"You shall hear."
Don Miguel was pale and sombre; a sad smile played round his discoloured lips; it was evident that he was making extraordinary exertions to overcome his weakness and keep his seat. After a few moments' consideration, he raised his head. "What is your name?" he asked.
"Don Stefano Cohecho," the accused answered without hesitation.
The judges exchanged a glance.
"Where were you born?"
"At Mazatlán, in 1808."
"What is your profession?"
"Merchant, at Santa Fé."
"What motive brought you into the desert?"
"I have told you already."