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As she stood thus, she presently became aware that a sound which she had heard without heeding,—as one ignores passing vibrations upon the air, that bring no special echo of the life of which we are active, conscious parts,—was persistently striving to make itself heard; and with an effort she turned to the door, upon which fell another timid knock, and bade the suppliant enter; for the very echo of his knocking proclaimed a suppliant. She started as her eyes fell upon the haggard face of Pedro the gate-keeper.

He entered almost stealthily, closing the door softly behind him. “Señora,” he whispered, coming up to her quite closely, extending his hands in a deprecating way, “Señora, by the golden keys of my patron, I swear to you I was powerless. Don Juan told me he had your Grace’s own authority; he told me they were married!”

Doña Isabel started. In the same sentence the man had so skilfully mingled truth and falsehood that even she was deceived. By representing to his mistress that Ashley had used her name to gain entrance to the hacienda, he had hoped to divert her anger from himself,—and what matter though it fell unjustly upon the dead man? But in fact the second phrase of the sentence, “He told me they were married,” was what struck most keenly upon the ear of Doña Isabel, and chilled her very blood. How much, then, did this servant know? How far was she in his power? Until that moment she had not known—had not suspected—that the murdered man and the murderer had been within the walls of the hacienda buildings. This knowledge but confirmed her intuitions! Partly to learn facts which might guide her, and partly to gain time, she looked with her coldest, most petrifying gaze upon the man, and asked him what he meant, and bade him tell her all, even as he would confess to the priest, for so only he might hope to escape her most severe displeasure.