"Do you mount guard at the cross roads below."

"Leading to the fountain avenue, do you mean, captain?"

"Yes."

"Good."

And shouldering his musket, he gave a stiff salute and marched off.

"Perhaps you would not have far to look for traitors," said Toro, as Geoffrey disappeared, "did not your prejudices blind you."

"Do you allude to Geoffrey?" asked Pedro, coldly.

"Judge for yourself."

"Speak out boldly."

"I have been bold enough for you," said Toro, pa.s.sionately,

"Speak in the presence of him you would accuse."

"I fear no man here" cried Toro.

"Nor does any man fear you."

"Then by thunder, he shall!" and out came his sword.

At this unmistakable demonstration several of the brigands made signs of cutting in, and the Italian saw that it was a desperate game he was venturing on.

He saw it just in time, for the brigands were ready, one and all, to fall upon him with dagger and sword.

Gradually he fell back and left them, but the seed was sown.

The few words which Geoffrey had spoken had done their duty well.

"So, so" muttered Geoffrey, as he went; "Hunston is done for, and Toro shall soon follow. Thirty-two men have been 'dropped' for our dear boys--thirty-two. Gad! but it is a goodly number. They will learn to respect the name of Jack Harkaway in this miserable land--and to rue the day that they molested anyone of us. Thirty-two--aye, and the rest shall follow, as sure as my name is--Who goes there! Speak! By Heaven, stop! Nabley--just in time, but silence."

CHAPTER x.x.xII.

THEODORA'S ERRAND--FATAL NEWS--THE MYSTERY DEEPENS--HER RESOLVE--TO THE VILLA--INTERVIEW WITH HARKAWAY--THE VOICE FROM THE GRAVE--A HEART OF GOLD.

Theodora now made her way with all speed to the waterside prison, to which allusion has been previously made.

The head gaoler of this prison had a daughter of the same age as Theodora.

His wife had nursed them both as babes, and Theodora looked upon them as her parents, and on the girl as her sister.

To them she was wont to appeal at any time of trouble, and now she came to tell them her cares.

She asked for her foster sister, and called her aside.

"What is it now, Theodora dear?" asked the gaoler's daughter, anxiously. "You look quite pale and haggard."

Theodora shook her head sadly.

"I have got involved in a matter in which I am responsible."

"But the evil is over?"

"No."

"As far as you are concerned, is it, dear?"

"No; I say no. Are not our men to be executed for the murder of the two boys?"

"And richly they deserve it," exclaimed Mariana.

"No, no. They can not deserve it for what they are innocent of."

"It is no fault of theirs," retorted the gaoler's daughter; "They are guilty in intention, at least."

"Well, well, Mariana. I am not so base that I could see them suffer death, knowing what I know--what we know, in fact."

"But you would not betray me?" exclaimed the gaoler's daughter, anxiously.

"No, darling. The necessity for danger to you--to us, I may say--is entirely done away with."

"What do you mean?"

"The gallant men will rescue their comrades on Thursday on the way to the execution."

"What!" said Mariana; "Thursday!"

"Yes."

"Then you don't know," she exclaimed, with a wild scared look.

"Know what?"

"That it has been changed. They are to be executed in the morning."

Theodora gave a cry of terror and staggered back.

"No, no, Mariana," she said, wildly; "it is impossible."