"Thou wouldst lose, sir, for see, gentlemen," cried the priest, manipulating the crucifix with his long, slender fingers and finally opening it, "the opening! And here is a bit of parchment! Read it, sir."
He handed it to the Viceroy. The old noble, lifting it to the light, scanned the closely-written, faded lines on the tiny scrap of delicate parchment.
"'Tis a certificate of marriage of——" He paused.
"Maria Zerega," said Morgan, triumphantly.
"Nay," answered the old man, and his triumph rung in his voice, "of Isabella Zerega and Francisco de Guzman."
"Hell and fury!" shouted the buccaneer, "'tis a trick!"
"And signed by——"
He stopped again, peering at the faded, almost illegible signature.
"By whom, your Excellency?" interrupted the priest smiling.
"'Tis a bit faded," said the old man, holding it nearer. "Fra—An—tonio! Was it thou?"