"Guess, Mr. Yankee!"
"Why, I would guess that you are a Russian."
"You are worthy of the name of Yankee, then. Yes; I am a Russian."
Another party of sight-seers passed them at that moment, and one man was
heard to remark:
"At the south end of the castle is a stairway leading down to an
underground dungeon. Legend tells us that some forty Spanish pirates
were once confined there, for a month, before permission was received
from the governor to hang the Spaniards."
"Did you hear that?" murmured Jack, interestedly. "A real, old dungeon,
with an interesting history."
"Such a history merely afflicts me with a shudder," replied Mlle.
Nadiboff, shrugging her shoulders.
"By Jove, I believe I'd like to have just a glimpse of that old dungeon,
Mademoiselle, if I am not tiring you or wasting your time."
"You will have to go alone, then," replied the young woman. "I will
wait, my Captain."
"I will remain with Mlle. Nadiboff," volunteered Hal.
So Jack Benson, after raising his cap, stepped off rapidly toward the
southern end of the old ruin.
With much difficulty he found the entrance to the stairway leading below.
At the head of the stairs two youngish men were standing. The face of
one of them looked familiar.
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