Next morning after I had breakfasted, four soldiers came into my prison and ordered me to accompany them.
'Whither ?' I asked.
'To the captain, traitor,' their leader answered.
'It has come at last,' I thought to myself, but I said only: 'It is well.

Any change from this hole is one for the better.' 'Certainly,' he replied; 'and it is your last shift.' Then I knew that the man believed that I was going to my death.

In five minutes I was standing before Cortes in his private house.

At his side was Marina and around him were several of his companions in arms.

The great man looked at me for a while, then spoke.
'Your name is Wingfield; you are of mixed blood, half English and half Spanish.