"That is hardly the solution that suggests itself. After drinking your three bottles of Chambertin and your half-bottle of Chartreuse, depend upon it their heads began to go round; they felt the world coming to an end, and determined to be beforehand with it. It is clear as daylight: they both threw themselves down the well, and there you will find the skeletons. You had better have it dragged and give them decent burial, or you will certainly be seeing ghosts in the house."
By this time the landlord was trembling with horror; his eyes, grown large and round, would almost have matched the Dragon's. He was no longer in a fit state to pour out wine or change plates.
"And we drink the water," he murmured half a dozen times over. "We drink the water. This accounts for my queer symptoms. But, after all, the bodies cannot be there. They must have communicated with the river, and so floated out to sea. I dare say they will some day turn up in the Panama Canal or on the shores of New Zealand. Señor, I am quite certain this is the true state of the case. I never could understand why those two should go off together. They were always quarrelling, and seemed to hate each other like poison, and I dare say they even disputed as to which should go first down the well. But when all's said and done, it is three years ago, and they will never come back to trouble me."
"Not even as ghosts?"
He shivered.
"I never saw a ghost, señor, but I suppose there are such things. I shouldn't care to see one. Nevertheless, I will have the well dragged—quietly, not to raise a scandal. I can pretend to have dropped in a diamond ring belonging to a client. If the skeletons turn up we must hush up the matter as well as we can, and so dispose of the ghosts. They would never walk after decent burial. Ah, señor, what a tragedy you have opened up! And all the time I was accusing the wretched pair of I know not what!"
Fortunately for us this conversation took place towards the end of dinner, or we should have fared badly. We left the landlord in his dining-room. He had dropped into a chair and was gazing on vacancy, evidently in deep thought as to how he could have the well dragged without creating a scandal to the detriment of his hotel.
We went out into the quiet night, making sure the night porter was on duty and would keep there. The streets were as dark, quiet and ill-lighted as ever, and we took care to avoid Pandemonium. The market-place, so full and lively this morning, was now empty and silent. From the café already alluded to streams of light and strains of music were flowing. We turned in out of curiosity. Half a dozen musicians at the further end were making unearthly discords: shrieking and wailing instruments set one's teeth on edge and went down one's back like cold water. The room was fairly full, the atmosphere heavy with smoke; such smoke as only the Catalonians know how to produce.
Our entrance created quite a sensation. We were recognised as English, and the English who visit Lerida are few and far between. Was our visit friendly or the opposite? Their glances plainly asked the question. Then one in military uniform came up, and, with a military salute ventured to sit down near us. We thought it a singular proceeding, but decided to take it in good part. He proved to be a captain of the regiment stationed at Lerida, and a really friendly and polite man.
"I perceive, sirs, that you are strangers," he said. "Can I be of any service to you in a place where I am very much at home?"