"Who are you?" was the very natural first use that Montoro made of his power of speech, for he did not recognize the voice, and he could not see the face. However, he was soon enlightened so far.
"I am Morla, the man you hung," was the comprehensive information. "And you were good to me then, my Señor," came the seemingly contradictory statement; "and so for that, and for those other reasons, that you are wise and wary, and have our Captain's confidence, I have come to you with my discovery of a conspiracy in the camp. It is intended by many to forsake the great cause, and, taking to the ships secretly, to flee from this land to Cuba, or to Spain, with evil reports of the expedition and of its leader, to exonerate themselves."
Montoro was startled.
"Wherefore," he demanded sternly, "hast thou not instantly carried news of this base treachery to our leader himself?"
A smile, unseen in the darkness, flitted over the man's face.
"Bethink you, my Señor, what credence should I be likely to gain from our commander, when he learns that I am, myself, a testimony of disobedience to his commands."
There was some plausibility in that reasoning; nevertheless, he yielded to Montoro's desire that he should accompany him forthwith to Cortes' tent, to corroborate the statements he wished made.
Aroused by Diego with the same stealthy caution as had been used towards himself, Cortes was not long in learning the particulars of the cowardly conspiracy, and, even as he listened, his prompt mind had already begun to concert the measures for its suppression.
"But still," he said at length, thoughtfully, "we must be well assured of the truth of these accusations before we publish them, or attempt to punish. From whom, Toro, hast thou learnt all this?"
Montoro moved aside.