Seeing things drawing to an extremity, the old governor determined to attend to the affair in person. He ordered out his carriage of state and, surrounded by his guards, rumbled down the avenue of the Alhambra into the city. Driving to the house of the Escribano, he summoned him to the portal.
The eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at beholding the smirking man of the law advancing with an air of exultation.
“What is this I hear,” cried he, “that you are about to put to death one of my soldiers?”
“All according to law—all in strict form of justice,” said the self-sufficient Escribano, chuckling and rubbing his hands. “I can show your excellency the written testimony in the case.”
“Fetch it hither,” said the governor.
The Escribano bustled into his office, delighted with having another opportunity of displaying his ingenuity at the expense of the hard-headed veteran. He returned with a satchel full of papers, and began to read a long deposition with professional volubility. By this time a crowd had collected, listening with outstretched necks and gaping mouths.
“Prithee man, get into the carriage out of this pestilent throng, that I may the better hear thee,” said the governor. The Escribano entered the carriage, when in a twinkling the door was closed, the coachman smacked his whip, mules, carriage, guards, and all dashed off at a thundering rate, leaving the crowd in gaping wonderment, nor did the governor pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the strongest dungeons of the Alhambra.
He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, proposing a cartel or exchange of prisoners, the corporal for the notary. The pride of the captain-general was piqued, he returned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith caused a gallows, tall and strong, to be erected in the center of the Plaza Nueva, for the execution of the corporal.