"Very probably."
"He will be right in doing so, and I shall be unable to reproach him; but, when I am dead, I do not wish that villain to escape."
"Trust to my word."
The gambusino's foxy face assumed an extraordinary expression of cunning. "I do trust to it, Excellency," he said; "but you have very serious business that occupies nearly all your time, and perhaps, without desiring it, you might forget me."
"You need not fear that."
"We can answer for nothing, Excellency; there are very strange circumstances in life."
"What do you want to arrive at? Come, explain yourself frankly."
Andrés Garote lifted his zarapé, and took from under it a little steel box, which he placed on the table near which Bloodson was sitting. "Here, Excellency," he said, in that soft voice which never left him; "take that casket; so soon as I am gone break open the lock, I am certain you will find it contains papers that will interest you."
"What do these words mean?" Bloodson asked anxiously.
"You will see," the gambusino replied, quite unmoved; "in that way, if you forget me, you will not forget yourself, and I shall profit by your vengeance."