"That is well! we have even more than we want; the brave will attract others. Return to your places."
The chiefs of sections drew back,
"Now," Don Tadeo continued, "before we separate, I have to call down your justice upon one of our brothers, who, having entered deeply into our secrets, has been false to the society several times for a little gold; I have the proofs in my hands. The circumstances are of the utmost importance; one word—a single word—may ruin our cause and us! Say, what chastisement does this man deserve?"
"Death!" the conspirators responded, coolly, but simultaneously.
"I know this man," Don Tadeo continued; "let him come forth from the ranks, and not oblige me to tear off his mask, and hurl his name in his face."
No one stirred.
"This man is here—I can see him; for the last time, let him step forth, and not crown his baseness by seeking to avoid the punishment he merits."
The conspirators cast suspicious glances at each other; the assembly seemed moved by an extreme anxiety; the man, however, upon whom the King of Darkness called, persisted in remaining confounded amongst his companions.
Don Tadeo waited for an instant, but finding that the man whom he summoned imagined he should remain unknown, and not be discovered beneath his mask, he made a signal, and Don Gregorio rose and advanced towards the group of conspirators, which opened at his approach, and laid his hand roughly on the shoulder of a man who had instinctively retreated before him, until the wall forced him to stop.
"Come with me, Don Pedro," he said, and he dragged rather than led him to the table, behind which stood Don Tadeo, calm and implacable.