“I do not deny it; but this worthy hunter, who has informed me with a great deal of circumspection upon the delicate subject you wish to touch upon, ought also to inform you how reasonable he found me in the matter.”
“I have forgiven you,” continued Fabian, “but there is one crime, amongst others, from which your own conscience ought not to absolve you.”
“There is a perfect understanding between my conscience and myself,” resumed Cuchillo, with a graciously sinister smile, “but it seems to me that we are getting away from our subject.”
“That friend whom you assassinated in such a cowardly manner—”
“Disputed with me the profits of a booty, and faith, the consumption of brandy was very considerable,” interrupted Cuchillo. “But permit me—”
“Do not pretend to misunderstand me!” cried Fabian, irritated by the knave’s impudence.
Cuchillo collected his thoughts.
“If you allude to Tio Tomas, it is an affair which was never very well understood, but—”
Fabian opened his lips to form a distinct accusation with reference to the assassination of Arellanos, when Pepé broke in—
“I should be curious,” he said, “to learn the real facts concerning Tio Tomas: perhaps Master Cuchillo has not sufficient leisure to recollect himself, which would be a pity.”