“Who’s he?” Ney inquired, willing enough to have any scarecrow whatever for Jacqueline.
“Is it possible?–Your Mercy does not know?”
Ney pleaded that he had never been in the country before.
“But surely,” the Mexican objected, “Don Rodrigo is a household word throughout Europe?”
23“He has certainly been heard of in Mexico,” said Jacqueline, whereat Fra Diavolo turned to her gratefully. “But,” she added, “Monsieur Ney will now find in him another objection to my journeying overland.”
The ardor of the bandit’s eulogist faltered. “The señor might indeed,” he confessed, “only,” and here he hesitated like a man contemplating suicide, “only, Don Rodrigo has been–yes, he’s been shot, from ambush; and his band–yes, his band is scattered forever.”
Having achieved the painful massacre, Fra Diavolo traveled on more easily to assure the señorita that since then the country had been entirely pacified. Ney, however, was not. How did they know the story was true? And if it was, he was sorry. He would enjoy meeting the terrible and provokingly deceased Monsieur Rodrigue, if only to teach him that being terrible is not good manners. But, did they know for certain that the bandit was dead?
“We do,” said the Mexican, again like a reluctant suicide, “because I killed him myself.”
“But how are we to know, sir,” Ney persisted, “that you are so terrible on your own account?”
“My identification, you mean? Bueno, it is only just. Here, this may do,” and the ranchero drew a paper from his money belt and handed it to Jacqueline. The paper was an order addressed to one Captain Maurel, who was to proceed with his company to the district of Tampico, and there to take and to shoot the guerrilla thief, Rodrigo Galán, and all his band, who infested the district aforesaid, known as the Huasteca. The Captain Maurel would take note that this Rodrigo Galán frequented the very city of Tampico itself, with an impudence to be punished at all hazards. Signed: Dupin, Colonel of His Majesty’s Contra Guerrillas.