“Is he faithful to your cause, think you?”
“Not to my cause, certainly.” (Here the governor smiled, as much as to say to his assistant, you are not so clever as you think yourself.) “I am a good Spaniard, and loyal subject of Joseph Napoleon; he is a friend of the despotic Bourbon.”
The secretary smiled in return at the old aristocrat, and continued his cross-questioning.
“And where did you leave this redoubtable Blas?”
“I have not yet said that I was with him.” (Another smile from the governor.)
“True, true; but it would appear that you have lately seen him.”
“I saw him last at Grazalema.”
“When?”
“This very night.”
“Sacrebleu! he is already netted then,” exclaimed he, turning round and addressing the governor, “and we have, therefore, no occasion for this fellow’s services, except to stretch a rope; for, take my word, he is a spy—a spy of this very Blas, if not the rascal himself; who, with all due deference to your superior discernment, I still think he is. Suppose, however, as their accounts differ so widely, we first have our two spies confronted?”