"I shall not see it," she said. "But I advise it, all the same, if you must."
She drew the girl up to her, and cried helplessly upon her neck.
"Can't you think a little for me, Ana? It is hard always to think for one's self."
"No," said Ana, shaking her head, "I never have any fresh thoughts. I always follow."
"Then, dear Ana, just tiptoe down and listen. It is the last thing that I shall ever ask of you, Ana."
Ana, her eyes streaming with tears, took her slippers--those tell-tale flappers--from her feet, and went to the door. She turned the knob gently and pushed the door outward without noise. As she opened it she heard Escobeda's voice, raised in angry tones.
"Go now! now! while he is scolding," whispered Raquel. "He will not hear you. I must know what he is saying to that man. Do you think it is the Señor Silencio's messenger?"
Ana nodded and put her finger to her lip. She crept noiselessly along the passage. Raquel, listen as she would, heard nothing of Ana's footsteps, for Escobeda was still swearing so loudly as to drown every other sound.
Raquel went to the bureau, and took from the drawer a piece of kid. She seated herself and began to polish her weapon of defence. "Of death," said Raquel to herself. "If I am forced--"
She peeped out, but Ana had turned the corner, and was hidden from sight. Ah! she must be in the rum room now, where she could both peer through the cracks and hear all that was said on either side. Suddenly a far door was violently wrenched open, and Raquel heard Escobeda's steps coming along the corridor. Where was Ana, then? Raquel's heart stood still. Escobeda came on until he reached the door of Raquel's chamber. The girl did not alter her position, and but for her flushed cheeks there was no sign of agitation. She bent her head, and rubbed the shining steel with much force.
"Did you call, uncle? Well, then, she must have gone to the kitchen."
"Perhaps I do, uncle. At all events, she is not here."
Escobeda had stooped towards the girl with hand outstretched, but she had sprung to her feet in a moment, and stood at bay, the dagger held, not in a threatening attitude, but so that it could be turned towards the man at any moment.
Raquel's hair had fallen down; she was scantily clothed. Her cheeks were ablaze. She looked like a tigress brought to bay.