"Ah, Ramon!" the old gentleman began, eagerly. "Be seated and tell us quickly the latest news. A terrible thing, was it not, this death of our good friend? I have been to see his unfortunate widow, but even yet I cannot believe it to be true."
"Yes. A terrible thing! It was only last night that we saw him well and happy."
Although Alfarez was trembling with eagerness to tell his news, he also meant to extract the greatest possible satisfaction from it, and now bent an inquiring glance upon Gertrudis. His look turned to one of malicious triumph as he saw that he was, indeed, the first to bring the tidings of Anthony's arrest; for the girl's acceptance of his suit had by no means wiped out the memory of her momentary preference for his rival, and he had hastened hither straight from the police barracks, delighting in the chance to make her suffer.
"So fine a man," the father was saying. "He was, indeed, my good friend. It is shocking."
"Yes, and to think he should have been killed in this cowardly manner!"
"Killed! Is it believed that he was murdered? Caramba! I supposed he had shot himself. That was the gossip an hour ago." Garavel was deeply affected, and motioned for the dishes in front of him to be removed.
Ramon nodded. "There are suspicious circumstances, it seems. Last night, after the ball, he had a serious quarrel—one of those American fights, almost. That much is known."
Gertrudis, who had remained silent until now, her dark eyes clouded with distress, said, sympathetically:
"And the poor lady! She must suffer terribly."
"Ah, perhaps! One cannot always tell!" Ramon shrugged and smiled.