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Foreword

Part II is dedicated to a dear friend and fellow Zorro fan, Kathy Green.

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By the time Diego left the tavern, it was later than he'd expected. Quickly he reached out to untie Camilla—his favorite mount next to Toronado—stopping as pain lanced through his right arm. Then he smiled to himself. Through most of the evening, he had completely forgotten about his wounded arm. It really wasn't surprising, considering whose company he'd been sharing. Using his left arm, he mounted and then rode quickly out of town.

Soon he was well beyond the pueblo and he slowed Camilla to a walk. The moon was at his back, and with so few lights around him the stars glittered and sparkled with astonishing brilliance. It intrigued Diego that the stars shone just as brightly during the day, but because of the sun's light, could not even be seen. How many other things in life, he wondered, were like those stars?

In his mind Diego returned to the tavern, the memory of the last several hours still bright. He and Victoria had been good friends for years, but he couldn't remember a time they had talked as freely and as nourishingly as they had tonight. They had discussed everything—Gilberto, Ynez Risendo and her deception, life and death, choices and consequences. Before, there had been a vague but impenetrable barrier between the two of them—whether because of her feelings for Zorro or her subtle condescension toward Diego, he didn't know. But tonight, for whatever reason, the wall seemed to have vanished. On further reflection, he decided it was probably due to her sympathy for his recent loss. Victoria had a soft heart for anyone in difficult circumstances.

Suddenly, Diego realized he was exhausted. Risendo's last visit to the hacienda seemed an eternity ago, but of course it had only been hours. Diego urged Camilla to a gentle gallop, and quickly they covered the remaining ground to the hacienda.

 

It was still dark when Diego awoke the next morning. He sat up and lit the lamp on his bedside table—the clock read 4:30. He knew himself well enough that to predict that sleep would not return. And besides, he had an errand to run—one best run under cover of darkness. Quietly, he slipped out of bed and headed for the cave.

It wasn't long before a dark figure on a regal stallion was galloping toward the pueblo.

 

An hour or so later, a rooster crowed somewhere nearby, and Victoria began to awaken from a sound sleep. Usually morning came a little too soon, but this morning she felt unaccountably content—she wasn't quite sure why. She lay there, drowsy, letting her mind drift—and suddenly it came back to her. The ring ... the picture ... Zorro. She knew who Zorro was. The years of wondering, of waiting, of not knowing if the masked man would simply never return, were over.

Suddenly awake, she sat up. She knew who Zorro was! As she thought about how superbly Diego had pulled off the charade, she laughed out loud. No wonder he had gone to such pains to appear inept and weak-willed! She lit the lamp next to her bed, then threw the covers off and stepped onto the cold wooden floor. Shivering, she reached for her robe, when she noticed something just under her door.

Carefully she slid a thin package into her room. It was wrapped in brown paper. As she turned it over, her heart skipped a beat as she saw the familiar Z penned on the wrapping paper. Sliding the ribbon off, she opened the package; inside was a beautiful silk sash, along with a note. Victoria set the wrapping paper and sash on her nightstand and opened the note. It said simply,

Victoria closed her eyes and held the note to her heart. "Thank you, Diego," she whispered. Opening her eyes again, she put the note down on the bedside table, picked up the sash, and held it up. It was rich red in color with a jacquard pattern of yellow and orange flowers. Golden strands woven through it caught the lamplight. The sash was too beautiful to wear at work, where it could be soiled or torn; she would save it for special occasions. Carefully, she folded it up and set it on top of the note and wrapping paper on her nightstand.

This romantic gift was the last thing in the world she would have expected Diego to give anyone, which made her realize how little she really knew him. The irony wasn't lost on her, because she'd always felt that Zorro knew her thoroughly—he had an uncanny ability to see into her mind and heart. Now she realized why, and past events took on a new meaning. It was Diego who had run to her after she almost made the dreadful mistake of marrying Juan; it was Diego who had nursed young Sergio back to health and made his wish come true; it was Diego who had given her the unspeakable gift of seeing her father one last time before his death. And now it was Diego who had given her this beautiful sash as a reminder of his love for her. It all still seemed a bit unreal, but very, very wonderful.

With a light heart, she began her preparations for the day ahead.

 

The usual lunch crowd was already beginning to gather when Victoria noticed a stranger enter the tavern. With an experienced eye, Victoria assessed the newcomer. He was tall and lean, and—while well-dressed—had the look of a man who travelled. Stopping just inside, he glanced around and then quietly took a seat near the door. Victoria finished wiping the counter and approached him.

"Buenos dias, Señor. May I get you something to drink?"

"Sí, gracias." His voice was raspy. "I'd like a glass of lemonade."

"Sí, Señor." She was just about to return to the kitchen when Sergeant Mendoza entered the tavern and approached the table. She wasn't surprised—every time someone new came into town, the Sergeant wasn't far behind. He greeted the stranger, introduced himself, and asked, "And you are?"

"I am Señor Lopez. I am here on ... business."

"Welcome, Señor Lopez. Permit me to collect the traveler's tax of five pesos." Victoria sighed and went back to the kitchen.

"Of course," Señor Lopez said, and handed the Sergeant several coins.

"Mil gracias," said the Sergeant cordially. "We hope you will enjoy your stay in our Pueblo de Los Angeles. And what brings you here?"

"What brings me here? I will tell you, Sergeant." The man scanned the room quickly, then leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "I know you lancers have no great love for Zorro. Let's just say you are not alone—some men he has put behind bars would very much like to even the score. I am here to do what no one before has been able to do before: track down this Zorro and stop him for once and for all."

"Well," smiled the Sergeant, who had watched Zorro survive scores of similar threats, "Good luck. That Zorro—he's a slippery fellow."

"He won't be so slippery to me," responded Lopez.

"Why is that?" asked the Sergeant, his curiosity piqued. Just then, Victoria returned with the lemonade.

"Here you are, Señor." She set the glass down on the table. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Thank you, not now," he responded with finality. There was an uncomfortable silence, and Victoria had the distinct impression the two men were waiting for her to leave. She nodded and moved to the next table to check on the customers there.

When she was out of earshot, Sergeant Mendoza repeated his question. "Why is it you think you can catch him?"

Lopez glanced at Victoria and lowered his voice even more. "I have an advantage that others before me have not had. I cannot speak too freely, you understand. But if I can get something that has belonged to Zorro, or something he has touched, I will be able to track him—with or without the mask," he answered confidently.

Mendoza looked vaguely uneasy. "How is that, Señor?"

Looking at Victoria again, he said, "I visited France not long ago. There, they are using trained dogs to track down escaped prisoners. Once the dog has caught the scent of the man being hunted, he is caught more often than not."

"You have a dog with you here?"

"Yes—he has made many successful captures," he answered. "Once I teach him to recognize Zorro's scent, Zorro will not be able to hide any longer." He looked at Mendoza meaningfully.

"Well, Señor, it will be interesting to see how this plan of yours turns out." Mendoza smiled awkwardly. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must get back to work."

"Of course, Sergeant. Good day."

Mendoza saluted and left the tavern. Lopez finished his lemonade and subtly observed Victoria a little longer. "You, my pretty Señorita," he murmured to himself, "are going to lead me to this masked bandit. Perhaps you should not have been so obvious with your affections for a wanted man."

 

"Right this way, Señor." Victoria led the man to the room he had requested. "We will provide clean towels and water each morning, and breakfast is included in the price of your room. My quarters are just down the hall"—she motioned to her door, just above the kitchen. "If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, Señorita." He smiled at her, an odd, intense sort of smile, and it made the skin crawl on the back of her neck.

"De nada," she responded, and turned to walk down the hall as Señor Lopez opened the door to his room. Pausing at the top of the stairs, she tried to shake the discomfort she felt. But it wouldn't leave, so she made a mental note to keep an eye on Lopez and started down the stairs.

Just inside the door of his room, Lopez waited until he heard Victoria start down the stairs, then slowly opened his door again and looked out into the hallway. It was deserted. Quickly and silently, he walked down the hallway to her quarters. He knocked on the door softly, just to be safe. When there was no answer, he tried the knob, and as he suspected, it was open. Looking behind him once more and seeing no one, he entered and quickly shut the door.

Once inside, he put on a clean pair of gloves and began looking around. He wasn't sure what he might find, but of all the people likely to have something of Zorro's, it was this Escalante woman. He strode toward the dresser on the left wall and quickly looked through the drawers—nothing helpful there. He crossed the room to the wardrobe on the right wall and started to open the door, grimacing as it creaked loudly. He opened it the rest of the way very slowly. The clothes looked ordinary enough—nothing there.

Then he swept his hand across the top shelf in the wardrobe, just above eye level. It was nearly empty except for a small piece of cloth and a wooden box. He pulled them down off the shelf. The cloth was black! As he shook it open, he could see eye-slits cut into it. But he could tell from the way the folds held that it had been sitting in the wardrobe for a long time—it was undoubtedly too old to use. He replaced it and opened the box. Inside was a small stack of notes, bound together with a red ribbon. He undid the ribbon, and as he suspected, the notes bore the signature of Zorro. But most of them looked too old for his purposes, so he tied the ribbon up again, put the box and the mask back, and carefully closed the wardrobe door.

He was about to leave when he noticed a brightly colored piece of cloth on the nightstand. He picked it up by one corner and let it fall open, when his eye caught the note beneath. Quickly, he read it and smiled. It had been worth coming here after all. The note looked recent, and since the sash was obviously a gift from Zorro, it most likely had enough of Zorro's scent that the dog could use it to track him. Quickly, he wrapped the sash and note in the wrapping paper on the nightstand and put everything into the pouch he had prepared especially for that purpose; then he put the pouch into the satchel at his side.  Opening the door just a crack, he found the hallway empty and swiftly made his way back to his room.

 

"I don't know, Mendoza." From behind the bar, Victoria glanced around at the crowd in the dining room. Things were finally slowing down after the dinner rush. She saw Diego sitting at a table near the back, and he smiled as she caught his eye. There was no sign of Lopez, though—she hadn't seen him since just after lunch—so she continued. "I just don't like him."

"What do you mean, you just don't like him?"

"Oh, I don't know—call it 'women's intuition.'" Victoria smiled briefly, then her brow furrowed. "I don't trust him."

"Well—" the Sergeant hesitated, a look of ambivalence on his face. "I would have to say in this case you are probably right. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I was talking to Señor Lopez at lunchtime today, and he told me he has come to track Zorro down. He has brought a dog with him—a dog that has been trained to track escaped prisoners by their scent. I told him Zorro wouldn't be so easy to track."

A dog? Victoria thought with alarm. When Jack Holten had visited the pueblo, he had told them how plantation owners in the South used dogs to track down people who tried to escape slavery. Unfortunately, the plantation owners were often successful.

"What could this man possibly have against Zorro?" The fear in her heart made her voice sharp. "We've never even seen him before!"

Mendoza responded, "Well, he said something about Zorro having many enemies. I think he must be a bounty hunter or something like that. He is convinced that he will be the one to finally capture Zorro."

"We'll see about that!" Victoria countered, her eyes flashing. Tossing her head, she turned around and made her way to the striped curtain that separated the kitchen from the dining room, then turned back and looked around the room once more. Still no sign of Lopez. She held the curtain open and stepped back into the kitchen.

Once inside, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Zorro was clever and had always eluded capture before—but that was when the hunters were humans who could be fooled by sleight-of-hand or the unexpected. But a dog trained to track by scent? And then it hit her: If the dog recognized Zorro's scent, it wouldn't matter if Zorro were wearing his mask or not. Diego was in real danger!

"I must warn Diego!" she said out loud. But how? she thought. Her mind raced, considering her options. She could walk out right now and tell Diego about Lopez, as if she were merely concerned for Zorro. She could tell Don Alejandro—she suspected he knew of his son's double life. Or she could tell Zorro the next time she saw him—but would that be soon enough? Certainly it would take Lopez time to get something with Zorro's scent on it.

What else could she do? Was there some way she could stop Lopez herself? She thought back to the time the Alcalde had planned to hang José Rivas for the murder of Don Sebastian Valverdes. Diego had given her a potion which put the Alcalde to sleep, which allowed José to escape. She was certain Diego could get her more—but that too would take time.

Suddenly, the quiet murmer of voices in the dining room grew louder. Something was going on. She swept back the curtain to see that Señor Lopez had just entered the tavern—with a large, wolf-like gray dog. The dog's nose was to the floor—obviously he had a scent, but he was moving slowly—probably, she thought, because so many people had walked that way. Nevertheless, he was tracking something. But how could the dog recognize Zorro's scent so soon? Diego had walked that way a little less than a half hour ago, and if the dog really knew Zorro's scent, she was certain it would only be a matter of time before it tracked the scent to Diego's table. She sent a silent prayer heavenward.

Dropping the curtain again, her eyes fell on several cruets of vinaigrette dressing. Vinegar was strong, she thought, and if it looked like an accident ... She murmured a quick prayer of thanks and and put them on a tray. Then, balancing the tray on one hand, she flung back the curtain with the other and marched straight toward Lopez. "I'm sorry, Señor," she said firmly, "but animals are not permitted in this tavern."

Lopez's eyes were hard as he stood his ground. "I'm afraid you'll have to make an exception, Señorita. I'm here on business, and this is ... well, my business partner."

"And what sort of business would that be?" she asked curtly. Customers were starting to take notice of the interchange, and she prayed Diego would stay where he was.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you." His eyes were mocking, challenging.

"Then I'm afraid I will have to ask you and your dog to leave—immediately."

Lopez moved forward menacingly. The dog was straining on his leash, anxious to follow the scent. At that moment, Victoria stepped back and pretended to lose her hold on the tray. The cruets of vinaigrette crashed to the floor, scattering broken glass and dressing everywhere. Startled, the dog jumped back, then sneezed several times.

"Now look what has happened!" she exclaimed. "Please, Señor—I must ask you to take this dog away immediately." Victoria had the upper hand, and Lopez knew it. He nodded brusquely, turned, and left.

Immediately, Diego was at her side. "What was that all about?" he asked.

As if she hadn't heard him, Victoria said, "Diego, will you help me get something to clean up this mess?"

"Of course," he answered without hesitation, and two of them walked back to the kitchen.

The crisis over, at least for the moment, Victoria found she was shaking. Diego looked at her, concerned. "Victoria, what just happened out there?"

Her eyes met his, and before she had time to think, she moved forward and put her arms around him. Diego, startled, didn't react for a moment, then returned the embrace. "It's all right," he murmured, as he held her close. "It's all right."

Victoria moved back. "It may not be all right!" she said, agitated. "Sergeant Mendoza told me that that man, Señor Lopez, has come here to track Zorro. That dog of his is trained to find a person by his scent!"

"Hmm," responded Diego. "That will make things a bit more difficult for Zorro." Victoria was beginning to recognize the feigned nonchalance Deigo often assumed.

"Not only for Zorro," she pointed out, "but for the man behind the mask. It won't matter to that terrible animal whether Zorro is wearing his mask or not." Still unwilling to admit she knew his secret, she continued. "I want to know the man behind the mask as much as anyone, but not in this way!"

"Well," responded Diego reassuringly, "Zorro seems to be pretty good at taking care of himself."

"But Zorro may not even know about this! I need to find a way to warn him." It felt funny talking to Diego this way, but for the time being, this was how it had to be.

"Well," responded Diego, "if I see him, I'll certainly pass the word along. Meanwhile, are you going to be all right?" There was that subtle change of subject again—but she knew, too, that he was genuinely concerned for her.

"I'll be fine," she said, her voice resolute.

"Then let's get something to clean up that mess." They both took several cloths from the pile of cleaning rags and went back out into the dining room. Victoria felt much better—at least now, the warning had been raised. She made a mental note to remember to replace the broken cruets. They had been a small price to pay.

 

Diego was in the cave, deep in thought, when Felipe walked in. They exchanged greetings through their expressions, and Diego said, "We had an interesting visitor in town today."

"Who?" signed Felipe.

"A man, Señor Lopez, who believes he has come to track Zorro down."

"Another one." Felipe looked amused.

"Only this one may not be so easy to elude. He has with him a dog that has been trained to track people by scent. He practically forced his way through the tavern with his dog while I was there today. What troubles me is that the dog seemed to be tracking some kind of scent. The question is, does he really have something with Zorro's scent, and if so, how did he get it? And if not, who is he mistakenly tracking? In any event, Victoria managed to get rid of him today ..."

"What did she do?" questioned Felipe.

Recalling the scene, Diego couldn't help laughing. He described it in detail for Felipe.

"Victoria is clever," Felipe signed, smiling.

"Yes." Diego returned the smile. "I think Lopez learned today that she's no 'helpless female.' But I don't like the thought of her being at the tavern while he is staying there. Dog or no dog, I think Zorro had better pay Victoria a visit."

"What if the dog tracks you down while you're there?" queried Felipe.

"I've been thinking about that. With an opponent like this, we will have to be on guard every moment. I think Zorro will need your help tonight."

Felipe grinned and signed, "At your service."

 

It was after 10:00 that night when the last customers left. Victoria sighed. Her eyes stung faintly after a long day of work, and she was anxious to retire. She wiped off the last two tables and surveyed the tavern. Everything was in good order, so she doused all but two of the lamps and made her way upstairs.

Once in her room, she sat down on the bed, took her shoes off, and began to massage her tired feet. Her eyes fell on the nightstand—something wasn't quite right. Then she realized with a start that the sash was no longer there, and her stomach tightened. Did I put it away without remembering? she thought. Quickly, she arose and looked in her wardrobe, then in the top drawers of her dresser. It wasn't there. She thought back again to that morning, and she distinctly remembered leaving the sash on her nightstand. That left only one alternative—someone had taken it. She was quite certain who that was. No wonder that dog had been on Zorro's scent so quickly.

Suddenly Victoria felt genuine fear. She arose quickly and bolted her bedroom door, then moved the nightstand table in front of it. Going to the dresser, she took her pistol out of the top drawer and put it on the nightstand, within easy reach.

A quiet thud on the balcony turned her blood to ice. Quickly, she took hold of the pistol and blew out the lamp. As her eyes adjusted, through the thin curtains she could see the dark outline of a man very close to the balcony doors. She aimed the gun at the figure and said, with more confidence than she felt, "Stop, or I'll shoot!"

"I'm at your mercy, as always," came the familiar voice, as the figure raised its hands.

"Zorro!" she cried. She held the curtain back and opened the balcony doors. "It's not safe for you to be out there," she said, taking his hand and drawing him inside. She shut the doors and walked to the nightstand, where she put the pistol down and lit the lamp again. Then she walked back to face Zorro, who was still standing where he had come in.

"I'm not sure it's safe for you to be in here," he responded, taking her hands in both of his. "I heard about Señor Lopez and his dog in the tavern today. I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm better now that you're here," she said gratefully. "Zorro, I just discovered that someone has been in my room! The sash you left me this morning is gone. I'm sure Lopez took it so he could track you." Her eyes softened. "It was beautiful," she said wistfully. "Thank you."

Zorro looked crushed, and Victoria felt worse for him than for herself. "It's all right," she said, "I'm sure we can get it back. At least we're fairly certain who has it."

"I don't think you should stay here tonight," Zorro told her. "Can I take you to a friend's house? I know the de la Vegas would be happy to let you stay there."

It took all Victoria's self-control to keep a straight face at Zorro's suggestion. "Thank you, but I think I had better stay here. I have to be up early in the morning, and besides"—she motioned to the nightstand table blocking the door—"I've barricaded my room." She grinned at him. "And there are so many people around; the rooms are almost full. I don't think Lopez will try anything tonight."

"I still don't like the thought of you being in the same building as that man."

"Oh, don't worry," Victoria responded. "I'm used to taking care of myself." She hadn't realized how Zorro would take her words until she saw the chagrin in his eyes. "Wait, I didn't mean ..."

"Victoria—" His eyes searched hers, then he continued: "You deserve better than this. You've been patient for so long, and where has it gotten you?" His tone held a hint of bitterness. "You're still alone, no husband, no family. We can rarely share more than a few brief moments together ..."

She interrupted him emphatically, "Where has it gotten me? It's gotten me right where I want to be. Zorro, you mean the world to me! I've been patient because I wanted to be, because you are worth waiting for. Not that it's been easy, mind you!" She looked at him teasingly, then turned serious again. "We can find a way to make things work for us."

"But Zorro is still needed; it's not yet time for him to put the mask aside." She found it interesting that often he refered to Zorro as if he were talking of someone else. "I feel as though I'm caught in an impossible dilemma. Zorro has sworn to protect the poor and the innocent from oppression; he also wants, more than anything, to live with you at his side." She saw the conflictedness in his eyes. "I don't know how to bring the two together."

"Zorro," she answered, "you know that my feelings are the same as yours. I share your cause! You know I'm willing to fight for it, even to risk my life for it. I'm willing to be your partner in the work you've sworn to do. Maybe for us there is no such thing as a 'normal' life." She looked up at him, confident. "But that doesn't mean we can't have a good life together."

The warm light she saw in Zorro's eyes took her breath away as he bent his head to hers and kissed her gently. "Victoria," he said softly, "Do you have any idea how blessed I feel at this moment? I can't imagine my life without you." With quiet determination, he added, "We will find a way to share our lives together."

"Yes," she said, and reached up to kiss him again. As they embraced and she felt the strength of Zorro's arms around her, warmth spread through her like sunlight. There was nowhere else on earth she'd rather be at that moment.

Reluctantly, Zorro stepped back. "It is late," he said. "I should go, and let you get some sleep."

"I suppose so," Victoria responded, making no effort to hide her disappointment.

"One final matter," Zorro said. "I think I had better pay Señor Lopez a visit tonight. What room is he in?"

She had known Zorro wouldn't leave her in the tavern without doing something to take care of Señor Lopez, so she didn't even argue. "The last one on the left at the end of the hall." But she added, "Do be careful."

Zorro simply nodded, then moved to the door and pushed the nightstand out of the way.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?"

"Yes, of course," Victoria responded.

Zorro raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. Then he opened the door and slipped out, closing it behind him. He waited until he heard her moving the nightstand back in front of the door, then started down the hallway.

Light from a single lamp illuminated the darkness. He couldn't enter Lopez's room at a disadvantage, taking the time for his eyes to adjust. So he took the lamp off its hook, blew out the flame, then replaced it. As soon as he could see, he made his way down the hallway, stopped outside Lopez's room, and quietly drew his sword. There was no light coming from under the door, so Lopez was most likely asleep. But he knew a man like that would not sleep without some protection or warning in place. After a moment's thought, he decided it would be better to enter from the balcony outside.

Resheathing his sword, he made his way rapidly down the stairs and out the tavern's back door. As he climbed up the wooden latticework on the side of the building, Zorro found his wounded arm still hampered him a little, but it was definitely doing better. It wasn't long before he stood before the  balcony doors of Lopez's room. Drawing his sword again, he turned the knob ever so slowly—there never had been any kind of bolts on the balcony doors—and stepped inside.

The room was empty.

 

Earlier that evening, according to their plan, Felipe had ridden out to the pueblo just ahead of Zorro. Taking up a spot in the shadows where he could see Victoria's balcony, he waited. Soon he saw the masked man at the balcony doors, saw the light go out, the doors open, and then the light go on again.

He was watching the doors, waiting for Zorro to reappear, when a sound in the darkness behind him gave him sudden goosebumps. But out of habit, he didn't turn to find the source of the noise. Instead, he walked forward a few paces and around the corner of the building he'd been next to. Then he ran a few steps, ducked into a doorway, and reached into a pouch at his side. Not a moment too soon, he found one of Diego's hollow darts which they had filled with one of his potions. Just then, Lopez and his dog came around the corner. With a practiced hand, Felipe moved forward, threw the dart at the dog, and slipped back into the doorway. The dart impacted just above the dog's collar.

"Hey!" exclaimed Lopez. With a quick motion, he extracted the dart and almost in the same motion, detached the leash from the dog's collar. "Ataquelo!" Lopez commanded. The dog bounded forward.

I hope that potion works quickly! Felipe thought to himself. Reaching into the pouch, he pulled out another dart, just in case.

As the dog reached the doorway where Felipe was, it started to stumble. With a low growl, it collapsed and rolled on its side. Then it was quiet.

Lopez was there almost instantly. Diego says that sometimes the best defense is a good offense, thought Felipe to himself, and quickly he plunged the other dart into Lopez's arm. Lopez pushed Felipe back against the door, his arm at Felipe's throat. "What have you done?" he said threateningly. Felipe just looked back at him. Ironically, thought Felipe, in his anger Lopez hadn't stopped to think about removing the dart, which would only allow the potion to act more quickly. As it took effect, Lopez's arm came down and his legs buckled beneath him. Felipe caught him as he fell and lowered him to the ground.

Stepping away from the doorway, he surveyed the dog and man, now sleeping peacefully. Suddenly, there was a tap on his shoulder. Felipe whirled—it was Zorro. Relief spread across Felipe's face, and Zorro said, "I just found Lopez's room empty. Needless to say, I was concerned, but it looks like you have everything under control."

Felipe grinned modestly. "It was nothing," he signed.

"Well," said the man in black, "we can't leave these two out in the street. Let's tie the dog up and carry Lopez back to his room. He should sleep very well tonight ... and tomorrow." He grinned at Felipe.

Felipe recovered one dart from the ground where it had fallen and put it back in his pouch; then he gingerly extracted the other from Lopez's arm and put it away as well. Meanwhile, Zorro retrieved the leash and reattached it to the dog's collar. Then the two of them picked up the unconscious dog and, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, carried it to the side of the tavern and tied its leash to one of the hitching posts there.

"Now for Lopez," said Zorro.

Felipe touched his arm and signed, "It's too bad we can't just keep giving him the potion!"

Zorro chuckled quietly. "You may be on to something there!" With that, Zorro picked up Lopez under the arms and Felipe took his feet, and together they carried him to the back door of the tavern.

"We'll have to set him down for a moment," Zorro whispered. They did so, and Zorro quietly opened the back door of the tavern. Picking Lopez up again, they carefully made their way through the kitchen and up the stairs.

When they reached Lopez's door, Zorro leaned against it gently and was pleased that it opened—apparently, Lopez hadn't pulled it tight when he left. They entered the room and set Lopez down on his bed; Lopez stirred and muttered something incomprehensible. Zorro pulled one of the blankets from under Lopez and covered him with it. "Pleasant dreams, Señor. May you dream of something other than capturing Zorro."  The two started to walk out of the room, when Zorro stopped. The sash! This was the time to retrieve it. But the room was dark. Should he risk going downstairs to get a lantern? There was no chance Lopez would awaken, but it would be awkward if he ran into anyone in the hallway.

Then Zorro remembered:  Lopez had been wearing a satchel. It had to be there. He laid a hand on Felipe's arm to signal him to wait, then quietly lifted the blanket and opened the satchel.  His hand found a small pouch, which he withdrew and opened. He was rewarded by the feel of paper wrapped around cloth.  His hunch had been right.  He was about to take the pouch and leave, but he paused—why not take the entire satchel?  There might be a clue about Lopez and who he was that would prove helpful.  Zorro drew his sword and smiled in satisfaction as the blade cut through the leather strap that crossed Lopez's chest and held the satchel to his side. Then he pulled the satchel until the strap under Lopez's body came free. He nodded at Felipe, and without a word they exited the room and made their way back down the stairs.

At the back door, Zorro paused. "I really should leave a note for Victoria—I told her I would check in on Lopez before I left, and I think she'd be interested in the outcome." Crossing to the other side of the kitchen, he quietly opened the drawer where Victoria kept her paper and quill pens. Quickly, he wrote a short note, then turned to Felipe: "By tomorrow afternoon, Felipe, we must have some kind of plan. I don't want Lopez taking out any kind of revenge on Victoria, or thinking he can bait Zorro by taking Victoria hostage." He frowned at the thought. "Back in a moment, amigo. "

Upstairs almost instantly, Zorro slipped the note under Victoria's door, then returned to where Felipe was waiting. "You'd best ride on without me," Zorro said. "We can't take the chance that we might be seen together. I'll follow in a few minutes." Felipe nodded his assent and was off. Zorro followed not long after.

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