I ran downstairs. Antonio's gaunt mother-in-law was standing in the doorway.
"It is an assassination," she said. "I doubt that the poor man will live. He was stabbed in a ticklish part."
"I wonder where Jan is," I said to myself; and at that moment saw him coming along the sidewalk. I ran to him. "Jan," I cried, "a man has been murdered."
"I know," he answered; "I unwittingly caught the murderer."
The Paseo de Corveras must have more than its fair percentage of fat old women. They all stood on their doorsteps talking in awed tones of the tragedy. Then with a ludicrous unanimity each pushed her skirts between her legs with a dramatic hand and holding herself so that she plainly illustrated her meaning exclaimed,
"Ei! el pobre! Y en un sitio tan delicado."
FOOTNOTES:
[26] My village.
[27] "Peaches, Pears!" but "Grapes! Grapes!"
[28] The Arts Club of Murcia.