On O’Brien’s shaken face the smile hardened.
“I heard that in Rio Medio the senor was called... was called...” He paused and appealed to the Lugareño.
“What was he called—the capataz the man who led the picaroons?”
The Lugareño stammered, “Nikola... Nikola el Escoces, Señor Don Patricio.”
“You hear?” O’Brien asked the judge. “This villager identifies the man.”
“Undoubtedly—undoubtedly,” the Juez said. “We need no more evidence.... You, Señor, have seen this villain in Rio Medio, this villager identifies him by name.”
I said, “This is absurd. A hundred witnesses can say that I am John Kemp....”
“That may be true,” the Juez said dryly, and then to his clerk:
“Write here, ‘John Kemp, of noble British family, called, on the scene of his crimes, Nikola el Escoces, otherwise El Demonio.’”
I shrugged my shoulders. I did not, at the moment, realize to what this all tended.