RATTLESNAKE.
Well, Señor Vives, I am at your service now,” announced Judge Courtenay, at the next appearance of Steenie and her caballero at Rookwood. “In what can I advise you?”
“Hm-m. It is a profound secret. Ten thousand pardons, Señor Juez [Mr. Judge]; but I may close the door, no?”
“Close it, certainly, if you wish; but we are not likely to be disturbed. This is my private office.”
“I would not for a hundred worlds that others should hear what I disclose!” repeated old Sutro, cautiously.
“You are perfectly safe. Be assured.”
“Si? Then here is my desire: I wish to prepare my testamento [will]. In verity, that is my hope and prayer.” The Spaniard’s face wore an expression of grave importance.
“Your will? Well, that is, indeed, a serious matter. Have you fully considered it?”
“Caramba! Have I not? En verdad, it has long since been arranged—in here,” said the client, tapping his forehead, solemnly.
“Very well, then, let us to business. Give me the points of the matter, and my clerk shall draw up the paper.”