“Come and remove the body of this unfortunate man,” said Ibarra, as if awakening from a dream.
On hearing his voice, Maria Clara felt her strength giving way and she fell, half fainting, into the arms of her friends.
Great confusion reigned. Everybody was talking, gesticulating, and running from one side to the other, up and down the stairs, all stupefied and full of consternation.
“Who is the dead man? Is he still alive?” asked the alferez.
The body was identified as the yellow workman who had been standing beside the windlass.
“Let proceedings be brought against the superintendent of the work,” was the first thing that the Alcalde said.
They examined the body, felt of the heart, but it was no longer beating. The blow had fallen on the head and blood was oozing from the nose, ears and mouth. Some strange marks were seen on the man’s neck. There were four deep dents on one side and a single but deeper one on the other. It looked as though an iron hand had grasped it like a pair of pinchers.
The priests warmly congratulated the young man and shook his hand.
“When I think that only a few moments ago I was standing there,” said one of the employees. “Say! If I had been the last! Jesús!”
“It makes my hair stand on end,” said another, who was bald.