Chapter 17My immediate reaction was to fling aside the field glasses — which Dr. Alcott caught with admirable dexterity and an uncomplimentary remark I took little note of at the time — and jump to my feet. I would probably have shouted my outrage far and wide, had I not been roughly recalled to my better senses by the restraining hand of Quetzalxochitl, seizing me by the shoulder and dragging me back down behind the altar stone, to the accompaniment of a hissed but scathing warning:
“No breaking cover, fool! What you doing, eh? Is you flying over there, and even if you is, how you saving her from all temple guard by your sole self?”
“We’re just leaving her to them, then?” asked Dr. Alcott, as she surveyed the scene, though it was barely a question, and more a statement of grim resignati
