"Yes."
Herbert Murray walked round the room, and took up his position with his back to the door.
"Señor Velasquez," he said, in a low but determined voice, "you have made an unfortunate admission. If there is a witness, it is only one; you are that witness, and your life is in danger."
The notary certainly felt uncomfortable, but he was too old a stager to display it.
Herbert Murray produced a pistol, which he proceeded to examine and to cock deliberately.
"That would not advance your purpose much, Señor Murray," he said, coolly; "the noise would bring all the house trooping into the room."
Murray was quite calm and collected now, and therefore he was open to reason.
"There is something in that," he said, "so I have a quieter helpmate here."
He uncocked the pistol and put it in his breast pocket.
Then he whipped out a long Spanish stiletto.