Two of the Civil Guard were sitting downstairs, smoking and playing cards. They looked up as Guillermo burst in, clutching his brother, his eyes mad and staring. One of the guards started to rise from his chair, already reaching for his gun, but the other put out a restraining hand and he sat down again.
The one who had remained seated looked Guillermo up and down lazily. His cigarette dangled from the side of his mouth and the smoke curled up into his half-closed eyes. He looked amused. "What have we here?" he asked, as if to himself.
"Please," said Guillermo, holding out Jaime towards the guard, "my little brother, my sisters, they are sick. They must go to the hospital in Malaga."
The guard lifted one eyebrow. "Don't you know, little man, what the punishment is for breaking the curfew?"
"If they don't get to the hospital tonight," said Guillermo, "their punishment is death."