"Well, then," said the young man, and his voice dropped as if he had some difficulty in speaking, "I cannot tell you whence I get the money, uncle, it is a matter of honour."
His guardian was mystified.
"Of honour! I do not know what that may mean. But listen to me, boy; I cannot let the matter drop. My position is critical. If I do not take proper care of your interests I may find myself called upon to pay up, and there is no mercy for trustees."
Raimundo remained silent for some seconds, at last, stammering and hesitating, he said:
"If you must know then I will tell you. You have heard perhaps of my intimacy with a lady?"
"Yes, I have heard something of a flirtation between you and Osorio's wife."
"Well, that explains the mystery," said the nephew, colouring violently.
"So that, in point of fact, this woman"——said the elder, snapping his thumb and finger.
Raimundo bent his head and said no more, or, to be exact, his silence said everything. The man who had indignantly refused his mistress's bank-notes now confessed himself guilty of this humiliation, though perfectly innocent, simply out of fear.
His uncle was a vulgar mortal enough, who kept a shop in the Calle de Carmen. His nephew's confession, far from rousing his indignation, raised the youth in his esteem.