"No one understands anything about it, mi amo. It would appear that the colonel—for he was a colonel—had pushed on as far as the Palo Quemado, while scouting, and resolved to spend the night there. Sentries were posted round the house, to watch over the safety of this chief, and no one entered the house, except two unknown horsemen. It was after their departure, when they had finished a long conversation with the colonel, that the latter was found dead in the room, from a stab which had passed through his heart. Hence it is supposed that a quarrel having broken out between the colonel and the two strangers, the latter killed him, but it was done so quietly that the soldiers, sleeping only a few yards off, heard nothing."
"This is, indeed, singular."
"It appears, mi amo, that this colonel, don Felipe Irzabal—such was his name—was a frightful tyrant, without faith or law, about whom numberless atrocities are reported."
"If that is the case, my dear López, everything is for the best, and we need not trouble ourselves any further about the scoundrel," don Jaime said as he rose.
"Oh! He will go to the deuce without us."
"That is probable, if he is not there already. I am going to take a walk about town till eight o'clock. At ten you will be at the palace gate, with two horses and weapons, in the case of our being compelled to take a ride by moonlight, like last night."
"Yes, mi amo, and I will wait till you come out, no matter at what hour."
"You will await, unless I send you a warning that I no longer require you."
"Good, mi amo, all right."
Don Jaime then went out as he had stated, took a short walk, but only under the portales of the Plaza Mayor, so that he might reach the palace exactly at the appointed hour. At eight o'clock precisely the adventurer presented himself at the palace gates. An usher was waiting to lead him to the President. General Miramón was walking, sad and pensive, up and down a small saloon adjoining his private apartments; on perceiving don Jaime, his face became more cheerful.