t I already knew.
The thought that this monster could be in any way connected with _her_
was a disagreeable one. I questioned Raoul no further. Even could he
have detailed every circumstance, I should have dreaded the relation.

Our conversation was interrupted by the creaking of a rusty hinge. The
door opened, and several men entered. Our blinds were taken off, and,
oh, how pleasant to look upon the light! The door had been closed
again, and there was only one small grating, yet the slender beam
through this was like the bright noonday sun. Two of the men carried
earthen platters filled with frijoles, a single tortilla in each
platter. They were placed near our heads, one for each of us.

"It's blissid kind of yez, gentlemen," said Chane; "but how are we goin'
to ate it, if ye plaze?"

"The plague!" exclaimed Clayley; "do they expect us to lick this up
without either hands, spoons, or knives?"

"Won't you allow us the use of our fingers?" asked Raoul, speaking to
one of the guerilleros.

"No," replied the man gruffly.

"How do you expect us to eat, then?"

"With your mouths, as brutes should. What else?"

"Thank you, sir; you are very polite."

"If you don't choose that, you can leave it alone," added the Mexican,
going out with his companions, and closing the door behind them.

"Thank you, gentlemen!" shouted the Frenchman after them, in a tone of
subdued anger. "I won't please you so much as to leave it alone. By my
word!" he continued, "we may be thankful--it's more than I expected from
Yanez--that they've given us any. Something's in the wind." So saying,
the speaker rolled himself on his breast, bringing his head to the dish.

"Och! the mane haythins!" cried Chane, following the example set by his
comrade; "to make dacent men ate like brute bastes! Och! murder an'
ouns!"

"Come, Captain; shall we feed?" asked Clayley.

"Go on. Do not wait for me," I replied.

Now was my time to read the note. I rolled myself under the grating,
and, after several efforts, succeeded in gaining my feet. The window,
which was not much larger than a pigeon-hole, widened inwards like the
embrasure of a gun-battery. The lower slab was just the height of my
chin; and upon this, after a good deal of dodging and lip-jugglery, I
succeeded in spreading out the paper to its full extent.

"What on earth are you at, Captain?" inquired Cayley, who had watched my
manoeuvres with some astonishment.

Raoul and th