The latter stared at him for a space, then asked in the nasal, droning voice of the preacher, “Didn’t you see me come—running?”
“Sure! I thought you’d lost something.”
“Well, now,” continued the curate, without heeding the alferez’s rudeness, “when I fail thus in my duty, it’s because there are grave reasons.”
“Well, what else?” asked the other, tapping the floor with his foot.
“Be calm!”
“Then why did you come in such a hurry?”
The curate drew nearer to him and asked mysteriously, “Haven’t—you—heard—anything?”
The alferez shrugged his shoulders.
“You admit that you know absolutely nothing?”
“Do you want to talk about Elias, who put away your senior sacristan last night?” was the retort.