"I will make it seventy-five."
"Say one hundred, and it is a bargain," urged the jailor, coolly.
"On your own terms, then," was the general's reply, as he groaned with pain.
"It is dangerous business, but it shall be done," said the other, drawing a dagger from his bosom and feeling its point carefully. "But I must have another day, as to-night it may be too late before I can arrange to meet him, and that will allow but one more night to pass. I can do nothing in the daytime."
"Very well."
"Where shall I be most likely to meet him, think you?"
"Possibly after twilight, on the Plato, near the house of Don Gonzales."
"I will be on the watch for him, and my trusty steel shall not fail me."
Thus saying, and after a few other words of little importance, the jailor departed.
Maddened by the short confinement and suffering he had experienced, General Harero resolved to rid himself at once of the stumbling block in his path that General Bezan proved himself to be. A reckless character, almost born, and ever bred a soldier, he stopped at no measures to bring about any desired end. Nor was Lorenzo Bezan's life the first one he had attempted, through the agency of others; the foul stains of murder already rested upon his soul. It was some temporary relief, apparently, to his feelings now, to think that he had taken the primary steps to be revenged upon one whom he so bitterly hated. He could think of nothing else, now, as he lay there, suffering from those wounds, and at times the expression of his face became almost demoniac, as he ground his teeth and bit his lips, in the intense excitement of his passions, the struggle of his feelings being so bitter and revengeful.