“Good heavens! That he might be shot? Ah, I see it all! Ames’s message! Of course Don Wenceslas would not dare to execute a priest in good standing. And so he had him excommunicated, eh?”
Don Jorge shrugged his shoulders. “Quien sabe?” he muttered.
Hitt sat for a while in a deep study. Time was precious. And yet it was flying like the winds. Then he roused up.
“You knew a little girl––in Simití––in whom this Rincón was interested?”
“Ah, yes, señor. But––why do you ask? She went to the great States from which you come. And I think little was heard from her after that.”
“Eh? Yes, true. She lived with––”
“Don Rosendo Ariza.”
“Yes. And he?”
“Dead––he and his good wife, Doña Maria.”