“Ay, Dios! Just that, Señor. Took everything I had, except the rags I wear; and to them I might well have made them welcome.”
“Now, are you sure they took everything?” questioned the other, still suspicious. The earnestness of the dwarfs affirmation made him so.
“Of course, Señor. Quite sure. I’ll swear to it, if you like.”
“Oh, there’s no need for the formality of an oath. Simpler to search you! and more satisfactory. Draw up here in front of me!”
The hunchback obeyed with an air of confident alacrity. He had no reluctance to being searched now, knowing his pockets were empty. Of which the searcher satisfied himself by groping about among the rags, and sounding every receptacle where coin might be kept.
But if he found no money, an article turned up, which no little surprised himself and his comrade—a stiletto!
“Caspita!” he exclaimed, as his hand touched something hard in the waistband of the dwarfs breeches, stuck behind his back. “What have we here? As I live, a dagger!” drawing it out and holding it to the light. “Silver-hilted, too! Yes; it’s silver, sure; and blade beautifully chased—worth a doblone, at the very least!”
“Half mine,” interrupted Perico, putting in his claim.
“All right, camardo. We’ll settle that by-and-by. Now, you limb of Satan!” he continued to the hunchback, “you told us the footpads had stripped you clean. How do you explain this?”
“Easily enough, your worship. They only thought of trying in my pockets, and the stiletto being there behind where you’ve found it, luckily they overlooked it.”