Then he spoke into my ear in Castilian:  ’Strange are the ways of Providence, Cousin Wingfield.  You have hunted me across the world, and several times we have met, always to your sorrow.  I thought I had you in the slave ship, I thought that the sharks had you in the water, but somehow you escaped me whom you came to hunt.  When I knew it I grieved, but now I grieve no more, for I see that you were reserved for this moment.  Cousin Wingfield, it shall go hard if you escape me this time, and yet I think that we shall spend some days together before we part.  Now I will be courteous with you.  You may have a choice of evils.  How shall we begin?  The resources at my command are not all that we could wish, alas! the Holy Office is not yet here with its unholy armoury, but still I have done my best.  These fellows do not understand their art:  hot coals are their only inspiration.  I, you see, have several,’ and he pointed to various instruments of torture.  ‘Which will you select?’

I made no answer, for I had determined that I would speak no word and utter no cry, do what they might with me.

‘Let me think, let me think,’ went on de Garcia, smoothing his beard.  ‘Ah, I have it.  Here, slaves.’

Now I will not renew my own agonies, or awake the horror of any who may chance to read what I have written by describing what befell me after this.  Suffice it to say that for two hours and more this devil, helped in his task by the Tlascalans, worked his wicked will upon me.  One by one torments were administered to me with a skill and ingenuity that cannot often have been surpassed, and when at times I fainted I was recovered by cold water being dashed upon me and spirits poured down my throat.  And yet, I say it with some pride, during those two dreadful hours I uttered no groan however great my sufferings, and spoke no word good or bad.

Nor was it only bodily pain that I must bear, for all this while my enemy mocked me with bitter words, which tormented my soul as his instruments and hot coals tormented my body.  At length he paused exhausted, and cursed me for an obstinate pig of an Englishman, and at that moment Cortes entered the shambles and with him Marina.

‘How goes it?’ he said lightly, though his face turned pale at the sight of horror.

’The cacique of Tacuba has confessed that gold is buried in his garden, the other two have said nothing, general,’ the clerk answered, glancing down his paper.

‘Brave men, indeed!’ I heard Cortes mutter to himself; then said aloud, ’Let the cacique be carried to-morrow to the garden of which he speaks, that he may point out the gold.  As for the other two, cease tormenting them for this day.  Perhaps they may find another mind before to-morrow.  I trust so, for their own sakes I trust so!’

Then he drew to the corner of the room and consulted with Sarceda and the other torturers, leaving Marina face to face with Guatemoc and with me.  For a while she stared at the prince as though in horror, then a strange light came into her beautiful eyes, and she spoke to him in a low voice, saying in the Aztec tongue: