The latter stepped within; the wicket was locked, and the click of the bolt was suggestive of the rattle of the dice with which Dom Corria De Sylva was throwing a main with fortune.

Perhaps some thought of the kind occurred to him, but he was calm as if he were so poor that he had naught more to lose.
"Who is the officer of the guard ?" San Benavides asked the soldier.
"Senhor Tenente [Lieutenant] Regis de Pereira, senhor capitao." "Tell him, with my compliments, that I shall be glad to meet him at the colonel's quarters in fifteen minutes." The queerly-assorted pair moved off across the barrack square.

The sentry looked after them.
"My excellent captain seems to have been brawling," he grinned.

"But what of the _mendigo_ ?" What, indeed?
A most pertinent question for Brazil, and one that would be loudly answered.
The colonel's house was in darkness, yet San Benavides rapped imperatively.

An upper window was raised.