indeed; and it was from that room that he sent Desmond away, and wrote very swiftly order after order to his lieutenants.  Then he went to the other door and called out Miguel, who says, ’Now and then he raves, but nothing to the point!’ to which Don Luiz:  ’I am going to stand beside him.  You are skilful.  Make him babble like a child, scarce knowing what he says.  What I wanted from him matters no longer; but make him speak—­words, broken sentences, cries!—­I care not what.  Make him aware that he holds his tongue no longer, make him struggle for silence there beneath my eyes.’

“‘He calls on God at present,’ answers Miguel.  ’I thought these Lutherans held with Satan.’

“‘When I sign to you—­thus,’ goes on De Guardiola, ’bring him with suddenness into a short swoon.  Then at once dash water upon his face and breast.  When he cometh to himself, which (look you) must be shortly, busy yourself with putting away your engines, or be officious to loosen his bonds, keeping a smiling mien as of one whose day’s work is done; in short, in what subtle fashion you may, do you and your helpers add to that assurance that I myself shall give him.  Do your part well and there will be reward, for I have at heart a whim that I would gratify.’  So we went into the next room.”

“We!” said Nevil deeply, and “By God, this man was there!” breathed Drake, and Arden ground his teeth.  The silence which had spellbound the company broke sharply here or there, then, breathless, men again bent forward, waiting for the last word of the story whose ending they already guessed.  Alonzo Brava, a knightly soul enough, sat grim and red, repentant that he had given loose rein to Mexia’s tongue.  Mexia, undisturbed, genial with his wine, and of a retrospective turn of mind, went smoothly, even dreamily on with his episode of a four-years-past struggle.  He had scarcely noticed the slip of the tongue by which he had included himself with Luiz de Guardiola and his ministers.

“Well....  He lay there indeed, and called upon God; and now and then he cried to men and women we knew not of.  But when he saw that De Guardiola was in the room, he fell silent—­like that!

“‘Tell me this—­and this—­and this,’ says Don Luiz at his side.  ’Then shall you go free.  You are your Admiral’s dearest friend; you are high in the English council.  Even before you became my prisoner was there not a general attack planned for to-night?  Tell me its nature and the hour.  What force will be left upon the ships?  What will be the word of the night?  Tell me if you know aught of a secret way by which the battery may be flanked!’