"Suppositions are always the plague in business matters. Between ourselves, do you think it would be so difficult to find this Lupino Contrarias in Rufino Contreras? I think not."
The senator felt his face flush involuntarily.
"Señor," he said, "such an insinuation—"
"Has nothing that needs offend you," Kidd interrupted him, calmly; "it is a supposition, nothing more; now, continuing our suppositions, let us admit for a moment that this master, whom his valet is persuaded he killed, should be, on the contrary, alive and—"
"Oh, that is quite impossible."
"Do not interrupt me so, señor. And, I say, were to lay his hand on his valet's shoulder, as I lay mine on yours, and assert, 'This is my assassin!' what answer would you give to that?"
"I—I!" the senator exclaimed, wildly; "What answer should I give?"
"You would give none," the bandit continued, as he took and thrust into his belt the pistols which the senator, in his trouble, had let fall; "overcome by the evidence, and crushed by the very presence of your victim, you would be irretrievably lost."
There was a second of horrible silence between these two men, who looked at each other as if about to have a frightful contest. At length the senator's emotion was calmed by its very violence; he passed his hand over his damp forehead, and, drawing himself up to his full height, said, sharply—
"After this, what would you of me?"