I shivered.  Felipe watched me with an amiable grin.

“But let us not,” he continued, “speak contemptuously of our inheritance.  It is, after all, a very fair kingdom for three.  Captain Morgan and his men are accomplished scoundrels, but careless:  they have not that eye for trifles which is acquired in our noble profession, and they have no instinct at all for hiding-places.  I assure you this city yet contains palaces to live in, linen and silver plate to keep us comfortable.  Food is scarce, I grant, but we shall have wines of the very first quality.  We shall live royally.  But, alas!  Heaven has exacted more than its tithe of my enjoyment.  I had looked forward to seeing Teresa in a palace of her own.  What a queen she would have made, to be sure!”

“Are we three the only souls in Panama?”

Felipe rubbed his chin.  “I think there is one other.  But he is a philosopher, and despises purple and linen.  We who value them, within reason, could desire no better subject.”  He arose and treated me to a regal bow.  “Shall we inspect our legacy, my brother, and make arrangements for the coronation?”

“We might pick up something to eat on the way,” said I.

Felipe hobbled over to the terrace.  “Poor old ——­,” he muttered, touching the corpse with his staff, and dwelling on the vile word with pondering affection.  “Senorita,” said he aloud, “much grief is not good on an empty stomach.  If Juan here will lift her feet—­”

We carried Dona Teresa into the large cool room, and laid her on a couch.  Felipe tore down the silken hangings from one of the windows and spread them over her to her chin, which he tied up with the yellow kerchief which had been her only headgear for years.  The Carmelite meanwhile detached two heavy silver sconces from a great candelabrum and set them by her feet.  But we could find no tinder-box to light the candles—­big enough for an altar.

“She will do handsomely until evening,” said Felipe, and added under his breath, “but we must contrive to fasten the gate of the patio.”

“I will watch by her,” said Sister Marta.

Felipe glanced at us and shook his head.  I knew he was thinking of the dogs.  “That would not do at all, Senorita.  ’For the living, the living,’ as they say.  If we live, we will return this evening and attend to her; but while my poor head remains clear (and Heaven knows how long that will be) there is more important work to be done.”

“To bury the dead—­”

“It is one of the Seven Corporal Acts of Mercy, Senorita, and it won Raphael to the house of Tobit.  But in this instance Raphael shuts himself up and we must go to him.  While Teresa lived, all was well:  but now, with two lives depending on my wits, and my wits not to be depended on for an hour, it does not suit with my conscience to lose time in finding you another protector.”

“But they—­they have gone?”