The two sat for a few moments gazing steadily at each other. Alvarez was
in the higher chair, and that gave him the physical advantage, but the
look of the fearless youth was like the sharp sword that cuts scornfully
through the maze and web of intrigue and trickery. Alvarez was forced to
turn his gaze aside, and his soul was full of tumult and anger because he
had to yield. The new plan that he had conceived in regard to this daring
boy now seemed a peculiarly happy thought. Henry's pride and spirit must
be broken, and he, Francisco Alvarez, was the man for the task.
He clapped his hands and a soldier entered. He sent a message by him and
several more came, accompanied by Braxton Wyatt. Alvarez motioned Wyatt to
a seat.
"Senor Wyatt," he said in his slow, precise English, "I have been having a
talk with your friend, your former friend here, and I find him to be as
unworthy as you have described him to be. I offered only kindness to
himself and his friends. I chose to believe that they had been merely
foolish, misled by ignorance, but his reply has been only to insult me and
to blacken you."
The renegade did not seek to conceal the joy that shone in his eyes. He
had been in fear when he was sent out of the hall, in fear lest Alvarez
had some plan by which he would suffer, and now it was obvious that
nothing had been changed.
"It is his character," said Wyatt. "He is vicious and the truth has never
been in him."
Henry did not know what all this talk meant, but he refused to notice
Braxton Wyatt. His manner indicated that the renegade had ceased to exist,
and it made Wyatt furious.
"You tell the truth," continued Alvarez, "but he is dangerous, too, as you
told me, a strong, wily fellow, and I shall not take any chances on his
escape. See, I am providing against it."
A soldier entered, bearing balls and chain, and Alvarez pointed to Henry.
The youth sprang to his feet. He knew that this was intended as an
indignity, and his mind rebelled.
"Put them on him," said Alvarez, and the soldiers approached. Henry hurled
the first back and then the second, but the others were about to fling
themselves upon him in a heap, when a voice from the door cried:
"Stop!"
It was not a loud voice, but one full of dignity and command, and the
soldiers instantly fell back.
A tall man, robed in black, and with a thin face, smoothly shaven and
austere, stood in the doorway. The eyes, usually benevolent and kindly,
spark
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