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A door on the opposite corridor opened and a youth came forth. He jerked his head diffidently at the guests and took the longest way round instead of crossing the court; but when he reached the boys, who were risen and awaiting him, he wore a dignified air of welcome, as befitted a young gentleman of his race.
"Welcome to Casa Carillo, senores," he said gravely. "The house is yours. Burn it if you will. I, myself, Rafael Carillo, am your slave."