"Himself."
"He is one of my most intimate friends. Are you acquainted with him too?"
"He has instructed me to proceed in his name against certain debtors of his."
"¡Viva Dios! This is a strange meeting," the adventurer exclaimed, with a radiant face.
"What a worthy señor!" the bailiff remarked, "And so honourable!"
The two scoundrels understood each other. The acquaintance was formed, and confidence sprang up quite naturally. The conversation was continued on the best possible terms; Kidd adroitly led the other to make a general confession, and the latter, believing that he had to do with an intimate of Don Rufino, told him the secret of the negotiations he was intrusted with, without any visible pressure. Altogether this is what the adventurer learned:—Don Rufino Contreras, impelled by some motive unknown, had secretly bought up the claims of all the persons to whom the Marquis de Moguer was indebted. So soon as he held them, he had taken out writs, through a third party, against the Marquis, so as to dispossess him of the small property left him—among other things, the Hacienda del Toro, which he evinced a great desire to possess. His proposal to marry Doña Marianna was only a bait offered to the good faith of Don Hernando, in order to lull his prudence and remove his suspicions. What he wanted was to become, at any price, proprietor of the hacienda. But still, wishing to retain the mask of friendship, by the aid of which he had hitherto deceived the Marquis, he had put the matter in the hands of a man of his own, who had orders to push matters to extremities, and accept no arrangement. Don Parfindo Purro was the bailiff selected: he was the bearer of the most perverse instructions and strictest orders, and was resolved to accomplish to the letter what he emphatically called his duty.
In Mexico, we are compelled to allow that justice is the most derisive buffoon and horrible thing imaginable. The judges, most of whom are utterly ignorant, and who act gratis, as their salaries are never paid, requite themselves for this annoyance on the contending parties, whom they plunder without pity or shame; and this is carried to such an extent, that, so soon as the trial is begun, it is known who will win and who lose. It is little consequence whether the trial be criminal or civil. Money decides everything. To give only one instance: A man commits a murder, the fact is confirmed—known by all; the assassination has been performed in bright day, in the open street, and in the presence of a hundred persons. The relations of the victim go before the juez de lettras—that is to say, the criminal judge; he lets them explain the affair in its fullest details, and gives no signs of approval or disapproval; but when they have finished, he asks them the simple question—
"Have you any witnesses?"
"Yes," the relatives answer.
"Very good; and these witnesses are doubtless men of good position and of a certain value?"