"What do you know?"
"Everything—except the details." The reply was perhaps a little exaggeration; but I was guessing everything very fast.
"If he knows I have spoken of it to you, he will ruin me. I might as well be dead."
"He will never know, unless you are fool enough to tell him. He sent you to Senorita Castelar's house this afternoon?"
"Yes. He said you would be there." He was sufficiently recovered now for his private feelings to reassert themselves somewhat, and there was a gleam of the old hate of me in his eyes as he gave the answer which let in such a flood of additional light upon my knowledge of Quesada's treachery. I made another long shot.
"He has promised to help your suit with the senorita?"
"You are the devil. You do know everything, indeed," he cried. "Who are you?"
"You are to answer, not question," I returned, sternly. It was now as clear as the sun at noonday that Quesada had planned this quarrel of ours, sending Livenza to catch me with Sarita, with the certain assurance that his jealousy would lead to a duel in which one of us would be certain either to fall or to be laid by during the completion of his plans. He stood to gain almost equally by the death of either. "You took with you some final instructions about this plot; what were they?" I asked, after a moment's pause.
For the first time he hesitated, and I saw the beads of sweat standing thick on his forehead, as he looked at me, trembling like a blade of grass.
"You are asking me for more than my life," he murmured, his very teeth chattering in his irresolution.