"Ah, I would give a thousand ounces to know what to believe."
"What prevents you? Everybody is asleep—no one will see you. The story is not high—fifteen feet at the most. I am certain that Doña Anita would be delighted to have a chat with you."
"Oh, if I could but believe it!" he muttered with hesitation, casting a side glance at the still lighted window.
"Who knows? Perhaps she is expecting you."
"Silence, you scoundrel!"
"By'r Lady only listen! If what is said be true, the poor child must be in a perplexity, if not worse: she has probably great need of assistance."
"What do they say? Come, speak, but be brief."
"A very simple thing—that Doña Anita de Torrés marries within a week the Englishman, Don Gaëtano."
"You lie villain!" said the Tigrero with badly-restrained wrath. "I know not what prevents me thrusting down your throat with my dagger the odious words you have just uttered."
"You would do wrong," the other said, without being in the least discovered. "I am only an echo that repeats what it hears, nothing more. You alone in all Guaymas are ignorant of this news. After all, there is nothing astonishing in that, as you have only returned to town this day, after an absence of more than a month."