But days had passed and nothing had happened. Moreover, the five whom he
feared so much were hard and fast in the military prison within the walls,
and no proof of their charges had been brought forth. Time, too, worked
steadily for him. It not only weakened the accusation against him, but it
also gave his powerful friends at the court of Madrid time to help him and
his ambition. That little strain of royal blood in his veins was well
worth having. He would certainly succeed to Bernardo Galvez, whether the
wait he long or short.
He kept Braxton Wyatt with him all the time. He had learned to appreciate
the value of the renegade's unscrupulous cunning, and he was necessary,
too, in order to carry out the great alliance with the tribes which
Alvarez meant should become an accomplished fact.
It was a pleasant house that Alvarez had within the walls, one story of
brick covered with red tiles, surrounded by piazzas, and standing in
grounds thick with magnolias, cypresses, and orange trees. In truth, the
foliage was so dense that by daylight the house was almost entirely hidden
from the city, and by night it was quite invisible unless lights chanced
to twinkle through the leaves.
The Spaniard and Braxton Wyatt were sitting now upon the piazza drinking a
cool decoction of West Indian origin, and Alvarez was commenting upon what
he called his good fortune.
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