The Chileno followed him in silence, and the two men remained conversing in almost whispered tones for some time.
“Tell me,” asked the Chileno, fixing his dark eyes on the captain's face; “when did you first begin to suspect?”
“From the very first day that I saw her and Danvers together. He betrayed himself—fool that he is—by being too formally polite to her, before me.”
“And then you read this letter of his to her. How did you get hold of it?”
“I was coming back from my bathe in Totoga Creek about six in the morning. Went into Manton's for a few minutes' rest and a smoke. Danvers's door was open, and though he was not in the room, I could hear his voice talking to Manton. I stepped inside to sit down and wait for him. He had been writing a letter, which was but half finished. It was to my wife, and began, 'My darling Helen.'”
“Ah-h-h!” said Diaz, in a savage, hissing whisper.
“I left it there, strolled out into the dining-room where Manton and Danvers were having their morning coffee. I joined them, and chatted with them for half an hour. Then I went home, and told Minea what to do when the letter came. It was delivered by Danvers's native servant. Minea met him at the garden gate. He asked if I was in. She said I was out; he gave her the letter, and told her to give it to her mistress, who was still in bed. The girl brought it to me to where I was waiting. I opened it, took a copy of it, and gave it back to her to give to her mistress.”
He paused, and then smiled grimly at the Chileno. Then he smoked on in silence.
“You will kill them both?” asked Diaz.
“I don't think so, Pedro. I must wait. And you will stand to me?”