ar time, Mitchell! In war time!
You have no rights and no property! Caramba! The very breath in your
body belongs to me. Remember that."

"Bosh!" said Captain Mitchell, concealing a disagreeable impression.

Down below, in a great hall, with the earthen floor and with a tall
mound thrown up by white ants in a corner, the soldiers had kindled
a small fire with broken chairs and tables near the arched gateway,
through which the faint murmur of the harbour waters on the beach could
be heard. While Captain Mitchell was being led down the staircase, an
officer passed him, running up to report to Sotillo the capture of more
prisoners. A lot of smoke hung about in the vast gloomy place, the
fire crackled, and, as if through a haze, Captain Mitchell made out,
surrounded by short soldiers with fixed bayonets, the heads of three
tall prisoners--the doctor, the engineer-in-chief, and the white leonine
mane of old Viola, who stood half-turned away from the others with his
chin on his breast and his arms crossed. Mitchell's astonishment knew no
bounds. He cried out; the other two exclaimed also. But he hurried on,
diagonally, across the big cavern-like hall. Lots of thoughts, surmises,
hints of caution, and so on, crowded his head to distraction.

"Is he actually keeping you?" shouted the chief engineer, whose single
eyeglass glittered in the firelight.

An officer from the top of the stairs was shouting urgently, "Bring them
all up--all three."

In the clamour of voices and the rattle of arms, Captain Mitchell made
himself heard imperfectly: "By heavens! the fellow has stolen my watch."

The engineer-in-chief on the staircase resisted the pressure long enough
to shout, "What? What did you say?"

"My chronometer!" Captain Mitchell yelled violently at the very moment
of being thrust head foremost through a small door into a sort of cell,
perfectly black, and so narrow that he fetched up against the opposite
wall. The door had been instantly slammed. He knew where they had put
him. This was the strong room of the Custom House, whence the silver
had been removed only a few hours earlier. It was almost as narrow as
a corridor, with a small square aperture, barred by a heavy grating, at
the distant end. Captain Mitchell staggered for a few steps, then sat
down on the earthen floor with his back to the wall. Nothing, not even
a gleam of light from anywhere, interfered with Captain Mitchell's
meditation. He did some hard but not ver