Sebastião laid his hand impatiently on the bolt of the door.
“Wait, in the name of a hundred thousand devils!” she cried, springing to her feet at a bound. She glanced at him vindictively, unfastened her jacket, put her hand into her bosom, and drew out a pocket-book. But suddenly she stamped her foot upon the floor, and cried frantically, “No, no, no!”
“May the Devil take me if you do not sleep to-night in prison,” said Sebastião to her. He half opened the door and called out, “Senhor Mendez!”
“There they are!” cried Juliana, throwing the pocket-book at his feet; and shaking her clenched fist in his face, she added, “may a thunderbolt strike you dead for this, you villain!”
Sebastião took up the pocket-book. It contained three letters, one, very much folded, of Luiza’s. He read the first line: “My adored Bazilio,” and turning very pale, placed all three in the breast-pocket of his great-coat. He opened the parlor door; the robust figure of Mendez stood out against the shadowy background.
“Everything is settled, Senhor Mendez,” he said, in a slightly tremulous voice. “I will not detain you any longer.”
The policeman bowed in silence. When Sebastião slipped a douceur into his hand at the head of the stairs, Mendez bowed again respectfully, and said in mellifluous accents,—
“When you need me again, you know my address, No. 64, Mendez, of the Guard. Do not trouble yourself, your Excellency; at the service of your Excellency. My wife and children will be grateful to you. Do not trouble yourself, your Excellency. No. 64, Mendez, of the Guard!”
Sebastião closed the door behind him and returned to the dining-room. Juliana had sunk into a chair, apparently overwhelmed by the blow that had fallen upon her; but no sooner did she see him than she rose, furious.
“I will tell that hypocrite what I think of this, when I see her. You have set this trap for me because you are her lover also!”