“When I left you,” said the voice, “I went to the inn. I found the body of poor Pascal in the pool. There was a bullet wound in the head. They must have struck him when they fired at you. However, that does not matter. Pascal has an enemy. The crime will be put down to the vendetta. A convenient institution, the vendetta; it covers a multitude of sins.”
There was a reflective pause. The cigarette glowed and faded; then the sonorous voice went on:
“I took my poor dead friend out of the water and carried him into the kitchen of the inn. I laid him on the table, straightened his limbs, folded his hands over his breast, and put a crucifix between them. Then I knelt down and said a prayer for the welfare of his soul....”
The voice was silent for a little. The round mouth of the cave was brightening, and the stars shrinking back affrighted. The voice grew tense.
“It was while I was praying that the man entered. He saw neither myself nor the body, for the place was in darkness. He went over to where your clothes were and began to search them, the pockets, the lining. It was while he was doing this that I put a pistol to his head.”
A deep laugh awoke the echoes of the cave. Into its circular mouth crept the silver edge of the moon.
“I never saw a man so scared. You should have seen him jump. I backed him against the wall with his hands high in the air. I pointed to the dead man. ‘You killed him,’ said I. He shook his head. ‘Then,’ I said, ‘you helped to kill him. Tell me, and I’ll give you a chance for life. Otherwise I’ll shoot you where you stand.’ Then he told me that he had seized and held Pascal while his comrade had strangled him. ‘So,’ I said, ‘that was the way of it. Well, you are equally guilty, but you shall have a chance for your life. Have you a knife?’”
Rocco’s cigarette went out. He took his time to light another. The velvet circle cut the moon in half. Hugh could see the face of Rocco now, a pale, grim, tragic face. The bandit went on:
“‘Yes, I have a knife,’ answered the man. ‘And can you use it?’ I asked. ‘None better,’ said he. I marched him out of the place to the clearing in front of the inn. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘look ... I throw away my rifle, my pistol. Knife to knife we will fight it out. You for your life; I to avenge my friend. Is it well?’ And he answered me; ‘It is well.’”
Rocco rose and stood before Hugh. The full round of the moon was framed in the circle of the cave-mouth. It lit up the magnificent figure of the bandit, as he went on: