"This visit is necessary, señor, I believe," Señor Zorro said. "I have not made it because I admire the beauty of your face."
"What do you here?" the captain asked, disregarding the order to make no sound, yet speaking in a tone scarcely above a whisper.
"I happened to look in at the window, señor. I saw an epistle before you on the table, and I heard you speak. 'Tis a bad thing for a man to talk to himself! Had you remained silent I might have gone on about my business. As it is—"
"Well, señor?" the captain asked, with a bit of his old arrogance returning to him.
"I have a mind to read that letter before you."
"Does my military business interest you that much?"
"As to that, we shall say nothing, señor. Kindly remove your hands from the table, but do not reach toward the pistol at your side unless you wish to die the death instantly. It would not grieve me to have to send your soul into the hereafter."
The comandante did as he had been directed, and Señor Zorro went forward cautiously and snatched up the letter. Then he retreated a few paces again, still watching the man before him.
"I am going to read this," he said, "but I warn you that I shall watch you closely, also. Do not make a move, señor, unless it is your wish to visit your ancestors."