"I'll believe in ghosts when I see one."
Then, with a shake of his head: "Isabel has never given up the
hope of finding that treasure. She would like to see Rosa married,
and me fighting with the Insurrectos, so that she might have a
free hand in her search."
O'Reilly scanned the speaker silently for a moment; then he said,
with a gravity unusual in him, "I wonder if you know that you're
suspected of--working for the Insurrecto cause."
"Indeed? I didn't know."
"Well, it's a fact." O'Reilly heard Rosa gasp faintly. "Is it
true?" he asked.
"I am a Cuban." Esteban's smile was a trifle grim.
"Cuban? Your people were Spanish."
"True. But no Spaniard ever raised a Spanish child in Cuba. We are
Cubans, Rosa and I."
At this statement the sister cried: "Hush! It is dangerous to
speak in that way, with this new war growing every day."
"But O'Reilly is our good friend," Esteban protested.
"Of course I am," the American agreed, "and for that reason I
spoke. I hope you're not too deeply involved with the rebels."
"There, Esteban! Do you hear?" Turning to O'Reilly, Rosa said,
imploringly: "Please reason with him. He's young and headstrong
and he won't listen to me."
Esteban frowned. "Young, eh? Well, sometimes the young are called
upon to do work that older men wouldn't care to undertake.
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